Structures Of Power At Play In Terry Gilliam's Dystopian Trilogy

By David Edwards I have admired the director Terry Gilliam and his film projects for a long time. Every frame of each film is a masterpiece in its own right, and each work is peppered with Gilliam's unique sense of humour. Despite the dark recesses of the human experience the viewer is drawn into, these are deep, funny films and highly satirical. I wanted to analyse his exploration of hegemony over the individual in three of his film projects, the recent 'The Zero Theorem', 'Brazil' and 'Twelve Monkeys'. All three films are beautifully dark and analyse the increasing authoritarianism of (at least) the last 30 or so years and its impact on the 'ordinary man', who becomes increasingly lost in the face of unbending authority and its desire (for whatever apparent reason) for dominion over the mind. This analysis intends to examine the influence of hegemonic systems

and their machinations on the male psyche, and in turn, its attempts to break free of it. "In gender history the focus has, of course, been on men as agents of patriarchal power rather than as victims. This overlay of a gender approach onto earlier formulations has left an awkward and still unresolved legacy." -From 'Between Manliness and Masculinity : The "War Generation" and the Psychology of Fear in Britain, 1914-1950' The Journal of British Studies (2005), by Michael Roper. These dystopian tableaus all have common threads, the most obvious one being that all of the protagonists are male, but ultimately they cast a lens in very different ways. I am not the first person to link these films as an 'Orwellian dystopian trilogy', and it is a worthy undertaking to group the three together in this thematic exploration. As a director, Gilliam is famous for going against the grain of the Hollywood machine, and frequent problems surrounding distribution of his projects feed the cult status of his films as he has carved out a reputation as a maverick film-maker. His rebelliousness is extremely prevalent in these three films, and as with all of his projects, the audience should always be aware that the Director is playing with them. (Spoilers Ahead)

The Zero Theorem His excellent latest project, directed by Gilliam, and written by Pat Rushin, features a typically sarcastic take on dystopia, where the world at large has become hugely technocratic, and the emphasis on hedonism has become the predominant mantra of the empty society where everything appears like a giant video game arcade. The inner city visited by the main character is loud, bright, and at times irritating. The targeted advertising, reminiscent of the eyeball scanning marketing in Steven Spielberg's 2002 adaption of Phillip K Dick's Minority Report, follows its targets, getting louder and promoting their product with increasing urgency the longer they are ignored.

The Zero Theorem landscape is one of immersive carnival madness which echoes Gilliam's scenes in the Las Vegas 'Circus, Circus' from his 1998 adaption of Hunter S Thompson's 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas'. The protagonist 'Qohen Leth' (Christoph Waltz) is an eccentric computer genius who collectively refers to himself. This is a clever plot device, subconsciously anchoring the viewer directly with the protagonist, as it is his journey 'we' as the audience share. As an additional use of this device, Qohens referral to himself in this manner also echoes the tendency of royalty to do the same (the royal 'we'), which sets his character at a seemingly elevated position from the rest of the absorbed culture around him. He inhabits an old church, which I feel reflects a yearning for a profound loss of spirituality in the childlike society around him. He is a 'man of faith', reflected in his subconscious choice of dwelling, and is disconnected from the neon world of instant gratification around him. His quirkiness fascinates the other characters around him, despite their own eccentricities. Through Qohen, Gilliam portrays a man seeking purpose and meaning in a world which appears to have lost any sense of the two. Indeed, the reference to the sardonic 'Church of Batman' in one of the opening scenes is one of many allusions to the current consumerist and postmodern societal decay from the sublime to the ridiculous.

Image : The arcade game world portrayed in 'The Zero Theorem'.

Image : Qohen's home in an abandoned church, resplendent with masonic and ecclesiastical regalia. He is a 'keeper of the faith', and by the end of the film becomes 'a warden of the light'. The overarching control of Management is brought into his home, which becomes the chessboard where Qohen is the pawn, or the King to be eventually checkmated. Qohen personifies the perennial outsider, and acts as the perfect vehicle for the audience to view the detached world which Gilliam has conjured for him, where he reluctantly inhabits. “Nothing, nothing mattered, and I knew why. So did he. Throughout the whole absurd life I'd lived, a dark wind had been rising toward me from somewhere deep in my future, across years that were still to come, and as it passed, this wind leveled whatever was offered to me at the time, in years no more real than the ones I was living. What did other people's deaths or a mother's love matter to me; what did his God or the lives people choose or the fate they think they elect matter to me when we're all elected by the same fate, me and billions of privileged people like him who also called themselves my brothers? Couldn't he see, couldn't he see that? Everybody was privileged. There were only privileged people. The others would all be condemned one day. And he would be condemned, too.” -Albert Camus, The Outsider (1942) Whilst the outsider is a heavily romanticised mythological archetype (as is the 'tortured genius'), Gilliam is not kind to his protagonist

throughout the story (as communities are often unkind to those 'external observers' of their lives), and as a result the journey which the audience is taken on through his eyes, is one which leaves a feeling of traumatised satisfaction and alienated self discovery. I feel that this property of self reflection should be the aim of any intended narrative, as the medium of story is hoped to take its audience through the recesses of their own experience to further a comprehension of their environment and situation. In my opinion, these three films in particular display these narrative properties, albeit in an enigmatic fashion. In short, they leave a lot up to the viewer to figure out, and ambiguity is an extremely powerful mode of immersion. In appearance and in aspects of his journey, Qohen resembles elements of Boris Karloff's portrayal of Frankenstein's monster. In the Mary Shelley novel, the monster represents an unfortunate outsider's quest to find his place in a world which cannot comprehend him, and thus drives him to destroy his own creator.

Image : Boris Karloff camera negative from 'The Bride Of Frankenstein' (1935)

by Jack Freulich

Stylistically Qohen's gothic attire and abode reflect the lonely existence of Bram Stoker's vampire Count Dracula, in particular the 1922 German expressionist cinematic adaption Nosferatu.

Image : Max Schreck as Vampyre Count Orlock in Nosferatu (1922)

The eternal search for meaning in the human experience is a preoccupation which has dominated the mind for centuries. It has given rise to religion, philosophy, science, mathematics, art and story telling (to name but a few). The explanation of the film's title is embarked upon by Matt Damon's omniscient and omnipresent 'Management' to further Neitzche's assertion that 'God Is dead', and goes one step further in a nihilistic plan to prove definitively that neither God nor his creation exist at all. His vehicle to do this is 'The Zero Theorem', which will prove that existence can be mathematically reduced to zero and thus reinforcing the vacuousness of mindless consumption, with no metaphysical 'marketing' challenges to confront the business plan.

Image : The Omniscient and Omnipresent 'Management', moulder of the world to his will for dominion and hegemony with no competitors, especially 'God'. Management wishes to dominate the market, echoing the desire of every form of zealotry throughout history for a unipolar ideology of control. Qohen's whole purpose revolves around waiting for a phone call to tell him the purpose of his life: "... The voice would give us a reason for being ..." , -Qohen Leth He seems to have no control over his destiny, a weakness which is exploited by Management. His quest for purpose leads him to appeal to authority at almost every juncture in the story, as he waits and waits for destiny's call.

Image : Qohen Leth, in a promotional poster for 'The Zero Theorem'.

