The Fisher King

CinemaSerf

7/10

6/2/2024

"Jack Lucas" (Jeff Bridges) is one of those late night radio presenters who loves the sound of his own voice and who enjoys nothing better than to put down, disdainfully, the collection of sad individuals who phone in with their problems. It's one of his casual off-the-cuff remarks that leads to a tragedy and a spiral that sends him into some serious doldrums. Things change for ever one night when he finds himself on the wrong end of a beating and then rescued by an eccentric looking fellow called "Parry" (Robin Williams). This is an erudite and complicated man who is obsessed with the "Fisher King" legend of the Holy Grail. Upon further investigation, "Lucas" learns more of the tragic cause of his new friend's predicament and as much as for his own salvation as for that of "Parry", he embarks on a task to find him meaning again. To that end he introduces him to the shy "Lydia" (Amanda Plummer) in the hope that this might help him find a new reason to live again. Things come full circle when "Parry" himself becomes a victim of the thugs and "Lucas" must strive to fulfil the quest and save something of both men. Whilst all of this chaos is bubbling away, it's down to "Anna" (Mercedes Ruehl) who is the former broadcaster's long-suffering girlfriend, to carefully tread on the eggshells of her relationship with him whilst quite temperamentally (and engagingly) trying to make sure she keeps him on as straight and narrow a path as possible. This is one of Bridges' better and more natural efforts and he works well with what I thought was an over-the-top performance from Williams to provide a film that is at times funny and at times quite poignant. The underlying mythology is quite effective at providing a modern day conduit for an ancient story of a hunt for the perfect in all of us and though it does take it's time, Bridges keeps it going.

**The Fisher King (1991)** (Re-watching Robin Williams' catalog.) _Directed by Terry Gilliam_ The Arthurian legend of the Fisher King tells of an injured king and a pure-of-heart knight or fool who must heal him. Richard LaGravenese's screenplay is absolutely brilliant because it somehow puts both leads in both roles simultaneously. Jack (Jeff Bridges) is the wounded king, destroyed by guilt after his on-air rant triggers a mass shooting at a Manhattan restaurant. Parry (Robin Williams) is the fool, a homeless man living in fantasy after his wife was killed in that same massacre. But Jack is also the fool who must quest for redemption, and Parry is the wounded king who needs healing. The roles shift, collapse into each other, become mirrors. And of course, the Red Knight, Parry's hallucinatory demon that hunts him through the streets, is the perfect symbol for the injury that afflicts both men, the trauma they cannot escape. Ultimately, the film is moving and emotional in ways that Terry Gilliam films don't always achieve. His visual imagination is intact, his magic realism on full display as Grand Central Station transforms into a waltz-filled ballroom, but the heart of this film beats stronger than spectacle. This is about broken people finding each other, about guilt and forgiveness, about whether redemption is even possible when the damage you've caused is irreversible. Robin Williams and Jeff Bridges were both so amazing and believable in their roles as to make the fantasy alive. Williams' acting range becomes highly apparent in this film. He plays a believable loony who has simultaneously a huge capacity for love, someone whose madness is not cute or quirky but genuinely born of unbearable loss, and yet who still radiates warmth, hope, even joy. This is Williams at his finest, balancing tragedy and comedy, never letting one overwhelm the other. Bridges matches him beat for beat, playing a man almost impossible to like, cynical and self-loathing, slowly allowing himself to be saved by someone he initially sees as just another burden. Mercedes Ruehl's Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress was totally deserved. She wore the character of Anne, Jack's long-suffering girlfriend, like her own skin. I had never seen her before (because she much preferred stage to film), and I am so sorry that I never got to see her on stage in New York. She's also a Tony winner, and you can see why; there's a theatrical command to her performance, a lived-in quality that makes every line feel earned rather than delivered. She anchors the film with her patience, her wit, her refusal to let Jack destroy himself without a fight. This is part of my Robin Williams retrospective, and it reminds me why his loss still stings. He could do anything. Comedy, drama, madness, tenderness, often all in the same scene. The Fisher King gives him room to show all of it, and he doesn't waste a moment. Neither does Gilliam, who trusts his actors enough to let them carry the emotional weight while he provides the visual poetry. Gilliam's Fisher King is a masterpiece about deep wounds, and about being called to save each other when we can't save ourselves.