The third in Terry Gilliam’s dystopian sci-fi ‘trilogy’ (joining Brazil and Twelve Monkeys) showcases the director’s trademark visual quirks, but the typically muddled approach to storytelling proves its undoing.
Christoph Waltz’s shy, depressed, hypochondriac waits patiently for ‘the call’ which will inform him what his purpose in life is. Finding it increasingly difficult to go outside ‘Management’ (Damon), Big Brother in all but name, grants him his wish to work from home but only if he attempts to solve the titular equation, a near-impossible ever-evolving mathematical problem that has driven others insane…
Set in a retro-futuristic random Mad Hatter’s Tea Party world, if ever a story needed a steady hand to avoid the story zipping off on tangents this was it, but Gilliam seems to content to let it disappear down rabbit holes. He’s more interested in the ‘bits’ - the contraption Waltz operates at work, the singing pizza box, the garish dress sense, Tilda Swinton’s kooky online psychiatrist, David Thewlis’ wig, Melanie Thierry’s wacky prostitute - than exploring the story’s themes of alienation and existentialism.
But if the Fear And Loathing director wasn’t poking around to see what odd and ends this future world has to offer we’d all be disappointed and, like all Gilliam films, repeated viewing will show hidden gems: what is muffled dialogue now will reveal clever lines and the busy visuals too much for the eye first time out will see more (like the advertisement for a popular religion, the Church of Batman the Redeemer). And Gilliam sticks to his guns, refusing to offer up a neat ending in what is the director’s most cynical film.
However, there’s little chance of getting involved with the character’s plight. For an hour Gilliam holds the attention thanks his trademark visuals, dotty characters and big themes but there comes a moment where The Zero Theorem peaks, interest wanes and Gilliam has no further surprises. That could be down to the low budget and rushed shooting, but it could be down to Waltz’s inability to draw warmth to his plight.
However, if I had a euro for every time I wasn’t sure about a Gilliam film after first viewing I’d have seven euro.