Rating: * * * *
“The smallest idea is a resilient virus, one that can grow to define or destroy you.” One such idea seems to indeed define my person in the cinematic ambience I currently find myself; a climate in which Christopher Nolan’s latest film has opened to rave reviews, tremendous numbers at the box office and has already stormed to number 3 in the IMDB's list of the Greatest Movies Ever Made. In this climate, where cinema-goers around the world are lining up to proclaim this work as the film of the year having only recently stopped championing The Dark Knight as the greatest film of 2008, a small idea echoes around my brain and possesses my train of thought: I don’t like these films as much as everybody else.
I have been at a loss to explain my aversion to Christopher Nolan movies for some time. In theory it seems like the two of us would make a lovely couple. I love movies, I love populist movies, I love populist movies made by smart people who have a respect for what they are doing. Christopher Nolan seems to make exactly these types of movies. He makes movies that experiment with ways of telling stories, that challenge the audiences to bring their brain to the cinema and who cares more about making good film than film that makes money. While the Hollywood powers seem to be convinced we are all too stupid to want to see good films and instead provide us with annonymous gruel to lap up while they search for the next novelty T.V. show to make, remake and then remake again in 3D. Surely I should be hailing the coming of Inception? So why do I think Memento is a perfectly average thriller that seems to have been sanctified by its fans just because it messes with its timelines a bit? Why do I think The Dark Knight wasn’t as good as Hellboy 2: The Golden Army? Why can’t I STAND The Prestige? I’ve been struggling with these questions for sometime now, lurching from arguments that accused Nolan of pretention to accusing him of stupidity: none of these I truly believed in my heart of hearts. But then, about two thirds of the way through his newest blockbuster Inception, I found the answer, buried deep within my subconscious.
But let’s backtrack a tad, a device I’m sure Nolan would be comfortable with given his penchant for twisting the rules of narration. Inception is an incredibly original, well-conceived, fun thriller with a brain in its head and ambition in its heart. The general conceit plays like a mixture between The Italian Job and Nightmare on Elm Street: Part 3 (the latter of which perhaps a slightly too specific a reference but a good film nonetheless) and the plot basically revolves around the premise that there exists the ability for some people to hack into someone’s dreams. With this special skill, teams of such people are hired to try and hack into important people’s brains steal vital pieces of information. The film follows a group of such dream-hackers, led by Leonardo DiCaprio’s Dom Cobb, who develop the idea of not just stealing information from a subject but planting an idea inside their brain instead. Of course, it’s immensely more complicated then that. The plot and the world of the film set up a cinematic sudoku of multiple layers of existences as dreams and reality, pasts and presents, all mingle together into an incredibly complex ride.
Let me state right here and now, plain and simply so as not to be misconstrued, that I really, really enjoyed Inception. Its central premise is fun, its delivery of said premise full of intelligence and complexity. Whilst the Michael Bay’s and Tony Scott’s of this world would happy to simply take this rather fun central idea and knock out a generic action-thriller with a few car chases, Nolan takes this what is essentially a B-movie conceit and pushes, stretches and expands it, imbuing it with a complex mythology based in part on psychological studies and in part on a detailed analysis of the dream-aesthetic already existing in the cinema, to create a twisting, contorting world. The film challenges its audience with an unwieldy narrative: it’s certainly not a film to watch whilst surfing the web, it’s a film to sit and stare at, and a film to be admired for having the courage to expect that from its audience in the age of youtube. It’s sharply and chicly directed and tightly and intelligently written. It’s also incredibly well acted by its committed cast of thespians, including the delights of Marion Cotillard, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Tom Hardy and Cillian Murphy. Even Ellen Page is great in it, shedding that irritating Juno persona brilliantly and bringing a wise and old soul to a youthful character that on the page might have been a struggle as her role is primarily that of feeder lines of plot explanation. At its best moments, it reminded me of my first experience of watching The Matrix: a feeling that I was watching something most definitely new and that I liked it. It was a fantastically entertaining and satisfying movie experience that I would thoroughly recommend to anyone and am genuinely pleased to see do so well at the box office. If a film this complex and this intricately designed, a film so invested in story and character whilst also providing the grand spectacle that Hollywood does so well, then hopefully the studios will learn to stop treating its audiences like cattle. I’ve always campaigned that entertaining cinema doesn’t have to mean stupid cinema, that an action film done well is as deep and worthwhile as any art house entry. I believe passionately that people don’t have to choose between movies and films, that both are as important to cinema as each other. Inception proves me right on all accounts.
