Movies Explained
THE ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN Explained: Utterly Jaw-Dropping!
Despite almost 40 years since its premiere, The Adventures of Baron Munchausen still watches wonderfully today — mainly due to the stunning set design and the atmosphere of a Gilliam-like, slightly naive fairy tale for adults.
The richness of connections between film and other fields of art seems inexhaustible, just like the imagination of the creators when translating from the static image into the moving one. The greater the participation of traditional special effects in this process, the greater my admiration for the result of the crew’s work. Today, let me introduce you to Terry Gilliam’s The Adventures of Baron Munchausen.
At this time Gilliam’s name was very popular. He was part of the British Monty Python’s Flying Circus and had participated in over forty episodes of this satirical program, as well as in several feature films. Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975), Life of Brian (1979), and The Meaning of Life (1983) are now cult productions, and for all of them Terry Gilliam created stop-motion surreal animated inserts and openings, and also appeared in various episodes.

In Flying Circus he was, for example, Cardinal Fang of the Spanish Inquisition, the knight with the rubber chicken, and in Holy Grail the Bridge Keeper and King Arthur’s servant, Patsy. His work — on both sides of the camera — was permeated with absurd humor. In addition, he worked on screenwriting and directing his own productions, independently of the other Pythons. In the 1980s an informal Trilogy of Imagination was created, consisting of Time Bandits (1981), Brazil (1985), and The Adventures of Baron Munchausen (1988). Each of these films concerns a different period in a person’s life (respectively: childhood, adulthood, old age) and the escape from the real world into the imagined one.
Inspirations
Illustrations
The character of Baron Munchausen appeared in readers’ consciousness in 1785, when the German writer Rudolf Erich Raspe published a book about his travels and extraordinary adventures. The hero himself was loosely inspired by a real nobleman, Hieronymus Karl Friedrich von Münchhausen, who became famous for his vivid accounts of his exploits during the Russo-Turkish War of 1735–1739. His stories were supposedly so detached from reality that Raspe decided to draw upon the veteran’s rich imagination, and thus began the evolution of the fictional baron.

Subsequent illustrators added various details of their own, such as age, facial hair, etc., and ultimately Munchausen became a tall and slender old man with a pointed grey goatee, moustache sticking sideways, and a prominent nose. The most popular depiction of the baron became the version by Gustave Doré. The artist made illustrations for Raspe’s stories in 1857. This version was also drawn upon by Terry Gilliam, who spotted the leather-bound edition of the book at former Beatle George Harrison’s place in the summer of 1979.
A similar source of inspiration applied to the rest of the characters, the most interesting of whom is the colorful group of companions of the eccentric baron: the strongman Albrecht, the sharpshooter Adolphus, Gustavus — who fells enemies with a single breath — and the swift-footed Berthold (played by Eric Idle, Gilliam’s colleague from Monty Python). In their case, the creators did not focus on faithfully reproducing the illustrations — they served as a starting point for designing the appearance of the characters.

Painting
During his travels, Munchausen journeyed to the Moon, flew on a cannonball, was swallowed by a giant fish, and also visited Vulcan’s forge. There the baron meets the beautiful goddess Venus, whose most popular depiction in culture was painted by Sandro Botticelli. Gilliam, well-versed in art, decided to translate the painting into the medium of film.
Process
In a sense, we wanted to do something that Walt Disney did in full-length animated films, only with real people. If there was to be a flight on a cannonball — then there would be a flight on a cannonball.

The Adventures of Baron Munchausen is an international production. Shooting took place in Italy (Cinecittà) and Spain (Almería, Granada, and the ruins of Belchite). The plans included full-scale moving sets, scenes with Turkish war elephants and a multitude of extras, as well as sea sequences. On top of that came the labor-intensive shots related to creating all the special effects on set, including a tall crane for lifting a balloon with the heroes, and complex pyrotechnics for battle scenes.
Meanwhile, the film’s budget was supposed to be capped at twenty-five million dollars, which imposed limitations on the crew from the outset. Unfortunately for Gilliam, funds were arriving behind schedule, preventing the completion of work on costumes and thus delaying the start of shooting.

