Review // INCEPTION - Dreaming small

There are many, many moments in Inception where characters spout pages and pages of gobbeldygook exposition that is so silly and leaden it could rival the biggest groaners in any second rate sci-fi movie. And yet these attempts at metaphysical and liminal exploration, however clunky, can almost be applauded for at least trying to inject some brains into the summer movie blockbuster mould. Almost.

The real problem with Inception is that it asks much more of you than simply suspension of disbelief, it requires you to endure an almost total suspension of entertainment. It lays out its inelegant concept in words, not actions. Inception seems relentlessly hellbent on avoiding anything resembling fun, and for a movie about dreams (a cinema sub genre itself) it's shockingly unimaginative. When characters (and I use that term lightly) aren't talking in streams of nonsense, which is rarely, there is a surplus of un-special effects on display, all in service of dreamscapes that surely must be the drabbest ever committed to film. The dreamworlds of Christopher Nolan are beige and muted and un -fantastic. There is no attempt on his part to interpret the language of dreaming into a visual or auditory hallmark for the film, as others have tried (and perhaps failed) to do. This is why the film wont' be remembered.

Like all Nolan's movies, he continues to needlessly tie the fantastic and ridiculous to some grim, semblance of reality. This is his vision and voice as a filmmaker thus far. Whether it's Batman stalking an un-Gothic Gotham or Leonardo Dicaprio rummaging through the bland hotel rooms of people's subconscious, Nolan seems to want to keep fantasy cloistered from whimsy and playfulness. I think for a time this was even interesting in comparison to the rest of the landscape of mainstream film. But after yet another appearance of MichaelCaine (I have an irrational dislike for him) and another high-concept tethered to the ground, I think it might be time for Nolan to change up his game.

Beyond all its metaphysical leanings, Nolan also wants Inception to be an exciting action movie (or perhaps Warner Bros. did), but the story and very concept don't support it. When faceless men with guns show up in the dreams of the mark (Cillian Murphy) that Dicaprio and his team are working on, it's a very deflating and disappointing turn. Perhaps if the men had literally been faceless it would've been a more interesting addition. To reduce subconscious defenses to henchmen firing machine guns seemed like a particularly lazy shortcut, and yet another way that Inception doesn't try to define itself or differentiate from the typical or rote. It feels like the ticking off of a checklist for nervous studio heads investing 200 million on a brand-less idea.

1. Must have guns and explosions.
Check.

Nolan continues to try his hand at action when he has no real affinity for it. His direction of gunplay or car chases feels like a phoned in 2nd unit performance. There is no sense of space within the choreography like there is in a McTiernan picture or the movies of John Woo. Characters are constantly shooting at each other from the sides of successive frames. Danger never seems to be inhabiting the same frame as the characters. Current Brit du jour , Tom Hardy becomes a one-man army at the end of the film and Nolan keeps the camera close on him and constantly cuts into his heroics late. It's supposed to be a balls-to-the-wall sequence, but it's drained of all context and excitement. Nolan also seems to be cribbing from the playbook of the Scott brothers, which is simply to shake the camera a whole shit load in order to simulate visceral movement, instead of building in visceral movement organically. It's clear from his movies that action scenes are a necessary component, but a component that doesn't seem to interest him all that much. His interests clearly lie in developing a legacy as the intellectual alternative at the multiplex. And yet nothing here matches the smarts, freshness or pure joyful inventiveness of The Matrix, perhaps the definitive Hollywood movie to meld action and metaphysics. The Matrix was a game-changer. Inception changes nothing. The next ten years of mainstream film will not bare the marks of Inception, the way that the 00's owed themselves to the Wachowski's vision. Compare the storming of the high rise at the end of The Matrix to Inception's third act siege on a snow fortress, which surely must count as one of the most lifeless and dull sequences of the year. Nolan could have dreamed up anything for this set piece, it exists in the subconscious of a character after all, and what we get feels about as exciting and relevant as an episode of the old GI Joe cartoon.

