The film begins in that least romantic and magical of places, modern day London. Christopher Plumber plays alcoholic yogi, Dr Parnassus, whose Victorian circus act travels the country attempting to lure members of the public through the mirror of the Imaginarium with the help of elfin daughter (Lily Cole), angst ridden street urchin (Andrew Garfield) and Mini Me (Mini Me). No mere pantomime, Dr Parnassus is condemned to these games through legends most twisted hell bent gambler, the Devil. This is a role Tom Waits was born to play. He skits and skips with the kind of demonic revelry that leaves you suspecting he might have made a few wages himself. Heath Ledger’s equally spirited performance sped the film forwards, tight-roping a character encompassing both local saviour and global villain.

If there’s one thing Terry Gilliam is an expert at it’s filling the avid filmgoer full of anticipatory excitement at the prospect of seeing one of his films. As usual, Terry Gilliam fulfils this expectation with The Imaginarium of Dr Parnassus. Also, as per usual, there’s the same old feeling that this triumph of cinematic storytelling is obscured behind an opaque shell whose intangible elusiveness prevents you from being able to pin down exactly where the genius ends and the madness begins. Interview after the drawing…

The Imaginarium Of Doctor Parnassus

You made a big name for yourself doing animations for Monty Python, is that something you’d like to go back to?
I think what I’m doing in Parnassus is very much like an animation, but there’s people in it, it’s bridging the gap. There are so many good animators and so many good animation films coming out that I don’t feel up to it; these guys are really good.

When Wall-E came out, I went to the premiere and bumped into the director Andrew Stanton who said he was a big fan of Monty Python. I asked him to remember that when I’m looking for work in a few years, I’d love to work at Pixar, but he didn’t give me a job.

But I think you were more about getting a point across than technical proficiency.
Yes, but if you look at the animations that are coming out now, they’re some of the most politically astute films coming out of Hollywood; they’re actually saying things. I thought Wall-E was quite wonderful, I haven’t seen a live action film with special effects that’s saying things like that. It’s interesting how you can say more penetrating things about society through animation.

Why do you think that is?
Possibly the abstractness of the animated film allows freedom to say the kind of things you want to say. It’s not real, it’s a couple of steps away. In Eastern Europe under the Soviets, the puppet shows were the things that were really successful because you could make oblique statements about society and no one could sensor you. And I think there’s something like that in animation, because it’s not as direct and the audience is more protected so you can say these things.

What do you make of the recent boom in 3D cinema?
I saw bits of Avatar that James Cameron is doing now. It’s very impressive stuff if you’ve got three hundred million dollars; some of us don’t have that much to work with, so I have no use for 3D. Everyone seems to be moving away from live action if they can – all these directors don’t really like actors, they want total control for everything they do.

Would you like to make a 3D film if you had the budget?
It doesn’t interest me that much one way or the other to be honest, because I’m getting bored of anything that makes the technology of shooting that much more complicated, and I’ve a feeling that does. Another problem is that in 3D you have to wear those glasses so you never get pure white. So it actually flattens it because it limits the contrast ratio between light and dark. So the strange thing is you’re using 3D to make it deeper, and you’re just flattening it at the same time. I saw Beowulf in 3D and there were a couple of moments where the 3D actually worked. Most time I don’t think it’s that important; it’s going to revive a level of cinema where you have these huge budgets which means you’re not going to be dealing with particularly interesting ideas, you’re just going to kill adventure tales.

Is there an element of cynicism in this idea of ‘keeping it real’ and wanting to use actors?
No, I don’t think that. Actors aren’t real, they’re actors, come on! I shoot on film but I can’t wait to get it onto digital so we can finish the film off and project it in digital. I don’t want to see a film projected on film anymore; I think digital projection is just beautiful. Filming on film still captures more information than digital does at the moment, but it will change. It’s not like vinyl, I hate vinyl because I can hear all the pops and cracks. Everybody says ‘oh, it’s a much warmer feeling’. I want a CD where when it goes silent, it goes completely silent. I’m not very nostalgic about technology.