Italy — Cinecittà
The film crew supposedly flew to Rome without return tickets — today it is hard to say whether this was an expression of Gilliam’s specific sense of humor and fear of someone quitting, or simply a matter of saving money at the time. Once there, it turned out that the temperatures in the studio halls were unbearable, so scenes were shot at night, which further prolonged the work on the film. First, technicians had to build a full-scale interior of the ruined theater in which a significant portion of the events takes place.
Erecting a multi-story structure based on a metal framework had to be sturdy enough to withstand not only the added scenographic elements but also frequent contact with actors and equipment.When there was finally a place to shoot, the actors had to be prepared. Since the baron and his helpers are shown at various ages — which involved frequent changes of facial hair and wigs — it was decided to… shave the actors’ heads. This was a great convenience for both them and the makeup artists, especially considering the heat in Italy.

The abilities of the baron’s companions required ingenuity from the special effects crew. Particular attention should be paid to Berthold, who was the fastest man in the world. Given the fairy-tale character of Gilliam’s world, it was decided to depict this in the way sprinters are usually shown in comics — with legs rotating like wheels and a cloud of dust.Not everything could be done with the actor or a stunt double, so a mannequin was constructed with a mechanism that moved the legs in the appropriate way.
Through cleverly planned editing cuts and perspective, as well as manipulation with accelerating the film tape, the effect of extraordinary speed was achieved. The artificial Berthold running was filmed from a distance, and thanks to makeup looks completely real.

This is also where the iconic scene for the eccentric baron was created — the flight on a cannonball. They used a blue screen, against which the prop team placed a round projectile in such a way that one could sit on it with empty space underneath. The “flying” scene was shot twice — first with a stand-in in costume, later with John Neville for the close-ups. Night sky was added to the finished footage and edited together with shots of Munchausen, who — while clutching the fired cannonball — pierces the Turkish siege tower. The final effect looks excellent even today, considering how the film’s world functions here.
In the studio halls of Italian Cinecitta (besides the scenes in the theater), two fantastic sequences were created: Baron Munchausen’s and little Sally’s (Sarah Polley) visit to the Moon, and to Vulcan’s Forge.

The former arrived in the film in a very truncated version, because mounting financial problems forced Gilliam to constantly rewrite the script. The built set design was overseen by Giuseppe Rotunno, cinematographer for the material made in Italy. He had already become known for his meticulousness during his cooperation with Fellini, with whom he co-created e.g. Roma and Satyricon. Due to the limited budget, they abandoned hundreds of extras and tall structures.
Instead, Gilliam referred to his practice from Monty Python’s Flying Circus — the full-scale lunar tenements were replaced by flat facades that, when appropriately shifted during filming, gave a rather theatrical, yet sufficient effect. The cast didn’t escape reshuffling either. Sean Connery withdrew from participation, and was replaced in the role of the King of the Moon by Robin Williams (incognito — in the credits he appears as Rey di Tutto, and this is also how the character introduces himself). His role and that of his on-screen partner (Valentina Cortese) involved a particular trick — they were to have detachable heads moving independently from their bodies, levitation included.

To achieve this effect as realistically as possible and without multiplying expenses, they used double exposure. On a fragment of film tape they recorded the set and the characters of Munchausen and Sally, and then added the head of the king/queen in an appropriate scale so that they were significantly larger in relation to the main character. During their stay on the Moon, the baron falls — for reasons I won’t mention, so as not to spoil the fun — into disfavor with its ruler and must make his escape. During the chase, Rey di Tutto throws an enormous asparagus like a javelin.
The shot of Munchausen and the vegetable embedded in the lunar ground is an elegant example of matte painting — that is, the trick of superimposing the filmed characters over a motionless, previously painted background. Thanks to this, the viewer has the illusion that the characters really were nearly struck by the asparagus weapon. This technical trick was used several times in The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, and the painted illusions were created by Leigh Took, who a year later did similar work on Burton’s Batman.

