‘The Zero Theorem’ finishes director Terry Gilliam’s dystopian sci-fi satire spiritual trilogy with a lack of originality, but an abundance of thoughtfulness.
Whether it comes from years of working in the business or simply a dearth of fresh ideas, it seems that director Terry Gilliam is simply just not as inspired as he was before. Where, for decades, his films shined with a burst of energy and imagination found in few films before them, his latest work seems to lack that same spark, forcing the veteran director to retread familiar waters.
All of this would mark the rise of wishy-washy films of later years, and for the most part Gilliam’s movies are these days. But Gilliam, always a filmmaker of fresh intelligence and wit, continues to obtain a sensible amount of thoughtfulness into his work. Which is something that saves his latest feature, The Zero Theorem.
Set as the finale to the filmmaker’s “dystopian satire trilogy,” its spiritual predecessors being Brazil and 12 Monkeys, The Zero Theorem centers on a hairless Qohen Leth (Christoph Waltz), an isolated computer worker who despises his time inside his work building. Saying that everything he needs to do his job is in his bombastic abandoned church-turned-home, he constantly requests to relocate his work to where he eats and sleeps.
Turns out, Qohen is able to get his wish when he is assigned to work on The Zero Theorem, a secret assignment his “Management” (Matt Damon) gives him to figure out whether or not life has any meaning. Of course, being the existentialist-in-crisis he is and the seeming impossibility of his project, this all becomes a frustrating endeavor. One made even better and worse from the added company of a young woman named Bainsley (Melanie Thierry) and “Management”’s son Bob (Lucas Hedges), constantly finding themselves in Qohen’s life and work.
Even when doing his lesser work, much like the films from Tim Burton, there is always a fascinating attention in Gilliam’s cinematic vision to mise-en-scene and art direction. While not quite as excellent as the work captured inside the other two movies in this spiritual trilogy, the work done by art director Adrian Curelea here is likeably high concept. While his attention to detail is not quite up to snuff, both comically and thematically, as his better works, it’s clear that this kind of stuff is still what keeps Gilliam going as a filmmaker.
Though, both in terms of story and set design, many of Gilliam’s elements in The Zero Theorem feel like retreats of his earlier work. At times, the movie looks like an imitation of the Brazil filmmaker’s work. Had it not captured some of Gilliam’s most distinct features, it would be hard to tell the difference. Even when the movie feels inspired, it feels inspired by things that happened and took place in the filmmaker’s other works.
Still, Gilliam knows how to build a strange and dynamic world, and he certainly feels comfortable returning to a dystopian sci-fi future. However, some of the quirky dark humor that sparkled bright in his other two sci-fi films is lacking here, and when it does come most of it feels forced and abrupt. But, as eluded to above, Gilliam is still as thoughtful of a filmmaker as ever.
The Zero Theorem isn’t quite as focused in its message as Brazil and 12 Monkeys were. He, like his other two movies, is still centering his picture on an existential character trying to discover his identity in a surreal world. And this movie clearly is centered on talking about our modern fixation on communication through technology, one seemingly no longer found in honest human interactions. But it doesn’t quite seem that Gilliam is as fire-driven in stressing on the dangers of technology as much as he is pondering about what our new society is exactly. Theorem is fairly passive, oddly, especially considering how morally driving the filmmaker has been building up his career.
Still, at the heart of the movie’s success is Waltz himself. Not quite giving a performance as great as Col. Hans Landa in Inglorious Basterds of course, but demonstrating a versatility and softness becoming more apparent in his performances of late. His Qohen is often bare and unafraid in its portrayal, showing his softer side without overproducing his desire for sympathy. Likewise, Hedges and Thierry are likably energetic and spirited in their performances, giving the movie its levity in a nice, comfortable manner.
Even with all its thoughtfulness, The Zero Theorem still feels like Gilliam-light. Its focus isn’t quite as clear cut, and its inspiration comes down to a limited price. But, in its bristled but limited imagination, Gilliam still finds a way to keep his audience in an embraced state of reflection, letting the wackiness fly but still keeping his brain in check.
@thewillofash