Have you worked much with animals?
In Time Bandits we had a pig and horses. Actually Twelve Monkeys we had a tiger running around in Philadelphia and a great grizzly bear standing behind Bruce Willis on a street corner. Bruce was separated from the grizzly by a single wire that was supposed to be electrified, that was it. I guess the bear bumped into this wire enough times and received enough electricity to know to avoid it, but I just hoped he could see it, that was the problem.

Is there anyone you haven’t worked with that you’d like to?
I keep thinking people like Morgan Freeman and Ed Harris, just really good actors that I like. They’re so good, but a lot of these guys don’t have a chance to do really interesting roles anymore. Someone like Morgan Freeman’s brilliant, you just put him in and he gives dignity, regardless of how the script is going; he’s an extraordinary actor. Good actors really excite me because filming is a very boring process and every day they’re lifting whatever is going on. When I’ve got a script I’ve got it in my head a certain way and the actor comes in and does something that surprises me, and that keeps me on my toes. Heath was doing that on Dr Parnassus like I’ve never seen anybody doing, he was on fire. Every shot we would do he would surprise us with something fresh. My mouth was hanging open most of the time we were filming with Heath, I just wondered what’s he going to do next.

Is Oscar success something that drives you?
Oh no, I couldn’t give a shit about that. Except in the way that box office is important because it makes my next film that much easier to get off the ground, it’s purely that. If I got nominated for an Oscar, I’d probably have to accept the nomination purely because it raises my profile to the people with money.

Apparently both you and John Cleese have been nominated only once for an Oscar and Michael Palin was involved in both films.
Michael’s the common denominator, that’s why we like him, not because he’s a nice man, but because he’s brought us to the pinnacle of our professional careers.

Would you ever make a sequel?
They keep coming around, I keep talking about these things but they never quite happen. We wrote a script that was supposed to be the sequel to Time Bandits. Hallmark got onto us and we wrote a two-part series for television, but it never got made. After 9/11 Hallmark decided to get out of the entertainment business at that point, which seemed bizarre. The one thing you do when there’s a disaster is you stay in entertainment because it’s the one thing that works. So after that the head of Hallmark decided to pull out and we were left high and dry.

Is it something you plan to do in the future?
I don’t know. Time Bandits is always the one that people are more interested in doing a sequel for. At the moment there’s somebody talking about it, we’ll see if it come to fruition. It’s been long enough, so it’s not a bad thing to think about.

What’s the funniest thing you’ve seen recently?
Well, it wasn’t Bruno, unfortunately. This is awful. It’s like me with jokes where someone asks you to tell a joke I can’t do it. Right now my brain is refusing to admit there’re funny things in the world. I’m looking round the room trying to think of something funny, there’s a truck driving passed. Oh, there’s somebody being run over, now that is funny.

Do you have a favourite illustrator?
I don’t have a favourite illustrator but I do have a favourite political cartoonist and that’s Steve Bell from the Guardian. That’s my man at the moment. The world’s got to understand that man’s a genius. The really sad person is Martin Rowson who’s the other cartoonist on the Guardian, who’s brilliant, but Steve Bell is just a genius, it’s terrible.

From icanhazcheezburger.com

Cary Fukunaga: morning pooper?

Sin Nombre is an awesome film about gangs and immigrants and guns and Mexico and boys with tattoos and girls without tattoos, and trains and Honduras, and although it’s about really very serious stuff it’s not like, “oh my god, I know this is important but really does there have to be so much talking?” No sir, it’s proper exciting. It deserves for the people in charge of handing out shiny objects in exchange for good films to hand a lot of them to director Cary Fukunaga. There’s a grown up review over behind this link and a grown up interview behind this link, but you’re sure as sausages not on this site to be grown up, so here are some answers he gave me when I met him this week and asked six imporatant questions.

The Romantic Hen: What was the last romantic thing you did?

Cary Fukunaga: The last romantic thing I did… is this going to be published?

