Jeliza-Rose (Ferland), daughter of drug addicts, lives in a world of her imagination. When her mother (Jennifer Tilly) dies, her father (Bridges) takes her to a derelict rural homestead, where he also overdoses, leaving Jeliza-Rose to survive in her own, dream-like imagination.
Don’t believe the gripes. Sure, Terry Gilliam’s Tideland will alienate and most likely repulse the general audience averse to the unfiltered workings of a disturbed imagination, but the nasty response afforded it by many critics smacks of knee-jerk moral revulsion. Intimations of paedophilia, in actuality innocent scenes, could only be imagined with no understanding of the characters. Tideland isn’t for everyone, but those who seek originality and vision in cinema may find their patience rewarded with one of the most startling experiences since Gilliam’s Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas. Proceed at your own peril.
Tideland’s opening scenes, as Jeliza-Rose’s parents expire in a junk haze, uncannily recall Gilliam’s Time Bandits, in which the central boy’s parents suckle the opiate of TV ignorance. And it’s the director’s most child-like movie since that film (both depict a child’s lucid escape into fantasy), only here the reality is decidedly grimmer. It’s only fitting the fantasy be more extreme. Kids don’t make moral distinctions the way “adults” do, let alone kids coping with addict parents. This is no whimsical flight and Gilliam never intends it to be; though laced with his irrepressible brand of mordant humour that extracts laughs from odd places, the overall mood is surreal and uneasy. But it works.
Alice In Wonderland-meets-Psycho was Gilliam’s glib synopsis. He’s right on the Alice part, though Tideland recalls not so much Lewis Carroll as it does Czech animator Jan Svankmajer’s Alice, itself rife with taxidermy, decomposing dolls and bleak mise-en-scène. Tideland is a similarly pure reflection of a child’s mind; which is probably why many found it to be so disturbing. Never a subtle director, Gilliam’s queasy wide-angles and visual cacophony will render the subject matter too confronting for some, as the film teeters precariously on the edge of bad craziness. Yet the landscapes through which Jeliza-Rose floats are wonderfully realised: there’s beauty in utter madness, resilience in the most horrific of places.
It’s an incredibly gallant performance from Ferland, who, though just nine years old at the time, holds the film together acting opposite corpses, dolls’ heads, squirrels and witches, and in multiple voices, no less. And yet Abigail Breslin gets nominated for an Oscar for doing a silly dance...
Tideland’s opening scenes, as Jeliza-Rose’s parents expire in a junk haze, uncannily recall Gilliam’s Time Bandits, in which the central boy’s parents suckle the opiate of TV ignorance. And it’s the director’s most child-like movie since that film (both depict a child’s lucid escape into fantasy), only here the reality is decidedly grimmer. It’s only fitting the fantasy be more extreme. Kids don’t make moral distinctions the way “adults” do, let alone kids coping with addict parents. This is no whimsical flight and Gilliam never intends it to be; though laced with his irrepressible brand of mordant humour that extracts laughs from odd places, the overall mood is surreal and uneasy. But it works.
Alice In Wonderland-meets-Psycho was Gilliam’s glib synopsis. He’s right on the Alice part, though Tideland recalls not so much Lewis Carroll as it does Czech animator Jan Svankmajer’s Alice, itself rife with taxidermy, decomposing dolls and bleak mise-en-scène. Tideland is a similarly pure reflection of a child’s mind; which is probably why many found it to be so disturbing. Never a subtle director, Gilliam’s queasy wide-angles and visual cacophony will render the subject matter too confronting for some, as the film teeters precariously on the edge of bad craziness. Yet the landscapes through which Jeliza-Rose floats are wonderfully realised: there’s beauty in utter madness, resilience in the most horrific of places.
It’s an incredibly gallant performance from Ferland, who, though just nine years old at the time, holds the film together acting opposite corpses, dolls’ heads, squirrels and witches, and in multiple voices, no less. And yet Abigail Breslin gets nominated for an Oscar for doing a silly dance...
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