Qohen is withdrawn from his surrounding reality, and seems to epitomise the clinical definition of depression. He relentlessly petitions Management to be allowed to work at home, where he believes his call from destiny will be directed, and where he desires to wait in solitude. "I never define depression, clinical or otherwise. It's the basis of most life. It seems to be the modern world: we all are depressed." -Terry Gilliam, (Source) This seems to be an expected response in Qohen's character to the snapshot of the world Gilliam portrays. "Zero Theorem is really a kind of satirical version of the world we're living in. It's just a little aspect of the world that has to do with the connected world we live in, or those who chose not to be connected to that world. ..." "... In Zero Theorem, it's the shock of the world if you allow yourself to disconnect, and to forget it's out there, how noisy it is, how busy it is, how invasive it is. I was playing with all those things and basically the fact that I've been intrigued for so long about trying to disconnect from the connected world. ..." -Terry Gilliam, (Source) The other inhabitants are equally as removed and display extreme degrees of vacuousness via their immersion in technology. As Gilliam asserts above, this is a satirised reflection of increasing (and

spreading) Western technological hedonism. It is the disconnection (via paradoxical connection) of the 'smartphone generation'.

A running joke throughout the film is the orientation of all the screens in 'portrait mode', a disdainful nod from Gilliam towards the rise of tablet computing. The 'portrait' is a format designed to narrow one's perspective, largely attributed to the shape of the human body (in terms of mass consumption 'portrait' orientation is associated with traditional publication and 'self informing', i.e. books.). The 'landscape' is (in terms of image) a format that can encompass the world at large, and it enables a greater appreciation of three dimensional space via the use of

peripheral vision and a greater use of perspective (in terms of mass consumption 'landscape' orientation is traditionally associated with current television, cinema or computer screens). The difference between the two aesthetic mediums may seem trivial at first glance, but is a topic of serious discussion in terms of the user led evolution of formatting in the progression of entertainment and information presentation (and processing). With the use of devices such as the tablet computer and smartphone, the choice of screen orientation is left to the user, and in Gilliam's Zero Theorem society, the cultural norm is to have the screen in portrait mode, thus embracing a narcissistic and conscious choice of disconnection. At a party to which Qohen is invited, many of the guests are glued to their tablet computers instead of interacting in the moment, which is an indication of the growing obsession with our current era and the 'portrait screen'. At a pivotal point in the story, Qohen defiantly corrects his work

Image : Screen orientation is in portrait mode in Management's world.

screen orientation to 'landscape' in order that he may perceive his thankless task more fully. This may be a subtle nod of gratitude towards the cinematic art form that embraces the complexity of stories by showing it in a "fuller picture", as opposed to the corner cutting glimpses we get on the mini screens of tablets and smart phones. If this sounds like an elitist (or conservative) observation, think of the maxim 'quality not quantity', and the decline of the Hollywood production system (although there are a number of recent exceptions to this observation of late) to try and market films in a 'paint by focus group' approach to an increasingly disconnected online audience. I feel that the conflict in entertainment is a matter of individual interpretation; it is ambiguity and subtlety versus corporate homogenisation via prepackaged banality and trivialisation. It is a subtext running through the Zero Theorem. As a director, Gilliam appears as an outsider to this corporate Hollywood machine and to note this subtle assertion about something as innocuous as the orientation of a screen is not too speculative a leap. As an aside, an interesting observation is the much speculated over obelisk in Kubrick's 2001, of which it has been claimed, represents a visual metaphor for the cinema screen, as its dimensions are asserted to reflect those of the medium. This is a powerful reference to the screen being used to elevate man in a metaphysical evolutionary sense, and in Kubrick's opus the 'screen' is introduced in 'portrait mode'.

Image : The 'Screen' as an intellectual catalyst to elevate humanity in Kubrick's

2001 : A Space Odyssey

This opposition to the rise of the impersonality of viewing (and broadcasting) through the ever shrinking viewing screen is a concern equally felt by another of the great auteurs of enigmatic cinema, David Lynch. David Lynch on iPhone Management chooses Qohen to break his faith in destiny, by showing that he has led a 'life without purpose' by not seizing control of it and ultimately he is assimilated into the fold: "... You're connected to the neural net now..."

Image : Qohen enters the neural net via an immersive bodysuit

Management's true experiment was to break Qohen's spirit, (as he presents himself as a man of faith), and the Zero Theorem project, with all it's surrounding ensnaring devices, is his reductive device to do this. It's a very bleak look at the seduction of the online world, and a very current concern. As our species delves further into the virtual, are we losing a sense of our profound connection to the present moment? The concept of the Zero Theorem seems like a nihilist counter to the concept of the much anticipated information singularity, where the

exponential growth of digital information will theoretically coalesce to a point where everything is instantly known. The singularity could potentially lead to the birth of a new form of sentience or artificial intelligence, which could be the catalyst towards potential enslavement of the human race, or it's next evolution. This prevalent event presents a hot topic of debate concerning hegemony and dominion which I do not intend to address in depth here. Management seduces Qohen into the 'neural net', via a call girl who inserts herself (as part of Management's overarching scheme) into

his life at a party. Bainsley, played by Melanie Thierry (whose domain of work is exclusively in cyber space, she will not satisfy him physically) ensnares him unwittingly into the neural net where he begins to discover himself through a process of individuation and embracing of his own imagination and desires.

She builds a 'virtual relationship' with him, which Gilliam has explained is a major theme of the film: "I find myself sitting at my computer and find myself seduced by the internet. The web gives me access to all the knowledge in the world – but I worry to myself: do we have real relationships any more, only virtual relationships?" - Terry Gilliam (Source) Qohen must face the emptiness inside him by admitting to Bainsley he has the capacity for love, but he turns his back on the possibility to embrace this potential in pursuit of his goal. The obstacle to work towards is the receipt of his purpose giving phone-call by completing the impossible The Zero Theorem. This 'fool's journey' ultimately leads him to face the monstrous plan of Management, who reveals that he has led Qohen on a 'Reductio ad Absurdium' mission towards nothing on the back of an empty promise. The real project was to break the belief of a man of faith, and thus prove that life is devoid of meaning.

Image : Bainsley, Qohen's temptress who helps him admit he has the capacity for love.

“Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster... for when you gaze long into the abyss. The abyss gazes also into you.” -Beyond Good and Evil (1886) by Friedrich Nietzsche

Image : The Abyss inside Qohen, which he crosses to seize control of his

destiny. Upon the revelation of Management's plan, Qohen quite understandably decries Management as a devil, to which Management replies that he is neither God, nor the Devil; he is merely a businessman. A statement which resonates with the coldness of the world he has shaped around him, reflected in the Abyss inside Qohen. Qohen subsequently crosses through this abyss (Daarth on the Universal Tree Of Life), to find his sanctuary within his mind. There he becomes a 'warden of the light', where he brings on the final sunset of his story.

Image : Qohen's final sunset of freedom to finally follow his destiny, alone. He has become a 'light bearer', as he now follows his own path. Symbolically Qohen takes on the form of an unwitting personal messiah in the face of Management's quest for total control, which is undertaken by destroying hope and any spiritual connection to a sense of purpose and self worth. One could argue that Qohen embodies the death of this profound sense of a moment now long gone, and man's last chance at disconnection, as he bears the light to inevitably dim, and now follows his own path to his quiet demise. He is tainted by his quest to discover destiny's call (which in all probability was a seed planted by a marketing cold call). The message for me was that the search for meaning is an internal one, but ultimately waiting for a 'Great Truth' to reveal itself is an exercise in futility if one absurdly lives a life devoid of meaning in the process.

