In short, “Imaginarium’’ is a Terry Gilliam movie and it’s a mess, which over the years have come to mean much the same thing. It’s one of his better messes, though, or at least this critic was won over by its ramshackle whimsies. Your mileage may vary, especially if you feel that the gifted celebrity dead should be mourned with taste and decorum. In which case, why are you even at a Terry Gilliam movie?
When we first see the late Heath Ledger in “Imaginarium,’’ he’s hanging by a noose from a bridge over the Thames. (Cue intake of audience breath.) His character, Tony, is apparently dead but not really; he’s apparently a well-known philanthropist but not really. He may be a charlatan. He definitely has amnesia. And he’s played with wit and fickle inventiveness by an actor who surely wasn’t planning to leave us so soon. I’d like to imagine that Ledger would have a good chuckle over the hall-of-mirrors ironies this movie conjures up; whatever else you can say about him, the actor seemed to have had a perverse sense of humor and a total lack of fear.
Tony falls in with Doctor Parnassus’s ragtag troupe just as things are beginning to heat up for the first time in centuries. The Doctor has revived his longstanding rivalry with Mr. Nick, a.k.a. the Devil himself, a natty fellow played with extra relish by singer Tom Waits. (Waits, by the way, may be the only actor in the history of film to have played both Satan and, in 2006’s “Wristcutters: A Love Story,’’ God. Top that, Morgan Freeman.) Whoever can win over five human souls to his side of the fence gets the soul of the Doctor’s prized possession: Valentina.
Tony turns out to be surprisingly adept at luring people into the Imaginarium, where Gilliam’s own imagination runs riot. The wagon’s inner universe betrays the film’s small budget; the director’s visual ideas pile at us pell-mell but for the first time in a long time they have the strapped, patchwork feel of his Monty Python animations.