Sunday, Jul 6, 2008
The "Fear and Loathing" director stomps on Hollywood and American literalism.
Jun 5, 1998 | When I first meet Terry Gilliam in his cramped London office, I expect him to either offer me peyote, cut off my tie or hit me over the head with a giant inflatable hammer. But the former Monty Python animator and director of lunacy like "The Adventures of Baron Munchausen," "Brazil," "12 Monkeys" and the recently released "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" (which Gilliam calls a "cinematic enema for the '90s") disappoints. Dressed smartly in a mauve wool sweater and hunter green cords, he is gracious and somewhat subdued, although he smiles like a little boy eyeing an ice cream sundae when given a chance to rail against his native America and the Hollywood establishment. Which he did -- with abandon -- when he spoke to Salon about his films, life in England and his failed career as a Presbyterian missionary.
What was the most surrealistic moment of your life?
It's nonstop surrealism. But I remember something of a reverse surrealistic experience. In the '60s, I had reached a point where I felt television had taken over my mind. I'd walk down the beach in California, the sun was setting, the seagulls flying overhead, a pretty girl at my side, and I didn't know if I was enjoying the experience because it was really beautiful or because I had been brainwashed into doing it because of television commercials. I no longer knew what were my real, unique experiences as opposed to ones that I had been programmed for. It's one of the reasons I left America for England.
The great thing about coming to Europe is that there is such a sense of continuity here. History surrounds you. You are part of a long continuum, which you are constantly reminded of. Living in California, history begins the morning you wake up each day. The truly surreal thing about living in America is that history has been de-invented. There's no grounding for anything.
If you were America's first dictator, would you eliminate television?
I would limit it. I would have less of it, and less channels. I would decree that half the programs would have to be made with no image, only the sound. I grew up with radio, and my imagination muscles developed with radio. I had to make the sets; I had to put faces on the people; I had to design the costumes. I think that my whole visual sense came from radio.
If, as part of your power, you could bestow a behavior or personality trait on the average American, what would it be?
A sense of irony. What predates the ability to understand irony is a certain amount of wisdom, knowledge, awareness and intelligence.
You have said that Americans don't understand symbolism. Why?
Everything is so literal. That's why the Catholics haven't done too well in America -- the Protestants marched in and got rid of symbolism. But when you do that, you cut out abstract thinking. Symbols are about abstract thinking. Americans aren't totally devoid of it because they love cartoons, which are symbolic in a sense.
What do you think of "Seinfeld"?
I don't watch television much, but I've seen a few episodes of "Seinfeld" and think it's very funny. I also saw him when I had a tooth problem in America and had to visit the dentist. There Seinfeld was on all the walls, with those huge teeth of his, encouraging me to floss. The basis of all the films I've done is a reaction against perfect American teeth. I grew up with film stars with perfect teeth, and when I got to England I started making medieval movies where all the actors have rotted teeth.
Can you explain the British predilection with fart jokes?
When I came to England, I thought [the people were] the height of civility and politeness. But they are the least polite. They are the most tribal group of people on the planet. They hate one another and they're stuck on this f---ing little island. That's why they went out and created an empire. Anyone with any energy had to get out of this place and kill somebody else. So they've invented this veneer of civilization, but it's only to keep them from killing each other. The farts and bodily functions are really what the English are all about, and the jokes are a way of dissipating it.
If you were reincarnated as a Monty Python character, which would it be?
I'd be the big animated foot. Why not? It's the all-powerful entity that stomps on everything.
During your epic battle with Universal Studios CEO Sid Sheinberg over the final cut of "Brazil," you took out a full page ad in Variety, sardonically asking him when he planned to release your film. In the end, he was shamed into complying. What did you learn from the encounter?
If there's going to be a mistake, I want it to be of my making, not someone else's. I have control over my films only because I'm in a position to have control, but most directors don't. So many people in Hollywood see an opportunity and grab it because they are interested in "careers," making money and paying the mortgage -- not about doing artwork. If your name is going to go on something, then you've got to take responsibility for it. That's why I fight for control. If my name is not going to be on it, screw it.
What's the best part about having money?
When I left the late shift at the Chevrolet assembly plant in Van Nuys, Calif., I made a pact with myself that there were two things I would do: One was that I would have control over whatever I did; the second was that I would never work just for money. I kept my living standards so low that I didn't need it. In Hollywood they get you to live beyond your means, so people have to keep taking jobs that they are offered.
At one point in your life, you studied to be a Presbyterian missionary. Where would you be today if you had taken that path? Any regrets?
No regrets, but I may have gone to darkest Africa. The idea of being a missionary was a chance to see the world and have an excuse to do so. I basically got fed up with the church because they couldn't take a joke. I was a real little zealot, but was constantly making jokes about God. I used to say: "What kind of God is this that you believe in that can't take my little jokes?" The people in the church were appalled by this. So I walked away.
Monty Python reunited for one night at the Aspen Comedy Festival a few months ago. Do you envision getting back together on a more permanent basis?
We got together about a year ago to discuss making another film. We're still this family of brothers, and yet the idea of working together would be very difficult, because we've all developed different work habits. To be honest, the idea fills me with fear and trepidation. I'm not sure what my role is in it. I don't want to be an animator anymore, and I don't want to direct Python. I don't know what that leaves me doing.
Your colleague Terry Jones compared comedy to poetry.
Isn't he a pretentious Welsh git! Both are about surprise and helping people look at the world from a different perspective, so ... I have to agree with the pretentious Welsh git.
The proliferation of chemical and biological weapons has been in the news of late -- are we heading for a "12 Monkeys"-like existence?
I don't know if we are or not, but we seem to have the need to feel we are. It seems that we have this doomsday scenario hanging over us. Maybe we've gotten used to it with the bomb. Maybe we miss the bomb. There's another side to it: it's the sense that maybe we've gone too far and screwed nature too badly. Look at the Ebola virus: It had been sitting there quietly in the jungle, bothering no body but a few monkeys, and as man ravaged the jungles, this virus leapt out and suddenly found a new source of food and was ready to ravage us.
If you got ahold of a time machine, where would you want to go?
I always wanted to time travel, but as I've gotten older, all I want to do is sit in this room right now. I'm happy to say that we're living in an interesting time. I don't know if it gets better than this.
Imagine for a moment you had to give up one of your senses -- which would it be?
Taste. I've always had bad taste.
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