But, and this is important, Inception is not The Matrix, it just reminded me of it. The Matrix was an absolutely superb and important piece of work that loses nothing in its wonder as you revisit it time and time again. Inception is just a really good movie, easily Nolan’s best film to date, but not the best movie of the year so far. It’s not even the best film of the summer. And, after jumping deep into my own psyche and riding the kick back up, I finally know exactly why that is: Great films - great movies - all have at their core a solid thematic core. Great cinema doesn’t just entertain, it entertains in a way that probes the human condition in a manner that is engaging to its audience. It is this feature of it that makes a film touching, makes it poignant, makes it enriching and worthwhile, makes it worth revisiting. I don’t mean, therefore, all film have to provide meta-textual analyses and Brechtian alienation techniques to be great. The Matrix is a rollercoaster ride action film but it also engages at a profound level. It’s a discussion of the uncertainty of reality, the role of technology in society and the power of belief in the individual. It questions the nature of what is valuable in the modern world, what is worth fighting for, what life is all about beneath the banal comforts technology and modern life provide, taking as its basis the works of Jean Baudrillard. It is a film about the human condition that uses explosions and high-concept science-fiction. I’m not suggesting the majority of its audiences explicitly realise this when they sit down to watch films but they still interact with this aspect of the film without realising. We care because we see ourselves on screen.
I have been at a loss to explain my aversion to Christopher Nolan movies for some time. In theory it seems like the two of us would make a lovely couple. I love movies, I love populist movies, I love populist movies made by smart people who have a respect for what they are doing. Christopher Nolan seems to make exactly these types of movies. He makes movies that experiment with ways of telling stories, that challenge the audiences to bring their brain to the cinema and who cares more about making good film than film that makes money. While the Hollywood powers seem to be convinced we are all too stupid to want to see good films and instead provide us with annonymous gruel to lap up while they search for the next novelty T.V. show to make, remake and then remake again in 3D. Surely I should be hailing the coming of Inception? So why do I think Memento is a perfectly average thriller that seems to have been sanctified by its fans just because it messes with its timelines a bit? Why do I think The Dark Knight wasn’t as good as Hellboy 2: The Golden Army? Why can’t I STAND The Prestige? I’ve been struggling with these questions for sometime now, lurching from arguments that accused Nolan of pretention to accusing him of stupidity: none of these I truly believed in my heart of hearts. But then, about two thirds of the way through his newest blockbuster Inception, I found the answer, buried deep within my subconscious.
But let’s backtrack a tad, a device I’m sure Nolan would be comfortable with given his penchant for twisting the rules of narration. Inception is an incredibly original, well-conceived, fun thriller with a brain in its head and ambition in its heart. The general conceit plays like a mixture between The Italian Job and Nightmare on Elm Street: Part 3 (the latter of which perhaps a slightly too specific a reference but a good film nonetheless) and the plot basically revolves around the premise that there exists the ability for some people to hack into someone’s dreams. With this special skill, teams of such people are hired to try and hack into important people’s brains steal vital pieces of information. The film follows a group of such dream-hackers, led by Leonardo DiCaprio’s Dom Cobb, who develop the idea of not just stealing information from a subject but planting an idea inside their brain instead. Of course, it’s immensely more complicated then that. The plot and the world of the film set up a cinematic sudoku of multiple layers of existences as dreams and reality, pasts and presents, all mingle together into an incredibly complex ride.
