November 9, 1981 [Time Bandits]

The map in Time Bandits shows you where the holes are—and you would think that's helpful: fall in a hole in a Terry Gilliam movie and you never know, could be as whoopsy-daisy as a silly walk into a really hilarious nightmare. But the little guys and the kid do the opposite: They jump into the holes—still makes sense: no way out, might as well go in to get out.

And if you follow them, Gilliam gives you a little something to cushion the fall: your own childhood, the wall of your bedroom collapsing and setting you free. Gilliam's parents are grotesque—that's OK: Gilliam doesn't play fair (or way more fairer than we'd like), we've already been warned—so the terrors in the time-holes seem a relief, and the boy follows—well, is often swept along, but he comes in handy once Evil shows up. And God Himself also pops in, knowing he's the Boss but too busy to make a fuss. He just wants the place dusted off and the chairs set aright; Evil is an incidental Thing, the last unwelcome guest. With that assertion, Time Bandits opens its snickering little happy heart, glad to rid the world of awful parents and half-witted consumerism—easy targets, but I'm not complaining, as long as the boy gets to poke around in Gilliam's audacious attic where lurks a wardrobe that C.S. Lewis would turn to kindling if he could, a little world made so strange and cunningly you can't help sneaking in for a little loot of your own.