Brazil In this 1985 film, co-written by Gilliam, Charles McKeown and Tom Stoppard, the audience is launched into a self-contained world encapsulating a nightmarish and inefficient bureaucracy.

Images : (Left) The dream-like setting of the film as "Somewhere in the 20th century", (middle) The homogenous "Central Services", (Right) The humdrum "Utopia" of State Sponsored Infomercials. In the opening scene a television store is broadcasting a 'Central Services' infomercial concerning the quintessentially British suburban placement of flying ducks up the wall (a sarcastic dig at homogeneity and its dullness). This is interrupted by an explosion, duly followed by an interview with the State's Deputy Minister of Information, Mr. Helpman, played by Peter Vaughan. There is no direct revelation of any authority above him, indicating the terrifying prospect that no-one is in charge of this totalitarian and highly compartmentalised system, highlighting a flippant lack of culpability or overall responsibility.

Images : (Left) Mr.Helpman, the Deputy director broadcasts his message via an understated television screen, (Right) A still from the 1984 cinematic adaptation of Orwell's "1984", where the fake head of the State apparatus "Big Brother" dominates the minds of his subjects, the parallels between the illusory projection of power in L. Frank Baum's 'Wizard Of Oz' also spring to mind. Whilst there are many similarities between Orwell's dystopian vision and the world of "Brazil", Gilliam's film presents a more comedic take on the concept of a totalitarian regime. During the interview he addresses the spectre of terrorism as 'bad sportsmanship' with the aplomb of a sports master at a British public school: "You can't win the game if you're a man short." This line sets up the central theme of overarching control, which in turns forms the backdrop of the central obstacle of the narrative in the form of a clerical error in information processing.

Images : The seemingly innocuous clerical error, the driving obstacle of the narrative, as it represents the fallibility of hegemony. The culprit is a wayward fly, killed by a technician out of frustration and leading to a typo on a list of names for interrogation from 'Tuttle' to 'Buttle'. The reality of this seemingly innocuous sequence of events leads to the false abduction of an innocent man. Mr.Buttle is extracted in front of his family by State goons and a cold bureaucrat in a bowler hat, who hands the poor man's traumatised wife (played by Sheila Reid) a receipt for her husband.

Images : (Left) A Family Christmas is interrupted, (centre) as Mr. Buttle is abducted by the State, (Right) His wife is left with the only trace of his existence (other than his children), a receipt. She is told whilst in a highly panicked state, and after an array of forms to fill in, that her husband is required to: "Assist the Ministry of Information with its inquiries." The lack of attention within the poorly compartmentalised society is again brought to the audiences attention in the guise of the 'department of works' team. Their attempt to plug the hole in the ceiling (bored by the assault team), comically coincides with their reassurance to Buttle's neighbour, Jill Layton, played by Kim Griest (the love interest of the soon to be introduced protagonist), who protests that a mistake has been made, of the following as the plug falls through into the apartment of the ruined family below: "We don't make mistakes. ... They must have gone back to metric without telling us again..."

Thus the stage is set for a descent into the insanity of this strange nightmare, a masterful introduction by the Director.

Image: Terry Gilliam on the set of 'Brazil' (1985)

The establishment of the protagonist Sam Lowry, played by Jonathan Pryce, is set against the backdrop of his department, the Department of Records. His reluctant manager Mr Kurtzman, (Ian Holm) struggles to keep tabs on his workers in a cat and mouse game, where they watch old movies whenever his back is turned, yet always cast the illusion of productivity under his watching eye.

Images : (Top Left) The hive appearing to busy themselves in the Department of Records, (Top Right) The shower of paperwork caused by Sam's reluctance to comply in Information Retrieval, (Bottom Left and Right) The farcical struggle for desk space with the office next door when Sam takes his later promotion into Information Retrieval.

It is clear that Kurtzman relies heavily on Sam, whose faulty electrics in his apartment give the audience a first glimpse into his heavily mythologised dreams; where he is a winged hero rescuing a romanticised Jill (who he has yet to meet, suggesting either synchronistic fate or State pre-destination by some form of hypnopaedic suggestion) as he sleeps through his alarm. He is introduced to the audience as an individual dreamer reluctantly inhabiting a hive of rigid conformity (albeit on the surface).

Tom Stoppard, one of the co-writers has asserted that theme of the film is: "A myth about the free man living in an unfree society" -Tom Stoppard, 'What is Brazil?' (1985) The content of the dream sequences at points echo many aspects of classical mythology and Jungian individuation, and become internally liberating as the narrative progresses. In these dream sequences, Sam finds himself as a winged hero, representing his attempts to transcend. Similar to Icarus, he strives to soar above the

clouds. He fights a giant teleporting samurai, who clips his wings. As an enforcer of 'The Empire Of The Sun' (Japan), echoing the myth of Icarus, the Sun grounds the hero who seeks transcendence. Corporate imperialism is personified in this behemoth stirred from its throne, seen (left) in a promotional poster for the film, sitting above a pyramid of junk atop a neon crucifix, indicating the State's projection of hegemony above any Christian or communitarian conception of compassion. This is the selfish, vengeful and jealous Old Testament God (a comparison to the human sacrifice of Aztec Sun worship also springs

Image : Promotional poster for Brazil

to mind), who precedes and dominates the more compassionate allegory of the New Testament doctrine of forgiveness and non-altruistic self-sacrifice. In these sequences Sam's subconscious conjures a frightening image of the Patriarchal hegemony subjugating and controlling the Filial aspirations to break free of its influence. On a personal level for Sam, he does not wish to become his father as a senior party official, or an 'executive'. Lowry's admittance of fallibility as representative of the bureaucratic State to Mrs. Buttle, when he attempts to excuse the 'mistake' with the assertion that 'we're only human' (nothing could be further from the truth in the desired projection of this overbearing patriarchal State with aspirations of Godhood). This is the ultimate taboo broken as sons are not meant to openly criticise their fathers; instead they are meant to immortalise them as their model for God. This is how the ascribed spiritual patriarchy of the Roman Catholic Church dominated the minds of the population for centuries, to question it's infallibility as the earthly representative of God's flock was classed as despicable heresy to be dealt with brutally: "...The old man has told Him He hasn't the right to add anything to what He has said of old. ... ... people are more persuaded than ever that they have perfect freedom, yet they have brought their freedom to us and laid it humbly at our feet. But that has been our doing. ... ... Thou hast given to us the right to bind and to unbind, and now, of course, Thou canst not think of taking it away. Why, then, hast Thou come to hinder us? ... ... man prefers peace, and even death, to freedom of choice in the knowledge of good and evil? Nothing is more seductive for man than his freedom of conscience, but nothing is a greater cause of suffering. ... ... Mankind as a whole has always striven to organise a universal state. There have been many great nations with great histories, but the more highly they were developed the more unhappy they were,

