(This post copyrighted 2006 Justin Lowry. Permission to link to or cite with reference.)
I have wanted to write this for a long time, but have only now done so in response to a post on IMDB. I intend to edit it for clarity and possible expansion in "the future".
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"The Fisher King" is a film that I think deserves a lot more attention than it receives, particularly from Christians.
Though the movie can be understood without working out the "Fisher King" (the in-film parable) or "Pinocchio" references, I think they are very helpful keys. To me, these two stories are Christian metaphors and very likely had their origins as such. Both are about becoming "truly human". In the case of "Pinnochio" this is explicit, in "The Fisher King" becoming human is inherent in the quest. The Fool from "Fisher King" and the Fairy from "Pinocchio" are both Christ-like figures (though in different ways). The Fool has humility (though not inferiority) and responds to the king with love. The Fool is able to find the Holy Grail because he acts out of love alone and not with motivations of fame and fortune. In a sense, the Fool is the humanity of Jesus Christ, living his life in humility and with love. On the otherhand, the Fairy from "Pinocchio" has more in common with the divinity of Christ. She brings grace and forgiveness to Pinocchio and gives him humanity when he wills only the Good above all else. There is another side of Pinocchio that needs to be mentioned: while the Fairy brings grace, Jimminy Cricket brings judgement. He is the conscience that prods Pinocchio and in the end shows how far he has fallen from where he is suppose to be. (For Christians this Fairy/Jimminy relationship is very much like the Law and Gospel understanding of the Word.)
Perry is Christ-like in different ways. For one, he is Christ-like in the more realistic sense that any human being can become "like Christ", he does God's will which in his eyes is communicated to him through the "little fat people". In his relationship to Jack, he is basically the Fool, however for Jack he also serves as a Jimminy Cricket. As the Fool he has no cares for money or fame or status, simply to love and do the will of God and because of this he is more human and can be happy with so little. As the Fool he also does not see Jack as superior because of his better social status and yet at the same time, as the Fool, he consistently responds to Jack out of love and attends to his needs. But when Jack encounters Perry he feels his judgement and sense of condemnation more acutely than ever and feels responsible for Perry and in this sense Perry is unknowingly Jack's Jimminy Cricket (not because Perry judges Jack, but because Jack is faced with his own guilt more fully by dealing with Perry). This prods him into action on Perry's behalf. However, he only "becomes human" when he truly acts *for* Perry (out of love) rather than to conquer his guilt. In other words, Perry as Jimminy Cricket reveals Jack's fallenness yet Jack's response must not be out of guilt (which does not in the end satisfy as he learns), but out of love. Also, Perry as Jimminy Cricket occasionally puts in front of Jack his responsibility to Anne and prods him towards commitment (marriage). Finally, in relationship to Lydia, Perry is more of a Fairy figure: that is to say, Christ-like in the sense that he brings grace and love, not judgement. Lydia is humble but more out of a sense of inferiority. She already sees herself as fallen, she does not need judgement, she needs grace. When Perry reveals that he truly loves her *unconditionally* (this is an ideal, though in reality we can assume that Perry is only coming as close to it as a person can in this world), she feels the same joy that is understood by those who see Christ in the same way.
Jack undertakes the quest for the "Holy Grail" out of love for Jack, regardless of the absurdity of it (I could talk about the importance of absurdity for a while, particularly in connection with Gilliam's film "Munchausen", but this is already a very long post! Hint: Kierkegaard.). By acting out of love for Perry (who is basically God's messenger to Jack) he ends up also doing God's will. Yes, God is a character in this film. One might think God is only metaphorical or Perry's delusions at first, but by the end it is almost explicit that, for the film, God is real: God has "orchestrated" Jack's "Holy Grail" quest so that by setting off the alarm in the Castle, he would save the life of the owner (the man in the chair who almost commits suicide). The "Holy Grail" is certainly not the cup of Christ, but rather a trophy. And like the Grail in the "Fisher King" story, the point is not the cup at all but the action taken to receive it. In both the story and the film, the Grail is attained because of love. It is the quest itself, and not the object of the quest, that is important.
Perry's status as a Christ-like figure is apparent in other ways. When Jack brings him the "Holy Grail", Perry awakes, indeed one could say he is "resurrected" in keeping with his Christ-like role. In fact, Lydia's arrival after Perry's "resurrection" is very reminiscent of Mary Magdalene's arrival at Jesus's tomb: Lydia finds Perry's bed empty, much like Mary found the tomb empty. Prior to this Lydia steadfastly attends to the comatose Perry like Mary attended Jesus' body. Another parallel can be drawn when one realizes that Jack has essentially become a disciple of Perry's and mirrors Peter's denial of Christ when he denies knowing the homeless "cabaret singer" (in effect, also denying his association with such humiliation and rejection, as Peter did). I think all of this just serves to hilight the fact that Perry, being Christ-like, has been an instrument of salvation for both Jack and Lydia (in Jack's case he came to his resue both physically, when Jack is attacked, and spiritually). Again, he is an instrument of salvation because he acts out of love and does the will of God.