RH: In the most minor way possible.

CF: God, I don’t know whether what I do is romantic or just a way to try and ingratiate myself with girls.

RH: What was the last ingratiating thing you did?

CF: Can we come back to this one?

RH: Sure. What’s your favourite colour?

CF: Blue

RH: Can you tell me a joke?

CF: Do you know what you call a fish with no eye?

RH: No:

CF: A fsh.

RH: If you had to be buried in one item of clothing, what would you pick?

CF: A beanie.

RH: An actual beanie you own, or a hypothetical beanie?

CF: A hypothetical beanie. I like beanies. But I mean, no one else is seeing me right? I’m being buried. It’d be kind of embarrassing to be buried in your socks.

RH: What’s a good question to ask on a first date?

CF: This is not mine, but a friend’s, but I think it’s great: are you a morning pooper or an evening pooper?

RH: Does he get a lot of second dates?

CF: It worked man, he found his girl, they’re together. If the girl runs away she’s not the right girl.

RH: Ok, so last question, from the top: what was the last thing you did to ingratiate yourself with a girl?

CF: I’d better make up something good. I do do romantic things, I’m just terrible at quick questions. Ok, there was a girl I really liked and I didn’t want to give her just an MP3 mix, so I went onto Ebay and found an old cassette player and blank cassette tapes and I made her an old school mix tape and designed the cover art for it.

Sin Nombre is out 14th August and is recommended by the Romantic Hen.

Editor’s note: herewith follows recorded tasting notes from an estimable expedition of the staff of The Romantic Hen to the Great British Beer Festival, Earl’s Court, Thursday 6th August, 2009.

1. Meare Cider
C: “Very dry. Like wine.”
S: “A bit like wee. But nice.”

2. Minchew Cider
S: “Like being kicked in the crotch by a sawdust monster.”
C: “Hicksville.”

3. Blackadder
S: “Elderberry soap.”
C: “The smoke of a peat bog cottager’s fire.”

4. Grizzly Beer
C: “Like a tangy autumn field – lovely.”
S: “A fiery strawberry. With an afterkick of coal that might on reflection be from the Blackadder (above).”

5. Cowslip Wine
S: “Grassy undertones, unnatural sweetness crushes the palate.”
C: “Glassy overtones, ersatz saccharinity grinds the stomach.”

Judge #1

6. Mead
C: “Figureskating to baroque music upon a lake of frozen honey. On FIRE.”
S: “Honeydew drops on a plateau of peaches.”

7. Mary’s Ruby Mild
S: “Pollenated Asperger’s poppy shaft.”
C: “It’ll put hairs on your hairs.”

8. Cornish Blonde Wheat Beer
S: “Gerard Depardieu milking a wheat cow on a Pyrénéesean sunset.”
C: “Wheaty.”

Judge #2

9. Lion’s Roar
S: “The glistening of a barley field on a virginal October morn.”
C: “Simon’s a gaylord.”

10. Tanglefoot
C: “Like somebody caramelised Jon Snow.”
S: “A sealion hunting badgers in a barley orgy.”

11. Shuttleworth Snap
S: “A crepuscular clasp of dandelions.”
C: “Blonde.”

12, isn’t it? Great Northern
C: “Tastes like mahogany false teeth.”
S: “A wreck of seals splashing out a sand dune in the Orkneys.”
Amanda: “Mega kicking! Football.”
S: “Use your imagination, use your imagination, yeah.”

Honourary judge Amanda

Addendum: found following day, 1 x couple’s membership pack for CAMRA, including Good Beer Guide 2009. Damned real ale wizards. Especially John at the membership stand whose birthday was March the 3rd and liked Catherine’s earrings, and his friend who filled the form out for Simon because he couldn’t read his credit card numbers. See you next year.

Tasting notes, Great Northern

I must leave a comment to express my appreciation for his journalistic integrity and grace.

How shall I start? ‘Never have I read such a moving piece on the significance of the turmoil in Jordan and the President’s Enthusiasm for Territorial Engagement moved me to Languish in the Oppression of the Land.’