for they felt more acutely than other people the craving for world-wide union. ... ... too well will they know the value of complete submission! And until men know that, they will be unhappy. ..." -Excerpts from chapter 5, 'The Grand Inquistor' of The Brothers Karamazov(1880), by Fyodor Dostoevsky. The dominion of the kingdoms of men also forms the basis for one of the temptations of Christ by the devil in Milton's 'Paradise Regained', where all Christ has to do is bow down to Satan to gain this absolute power: "These things I have shown thee, I have shown thee all The Kingdoms of the world, and all their glory. .. ... with what ease, Endued with regal virtues as thou art, Appearing, and beginning noble deeds, Mightst thou expel this monster from his throne, now made a sty, and in his place ascending, A victor-people free from servile yoke! And with my help thou may'st; to me thy powers given, and by that right I give it thee. Aim therefore at no less than all the world; Aim at the highest; without the highest attained, Will be for thee no sitting, or not long,on David's throne, be prophesied what will. " -Excerpts from Book 4 of 'Paradise Regained' (1671) by John Milton. This 'deal with the devil' for Hellish dominion, by the power structure in Brazil, is hinted at by Mr. Kurtzman, when he bemoans to Lowry about the recent 'seventh tier reorganisation' and it being the culprit for the breakdown in efficiency and further compartmentalisation between the various departments. The number seven has both been referred to as the 'devil's number' and as a 'divine number', it's subtle use here as a submissive vehicle to further obfuscate the procedural hell or heaven (depending on an upper managerial or subordinate perspective within the hierarchy) of the bureaucracy is an interesting referential aside, which echoes the above excerpts from Dostoevsky and Milton. The concept of civic religion is also prevalent in the narrative, as the timing of the setting is Christmas time, as we have already observed the destruction of the Buttle family Christmas with overarching State incursion removing it's patriarch by mistake. It would appear that the modern appropriation of the Christian appropriation of the Pagan

winter festival has also descended into the ridiculous, as can be seen in the still below from Sam's escape fantasy at the climax of the film.

Image : A banner proclaiming "Consumers For Christ" can be seen as Sam 'escapes' through a shopping mall. The audio in this scene features a Santa Claus asking a young girl what she would like for Christmas, to which she replies "My own credit card." To make return to the patriarchal symbolism of Sam's dreams, I would like to briefly look at the numerology at play in the location of Lowry's apartment. He disembarks from the cube-like public transport to return home to 'Level 41', in hermetic numerology '42' is associated with the planet Jupiter, which is named from the 'father' of the Roman pantheon of Gods 'Jupiter' or 'Jove'.

Image : The 'not quite ascendant' level 41, where Sam lives. He is living under the patriarchal bureaucracy.

It seems to be no accident that Sam's attempts to underachieve and his stagnant decision not to ascend through the ranks like his deceased father, is reflected in this allusion that he is not quite at the level of patriarch, and still that of a son. The suggestion in the dream sequences, is again an echo of classical mythology, as only Sam can save himself from the overarching patriarchal dominion by choosing not to comply its aspirations for him to ascend upwards and tow the party line.

Images : (Left) Sam as the hero attempting to transcend away from patriarchal hegemony as a winged symbol of spiritual freedom. (Right) The Imperial Samurai is roused from its throne as Sam attempts to free his anima who drives him, manifested in Jill's image. Gilliam inverts the Icarus myth, where instead of falling to earth by flying too close to the Sun, Sam overcomes the fiery Sun symbol of the samurai on the ground. The samurai is the figurative enforcer of imperial might and as Sam bests this monster, (by anchoring it in the reality of his dream with a sword of truth to the foot) he releases torrents of flame (reinforcing the solar symbolism) from each wound he inflicts, only to discover that under its demonically shrieking mask, rests his own face.

Images : (Left) Sam bests the Samurai in 'Brazil' to find himself staring back from under the armour, (Right) Luke Skywalker discovers himself under Darth Vader's mask in 'The Empire Strikes Back' in the infamous cave sequence on Dagobah as he trains to become a Jedi Warrior.

This illustration of projection of the protagonist's shadow is reminiscent of the infamous 'cave sequence' of 'The Empire Strikes Back' (1980), and reflects the allegory's deeper roots within mythology as observed in the archetypal hero's journey by Joseph Campbell: "He must put aside his pride, his virtue, beauty and life and bow or submit to the absolutely intolerable. Then he finds that he and his opposite are not of differing species, but one flesh." -The Hero with a Thousand Faces (1949) by Joseph Campbell This insight shows Sam that the only real obstacle to his freedom is the choice to submit to the will of the State and unbendingly comply to 'the rules of the game'. Sam desires to be no longer a foot soldier or warrior of the larger machine as he seeks to free his 'forbidden love' and freedom from control to pursue his own destiny, yet he has to submit in order to free himself and his anima, Jill. The overarching reality at the film's conclusion is, however, wholeheartedly bleak. The dysfunction in the bizarre automation and technology in Sam's apartment proves to be the crux which introduces Robert De Niro's Archibald Tuttle, "my friends call me Harry", a freelance heating engineer who comes to Sam's rescue as the result of a faulty thermostat.

Image : Sam's heroic alter ego

Images : (Left) The dysfunctional heating system and (Right) the frustrating telephone system, where the user has to patch in calls, indicating the absence of operators and the ineffectiveness of the overarching bureaucracy. Tuttle is the original enemy of the State, a 'freelance subversive', who escapes interrogation at the hands of the imperialsim, due to the clerical error which becomes so central to the plot, as it becomes apparent that the unfortunate Mr Buttle has died during interrogation in his place. The concern of Sam's boss, Mr Kurtzman, isn't that of a man meeting his wrongful demise at the hands of the State. His concern is directed towards the processing of a refund which is ineffectually passed between departments, in the hope that the mistake will become somebody else's problem.

Image : What the State sees of the travesty of Mr. Buttle's death, a problem form to be unfeelingly passed between departments, far removed from the reality of the death of a husband and father. Kurtzman's over-reliance on Sam could be seen as woeful inefficiency; yet his manipulation of Sam to sign over responsibility for the refund on his behalf (leading Sam ultimately to his doom and interrogation), seems to be an act of extreme self-preservation on the part of Kurtzman, using Sam as the fall-guy or patsy for the mistakes of the State apparatus.

Images : Kurtzman, the ineffectual middle manager who implicates Sam into accepting the responsibility for the gross error of the system, preserving himself and setting Sam up on his inevitable path to the interrogation chair. It is Sam who tracks down Buttle's widow, to issue the refund and apologises on behalf of the Ministry. He attempts to connect with her in sympathy, only to be met by her projection onto him as a faceless bureaucrat of the overarching system as she screams: "What have you done with his body?"

