The Fisher King (Criterion)

Our actions have consequences. It's one of the first things we learn as children. Whether we like it or not, everything we do has an effect on the world and people around us, reverberating outwards in sometimes unexpectedly tragic ways. Even our very words hold potentially devastating power -- and it is this phenomenon that sets off Terry Gilliam's 'The Fisher King,' a quirky blend of heartbreaking drama and uplifting comedy that explores the hardships of guilt and the difficulties of healing. Fueled by Gilliam's trademark visual flash and some strong performances from a stellar cast, the movie becomes a modern day fairy tale full of raw emotion and magical romance.

Jack (Jeff Bridges) is a typical shock-jock radio host, who speaks before he thinks, spewing controversial, heartless rhetoric in an attempt to drive up ratings. When he gives an unstable caller some callous advice, his seemingly harmless words end up having violent consequences. Devastated by the indirect but still catastrophic results of his behavior, Jack disappears from the radio world and retreats into a depressed and listless state. After an attempted suicide goes wrong, the miserable disc jockey is saved by a mentally unstable homeless man, Parry (Robin Williams). Seeking redemption for his past mistakes, Jack decides to help Parry overcome his psychosis and win over the girl of his dreams (Amanda Plummer). Unfortunately, Parry may simply be too far gone, and temptations from the shock-jock's former, selfish life attempt to lure the reformed egomaniac back into his old ways.

When we first meet Jack, his face isn't even shown. Instead, Gilliam presents a dizzying display of overhead shots and roaming, obstructed views, showcasing the radio personality right in the thick of his natural habitat: hiding behind a microphone in the heat of a live show. Close-up shots of his lips spouting heartless jab after jab reinforce his almost inhuman, unaccountable behavior, forming a perfect visual introduction to the character. For the first few minutes, through Gilliam's camera, Jack literally is a disembodied voice -- a mere faceless mouth, giving visual form to the film's thematic undertones while expertly setting up the character's potential growth later on.

Through his friendship with Parry, Jack is given a second chance, and the gradually symbiotic relationship that forms between the two equally wounded men becomes the crux of the story. Bridges is fantastic as the formally heartless and materialistic entertainer. His good side is always visible, but the actor brings a certain fragile and precarious quality to his attempted atonement that makes it seem as if he might throw in the towel at any minute. This isn't a simple story of redemption, and as the character learns, true salvation can't be achieved by merely giving kindness a momentary, half-hearted attempt.

Complementing Bridges' sarcastic cynicism is Robin Williams who, in Parry, finds the perfect vehicle for his manic genius. A kind of homeless Don Quixote or psychotic Lancelot, Parry has retreated from the pain of his tragic life through fantasy, anointing himself as "God's Janitor" in search of the fabled Holy Grail. With just the right balance of high-energy insanity and more somber truth, Williams forms an entertaining and insightful character that plays up the magic of cinema, while still respecting the realities of mental illness. Special note should also be given to Amanda Plummer as Parry's clumsy object of desire. In her own way, Plummer is perhaps the oddest of the whole bunch, and turns awkward, anti-social behavior into an adorable art form.

While the film's central relationship and themes are strong, the script does have some minor issues. There are times when characters resort to overly expository dialogue, revealing past events in a rather banal and forced manner. The final act of the film also loses some of the creativity found in the story's earlier segments, with the plot taking some more classically formulaic and predictable turns. This leads to an ending that, while deserved, feels a bit too saccharine.

Thankfully, Gilliam's cinematic panache more than makes up for any small flaws in scripting, and the director brings his usual penchant for visual madness to the screen in carefully chosen bursts. Distorted, slanted shots and wide angle compositions bring out the hidden insanity in our everyday world, exaggerating and expanding upon commonplace eccentricities. Likewise, a few more overt journeys into the surreal give the film some much needed excitement and tension, including Parry's terrifying visions of an evil "Red Knight," and a beautiful sequence involving an imaginary ballroom that sprouts up right in the middle of a busy train station.

This intermittent sense of imagination goes on to perfectly complement the runtime's poignant drama -- weaving an affecting tale about two broken men who find a way to heal each other. Just as we are often responsible for causing pain in those around us, 'The Fisher King' reveals that we are also capable of easing it, helping each other to reclaim some semblance of what we have lost through nothing more than simple kindness. Gilliam and his cast create a heartfelt and funny peek into the sometimes insightful insanity that lurks within us all, blending fantasy and reality into a bittersweet celebration of humanity.

The Blu-ray: Vital Disc Stats

Criterion brings 'The Fisher King' to Blu-ray on a BD-50 disc that comes housed in their standard clear case with spine number 764. A pamphlet with an essay by critic Bilge Ebiri is also included. The packaging indicates that the release is region A compatible. The movie was previously released as a barebones disc from Image Entertainment.