Inception is a movie that takes place almost entirely in dreams. So why is this movie so damn dull? The characters are constantly expressing wonderment over the images Nolan is creating, despite the fact they aren't particularly worthy of wonderment. There are very few, if any eye-gasms to be had in the 2 and half hours of Inception. This is really an unforgivable sin. A city block folding in on itself is as grand as things get and somehow the conclusion of this image even becomes quite unremarkable. Some will argue that there's a practical, story-driven reason why Inception never breaks loose inside it's dreamscapes. Their reasoning, and perhaps Nolan's, is because the dreams are supposed to replicate reality in order to trick their marks into giving up their secrets. Except this doesn't hold with what we know about dreaming and what the characters themselves tell us about dreaming in some of that endless exposition I was talking about. While dreaming, we accept what we're seeing and feeling as real. One minute you could be talking to your boss in the office lounge and the next you could be marrying a neon blue ox and both events feel as real to you in the moment as anything you experience in your daily life. This is why we get upset in our dreams. They aren't just movies playing in our minds that we passively watch. We feel fear, we feel remorse, we cry in a dream and wake up crying. We feel pain inside dreams. The events of our dreams, no matter how far-fetched or fractured, always tap into some emotional part of our true selves and we interact with them accordingly. The dream is not a dream while you are dreaming it--it is reality. LeonardoDicaprio says as much in one particular scene. This simple fact of dreaming, something that even a child knows, gave Nolan free lisence to let his imagination run wild. But there is precious little imagination on display, especially when it comes to the visuals. There is plenty of philosophical musing and subtext, just as there is in The Matrix. But while the Wachowski's sheer force of vision made you practically giddy to explore their first year university philosophy, there is no such excitement prompting you to muse the myriad questions of Inception's premise.

Look at this trailer for the great Terrence Malick's new film, The Tree of Life. It's not a dream movie (at least I don't think it is) and yet like all Malick's films, there is a dream-like quality and poetry to the images. Something that is sorely lacking from Inception.



There are flashes of a great dream movie to be had within Inception. Dicaprio's character being dunked into a tub of water in one level of dreaming translates into geysers of water crashing through a building in another level. This image of him centered on screen with great tidal waves spraying from the corners of the frame comes early in the movie and is one of the only wow moments to be had. It also connects with what we know about dreaming. Your alarm clock going off from your bedside table can become a booming voice from god in your dreams. Another great and relevant idea is the constant rain that's pouring down in the shared dreamscape of the team's Chemist, all because his sleeping body is registering a need to piss. This is what I was looking for from the movie, more dream piss. Also how can you make a movie about dreaming and not have one of the characters appear naked in a public place?

There were consistently two things being said about Inception at the time of it's release:
1. It is a masterpiece.
2. It will confuse dumb people. If you are confused, you are a dummy.

Well, Inception is no masterpiece. I have a hard time believing that it will morph over time into some cultural touchstone that appears on list after list for the next 50 years. And as for the conventional wisdom that it's complicated or confusing or somehow draws a line in the sand between the idiots and intellectuals among popcorn munchers, well this is also bullshit. Inception doesn't so much fill you with questions, as it more bores you with answers to questions you didn't really care to ask.

I really wanted Inception to be the masterpiece people were talking it up to be and I really do want Christopher Nolan to be the great white hope of genre movies. I was rooting for this movie and for him. It may be a Leonardo Dicaprio vehicle with a 200 million dollar budget, not exactly an underdog, but it's also an original idea (not based on a preexisting brand) and that's sadly a rare thing these days. But Inception is a major let-down. However, under the dark cloud of the mainstream's current creative bankruptcy, I can see why this film was mistaken for a ray of light. In our Ratner-ified era, I can see why a director like Nolan is being hailed as a genius. I can sorta see why people want to build him up to take on the mantle of the next Stanley Kubrick or something. Nolan certainly shares Kubrick's chilly, impersonal cinematic demeanor. He even nods to one of Kubrick's iconic images from 2001: A Space Odyssey, that of the bedroom where Louis XVI decor meets futuristic panels of light. But the culture's readiness to compare Nolan to Kubrick says less about Nolan as a filmmaker and more about how hard-up we are for anything resembling genuine inspiration. We desperately need the mainstream to be driven by a singular creative voice. We want our auteurs back. But sadly, the era of the auteur intersecting with the mainstream doesn't appear to be coming back any time soon. Inception is not the herald of a change to come, no matter how hard we wish it to be.