As to some of the details:
Perry may be Christ-like in his humanness and his desire to do God's will, but he still suffers as anyone who lives in this world is bound to do. He cannot deal with the brutal death of his wife. The Red Knight is obviously representing Perry's suffering, his inability to deal with trauma. The color "red" may point to the Knight's Satan-like nature, since red is often associated with the Devil and Hell. The fact that it is a knight seems to be in keeping with the medieval motif: Perry sees himself as a knight, the good knight that comes to the rescue of others, including "damsels in distress". Others may be able to speak to specific references that I am not aware of regarding the Red Knight.
Now regarding the dancing in the train station: I think there are a number of ways to see this. The main point is that Perry is "in love" and as such sees only beauty when he sees her. The dancing is obviously only in his mind and an expression of how the world looks so much better (so rosy!) when you are "in love". On a subtler note, I am reminded of a verse from the New Testament: "All things work for the good for those who know and love God". All of Creation seems to be working in concert with Perry because he loves, therefore people waltz in keeping with Perry's feelings.
Ah, the "little fat people"! I don't think we need say that the fat fairies are real. They are almost certainly hallucinations of Perry's brought on by his psychological distress. HOWEVER, I do believe that what Perry understands as coming from "fat fairies" (who even he says are just messengers of God) is truly instruction from God. So while the messengers are figments of Perry's imagination, the *message* is not. As for the particulars of the message: God wants Perry to help Jack (in more ways than one, some unknown to Perry) and wants Perry to send Jack on a quest. Jack is "the one" to go on the quest.
So there you have it. There is my reading of "The Fisher King". Sorry about the length and any poor writing.
Some more thoughts in a fairly rough state:
I know I have been writing a lot lately about fiction. This fact obscures one more essential fact, though: I hate fiction. And the more I have been thinking about fiction (both as a consumer and producer) lately, the more I am reminded at this moment why I don't like fiction. The biggest reason is that fiction sucks me in, but it isn't real. Obvious, I know. But there is a serious temptation to either retreat into fictional worlds (even if pretending to be a serious author or somesuch nonsense - I mean in my case, I don't mean to doubt anyone else's seriousness) or to try to shape the real world to fit some idealized model from fiction. Of course, that's part of the point of epics, but I think I, and many other people, are not necessarily always getting the epic points out of epics. I tend to see the drama in epics instead (e.g. my favorite part of The Iliad, at least in Fagles' version, is the scene where Achilles kills Lycaon - not a particularly "epic" or universal scene by any means). But anyway, the real question is, if fiction doesn't make us better people, what's the point? First there is the possible corrupting influence that excessively visceral stories can exert on us to consider, then there is the possibity we end up spending too much time reading (or thinking about - possibly a greater danger) fiction and fictional settings. These are hardly reasons to make us banish all fiction automatically, but I think someimes we - even I who never drop the point... - are too cavalier about fiction.
Having just complained about fiction, as always, I still have to look at the value of science fiction short stories. In a way Asimov's robot stories, say, are not so much fiction as much logic puzzles. Clarke and Asimov spend their fair time doing ethics, philosophy, logic, and science - not that they don't also waste time on less profound things, unfortunately (I think Clarke made his point about pokygamy the first time, let alone the next however many...). Science fiction short stories then might be the "exception that proves the rule" or a sign of blatant bias on my part (which is not all that likely since my point is that I like some fiction too much).
On a parallel note, and something I forgot to mention last time, one of the peculiar things about epics in our cultural context is that Christianity, like many religions, already has an epic - in content not form - at its root. Of course, it is hard to adapt something like that to be an epic in form, in large part because of the difficulties in fictionalizing the actions and words of God. Milton's work in this area (thinking of Paradise Lost) only goes to prove the point (I am one of those who thinks he failed badly). And when truth is stranger than fiction, who needs fiction? (This is why I had begun to think that biography would be far more useful than fiction, though it has its limitations in other ways. That's the problem with humans being human - they're not ideal.)
I stopped by Barnes & Noble tonight. I looked mostly at two things: Lord of the Rings (which I still did not buy - only $20, though), and also the Nausicaä "manga" (basically, a comic book), which sure enough they had. Some thoughts:
First, Nausicaä was interesting. The movie is based on the Manga, not the other way around, though both were made by the same person so they show more than a little similarity. Visually, the manga and the movie are practically identical. The story from the movie follows the first two volumes fairly closely, it seemed, though there were a couple points radically different (the movie has a more dramatic climax, and implies a resolution at the end; the manga is less dramatic and the story still has a long way to go at the end - 5 volumes to be precise). I hope to get a chance to read the whole thing sometime, but they are $10 a piece, and there are seven volumes, so...
