When we were walking out of the "Brothers Grimm" screening, we got to share the elevator down with what may have been our favorite person Rex Reed (he was looking far more orange than he did the last time we saw him, and we were beset with doubts), who was inquiring of no one in particular: "Who is that film for, exactly? Can someone tell me what kind of audience that film is for?"
Or something to that effect.
It saddened us, because Gilliam’s films have always been glorious inappropriate for any conception of an audience â€” remember the King and Queen of the Moon in "The Adventures of Baron Munchausen," who, as floating heads, were only concerned with higher things, but who, when reattached to their bodies, could only think about food and sex? "No, let me go! I’ve got tides to regulate! Comets to direct! I don’t have time for flatulence and orgasms!" said the King. Who the hell was that scene for?! Not that it wasn’t excellent, inspired and strange. "Grimm" is the first Gilliam film we’ve seen (though we haven’t watched "The Fisher King") that’s squarely aimed at the mainstream, and it’s pretty damn lifeless.
Anyway, our review is here.