Take One More Orwellian Ride with Terry Gilliam

Nobody does Orwell quite like Orwell, but Terry Gilliam arguably comes second. The Monty Python-alumni wields a unique ability to tackle the human imagination with a little brown bottle of adrenochrome and a six-pack of dutch angle-soaked paranoia. His films are visually stunning, inherently perplexing, and oftentimes emotionally draining. Gilliam's newest masterpiece, The Zero Theorem, is all of those and so much more, making it perhaps his best - and most important - film to date.

The final installment in Gilliam's self-named "Orwellian Triptych" is just as bleak, heavy, and darkly humorous as its predecessors, 1985's Brazil and 1995's Twelve Monkeys. But Zero aims to be more Brazil than Monkeys, and its aim is true. From the get-go we are introduced to Christoph Waltz's monkish Qohen Leth, a solitude-junkie and genius computer programmer residing in a decrepit old church. But outside of Leth's pew-filled abode buzzes a world which could only be concocted by the same twisted mind that brought us the duct-riddled, dystopian world depicted in Brazil. The world Qohen Leth despises and fears beyond the crumbling walls of his literal haven is definitely more '80s-Gilliam, but with a wicked modern twist - civilians and bystanders can be seen constantly glaring at the glowing screens of handheld tablets and smartphones, futuristic video-ads loop on the walls of nearly every building, a pair of massive red lips informs consumers of a local sale called "Occupy Mall Street." At its core it is a 1980s-inspired dystopia, but the modern satire is everywhere.

Christoph Waltz's Qohen Leth is obviously insane. Not even a half hour into the film we are informed via a virtual therapist (expertly portrayed by Tilda Swinton) of the reclusive man's agoraphobia, antisociality, haphephobia, claustrophobia, crippling neurosis, and blatant paranoia. Along with his seemingly infinite bundle of phobias, Leth is suffering from some clear albeit unclear existential crisis involving the delusional and consistent hope for a phone call that will supposedly change his life - or maybe just give meaning to it.

Despite his laundry list of fears and anxiety disorders, Qohen Leth is sort of loveable. In fact, he's actually quite relatable. Qohen Leth, like us, is human. He is filled to the brim with flaws. But while modern cinema has a big boner for quirky mentally-anguished characters, Waltz's Leth is miles from "quirky." At times he is actually frightening - frightening because it isn't difficult to see ourselves in his unfortunate position. It's a realistic sort of frightening, one which really struck a chord, at least with me.

The world around Leth is a bright but dark one. Consumerism is obviously just as rampant as it's always been, if not more so, and corporations continue to control most everything. Despite the lack of a governmental presence, much like that featured in Brazil, the recent-and-currently developing real life NSA scandal may play a huge role in The Zero Theorem, as throughout the film a mostly-unseen authority-figure aptly named "The Management" appears to control everything and, quite literally, watch over everyone (there are black-and-white security cameras placed everywhere, including within Leth's church home - sound familiar?). Matt Damon plays the Management in a role he's never quite portrayed before. Though he's rarely seen throughout the movie, his character is absolutely essential to the plot, but I won't spoil anything beyond that.

What differentiates The Zero Theorem from Brazil is, for the most part, its ending - no worries, I'm not going to give anything away. All I'll say is that while Brazil had a pretty ironclad dismal and rather terrifying conclusion, Zero's ending is a bit more... bittersweet. Where Brazil left a nasty taste in your mouth (one that did not, in any way, hinder its brilliance), The Zero Theorem will leave a lump in your throat and a quivering smile on your face, and, perhaps most importantly, a hushed uttering of "wait, what the fuck?" Yes, without a doubt, The Zero Theorem is a movie you cannot watch just once and fully comprehend. And even if you do understand the film in its entirety after the first go, you're almost guaranteed to want to re-watch it immediately. Do yourself a favor and spend just under another two hours re-watching The Zero Theorem. And then maybe even give it a third watch. You'll notice things you hadn't noticed before. You'll pick up on little details that may or may not answer previously unanswered questions. You'll gain, for sure, a better understanding of the film, and by the end of it all you might no longer feel the same pity you originally felt for our struggling hero, Qohen Leth.

Or maybe it'll just make you feel even worse.

Each view of The Zero Theorem is bound to provide a different experience than the one prior. Zero will never equal one hundred percent.

From the brilliant soundtrack (including a haunting cocktail lounge-esque cover of Radiohead's "Creep") to the absolutely spellbinding performances of the lovely and seductively lucid Mélanie Thierry, the immensely talented David Thewlis, the enigmatic Matt Damon, and of course the ever awe-inspiring Christoph Waltz, The Zero Theorem is a movie not to be forgotten. Terry Gilliam's wildly satirical and distinctly whimsical final piece to his Orwellian Triptych is a definite must-see for any fan of Gilliam, George Orwell, dystopian existentialism, or just anybody who fears for society's Facebook-ruled, privacy-stripped, and tragically soulless future.