Pyjama Girl Tideland

Just because a film is "formulaic" doesn't necessarily mean it's a waste of time. After all, repetition of storytelling techniques is a common device even in literary circles, so why should the cinema be held to a higher standard? But it's those films that deviate from the expected formula, even in small ways, that leaves the most lasting impression...for good or bad.

In Italy, the giallo (a sexy, murder mystery) is defined by its body count approach in much the same way as the American slasher film. Yet, The Pyjama Girl Case (1977), produced at the tail end of the genre's lifespan, doesn’t follow the formula as we know it. Based on an actual Australian police case in the 30’s, Ray Milland gets top billing as Inspector Thompson, a retired cop who bullies his way onto a case involving a Jane Doe found shot, beaten and burned on a public beach. Other than a pair of tattered yellow pajamas, the body offers few clues. So few, in fact, that the police preserve the body inside a glass case and stage a public viewing in hopes that an identification can be made.

But the lack of a predictable body count isn't the only aspect that sets director Flavio Mogherini's film apart; it's the unusual structure that follows the victim and the investigators concurrently, flipping between the two stories, which are separated by weeks or months. The first half hour is a choppy mess as our promiscuous victim jumps from bed to bed with little explanation. Thompson's police work (Milland delivers an enjoyably grumpy performance in one of his final roles) provides the anchor until the two stories settle into a narrative groove.

The Pyjama Girl Case is far from an undiscovered masterpiece - it's neither seedy nor classy enough to suit most tastes - but its unusual plot structure sets it apart. Two moments in particular (the public parade in front of the preserved body and an uncomfortable sex scene leading to the final murder) stand out from the genre crowd. It’s better described as an anomaly, both in style, approach and location, having been shot in the story’s native Australia...part of a wave of international gialli that tried to give the genre some legs. You may be able to take the giallo out of Italy, but you can never take Italy out of the giallo entirely.

The fractured fairy tales of Terry Gilliam seemed fresh and innovative during the '80s. But as his visual style was incorporated by the mainstream, latter films like The Brothers Grimm seemed curiously empty of new ideas. Perhaps that explains Tideland (2005), produced later the same year but skewing in a decidedly less commercial - and sometimes genuinely controversial - direction.

Young Jeliza-Rose (Jodelle Ferland) is dragged across country by her drug-addicted, rock n' roll father (Jeff Bridges) to the abandoned family homestead, a ramshackle dump situated in an empty pasture. But when her dad overdoses the first night, Jeliza-Rose escapes into a fantasy world to cope with the trauma, incorporating the mentally unbalanced neighbors - Dell and Dickens - into her world of make-believe. However, real dangers lurk just outside the boundary of her imagination. And as her father's history comes to light, Dell and Dickens might not offer the refuge Jeliza-Rose was looking for after all.

To be clear, Tideland, although primarily about the adventures of an 8-year-old girl, is nothing like Gilliam's early work. There seems to be a desperate effort here to blend his broken-down magical universe with the disturbing aspects of modern reality. It's not to say he doesn't succeed, but the film puts Jeliza-Rose in some truly disturbing situations of drug use and pedophilia that are unappealing on just about every level. And it doesn't help that young Jodelle Ferland's performance is cloyingly cute, as if Gilliam wanted to ensure his audience that no real emotional damage was caused during filming.

As the mysterious neighbors Dell and Dickens, Janet McTeer and Brendan Fletcher are the only reason to keep watching. Fletcher manages to be both convincing and sympathetic as the mentally challenged Dickens, whose childish games create a bond (ultimately an unhealthy one) with Jeliza-Rose. And McTeer's nicely fills in the eccentricities wrapped inside her outlandish Gilliam-esque costume. It's nice to see a director, especially one as gifted as Gilliam, push themselves outside their comfort zone. But Tideland seems more like a self-indulgent "fuck you" to studio filmmaking and Gilliam fans in general.