Images : (Left) Sam attempts to coldly placate Mrs. Buttle and deliver her refund, (Right) In Sam's dream sequence Mrs. Buttle screams "What have you done with his body?". Removed from sympathy in reality, through his subconscious Sam perceives the true horror of the situation and in the process begins to discover his own humanity. This is where Sam first encounters Jill, his subconscious object of desire, and his judgement becomes clouded as he sets off in pursuit of her by accepting the promotion to 'Information Retrieval' which his overbearing mother, (played by Katherine Helmond) has been attempting to manoeuvre him into through her connections to the Deputy Minister. In the characters of Jill and his mother, it is possible to observe aspects of the Jungian 'anima' at play, wielding her subconscious power over Sam's destiny: "... In its individual manifestation the character of a man's anima is as a rule shaped by his mother. If he feels that his mother is a negative

influence on him, his anima will often express itself in irritable, depressed moods, uncertainty, insecurity, and touchiness. ... ... It is the presence of the anima that causes a man to fall suddenly in love when he sees a woman for the first time and knows at once that this is 'she.' In this situation, the man feels as if he has known this woman intimately for all time : he falls for her so helplessly that it looks to outsiders like complete madness. Women who are of 'fairy'-like' character especially attract such anima projections, because men can attribute almost anything to a creature who is so fascinatingly vague, and can thus proceed to weave fantasies around her. ..." -'The Process of Individuation', by Marie Louise Von Franz. Chapter 3 of 'Man and His Symbols' (1964)

Images : (Far Left) Jill as Sam's anima in his dreams, (Middle Left) Jill manifested in reality as the focus of his desires and waking fantasies, (Middle right) Sam's overbearing mother, whom he seeks independence from, yet hides with Jill in his mother's apartment when faced with nowhere else to go, (Far Right) Sam's final fantasy/dream sequence, where his anima and his mother have merged, at which point she whispers to him 'this is a sacred moment', where in his mind he is about to escape the clutches of both matriarchal and patriarchal hegemony to internally individuate to internalised 'freedom'. Sam appears to crave the independence, free spirited nature and street wise attitude which Jill Layton embodies. She is his grounding influence in reality, after he expresses his desire to escape with her, she bluntly informs him that "there's nowhere to go". Lowry seems content at the beginning of the film to sit happily in his underachieving job as a clerk, with no aspirations above his station and stubbornly ignoring his mother's attempts to control his destiny. He seems firmly resistant to the system's myriad attempts to extract conformity from him. A case in point is the scene in the restaurant, where patrons order homogenous gloop from a menu, consisting only of numbers. Sam wants a 'fillet steak', to which the Maitre 'D informs him "you have to say the number", and refuses to take the order until Sam conforms to the pantomime.

Image : An example of the homogenised gloop, which arrives after Sam has conformed to the charade of choice in the restaurant. This conformity to protocol reflects all aspects of the State. As Helpman tells Sam during his later processing: "The rules of the game are laid down, we all have to play by them, even me." All decisions are made for the individual, and there is no control of personal destiny, this is the bureaucratic world of total control and conformity to this system of faceless State hegemony. The dysfunction and inefficiency of this nightmarishly over-centralised system is microcosmically played out in Sam's apartment, when Sam accepts the help of Harry Tuttle with his faulty heating system (as a result of the failings of Central Services). Tuttle's interception of Lowry's distress call introduces him into Sam's life dressed in paramilitary garb at the barrel of a gun. The irony of Tuttle being decried by the system as a terrorist for working outside it, forces him to take on the stereo-typical appearance of one.

Image : Robert De Niro's gung-ho, 'freelance subversive', Harry Tuttle. Tuttle is a 'terrorist' in the eyes of the bureaucracy (or 'freedom fighter' in Sam's eyes) as a freelancer outside the 'paperwork', and ironically he dies symbolically consumed by said paperwork in Sam's escape fantasy sequence... Tuttle's End Tuttle just wants to help people and not be impaired in this by the overarching bureaucracy of procedural forms. He represents Sam's 'saviour' in his mind, a man in control of his own destiny in the face of centralised State procedural control. His caution do not seem misplaced as he tells Sam: "I've had traps laid for me before." As the narrative progresses, it is possible to interpret Sam Lowry's journey to the interrogation chair as part of an elaborate trap to find Tuttle and correct the shortcomings of the clerical error which led the State to murder the wrong man. This 'free-lance subversion', in which Tuttle by-passes the ineffectual components and procedures of the Central Services heating system, is a direct threat to the rigid control which permeates through this

totalitarian society, as Tuttle himself states to Sam that Central Services engineers: "... can't make a move without a form".

Image : Central Services' deranged and sadistic heating engineers

It is this procedural logic which Sam throws back at the maniacal Central Services engineers, Spoor (Bob Hoskins) and Dowser (Derrick O'Conner), who arrive whilst Tuttle is in the flat. They barge their way in, enraged that their efficiency and 'professionalism' has been challenged, so Sam stalls them with a request for the dreaded "27B-6 form". This drives these two State operatives into a frenzy, and later incurs their wrath (the destruction and requisition of his domicile). They end up drowning in shit at the hands of Tuttle in act of revenge on behalf of Sam.

Images : (Left) "Shit!" "We're all in it together kid", (Centre) Spoor and Dowser drowning in shit, (Right) A defaced billboard from Sam's fantasised escape sequence proclaims "The Shit, we're all in it together". The later destruction of Sam's home by the system in a sense ends up freeing him, leaving comfort behind, as his hand is forced towards his inevitable internalised individuation in the torture chair. This

bureaucratic revenge on the part of Central Services is fuelled by Sam's defiant line of: "Where would we be, if we didn't stick to the correct procedures?" This clearly indicates his profound awareness of the insanity of this system, and the restriction of procedural channels as a tool of compartmentalisation and control. Lowry understands how to work the system, which is perhaps one reason why he is targeted for subjugation by it. This unfree society has to exert total submission over all, and the State agents know how to fight back with bureaucracy, as we see in the destruction of Sam's abode, and his inevitable ensnarement in "assisting the ministry with it's inquiries". Sam's unwitting revelation of the fallibility of the State, (in personally apologising to Mrs. Buttle on behalf of the Ministry) which must project the illusion of infallibility onto its citizens, is also another factor which leads him to the interrogation room to be tortured at the hands of his oldest friend, Jack Lint (Michael Palin).

Images : (Left) Jack Lint greets Sam Lowry in his office, projecting pleasantries in his blood soaked overalls after an interrogation, (Middle) Jack prepares to torture his oldest friend, (Right) after he has made the decision to continue with his job, despite his connection to his latest victim in an act of unbending self preservation in service to the State. Jack is a character who has become so warped as a State interrogator, that he cannot deviate from any fault which the State and it's representatives project. At the pivotal scene where Sam approaches Helpman for his promotion, (against the backdrop of his mother's celebration of her successful cosmetic surgery) Jack's wife is assigned the wrong name of 'Barbara' by the ageing Deputy Director, and without losing a beat, Jack assigns this name to her for the rest of the film. Jack exudes the appearance of a 'family man' throughout the film, yet his disconnection in a state of extreme cognitive dissonance becomes apparent as he cannot even tell his children apart.

This is a man bending to the will of the State, as he is a personal extension of it, and knows what happens firsthand to those the system deems as enemies for whatever reason, even his oldest friend Sam Lowry. One of the many propaganda posters seen in the set dressings sums up the self preservation of this mindset with the proclamation "Don't suspect a friend, report him".