Review // IT'S COMPLICATED - The complications of being really, really white and really, really rich

Let me just start by saying that I'm not against these types of movies out of any kind of principle. My masculinity (what little there is of it) does not cause me to chafe against product that is clearly intended for the fairer sex. The fact that I have a dick and an Adam's apple does not preclude me enjoying films of this ilk. Chick flicks, I believe their called. No, I watch these kinds of movies here and there and I was fairly interested in this one in particular. It has Meryl Streep, Steve Martin (without a bad French accent for once!) and Alec Baldwin. That's a pretty stacked cast in my books. So the problem isn't that I just happen to be outside the target market for the movie and therefore immune to its charms. I was ready and willing to be charmed. The problem is that its charmless. Don't get me wrong, its very engaging. But only because you find yourself engaged in the act of wishing, praying and chanting for horrible calamities to befall the characters in the film, anything to weaken the vice-like grip they have over their sense of entitlement.

It's Complicated really lives up to it's title, though not in plot, but in intent. It's a dramedy that's meant to make you sniffle through the laughs, but it's neither dramatic nor funny. It's a romantic comedy that is more creepy than romantic and with laughs that are in most cases unintentional. It's also supposed to be a Feel-Good Late-Bloomer movie, except Streep's character seems to have everything in the world so it's impossible to empathize with her want for more. (Her character is designing her "dream" kitchen with the help of Steve Martin's lovelorn architect, despite the fact that her existing kitchen would make Martha Stewart pant with orgasmic abandon.) The most complicated aspect of the film is sorting out what if anything writer/director Nancy Meyers wants us to feel for these characters, because everything they say and do seems calculated to illicit overwhelming hatred --so obnoxious, spoiled an disconnected from reality are the blindingly white rich brats that populate this sunny, sterile utopia it feels like a parody of affluence. I kept expecting/wanting a dashiki-clad Jim Brown to kick in the door to Streep's cottage-style mansion and scream "die whitey!" before blowing everyone away with a Mac-10. And therein lies the real complication: does Meyers want us to hate these jerks on purpose or is she just one of them and therefore oblivious to how abhorrent they are? It would be much more fun to believe Meyers is a clandestine agitator hiding in plain view, mercilessly mocking and assailing the mindsets and lifestyles of the people who make up her target audience. But sadly I don't think this is the case.

When we meet Streep's character she is trying to balance her career as an upscale bakery owner with the stress of renovating her insanely gorgeous home. You know how it is. She's also trying to juggle both the hurt and duty she feels towards her ex-husband (Alec Baldwin) and observe the tenuous peace treaty they must uphold for the sake of their children. Normally this would be a palatable dramatic dilemma, but the divorce took place a decade ago and the children are grown fucking adults with financial safety nets made of silk and satin. Everyone in this movie is a whiny asshole and its impossible to care about any of them, including Streep's character, Paisley McRichLady. I've expressed my totally uncontroversial love for Streep on this blog before, but It's Complicated represents a new low, even for her current frivolity-focused career readjustment which includes such gems as Prime and The Devil Wears Prada. The plot revolves around a drunken one-night stand between the two exes, Streep and Baldwin and the "complicated" affair it leads to. Baldwin has entered into full-on midlife crisis mode and remarried a younger, hotter chick (who is also a one-dimensional bitch to boot) and naturally this doesn't sit well with Streep. When they find themselves back in bed together she is simultaneously vindicated and guilt-ridden at suddenly becoming the "other woman". The scene where Baldwin and Streep get it on, or I should say the post getting-it-on aftermath provides the first genuine laugh in the movie and it's all because of Baldwin's late-career commitment to self parody. As they lie in bed together--Baldwin satiated and Streep horrified--he reaches over and grabs a handful of Streep pussy over top of the sheets and sighs "it's good to be home". It's an amazing little moment and prevented me from turning the movie off, but it probably wouldn't have worked with any other actor doing the scooping, or being scooped for that matter.

