The Fisher King concerns the journey from total self-absorption to selfless humanity. It works as thus intended: a look at how the individual ego is broken down and reconstituted in relation to a central trauma that in fact entwines the fates of two characters. It is beautifully and movingly realized as Bridges and Williams enter into a kind of mutual interdependence, each uniquely able to help the other to overcome their respective psychological burden. For Bridges, it is the re-discovery of a sense of humanity beyond himself. At first Bridges wants to help Williams only to ease his own sense of guilt. His acts of charity are still selfish in nature, as if he can buy his way out (as if penance were that easy); but the more he begins to know Williams the more he cares for him on a personal level and his actions become increasingly truly selfless, no longer out of guilt but out of a genuine fondness and responsibility for this unusual homeless man – he wants to help him rather than feeling that he has to. The film is about this emotional journey and as much as it develops Bridges so too it explores Williams’ dilemma as a man who has experienced a psychotic break in order to distance himself from a trauma that is too unbearable to confront. Love for Plummer may change this, but he must confront that which has entwined his fate so closely to Bridges. Selflessness, friendship and love thus become meaningful factors, so close to the Christian ethos.
As affecting as much of this film is, there is always the potential for tragedy, whether it be in Williams’ battle with his personal demons or in the worrying suggestion that Bridges may return to his old selfishness after what he considers a due act of penance. It is this realization of precariousness that runs through the emotional relationships and makes the moments of connection all the more telling as it hopes to anchor these characters in a truly shared inter-personal base. This also makes for sudden shifts in tone that give it a genuine sense of the madcap. Gilliam has always been fascinated by “madness” and The Fisher King remains his most balanced look at this, as if the grounding in Hollywood norms allowed him the critical distance needed to confront his fascination more so than indulge it. This is played out as the film contrasts the harsh reality of psychosis (the day to day homelessness, the disregard for personal hygiene or appearance, the idea of the psychotic break as rooted in trauma, and the reality of living with, and accepting, hallucination) with the more Romanticized and overtly poetic conceptions of the madman as an insightful visionary or even holy fool. This knowing tension adds immeasurably to Williams’ hallucinations as his imagined enemy, the red knight, is at once a Romantic image and a symbol of the past that pursues and prevents him from finding resolution: the essence of his psychosis. read more