Images : Jack tries to present civility to his friend, whilst veiling the fact that Sam is being set up by the power structure in order to 'correct' the error which Sam has unwittingly admitted culpability for on behalf of the State. Sam is oblivious to this scheme as he 'romantically' pursues Jill, unaware that his pursuit of her has also sealed her fate as a victim of overarching hegemony. Jack Lint epitomises the psychopathy of this nightmarish bureaucracy to a fore, and his unwillingness to accept culpability for the savagery of his job and the system it represents is revealed in the following quotes from his character: "... It's not my fault Buttle's heart condition wasn't on his file ... ... Everything's connected, all along the line. Cause and effect. That's the beauty of it. Our job is to trace the connections and reveal them. ... ... This was all obviously planned from the inside ..." This final line introduces the State assumption that rather than admit it's own shortcomings in making a mistake, there must be someone within the system to whom blame can be assigned, which is where Sam Lowry conveniently enters the frame. When Sam accepts his promotion to 'Information Retrieval', two subtle things of note happen to suggest he is being incarcerated ahead of time, the first is that the elevator does not ascend all the way to the thirtieth floor (suggesting that he is not truly working there, more in a ceremonial role), where his 'very own door, with his very own number' is assigned to him. To me this seems a bit too much like incarceration into this terrifying department, where people are interrogated to death, as has already been demonstrated via the unfortunate Mr. Buttle. Information Retrieval is "Proud of our

reputation being protected", in the sinister words of his new manager, Mr. Warren (Ian Richardson). Unfortunately, this potential warning seems lost on Sam, who has been blinded by his pursuit of Jill, failing even to notice the spies of the State apparatus nervously watching his every move. It is through the character of Jill that the possibility of the terrorist attacks being manipulated by the system, which is conning its citizens into the false assumption that the State is protecting them from an externalised threat, which is very likely to be State sponsored: "Have you ever met a terrorist?" - Jill Layton This touches on the illusion of an external 'terrorist' threat to hegemony, which the State projects as a faceless spectre to justify it's draconian existence. This notion is further alluded to as Sam aids the wheelchair bound Mr. Helpman at his mother's party. Helpman tells Sam how close he and Sam's father were, and his father's convenient demise in bombing allowed Mr. Helpman to gain promotion through the ranks. This pivotal scene also provides Helpman's machinations to provide Sam with the elevator code for access to his office, via Helpman's private lift with an aside about the 'Ghost in the machine'. Another loose end is tied up, as his deceased superior's son is set up by Helpman as the patsy to give up Tuttle's 'freelance subversive', and pinning all mistakes in the process on the unsuspecting Sam. In the build up to Sam's interrogation, Helpman appears dressed as Santa Claus, offering him no more help than a 'bottle of barley water', and breaks his spirit further by informing him of the death of his anima figure Jill whilst resisting arrest. Sam is urged to make it easy on himself and confess, and this is hegemony's attempt to break him prior to his interrogation at the hands of his friend, whilst emphasising the financial penalties of withholding information during interrogation, rather than the physical and psychological consequences of the torture to come.

Images : (Left) Sam sees a glimpse of State processing, as another inmate makes a break for it, (Centre) Sam slips into nightmarish fantasy during his own processing within a burlap sack, (Right) Mr. Helpman sadistically patronises Sam prior to his interrogation, dressed as Santa Claus, proclaiming "what are we going to do with you?" This is where Sam drifts off entirely into fantasy, escaping within his mind from all aspects of hegemony to individuate and free his spirit, if not his body. They cannot break him or force him to conform any further, but have made sure his defiance is contained. Sam has nowhere else to go, except his internalised fantasy where hegemony cannot reach him. His desire has been fulfilled in having his moment of satisfaction with Jill, and her death means hegemony has no further means of controlling him, he is his own man now. His inner strength has shone through. "There is a strength to endure everything" -From chapter 5, 'The Grand Inquistor' of The Brothers Karamazov(1880), by Fyodor Dostoevsky.

Images : "He's got away from us Jack..."

The bleak end to the story sees Sam Lowry in the interrogation chamber, a chimney of industry, defiantly singing 'Aquarela Do Brasil', written by Ary Barroso in 1939. A theme which Tuttle first hummed in his apartment upon their first meeting. Brazil - Geoff Muldaur "The idea originally began down at Port Talbot in Wales. Port Talbot is a steel town, and the beach is absolutely black from the coal dust that's brought from the ships coming into the quays, and these great conveyor belts take the coal. The coal dust comes out on this pitch

black beach. I was sitting there at sunset and I just had this image of this guy sitting on this beach, looking out at sunset, with a radio picking up 'Aquarela Do Brazil', Latin American romantic stuff. That's where it all started from. That's what the film is still about. It's about somebody trying to escape from it, or thinking there's an escape from it. ... The impossibility of escape from reality. ... Franz Kafka meets Walter Mitty. " - Terry Gilliam, What is Brazil?' (1985)

Twelve Monkeys This 1995 film was initially the subject of heavy criticism from Gilliam's loyal fanbase as many felt he had gone 'mainstream' within the Hollywood studio system. The script, penned by David Webb Peoples and Janet Peoples, was a venture undertaken to remake Chris Marker's 'La Jetee' by Universal Studios with Gilliam at the helm. The criticism fell to the wayside, as the film became critically acclaimed and was a huge box office success (although the wide success of the film could be argued to further the assertion of 'going mainstream', yet isn't the obvious intention of any film-maker to have their work seen by a wide audience?). The story begins with the dream of a man being gunned down by police at the security gate an airport, witnessed by a young boy. This dream becomes a recurring theme of the film, as the audience follows the journey of James Cole (Bruce Willis) on a fine line trodden between the nature of insanity and reality. His fate is to be caught in a temporal feedback loop through the deep imprinting of this death. Cole awakens from this dream incarcerated in a futuristic (some time around 2035) subterranean prison, as it becomes apparent to the audience that some kind of cataclysmic event has forced mankind to live way below the surface of the planet. The division of classes is soon established, as Cole's name is ominously called from a list for 'volunteer duty'. The brutal control of this prisoner underclass is emphasised in Cole's statement to the warden that he 'didn't volunteer', and the barked response of 'causing trouble again?' is met with Cole's submissive 'No'. It is clear that whatever he has been volunteered for is an order with very little choice in the fated 'duty' he must now face.

It is through a sense of a soldier's duty that the film focuses (in many respects) on the notion of a noble death in unflinching service to the whims of a hierarchy. Cole's initial mission is to be dispatched to the barren surface of the earth to gather samples of organic life for thorough analysis by the group of scientists who form the top tier of these surviving remnants of humanity.

Images : (Left) The abandoned future snowscape of Philadelphia, which Cole (Right) explores for specimens on his initial 'volunteered' task. As Cole explores the ruined landscape of a decaying city, he comes across landmarks which will resonate later in the narrative. These will convince him of the reality of his mission, whilst he attempts to ease his comprehension of it by viewing it as a delusion. In the cityscape he encounters former symbols of the strength found in the animal kingdom, which the human race adopted as symbols of power, but are now literal rulers of man's former abode.

Images: (Left) The Lion, a symbol of pride and (British) empire dominates the abandoned city, elevated high above Cole. (Right) The Bear, a symbol of (Soviet Socialist) strength and solitude, challenges Cole on the same level of terrain, but leaves him to his fate as a pawn of the scientific elite. His disturbance of a flock of birds in this scene, which fly through an opening in the roof of a ruined department store past an angel, are clear references to his attempted transcendence from his fate.