Maybe I should make it more succinct so people will read it.

a) Wombs

b) Placentas

c) Umbilical cords

d) Cakes

Those of you who picked option d) are in so much luck. The dedicated chroniclers of all that is reprehensible in the world of cake-making over at Cake Wrecks have identified a batshit new trend in sonogram cakes, for that edible sugar window into the development of your baby. Indulge your latent cannibalistic urges with a sweet icing representation of your foetal child. Chow down on your unborn kid in effigy form. Perfect.

Wombcake, anyone?

Ok, new poll. Are you:

a) Pro-choice.

b) Pro-life.

c) Basically pro-life, but maybe the people who ordered these foetus cakes shouldn’t be breeding.

d) Basically pro-choice, but maybe the people who ordered these foetus cakes shouldn’t be given any legal freedoms.

Sonogrammatical error

Do you experience the  urge to Rickroll?

Are you concerned that bubblegum pop nuisance-linking isn’t really in keeping with the gloomy year that the economy collapsed like a piss-drizzled souffle, a deadly yet comedic disease swept the globe and last bastion of stable marital harmony Katie and Pete imploded in a black hole of PR backstabbing and envy-the-blind nightclub pap shots of cheesewire thongs?

Don’t worry: you’re not alone.

The last time things were this shit was the early 1990s, and Nirvana’s grunge par excellence ruled the charts. Welcome then, to Recession Rolling, which can be achieved via the simple expedient of replacing your old, inappropriately cheery Rickroll links with this updated version: Never Gonna Give Your Teen Spirit Up.

Thanks to the Word Magazine‘s excellent newsletter (sign up here) for pointing us at this and other cultural treasures.

In order to determine the extent of the psychotic nature of this capricious individual I took to following him home, spending evenings camouflaged amongst his hedges staring in at him through binoculars. As this led to few clues as to his no doubt dubious and sinister intentions, I had to break in, in order to find a suitable spot to hide and survey him.

After three nights spent suspended in a vent above his bathroom hanging by an old garter belt I found at my aunt’s house, I crashed down into his bath. When I lifted myself up I caught sight of the mirror, looked at my home-made spy-cam and studded leather bandana, shook my head and walked out of the door. I knew my quest was over.

Just out of habit, the next day I checked my pasty for wires.

Lord Swine

OMG, I just read the news on some paper based blog-site-picture-thing. We’re all going to die of pig flu. If you sit next to someone on the bus and they sneeze then you should remove your shoe and beat them until their brain comes out of their ears. If the person sat next to you on the tube hasn’t got swine flu, then they’re a terrorist. If they neither have swine flu nor are a terrorist, then you’re probably living in some utopian nightmare and you yourself are a neo-pagan, or worse, a communist.

Here’s some things you can do to avoid swine flu death:
1. Move to a country that doesn’t have pigs or people before all the borders are closed.
2. Kill everyone who looks at you funny.
3. Join a religion and pray to God to make the homos stop sexing sheep.
4. Stuff cake in your ears and other orifices that attract a waxy build up.
5. Sleep with one eye open, gripping your pillow tight.

What to do if you contract swine flu:
Stop using computers. If the internet gets it, we’re all fucked.

Blancmange eater

Today I met Michael Caine. I passed him near the statue. He looked at me, I looked at him; the space between our eyes raining silver sparks on passers by. After what was no more than a split second, I went to find my seat, and he his. He ate strawberry blancmange whist I read a book – boy, his blancmange looked tasty, but my book which rich with amphiboly so I was happy.

I wonder what he’s thinking right now. I wonder if he’s wondering what I’m thinking. Probably not. I bet he’s on a yacht in Corsica playing host to a gaggle of minarets and baubles.

I bet he thinks I’m just going to be sat at home all night eating ravioli out of a tin then playing Scalextric until I fall asleep in my own faeces. Well, Mr Caine, you are wrong, but not by far.

That’s one more social situation I won today. Winning at life.