Time Bandits sets the indelible Gilliam template
Terry Gilliam’s Time Bandits sees the ex-Python take on a rollicking, kaleidoscopic journey through time and space, brimming with eccentric characters and tinged with his trademark biting surreal satirical edge that skewers the mundanity of modern life. It’s a film that masquerades as a children’s adventure while delivering a rich, subversive commentary on human nature and societal follies.
In the tranquil suburbia where Kevin (Craig Warnock) resides, the ordinary world is soon upended by the arrival of a band of six time-travelling dwarves – Randall (David Rappaport), Fidgit (Kenny Baker), Strutter (Malcolm Dixon), Og (Mike Edmonds), Wally (Jack Purvis), and Vermin (Tiny Ross). These diminutive adventurers have pilfered a cosmic map from the Supreme Being (Ralph Richardson) to embark on a series of daring piratical raids through various historical epochs. Each leap through time brings them face-to-face with quintessentially Gilliam-esque historical figures, from a height-obsessed Napoleon (Ian Holm) to a condescending Robin Hood (John Cleese), all the while pursued by the malevolent Evil (David Warner), who covets the map for his own sinister ends.
The film’s visual flair is everything you’d expect, a testament to Gilliam’s boundless and deeply idiosyncratic imagination. His sets are a dreamscape of fantastical oddities, each frame a painterly tableau that conjures worlds both wondrous and slightly grotesque. The dwarves, with their distinct personalities and comedic camaraderie, anchor the narrative with a human touch amidst the surreal exploits. Warner’s Evil, a character so delightfully over-the-top in his technological obsessions and diabolical scheming, provides a villainy that is both menacing and darkly humorous. Time Bandits is, effectively, Gilliam’s reimagining and reduxification of The Lord of The Rings, replete with diminutive heroes seeking to keep a precious object out of the grasp of a dark power who’s a proxy for industrialisation and materialsm.
As with many of Gilliam’s works, Time Bandit’s narrative, while rich in invention, occasionally stumbles with pacing that can feel uneven. Certain segments race by, leaving the viewer breathless, while others linger, testing the patience. The film’s eccentricity, a double-edged sword, may enchant some and alienate others with a bizarre and near alchemically impossible amalgam of tones and styles creating an experience that defies conventional storytelling.
Looking back, Time Bandits looks like the shoulders that Gilliam himself would stand on to reach new heights. It’s a fantastical precursor to his more polished works such as Brazil and The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, blending fantasy, satire, and adventure in a way that is unmistakably his own. Brazil may plunge deeper into dystopian despair, and Baron Munchausen may soar higher on whimsical flights of fancy, but Time Bandits strikes a pugnacious balance, offering both a darkly comic outlook on life and a fantastical escape from reality. This synthesis of elements ensures that Time Bandits retains a unique and compelling profile even in a filmography as storied as Gilliam’s.
For those with an appetite for the quirky and imaginative, Time Bandits is a cinematic feast. It entertains with its audacious adventures while subtly prompting introspection on the nature of reality and fantasy and where real heroism can be found. Despite its idiosyncrasies, or perhaps because of them, Time Bandits endures as a captivating piece of cinema that continues to enchant and provoke thought. As Randall might say with a knowing glint in his eye, “Heroes, bah! What do they know about an honest day’s work?”