Image : The ruined department store, where Cole's encounter with winged symbols resonate (when he finds himself at this location in the past of 1996) that he is not suffering from delusions and must accept his fate. His later recollection of this place in the past, causes him to realise that he cannot slip into the ease of accepting his fragmented reality as a mere delusion, and he must reluctantly accept this reality and continue onwards with his duty and finish the mission. Throughout the film the audience joins Cole in attempting to piece together the multiple fragments of his mind as Cole attempts to assemble them, so that his superiors can save humanity via his efforts and observations. "It's a film about pieces" -Terry Gilliam, 'The Hamster Effect And Other Tales Of Twelve Monkeys' (1996) Of course the process of film-making is a fractured method of putting together a story. Once the script is finalised, the scenes are usually shot out of sequence and reassembled later in the editing process. It takes a strong mind to hold it all together as a Director, and the collaborative hierarchy within the varying production teams is one of the last potentially acceptable dictatorships within modern Western society. Gilliam becomes extremely involved in the process (as do most directors), and he openly admits that he tends to personally

experience the internalised journey of his protagonists at some point in the production. More often than not, he tends to find himself prone to deep states of depression due to high levels of stress during filming. The subject matter of Twelve Monkeys, and its exploration of the line between sanity and insanity, would undoubtedly have had a profound effect on the director, as it seems to on its audience. It is not a film which is easily forgotten, and raises questions in the mind of the viewer long after the end credits have rolled. The next leap for Cole's character (after his trip into the ruined world for specimens) is to be sent back through time to 1990 (instead of 1996 as planned) by the board of scientists. His mission is to study the virus responsible for humanity's fall, in some kind of bid by this group to find a cure in the present.

Images : The contraceptive themed technology of 2035. (Left) Cole enters a birth canal type tunnel to gain access to the world above. (Middle and Left) The Prophylactic type time machine which inserts Cole into the time stream. He agrees to this further mission in exchange for a promised reduction of his present prison sentence. Ironically he finds himself becoming incarcerated in police custody and under heavy sedation in 1990 when sent back to Baltimore.

Image : Cole finds himself in police custody on his first time travel mission, his encounter with a County Psychiatrist leads him into a psychiatric facility.

It is at this point that he receives the diagnosis of suffering from paranoid schizophrenia by a county psychiatrist, Kathryn Railly (Madeleine Stowe). Due to his disorientation and story of being an apparent time-traveller, he is transferred to an asylum, where he finds himself at the mercy of another board of scientists in the guise of a psychiatric panel. Once admitted to the general population of the deranged and disturbed, Cole encounters Jeffrey Goines (Brad Pitt), who becomes a central character to divert his attention away from the real cause of the virus later. Goines, the fanatical pro-animal rights and anti-consumerist son of a wealthy virologist, presents an interesting conundrum regarding the relation of wealth to the perception of mental health. It is implied that those without money would be labelled as crazy, whereas those with financial wealth backing them, would not be stigmatized with labels, but referred to lovingly as eccentric. The point here would be that a patient would be perceived very differently in regards to their social standing, access to wealth and connections to power. Goines is an embodiment of this, as is seen in his proclamations to the staff such as 'wait till my father hears about this.' His rantings, in this respect, have an element of truth to them, as does his profound introductory monologue (video below), which oozes with manic insight. Plague Of Madness In this introduction to him, Goines is obviously a comfortable resident of this public mental health facility; which in this film is portrayed as a decaying prison-like building, where the patients are contained from the outside world at the whim of the psychiatrists. So here begins the central dissonance within Cole's mind, and his attempts to reason with the psychiatric board for his release echoes his situation at the beginning of the story. As the narrative unfolds, he begins to doubt whether his whole mission is a delusion, and the parallels in both situations do nothing to ease his attempts to grapple with the nature of his reality.

Images : Cole finds his fate at the mercy of two boards of scientists (Left) He explains himself in 2035. (Right) He explains himself in 1990. Both boards are composed of 6 scientists, combined they make 12, possibly the titular '12 monkeys' of the film in addition to the activist group spawned by Jeffrey Goines. To add to his confusion, in his sedated state he bonds with Goines on the subject of animal rights, and seems to plant the seeds for humanity's destruction in this discussion. This furthers his later resolution to re-enter the past in a desperate bid to correct his apparent responsibility for the mass population reduction incurred by the release of the deadly virus in 1996. Railly, who strangely feels that she has met him before, begins to academically investigate elements of his story in the second part of the film, after Cole's mysterious disappearance from an impossibly sealed room.

Image : Cole's seemingly impossible escape from a sealed room, and his empty restraints confound the staff at the psychiatric facility in 1990

The reality of Cole's escape is revealed at a debriefing under the scrutiny of the scientists in the subterranean future, in the elevated interrogation chair.

Images : (Left) Cole is debriefed in an elevated chair (possibly an over-pronounced version of the chair which he is placed on when interviewed before the psychiatric board in 1990). (Right) The fragmented jigsaw of information which Cole faces during his debriefing. Like a good soldier, Cole agrees to be sent back to the past via the cocoon of the bizarre time machine. The place where he finds himself accidentally sent is the trenches of the First World War, a setting of huge importance with regards to the power structure at play in this narrative. “With our backs to the wall and believing in the justice of our cause, each one of us must fight on to the end.” -General Sir Douglas Haig, British commander, April 1918 (Source) “I believe that the war is being deliberately prolonged by those who have the power to end it. I believe that this war, upon which I entered as a war of defence and liberation, has now become a war of aggression and conquest.” -Siegfried Sassoon, British soldier and poet (Source) “The trench experience was one of the most sustained and systematic shattering of the human senses: it stripped man of the protective layers of civilisation and thrust his naked, fragile body between the ravages of industrial modernity, on the one hand, and the chaos of formless matter on the other.” -Tim Kendall, writer (Source) The Great War represented a dramatic change in the nature of warfare, with the increased industrialisation of killing laying waste to a large swathe of young men who enlisted to fight so tragically for the power struggles of the day. The military myth of the noble death in service to a hierarchy, which the horrors of the trenches exposed as romanticised fallacy, is reflected in Cole's line towards the end of the

film where he states "this part isn't about the virus. It's about following orders, doing what you're told."

Image : Cole is given no choice by his friend Jose but to accept his fate in the guise of serving his duty: "this part isn't about the virus. It's about following orders, doing what you're told." This statement is a reflection of the attitude expected from the soldiers in the Great War, not to question their orders and to be prepared to die in the daily massacres at the hands of an unflinching officer class, co-ordinating the chaos from far behind the front lines. Cole finds himself sent to this time period by accident (due to the teething problems of a time travel technology in its infancy), and he sees his acquaintance from his own time, Jose, who is being stretchered past him and is equally as bewildered by his surroundings. As Cole attempts to communicate with his companion from his own time, he is shot in the leg as the adjustment to his time location is corrected to his intended destination of Baltimore in 1996. This bullet becomes central in his third time-travel mission to convince him that he is not delusional, and validates the reality of his mission to find the source of the virus.

