Terry Gilliam's epic 1991 fable has both admirers and detractors: it now seems ambitious, unique and charming. The superb Jeff Bridges is a burned-out DJ who's at first irritated then revitalised by oddball visionary tramp Robin Williams and his hallucinatory Arthurian quests. The latter's hyper-babbling (like the director's flourishes) holds because Bridges is so magnificently solid and believable.
In most cultures, seven is a magic number. Not in rock'n'roll, where to sustain any degree of originality beyond album three or four is about as rare as a sober Shane MacGowan.
