(It's another movie review, which means another non-book review. I promised five book reviews earlier, I know. To find out why I didn't post the rest, check out the postscript below. Otherwise, enjoy the review!)
Inception is the most-talked about movie since Avatar, and Nolan's film deserves that prize a damn sight better than James Cameron's The Smurfs Present Pocahontas Dances with Wolves did. What I've heard the most is that people thought it was confusing -- or extremely intelligent, for a summer audience. I disagree with both of these sentiments.
I think Inception was two things. It was intricate -- a deep system completely and absolutely thought out by the screenwriters -- and that allowed for Inception's second quality: it was innovative. Imaginative. It brought a feeling of freshness to the big screen which I haven't felt since (perhaps) Toy Story.
But back to that comment about it being confusing. The degree to which you understand this movie will depend upon how much you dream, and how much disbelief you are willing to suspend over what the subconscious can control during your sleep. Personally, I think that the more you think about it, the more sense the movie makes. But during the movie, there is an underlying feeling of "not-getting-it" that you have to get around. If you've seen the movie, you may know what I'm talking about. The fact of the matter is, though, that all you need to know about the dreamworld (that is, 90% of what Nolan tells you) is exposited in the first 90 minutes. What is it, then, that keeps the movie just out of your reach?
It's in that opening sequence, which you probably forgot. The film opens on a beach; the protagonist then speaks with a very old man. After that we cut to DiCaprio in the same room (or a similar one) in which he talks with someone else about something completely different -- and then follows a confusing sequence of dreams within dreams. It takes the audience an hour and a half to get over that initial shock of landing in worlds of dreams -- what is real and what isn't, anyway? -- but even after that, we have a feeling of unease because everything has not been explained. Those first few shots don't show up again until the end of the movie, in true Chris Nolan form.
The confusing or intellectual qualities of this film aren't really what makes it. Most of the film's success lies in the stupendous ideas about dreams. But another big part of it, and what makes the movie better than other confusing yarns, is the way the story is crafted emotionally. All the characters have motivations or places in the film. There are a few narrative threads that weave their way through the worlds. This gives the audience something to hold onto when all else is lost -- DiCaprio is searching for a way to let go, and the dream team is trying to pull an Inception, and Ellen Page is a student trying to help out DiCaprio for the good of the team. The point is that they are all familiar story beats, and even life beats, that we can relate to.
I think filmmakers can forget that this is what makes a movie good. I just watched another confusing movie, The Usual Suspects, in which we meet an unreliable narrator who tells about the criminal activities of himself and of his buddies. A huge chunk is told in flashback, but some flashbacks are told two or three times, and with different characters in different positions. But I never got attached to the characters, who had no motivation other than "breaking the system" (due to feelings of being stereotyped in an earlier police line-up). I never understood what was going on because they performed three or four unrelated jobs for no apparent reason. And most importantly, I didn't find the movie interesting because the only slightly unique thing about it was the twist at the end -- which I saw coming a mile away, by the way. What do we learn from this? Never bank your entire movie on one aspect of it. (Of course, when you see the early Pixar movies and realize two or three funny things happen at any moment that could spark your laughter, this makes sense.)
Here's a confusing movie that works, though: The Spanish Prisoner. Like The Usual Suspects, it changes direction midstream multiple times. However, each time it does so, we think we're watching a different kind of movie. We've been tricked the first twenty minutes, see, and now it's become a new kind of movie -- only twenty minutes later, it's a revenge thriller -- and then later on, it's an escape movie. Through the film's many acts, the characters have visible motivations and relatable emotions. The audience is rarely lost, and often tickled. Except for the first twenty minutes, the audience is never bored because we're trying to figure out what will come next.
Finally, there's Shutter Island, another movie that banks its entire premise on a twist. As with The Usual Suspects, I think that's weak for a movie, but it succeeds for (once again) two reasons. One, the twist is foreshadowed and developed through the film, so if you're paying attention, you suspect what's coming. Two, the film is made uncannily well, being a Scorsese piece. It is creepy and weird and messed up and terrifying, and at the end of the movie you find out why. That makes a bunch of stuff look non-sequitur at first, until you find out it's quite brilliant storytelling.
Movies should dare to be a little bit confusing, because it certainly spices up the selection at the cinema. But more important is that this confusing quality can force you to focus more on filmmakers' tools to make a quality movie, to draw the viewer in. Chris Nolan, David Mamet, and (to a degree) Martin Scorsese succeeded with their movies, while Bryan Singer's The Usual Suspects failed. Others are also good (The Sixth Sense) while some take a bit of thinking to figure out (Citizen Kane). The quality of the movie, though, always comes back to the quality of the filmmaking.
POST SCRIPT: On why I'm not writing book reviews.
Earlier I mentioned that I'm now reading several books at the same time. I promised no fewer than four reviews. This will not happen.
Here's why: I'm now reading twelve books at the same time, because of all I want to finish before I head off to college. I'm less able to think about books as entities of themselves this way, and it's harder for me to review.
What I planned to do originally was talk about themes that thread their ways through the books, but this seemed contrived and unnecessary, and I couldn't think of anything good to say, so I tossed it. I have an idea for a 1984 piece, but I don't know if I'll write it.
In short: the future of Berkeleian's Summer Reading Blog is up in the air. Any comments are greatly appreciated on the matter.
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