Saving Baron Munchausen
It's time to rewrite the book on Terry Gilliam's "The Adventures of Baron Munchausen." This 1988 film has long been considered a footnote in Hollywood history, an extraordinary financial boondoggle that went millions over budget and was shut down by a bond company before landing with a resounding thud in the handful of theaters that showed it. If it's remembered at all, it's for Uma Thurman's brief, nude appearance, rising from the sea as Venus on the half shell.
Now that it's been released in a special 20th-anniversary DVD by Sony Pictures, it is clear that "Baron Munchausen" is one of the most visionary and accomplished movies of the 1980s. The third in Mr. Gilliam's trilogy that covered childhood ("Time Bandits"), middle age ("Brazil"), and finally old age ("Munchausen"), it tells the story of a city under siege by invading Turks. In the midst of the bombardment, a troop of actors performs a stage version of "The Adventures of Baron Munchausen," which is interrupted by the real Baron Munchausen, who insists that only he can end the war since he started it when he stole the Sultan's treasury during a wager.
Well past his prime, the Baron retraces his old adventures, gathering his now elderly companions, who he hopes will be able to overcome their arthritis long enough to help him defeat the Turks. Along the way, he escapes the besieged city in a hot-air balloon stitched together out of ladies' underpants; lands on the moon, which is ruled by Robin Williams and his detachable head; runs afoul of the god Vulcan (Oliver Reed); is swallowed by a whale; hitches a ride on a flying cannonball, and plays cards with Death.
A "making of" featurette and extensive audio commentary by Mr. Gilliam and co-writer Charles McKeown dish the behind-the-scenes dirt on everyone, themselves included. When the completion bond company pulled the plug on the movie, Mr. Gilliam threw a fit, shattered a car windshield with his fist (it turned out to be his own car), and rewrote the film in a few hours. Crowd scenes were reduced from thousands of extras to just two, and the remaining film was mostly shot on half-finished sets that the filmmakers couldn't afford to complete.
The result is a movie that is charmingly handcrafted, standing as its own monument to the battle between Mr. Gilliam's flights of fancy and the money-minded completion guarantors. Mr. Gilliam has been criticized for the way he treats his actors and crew, but as he says, "I will sacrifice myself or anyone else for the movie. It will last. We'll all be dust."
In this case, he was right: Time has transformed "The Adventures of Baron Munchausen" from one of Hollywood's cautionary tales about the dangers of excess into a classic that doesn't just stand the test of time, but is improved by it.
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It's impossible to explain the appeal of "Nana" (2005), which is released today by Viz Video. A simple plot description makes it sound thin, but hurling praise at a film so unlikely seems suspicious. Ultimately, all you can do is step back and describe the size and scope of the "Nana" phenomenon and hope that's enough.
Based on a manga by Ai Yazawa that has sold 22 million copies, the "Nana" movie was a huge hit in Japan that not only spawned a sequel but shot its two theme songs to the top of the pop charts, was the basis for an animated series, and turned its two lead actresses into A-list celebrities. There's even a "Nana" video game, which is somewhat astounding in light of the fact that "Nana" is little more than the story of two female roommates who share the same name, living in Tokyo.
Punk rocker Nana Osaki (Mika Nakashima) is a singer in a band that goes bust when the lead guitarist is poached by an arena-rock act. She moves to Tokyo, hoping to start a new band and become a star. The other Nana, Nana Komatsu (Aoi Miyazaki), is a perfect princess who wears frills and flowers and is moving to Tokyo to take care of her boyfriend while he goes to university. The two meet while apartment-hunting and decide to move in together.
There are plenty of dramatic ups and downs, but the movie excels in its attention to the little things that take on earth-shattering importance between roommates: cooking, cleaning, punctuality, remembering birthdays. With its nonjudgmental attitude toward the (at times) terrible decisions its Nanas make, as well as director Kentaro Otani's pitch-perfect ear for the dynamics of female friendship, "Nana" becomes a movie that celebrates everything that's good about moving to the city and sharing an apartment. With its Vivienne Westwood fashions and pop-art sheen, it is the perfect film to hold you over until "Sex and the City" arrives in theaters in May.