I wanted to check on one thing in Lord of the Rings (as I also tried to persuade myself to buy it), namely the scene where Eowyn kills the Nazgul. I love that scene, largely because of the ironic line Eowyn gets to spout about not being a man (and I swear, Tolkien must have been thinking of the end of Macbeth when he wrote that...). I wanted to read that part becuase I have been thinking about the heroines in epics. Specifically, I have been sitting on a few stories for a while, and most of them star epic-style female characters. I don't know that I have liked what I have seen as far as portrayals of heroines in epics, but I had to do my research anyway (it hasn't been very comprehensive, to be sure). It is an intersting thing though that Miyazaki has created a character not too far from what I was thinking in Nausicaä (who incidentally, is named after a character in The Odyssey), not to mention a philosophy that is fairly close too. We think too much alike some times, he and I, which is strange given he is a 60 year old Japanese artist and I am... well, whatever I am.
Anyway, back to Lord of the Rings. I like it, and I like it more as time goes on, especially as I have realized how brilliantly Tolkien has crafted his universe out of old epics and some crack language abilities, and made it to somehow give back to the very material it drew from. And one has to respect him for being trying, and largely succeeding to create a national epic. One thing, though, that I really don't like about it is the violence. The epic virtues still hinge on killing. The same complaint can be made about most of the epics we draw from in our culture - such as Star Wars. In so far as pulp and comic book heroes might qualify as epic heroes (the stories aren't always epic, but the characters can take on epic proportions over time), that might not be as accurate - I mean, they don't always rely on lethal violence. But still, most epics, and certainly all literary epics hinge on violence. That reinforced my thought that we need a good pacifist epic. That prompted me to remeber though that Miyazaki is already going that way. He may not have gone all the way but he has gotten closer than anyone else. (Part of this difference must surely be born out of different world view - Tolkien's Christian background, and Miyazaki living in a country heavily influenced by Buddhism and pantheism. In Tolkien's story there is good and bad, and bad must be destroyed. In Miyazaki's story there is no such thing as pure evil, so peace makes more sense, though it is not always there strictly necessary.)
So, anyway, I must read Nausicaä, and meanwhile, I will have to work on my pacifist epic and my superhero story, among others.
I just finished watching Nausicaä of the Valley of the Winds. With some caveats, I would say that it is an excellent movie. Or, at any rate, the themes (and the character of Nausicaä, who is a direct representative of the philosophy of the movie) are interesting and useful, the setting is interesting and beautiful, and the movie has some real and compelling emotional content. The main drawbacks, I would say, are that (1) the animation is not as refined as some of Miyazaki's more recent films (not surprisingly, given that Nausicaä was made in 1984, and Miyazaki was apparently not running his own studio back then, either), (2) many of the elements of the film - the peace loving heroine, the struggle to bring harmony between humans and nature, the air battles, for example - have been redone, debatably better, in Miyazaki's later films (though I suppose you can't blame this one for being done first). Interestingly, though I would not count this against the film, certain aspects of it seem to be rather inspired by Star Wars and Dune, among others. The Dune influence I might question, but Star Wars I was sure of at the time (can't remember now though which parts I was thinking of). But anyway, definitely worth seeing if you can find it (not easy - I had to buy it to see it, and I am a little sad about the sacrifice of a Borders gift card...)
Watching Nausicaä also had some other effects - such as convincing me that I should own some other Miyazaki films. The only one I really consider it "necessary" to own is Spirited Away but Princess Mononoke and Laputa: The Castle in the Sky might be nice too. More importantly, I decided I really want some Kurosawa films. I know Hidden Fortress is not his best film, but it was a movie I could watch frequently, which is really the only criterion that I am applying these days to movies to consider buying. I also note that the American-Japanese circle of influence of chase scenes containing Hidden Fortress, Star Wars, Return of the Jedi, and Castle in the Sky (and less so Nausicaä) is distinct, and a great example of a feedback loop. Or maybe I am just reading too much into these action scenes. Oh, and the final effect of watching this movie, is I realized how different movies like Nausicaä, Spirited Away, and even Lilo & Stitch are from movies like Underworld. They are all beautiful films to look at, but Underworld, while not entirely vapid, lacks so much of the depth, and, more importantly, conscience of these animated films. (I am not sure which set Star Wars would belong to, but it occurs to me we would be better off if Star Wars were to be contentless - it has a lot of messages that we would not do well to take seriously).
(It also occurs to me that Miyazaki work reminds me a lot of Tolkien's - or maybe more Lucas', in that respect. But Miyazaki is definitely trying to create a mythology and assimilate mythology in a way that both Tolkien and Lewis tried to do. Lucas never fully assimilated anytyhing, but his Miyazaki's presentation is similar to his.)
