Film boasts superb cast, lacks substantial ending

Hollywood has traditionally handled time travelers with kid gloves. Michael J. Fox blazed backward in time buckled into the black leather seat of a DeLorean. Kirk, Spock, and Bones trekked painlessly into the past via a cylinder of golden glitter. And for Bill and Ted, time travel was as simple as making a collect call from a phone booth. Excellent, indeed.

In the brave new film, 12 Monkeys, a bedraggled convict with a bar code tattooed into his neck and tracking devices embedded inside his molars is clamped into a bare metal chair and hurdled headlong into the wrong yesteryear where he emerges dazed, distraught, and slobbering like a hound dog with parvo. He is subsequently beaten, scrubbed raw and imprisoned in an insane asylum.

Welcome to the warped world of director Terry Gilliam.

Gilliam is the man responsible for the absurd animation of Monty Python and the contorted satire of films like Brazil and The Fisher King. He is a filmmaker who can usually be counted on to bring to the screen avant garde subject matter, artful direction and overtly convoluted storytelling. His work is not always smart, but it is always different. And amidst the mire of dim-witted Jim Carey vehicles and formulaic adaptations of John Grisham lawyer drivel, a shadowy and cultish creation from the mind of Terry Gilliam is a brain rattler for moviegoers badly in need of one.

12 Monkeys is actually a stylized retelling of the 1962 French short film, La Jetee. In Gilliam's version, Bruce Willis plays James Cole, a tough, canny convict from the year 2035 who is sent-- not entirely of his own accord-- into the past to investigate the origins of a deadly virus that wiped out 99 percent of the earth's population in 1996. Cole's present (2035) is a desolate, post-apocalyptic world. His past (the 1990s) proves more exciting, if not more fun. The cops and shrinks of the past label Cole insane and place him in a mental institution, where he encounters a curious and compassionate psychiatrist (Madeleine Stowe) and a ranting psychoneurotic (Brad Pitt).

Willis, who limps and broods through most of the film with a perpetual five o'clock shadow on his familiar bruised and bloody mug, lends an "I'm-in-trouble-but-I'll-get-the-job-done-somehow" ethic to his portrayal of Cole, a man who is a rugged taskmaster but not necessarily a thinker. It is a role Willis has played before, and he has mastered the subtle expressions of contemplation and confession such a part calls for. Best of all, Willis' Cole is so plaintively purposeful, he is incapable of uttering inane Die Hard- and Hudson Hawk-like one liners.

Stowe, too, delivers the goods in her role as psychiatrist/author, Kathryn Railly. Railly ultimately comes to believe in Cole's grim account of global devastation and accompanies him on his search for an enigmatic band of environmental terrorists called the "Army of the 12 Monkeys" that is believed to be the originator of the pernicious virus. Stowe plays Railly with quiet smarts, restrained passion and secret strength. And she keeps her clothes on all the while. Demi Moore should take notes.

The undisputed scene stealer in 12 Monkeys, however, is Brad Pitt as wacked-out schizophrenic Jeffrey Goines. Screenwriters Janet and David Peoples (Blade Runner) provide Pitt's character with the film's best lines, and Pitt delivers them with genuine verve. His skittish gesticulation and repetitive, rapid-fire proselytizing--which seem inspired by Dennis Hopper's turn as the unstable photographer in Apocalypse Now ("Do you know why?! Do you know why?!")--coupled with his irreverent boyish charm, make Pitt a pleasure to watch. It is easily the best work he's done since A River Runs Through It and Kalifornia and the performance reinforces the notion that he is at his best in supporting roles no matter how hard market-minded producers try to make him a leading man.

Hollywood heavy-hitters like Pitt, Willis, and Stowe--like Brazil cast member Robert DeNiro before them--deserve commendations for bravely taking roles in a Terry Gilliam flick. Golden Boy Tom Hanks' agents probably wouldn't let him near such unconventional, science fiction schlock (visions of The Man With One Red Shoe and Joe Versus the Volcano still dance in their heads). Unfortunately for Pitt and company, 12 Monkeys fails to meet the standards of Gilliam's previous work.

Perhaps most disappointing of all, 12 Monkeys is not nearly as aesthetically striking as Gilliam's previous film creations. Compared to the delightfully conspicuous retro-futuristic leitmotif of Brazil, the sets for 12 Monkeys' future scenes seem boring and clich. Lots of stainless steel and plastic, not much creativity. Oddly enough, Gilliam does better with the 1990's environments, particularly the dingy antisepticism of the prison.

Meanwhile, the film's premise--a haggard hero travels to the past to save the future--is by no means revolutionary. And though Gilliam's slight-of-hand treatment of the plot merits good marks for effort, a few of the story's twists and turns--such as Cole's brief and contrived appearance in a bloody, muddy World War I trench are way too convenient to warrant applause for originality. Likewise, Cole's potentially powerful vision of his own fate are dulled by overly repetitive foreshadowing.

Ultimately, Gilliam allows 12 Monkeys to wallow in its own muddle, never bothering to yank it from the muck. The film possesses neither the Kafkaesque charm of Brazil nor the fairy tale feel of The Fisher King. If for nothing else, 12 Monkeys deserves a spanking for climaxing with an open-ending that it does not earn.

Terry Gilliam long ago proved he is capable of making a great cult film. Alas, with his latest effort, he also proves he is capable of making a mediocre one.