Let me state right here and now, plain and simply so as not to be misconstrued, that I really, really enjoyed Inception. Its central premise is fun, its delivery of said premise full of intelligence and complexity. Whilst the Michael Bay’s and Tony Scott’s of this world would happy to simply take this rather fun central idea and knock out a generic action-thriller with a few car chases, Nolan takes this what is essentially a B-movie conceit and pushes, stretches and expands it, imbuing it with a complex mythology based in part on psychological studies and in part on a detailed analysis of the dream-aesthetic already existing in the cinema, to create a twisting, contorting world. The film challenges its audience with an unwieldy narrative: it’s certainly not a film to watch whilst surfing the web, it’s a film to sit and stare at, and a film to be admired for having the courage to expect that from its audience in the age of youtube. It’s sharply and chicly directed and tightly and intelligently written. It’s also incredibly well acted by its committed cast of thespians, including the delights of Marion Cotillard, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Tom Hardy and Cillian Murphy. Even Ellen Page is great in it, shedding that irritating Juno persona brilliantly and bringing a wise and old soul to a youthful character that on the page might have been a struggle as her role is primarily that of feeder lines of plot explanation. At its best moments, it reminded me of my first experience of watching The Matrix: a feeling that I was watching something most definitely new and that I liked it. It was a fantastically entertaining and satisfying movie experience that I would thoroughly recommend to anyone and am genuinely pleased to see do so well at the box office. If a film this complex and this intricately designed, a film so invested in story and character whilst also providing the grand spectacle that Hollywood does so well, then hopefully the studios will learn to stop treating its audiences like cattle. I’ve always campaigned that entertaining cinema doesn’t have to mean stupid cinema, that an action film done well is as deep and worthwhile as any art house entry. I believe passionately that people don’t have to choose between movies and films, that both are as important to cinema as each other. Inception proves me right on all accounts.
But, and this is important, Inception is not The Matrix, it just reminded me of it. The Matrix was an absolutely superb and important piece of work that loses nothing in its wonder as you revisit it time and time again. Inception is just a really good movie, easily Nolan’s best film to date, but not the best movie of the year so far. It’s not even the best film of the summer. And, after jumping deep into my own psyche and riding the kick back up, I finally know exactly why that is: Great films - great movies - all have at their core a solid thematic core. Great cinema doesn’t just entertain, it entertains in a way that probes the human condition in a manner that is engaging to its audience. It is this feature of it that makes a film touching, makes it poignant, makes it enriching and worthwhile, makes it worth revisiting. I don’t mean, therefore, all film have to provide meta-textual analyses and Brechtian alienation techniques to be great. The Matrix is a rollercoaster ride action film but it also engages at a profound level. It’s a discussion of the uncertainty of reality, the role of technology in society and the power of belief in the individual. It questions the nature of what is valuable in the modern world, what is worth fighting for, what life is all about beneath the banal comforts technology and modern life provide, taking as its basis the works of Jean Baudrillard. It is a film about the human condition that uses explosions and high-concept science-fiction. I’m not suggesting the majority of its audiences explicitly realise this when they sit down to watch films but they still interact with this aspect of the film without realising. We care because we see ourselves on screen.
Even something like Star Wars, which on the surface appearing to be just a fun film with great special effects, is a moral essay on what inspires good to do good and evil to do evil. It’s this that makes Darth Vader a great villain, because the audience find him interesting and see elements of themselves in his plight. Han Solo is so awesome because his moral ambiguity is engaging and speaks of truth. The light sabre battles are thrilling because their outcome means something about life. All films need this aspect to truly register, to truly matter, to be more than just a bunch of stuff on screen and it exists in great cinema whether one chooses to focus on it or not, and even if people don’t spend hours after discussing such themes afterwards.