Alec Baldwin is no longer an actor. He no longer plays characters. Alec Baldwin only plays Alec Baldwin anymore. He's his own brand. At one point Baldwin seemed poised to be the Next Big Movie Star. He had leading man looks, he had chops and he had a potential franchise in the Jack Ryan character. But let's face it, those leading man looks can play more like creepy-asshole in the wrong light and he's got as much attitude as hair on his chest. He's famous and rich so it all worked out fine, but in some parallel universe he's doing his 7th Jack Ryan movie and James Woods is in 30 Rock. 20 years ago Baldwin's voice, like fine cognac cascading over gravel, was the key to his short-lived sex appeal. But presently, that same voice has become a car commercial brogue--he's speaking English, but its just so comically husky that you can't take anything he says seriously. It's one of the key reasons he's fucking killing it on 30 Rock. With It's Complicated, every line he utters becomes a joke, even if its not written as one. If he doesn't exactly save the movie, he keeps you watching despite your instincts telling you to run.

Anyway, as Streep's planning out the kitchen of her dreams (as it turns out us regular folk don't dream big enough) she's courted by Joe Pesci's white-haired Asian cousin. No, no, I'm mistaken, that's Steve Martin. WHAT THE FUCK STEVE MARTIN?!? You were one of the good ones! I remember you hilariously ripping the phoney, superficial Hollywood elites at the Oscars like it was yesterday. And you go and slice up your face and get it all g-forced? Comedians are allowed to get facelifts now? When did this happen? When was it decided that people who made their livings out of making fun of things were allowed to make their actual faces into jokes? Christ, I'm so depressed now all of a sudden. So, Steve Martin with a facelift plays Streep's wussy architect and they begin courting each other despite the fact that she's still riding the Baldwin train in secret. Naturally this leads to all sorts of complications. One of hese complications is Streep's kids finding about the unusual affair and getting all confused and conflicted. There is literally a scene where Streep spends the day in bed consoling her sobbing, adult children because they are all confused that daddy stuck his dick in mommy again. The kids are all like 30 and it's actually played for dramatic effect with swelling strings and everything. It's insane!

You don't know who Nancy Meyers is. Her name doesn't register the way that Nora Ephron's does (or did). But in just 4 movies Nancy Meyers has made half a billion dollars in box office and, intentionally or otherwise, created two sub genres of chick flickage: Baby-boomers-Gone-Wild and Real Estate Porn. It all started with What Women Want, so far her biggest hit to date, but more than likely just a work-for-hire gig. Get this: it starred Mel Gibson as a high powered executive who suddenly is able to read the thoughts of women. It was insane back in 2000 when it opened, I've seen it 3 times, and I'm sure it's only appreciated in value in light of recent events. From there she made Something's Gotta Give, with Diane Keaton as a super white, super rich lady pinballing between the throbbing cocks of Jack Nicholson and Keanu Reeves. After that she made The Holiday, which was a depressingly bad rom-com that posited Jack Black as a perfectly suitable love interest for Kate Winselt. This is nothing against Jack Black. But it's everything against Kate Winslet. And now with It's Complicated, the spiritual sequel to Something's Gotta Give, Meyers has made her definitive anti-statment. It blends the elements of the two sub-genres I mentioned, with the 60+Meryl Streep tapping her inner slut against a backdrop of House and Home boner-popping centerfolds.

I'm sure Myers' next movie will be called It Is What It Is and star Meg Ryan as the CEO of a perfume empire trying to decide which of 3 mansions she should buy, meanwhile she's fucking her son's college roommate played by Robert Pattison, and loving it!