The action moves to Vulcan’s Forge, which was built in the largest hall of the Cinecitta studio — Teatro Cinque. Gilliam wanted the set to resemble an old, industrialized city full of ugly, hulking cyclopes. Their makeup was quite simple — the extras wore masks and prosthetic inserts in addition to costumes, giving them a suitably unpleasant appearance of one-eyed foundry workers.
The role of the god Vulcan was played by Oliver Reed, and the perfect counterbalance to his expressiveness and vigor turned out to be seventeen-year-old Uma Thurman as Venus. The very young actress appeared practically nude in some scenes; it was also one of her first roles on the big screen.

Spain – Almería, Granada, Belchite
After finishing work at Cinecitta, the film crew began moving from Italy to southern Spain, where the outdoor scenes were shot. The most important were two locations: the interior of the besieged city and the Turkish army that threatened it. In addition, the scene in the Sultan’s palace, which appears at the beginning of the film, had to be filmed. Terry Gilliam spent months searching for suitable locations, and when he finally chose them, it turned out that there, too, problems awaited him. In one of the first scenes of the film, Baron Munchausen visits the Turkish ruler.
The ideal location turned out to be the Alhambra (14th-century fortified palace complex) in Andalusian Granada. The director wanted to show the appropriate scale — he planned scenes with horses, incense, etc. — but unfortunately, animals were not allowed on the property, and burning anything was out of the question. The crew was not even allowed to install the rails on the floor that the camera would move along. Once again, a few things had to be crossed out of the script, but the material was eventually shot.The scenes in the besieged city, where the action of the film begins, were shot in the real ruins of Belchite, whose Old Town was irretrievably destroyed in the 20th century during the Spanish Civil War.

The nostalgic landscape had to be modified somewhat, additional constructions were erected to give the location a typically Gilliam-esque atmosphere and background preparation began (using matte painting).The scenes in the Turks’ camp turned out to be the most spectacular and lavish. Hundreds of extras in costume, massive (and functional!) cannons, horse riding, real elephants with towers on their backs — a true cauldron of attractions for the viewer and indescribable chaos for the director.
Despite the changeable weather and minor issues with animals on set (the elephants panicked or a horse destroyed part of the scenery), today we can admire the siege scene shot on the beach in Almería, which serves as the prologue to The Adventures of Baron Munchausen. Later, near the end of the film, the main character and his retinue once again encounter the Turkish Sultan, which does not end very well for him, and the whole thing is accompanied by joyful saber-slashing, gunfire, and general commotion, which is very enjoyable to watch.

Trouble Not Only On Set
Logistics, livestock, and a tight budget were not the only issues Terry Gilliam struggled with while working on the film. Producer Thomas Schulhy had his own ideas concerning execution and casting, about which the director said in one interview:
If a producer stubbornly sits in his own office instead of coming to production meetings, if he spends his time giving interviews instead of dealing with current problems, if for months he tries to get Marlon Brando for the film instead of taking care of the crew — then I get a bit angry.
However, when the mentioned actor (considered for the role of Vulcan) replied that he would pass, Schulhy reluctantly let go and began to focus on important matters. In interviews, the producer appears completely unaware of Gilliam’s approach to the issue and entirely innocent.

Summary
Ultimately, the film’s budget closed at approximately 46.5 million dollars and turned out to be a financial flop. However, critical opinions were divided, and a large portion were favorable to The Adventures of Baron Munchausen. The director closed his trilogy of imagination with the figure of an old man possessed by his own fantasies. Despite almost 40 years since its premiere, the film still watches wonderfully today — mainly due to the stunning set design, the wealth of practical special effects, and the atmosphere of a Gilliam-like, slightly naive fairy tale for adults.
Despite the passage of time, John Neville’s interpretation remains the most popular portrayal of the eccentric baron, and the story of the making of this film is excellent material for an hours-long documentary somewhere between drama and absurd comedy. Dusty and somewhat aged, and yet a charming and pleasantly surprising fairy tale for the adult viewer.