Image : A photograph of Cole in the trenches of World War One, an artefact which, coupled with the bullet embedded in his leg, convinces him of the reality of his time travelling mission. When the audience is next introduced to Railly (Cole's ally in the past), she is giving a seminar on her latest book, concerning Doomsday prophets, inspired by Cole and his fellow time-travellers unusual incursions throughout world history. She views the warnings of these time-travellers through the lens of the Greek myth of Cassandra, who is cursed by Apollo with the gift of foresight and prophecy, only to be disbelieved and dismissed as mad as a result of her proclamations. "... TALTHYBIUS : Had not Apollo turned thy wits astray, thou shouldst not for nothing have sent my chiefs with such ominous predictions forth on their way. But, after all, these lofty minds, reputed wise, are nothing better than those that are held as naught. ... ... As for thee, since thy senses are not whole, I give thy taunts 'gainst Argos and thy praise of Troy to the winds to carry away. ... ... CASSANDRA : A clever fellow this menial! Why is it heralds hold the name they do? All men unite in hating with one common hate the servants who attend on kings or governments. ..." -From Trojan Women: Iphigenia among the Taurians, Ion (Loeb Classical Library) (415 BC) by Euripides

Through the lens of psychiatry, patients subjective delusions (such as belief in precognition, to use an example such as that of the "Cassandra Complex"), generate a level of frustration felt by patients due to the impossibility of the therapist experiencing the patients 'reality' from the analytical point of view. This is why most delusions are challenged in order to enable the patient to understand that what they are experiencing is 'not real.' However, as each of us experiences reality in subjectively variant ways, the problem which presents itself repeatedly throughout any consensus on what reality represents is, 'who gets to decide what is real?' Thus a situation of dominance and submission is born out of the patient doctor relationship, as highlighted in this later conversation between Railly and her former boss Dr. Fletcher (Frank Gorshin): "Dr. Fletcher : You're a trained psychiatrist, you know the difference between what's real and what's not. Dr. Railly : What we say is the truth is what everybody accepts. Psychiatry, it's the latest religion. We decide what's right and wrong. We decide who's crazy or not. I'm in trouble here, I'm losing my faith." The conundrum presented to Dr. Railly in her encounters with James Cole, and her analysis of his story, with it's many validations (the bullet in his leg, the photograph of him in the trenches, his knowledge of the outcome of the 'boy down the well' and his word for word recollection of her phone message decoded in the future/present) leads her to begin believing him, and aiding him in his mission in an act of transference which intertwines their fates in an attempt to halt the spread of the weaponised virus.

Image : Railly and Cole begin to develop a co-dependent relationship as transference begins to take hold of both of them and they move beyond the realms of Doctor Patient. She protects him in a psychic sense, and he protects her in a physical sense. The interplay between anima and animus can also be observed. At Railly's post lecture book signing, the instigator of man's downfall, Dr. Peters (David Morse) approaches Railly, and displays a similar ethos to that of Jeffrey Goines: "Homo Sapiens motto; 'let's go shopping', is the cry of the true lunatic" It becomes apparent that Dr. Peters is a senior virologist working for the father (Christopher Plummer) of Jeffrey Goines. Dr. Goines appears all too conscious of the dangers posed by his research, and during a high profile dinner which Cole infiltrates in 1996, this snippet from Dr. Goines' speech (as his deranged son is called away to confront Cole) emphasises his profound awareness of these dangers: "the dangers of science are a time worn threat, from Prometheus stealing fire from the Gods, to the Cold War hell of the Doctor Strangelove tale. Never before have we had more cause than to fear the power we have at hand." Despite his awareness of these dangers, his trust is misplaced, as like Cole, Dr. Goines perceives the security threat in his laboratory will come from his son's misguided activism.

Image : The Red Herring of the Twelve Monkeys plan, revealed as merely releasing zoo animals from their captivity. Contrary to Cole's belief that Jeffrey's activist group 'The Army Of The Twelve Monkeys' is responsible for releasing the virus, the true culprit is revealed to be Dr. Peters.

Images : Dr. Peters surreptitiously releases the virus in the airport. Once this connection is established, it is difficult to discern whether the red herring of the Twelve Monkeys group, (and their plan to release zoo animals and kidnap Dr. Goines) has been cultivated behind the scenes by Dr. Peters in order to gain higher security clearance to gain ease of access to the virus, or whether the distraction is merely a coincidental opportunity he capitalises on. A further musing is whether Cole's conversation with Goines back in 1990, regarding mankind dooming itself through the mistreatment of animals in research (where the monkey theme is planted in Goines' mind), has filtered back to Dr. Peters in conversation with his boss's deranged son. If this was the case, then Cole's mere presence in the

past could be perceived as a temporal paradox which dooms his society in the 'present' circa 2035. These are the kind of thoughts this powerful film generates long after viewing it, and it's fragmented analysis of madness and the paradoxes of time travel really challenge the perception of the audience. The strain on Gilliam's protagonist, as he wrestles between accepting his fate and attempting to rationalise his whole time travelling experience as a delusion, becomes more pronounced as the narrative progresses.

Images : (Left) The scientists soothe Cole with a rendition of 'Blueberry Hill' (indicating they have monitored his time in the car with Railly, via his teeth). (Middle) He is offered his pardon. (Right) Their displeasure as he dismisses them as a delusion. When Cole is re-extracted from the past of 1996, and offered his pardon by the group of scientists who sent him back in time, the fracturing of his mind becomes apparent as he now believes that they are his delusion. He flatly states: "I am insane and you are my insanity." The strain of trying to exist in multiple timelines has clearly taken its toll, and rather than accept the pardon he is offered, Cole would rather escape back into the past. His addiction to the dying world has manifested, where he believes that the admission of his mental divergence will ease the burden he feels at knowing the doom which awaits him and humanity. During his third, and final mission, he removes some of his teeth in an attempt to escape any possibility of the scientists finding him, as a kind of failsafe in case his delusions are in fact real.

Image : Cole removes some of his teeth so that he can no longer be tracked. His planned escape with Railly to the Florida Keys leads him to the airport which haunts his dreams. This sequence of the film takes on a dream like film noir feel following their adoption of disguises in a cinema whilst Alfred Hitchcock's 'Vertigo' plays on the screen. This same Hitchcock scene is also referenced in 'La Jetee', the inspiration for Twelve Monkeys, and this scene from 'Vertigo' in turn heavily influenced 'La Jetee'.

Images : (Left) The Film Noir feel of Raily and Cole's arrival at the airport. (Right) A highly influential scene from Alfred Hitchcock's 'Vertigo' plays in the cinema as they disguise themselves whilst planning their escape. Cole's last ditch attempt to remain a good soldier manifests when he leaves a message on the voicemail to be decoded in the future. His warning about the red herring of Goines' animal rights activism enables him to be tracked down and given a final mission to kill Dr. Peters at the security gate.

Images : Cole is killed at the security gate, where as a child he witnesses the trauma of his own death, and Railly's love for his future self. This is the closing of the feedback loop at the beginning of the film, as he is inevitably shot during this attempt, and as a child he witnesses his own death. The profound trauma of this will inevitably set the young Cole on a path of maladjustment which will lead him into the situation where he will be a criminal who is 'volunteered' for this mission. Cole is a pawn, used to draw out the source of the virus in a manner similar to the soldiers in the First World War. He is the cannon fodder who serves as a means to an end, and in his own words he accepts his fate in sacrifice to the greater good of humanity: "I just want to do my part, to get us back on top. In charge of the planet." His death does not appear to have been in vain, despite the inevitable spread of the virus (the past cannot be altered, we are told early on in the film), the astrophysicist (Carol Florence) acting as the head of the cabal who sent him on his mission, appears on the plane next to Dr. Peters, introducing herself as 'in insurance'.

Images : (Left) The Astrophysicist who leads the cabal of scientists responsible for dispatching Cole back in time, reappears (Right) on the plane next to Dr. Peters following his daring escape in the airport, indicating that Cole's mission to find a cure for the virus has not been in vain. The grunt work has led Cole to his 'noble' death, but now that safety has been established (and surety as to the source of the virus) the officer class can swoop in and finish the mission.