Beneath all of Inception’s clever plotting and visuals, beneath its smart script and fun concepts, beneath the great acting and the cool shots and edits, what does all of this actually amount to? Nolan clearly wants to the film to be a discussion about the fine line between dreams and reality by the amount of time he invests in such ideas. On numerous occasions characters appear to almost stop what their doing, turn to audience and begin a discussion on the philosophical implications of what they are doing. But what does all this philosophising actually mean? The film comes to no conclusion, it simply waves around vague notions that dreams are sometimes confusing or intoxicating, all rather banal points really to anyone over the age of ten, and finishes with a teasing little shot and a wink to the audience that completely negates any point it might have been attempting to make.
Am I being unfair? Perhaps it’s not so much dreams that Nolan is interested in then using dreams as a metaphor. Could they really represent the reality of fiction, the unstable reality of sanity, the reality of hope or the reality of memory? These are all universal themes that would actually engage with life, ideas explored in other films that rely on a dream-like setting (Nightmare on Elm Street: Part 3!, but the film negates this universality with its obsession with the mechanics of dreaming. Its constant narrative wielding of dreams within dreams, with the role of the dreamer as controller, with the threats of waking from the dream and believing in its impossibility also confines any thematic point to a rather specific region. The film doesn’t let any part of its structure move beyond these concerns and thus its remains shallow and brittle. Ultimately, Inception is a film that simply warbles without any great substance.
Beneath all of Inception’s clever plotting and visuals, beneath its smart script and fun concepts, beneath the great acting and the cool shots and edits, what does all of this actually amount to? Nolan clearly wants to the film to be a discussion about the fine line between dreams and reality by the amount of time he invests in such ideas. On numerous occasions characters appear to almost stop what their doing, turn to audience and begin a discussion on the philosophical implications of what they are doing. But what does all this philosophising actually mean? The film comes to no conclusion, it simply waves around vague notions that dreams are sometimes confusing or intoxicating, all rather banal points really to anyone over the age of ten, and finishes with a teasing little shot and a wink to the audience that completely negates any point it might have been attempting to make.
Am I being unfair? Perhaps it’s not so much dreams that Nolan is interested in then using dreams as a metaphor. Could they really represent the reality of fiction, the unstable reality of sanity, the reality of hope or the reality of memory? These are all universal themes that would actually engage with life, ideas explored in other films that rely on a dream-like setting (Nightmare on Elm Street: Part 3!, but the film negates this universality with its obsession with the mechanics of dreaming. Its constant narrative wielding of dreams within dreams, with the role of the dreamer as controller, with the threats of waking from the dream and believing in its impossibility also confines any thematic point to a rather specific region. The film doesn’t let any part of its structure move beyond these concerns and thus its remains shallow and brittle. Ultimately, Inception is a film that simply warbles without any great substance.
And this is my problem with all of Christopher Nolan’s films. Memento, despite being all about memory in its narrative, has nothing profound to say about memory. The Dark Knight constantly sets up moral dilemmas but has nothing to say about morality. The Prestige has nothing to say about anything, even if it does have a clever structure and an unexpected twist. Nolan has passion, creativity and intelligence as a filmmaker but he channels all of his energies into their craftsmanship. He lacks the nuance to make his intricately created worlds actually mean something. To use a metaphor I’m perhaps more proud of then I should be, Christopher Nolan is a carpenter of a filmmaker. He makes perfectly built, ornately decorated chairs. Chairs that are smooth to touch and beautiful to look at, chairs that are comfortable to sit on and will last the ages. But chairs do not have souls. So what’s my film of the summer you ask? Well, it’s Toy Story 3. That is a film that true depth lies not in the intelligence it shows off but the intelligence it hides beneath its pastille shades. I could watch that film a dozen more times before I got bored with. It will be a while before I feel the need to watch Inception again. So endeth the sermon.
