Terry Gilliam is a madman. I mean that with the utmost respect, obviously. If you’ve ever sat through The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus, you know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s messy. It’s loud. It’s visually exhausting. It's also one of the most miraculous feats of "we refuse to let this movie die" in the history of cinema.
Most people remember it for one tragic reason: Heath Ledger.
When Ledger passed away in January 2008, the production was only halfway through. Most directors would have packed it in. They would have filed the insurance claim and walked away. But Gilliam, being the chaotic genius he is, decided to turn a logistical nightmare into a narrative masterstroke. He didn't just finish the film; he transformed it into a meta-commentary on identity and storytelling itself.
The Deal with the Devil (Literally)
At its core, The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus is a story about a bet. Christopher Plummer plays Parnassus, a man who has been alive for centuries because he keeps making deals with Mr. Nick, played with sleazy, serpent-like perfection by Tom Waits.
Waites is the secret sauce here. He doesn't play the Devil as a red monster with horns; he’s more like a bored used-car salesman who happens to own your soul.
The plot kicks off because Parnassus promised his firstborn child to Mr. Nick when she turns 16. That child is Valentina (Lily Cole), and the deadline is fast approaching. Enter Tony, the charismatic stranger found hanging from a bridge. Tony is the catalyst. He’s the guy who tries to modernize Parnassus’s failing traveling theater troupe, and he’s the one who eventually leads us into the Imaginarium itself.
The Imaginarium is a magic mirror. You step through it, and you enter a world shaped by your own desires and fears. It’s pure CGI insanity, especially by 2009 standards. Some of it looks a bit dated now, honestly. But the spirit of it—that tactile, Monty Python-esque absurdity—still holds up.
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How Three Stars Saved a Dead Project
When Ledger died, the film was in limbo. The "real world" scenes were mostly shot, but the scenes inside the Imaginarium? Hardly any of them.
Gilliam’s solution was brilliant: since the Imaginarium is a realm of transformation, why not have Tony change appearances every time he steps through the mirror?
This is how we ended up with Johnny Depp, Jude Law, and Colin Farrell all playing versions of the same character. It shouldn't work. On paper, it sounds like a desperate gimmick. But in practice, it adds this layer of instability to Tony’s character that fits perfectly. Tony is a con man. He’s a chameleon. Having him literally change faces depending on who is looking at him or what he's trying to achieve is actually better than if Ledger had played the whole thing.
Johnny Depp brings that whimsical, slightly detached charm. Jude Law brings a frantic, climbing energy. Colin Farrell brings the darker, more manipulative edge of the character. It’s a fascinating study in how different actors interpret the same DNA.
And the best part? All three actors donated their salaries to Heath Ledger’s daughter, Matilda. That’s the kind of industry story that makes you actually feel good about Hollywood for a second.
The Aesthetic of the Obsolete
One thing I love about this movie is how much it hates the modern world. Parnassus and his crew—which includes the wonderful Andrew Garfield as Anton and Verne Troyer as Percy—are driving around modern-day London in a horse-drawn carriage. They look ridiculous. They are literally an eyesore in a world of glass skyscrapers and neon lights.
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Gilliam has always been obsessed with the friction between imagination and bureaucracy. You see it in Brazil, you see it in The Adventures of Baron Munchausen. Here, the Imaginarium represents the dying art of the "tall tale." People don't want to be enlightened by stories anymore; they want to be sold things.
The film feels like a protest.
There’s a scene where a group of drunk guys mocks the stage show. They represent the "modern" audience—short attention spans, aggressive, cynical. When one of them goes through the mirror, his "imagination" is a giant, tacky world of consumerism. It’s a biting critique of how we’ve traded wonder for convenience.
A Production Cursed by Reality
If you think the movie is weird, the behind-the-scenes stuff is a nightmare.
Aside from the loss of their lead actor, the production dealt with collapsed sets and budget issues. Christopher Plummer later remarked in interviews that Gilliam’s sets were often dangerous and chaotic. But that chaos is on the screen. There’s an energy in The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus that you simply don't get in polished, Disney-fied blockbusters.
It feels like the whole thing might fall apart at any second.
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That tension is palpable. When you watch the final cut, you’re not just watching a story about a doctor and the devil; you’re watching a director fighting to keep a vision alive against impossible odds. It’s a movie that smells like sawdust and old velvet.
Does it Actually Make Sense?
Sorta. If you’re looking for a tight, three-act structure where every plot point is neatly tied up, you’re going to be frustrated. This is a vibes-based movie.
The ending is bittersweet. It’s about the fact that stories never really end; they just get passed on to the next person, often at a high cost. Parnassus is a tragic figure because he’s a storyteller who can’t stop telling stories, even when they destroy his life.
Is it Gilliam’s best work? Probably not. Brazil is tighter. 12 Monkeys is smarter. But Parnassus is his most personal. It’s a film about the survival of the imagination in a world that wants to turn everything into a shopping mall.
What You Should Do Next
If you haven't seen it in a decade, it’s time for a rewatch. But don't just put it on in the background.
- Watch the "Making of" documentaries first. Seriously. Understanding the context of Ledger’s passing and the "Three Tonys" solution makes the viewing experience ten times more emotional.
- Pay attention to Tom Waits. His performance is a masterclass in subtlety. Look at the way he moves, the way he smokes, the way he seems genuinely fond of Parnassus even as he tries to ruin him.
- Look for the parallels. Notice how each version of Tony (Depp, Law, Farrell) reflects the specific desire of the person who entered the Imaginarium with him. It’s not random.
- Compare it to The Adventures of Baron Munchausen. If you like the "unreliable narrator" trope, these two films make the perfect double feature. They both explore the idea of an old man who might be a god or might just be a delusional liar.
Stop looking for a "perfect" movie and embrace the beautiful, fractured mess of this one. It’s a rare artifact of a time when directors were allowed to be weird, even when everything was going wrong.