Five (Bogus) Reasons To Hate Inception

So far, I've seen Christopher Nolan's Inception twice. I plan on seeing it again tomorrow. I love this movie!

However, I was very surprised to see that Inception is receiving such fierce criticism from a handful of critics. I was planning to write a positive review of this film, praising its merits and virtues. However, when I read the negative reviews, I decided to write a review of those criticisms instead.

However, first I need to an issue a warning:

This post contains spoilers. If you haven’t seen Inception, this might ruin it for you. Don’t risk it.

This post also contains satirical comments about people who dislike Inception. If you’re one of the poor, misguided fools who somehow failed to appreciate the cinematic mastery of Christopher Nolan’s latest film, you have my pity. It’s a free country and you’re entitled to your opinions. My opinion is that Christopher Nolan is the greatest director of this generation, and Inception is one of the coolest movies ever made. If you disagree with me, that’s fine.

You’re wrong, though.


1. Christopher Nolan Directed This Movie. Christopher Nolan Directed The Dark Knight. Therefore I Must Hate This Movie.

As one reviewer pointed out, there is an entrenched group out there that will never forgive Christopher Nolan for making The Dark Knight such a darn popular movie. Once upon a time, Christopher Nolan made indie mind-benders only for English majors (enlightened by reading Derrida) and film festival-types (currently on their eighth viewing of The Chumscrubber). But then, he had the gall to transition to multi-million dollar productions with all-star casts and state-of-the-art special effects that other people actually liked. How dare he, these people cry. What a sellout! Doesn’t he realize what he’s done? He’s empowered millions of comic book nerds to run around proclaiming The Dark Knight to be the greatest movie of all time. What a jerk!

Of course, no one will admit to disliking something because it’s popular. Because that would make you a snob, and people hate snobs. But when you strain yourself criticizing films that have achieved tremendous commercial AND critical success, you come dangerously close to exposing your snobbery.

Just get over the fact that the guy who made Memento has started making really cool movies that other people can enjoy and appreciate.

2. The Dream Sequences Aren’t Realistic, And By That I Mean They Aren’t Weird Enough For Me.

Some people have criticized Inception’s dream sequences for being too rigid, too logical, and too structured – in other words, not weird enough. I know what they’re saying. Dreams are weird, right? I once had a dream where Bill Clinton chased me in a hippie van while Gandhi threw fiery pumpkins at me. That was weird. You won’t see that kind of stuff in Inception. In Inception, dreams have discernible structures and rules. Everything makes sense…sort of.

This really bothers some people.

Now, I’m not denying that Inception’s dream sequences aren’t true-to-life. Harvard dream researcher Deidre Barrett makes that clear. However, she also makes it clear that movies that try to accurately imitate real-life dreams often have “very illogical, rambling, and disjointed kinds of plots.” Maybe that’s what some people wanted to see when they bought their tickets for Inception. Maybe they failed to appreciate the movie because there wasn’t a scene where Fischer sat on the toilet reading Cosmo while the Inception team discussed Bolivian soccer with him; or a scene where Adriadne rushes off to take a mid-term exam; or a scene where Dom’s teeth fall out and dance to Michael Jackson’s “Beat It.”

But if that’s the case, those people should just go rewatch David Lynch or Charlie Kaufman movies. Can you honestly imagine a David Lynch-style version of Inception? I can, and it would suck.

3. There Are Plot Holes. Big Ones. Like So Big, That No Respectable Person Could Possibly Like This Movie.

Some people have criticized Inception for being full of plot holes. I’m certainly not going to claim this movie has a perfect, error-free story. But I’ve found three problems with the plot hole critics.

First, many of the things supposedly identified as “plot holes” are really just nit picking.

Second, many of these claims only reveal that the critics haven’t been following the plot. For example, I hear a lot of people say “How did Mal get into this supposedly secure room? What’s up with that?” Well, did they miss the part where Adriadne told Dom about the secret passageway?

Third, what counts as a plot hole? There are at least half a dozen interesting theories about what’s really going on in Inception. Your interpretation of the film determines what counts as a plot hole.

Roger Ebert said he couldn’t find any plot holes in Inception. That’s good enough for me. It might not be good enough for you, though. After all, he’s an old guy without a jaw. So you keep looking for those plot holes. Let me know when you find them.

4. Inception Isn’t As Deep As It Pretends To Be.

I went into Inception expecting to have my mind blown. I think we all did. But some people were expecting to have our minds blown by a big plot twist of some kind. When they didn’t get it, they got angry. So they stormed out of the theater, complaining that the movie wasn’t as deep as it pretended to be.

But let’s hold our horses here. Is Inception really a pretentious movie? Who ever said there would be a big plot twist that would go all paradigm shift on our minds? Was that promised to us in the trailer? Honestly. When did these people start thinking they were going to see an M. Night Shyamalan film?

5. I Didn’t Like The Ending

Inception is a movie with an ambiguous ending. It prompts you to interpret it, to take all the cinematic events you’ve just seen and rearrange them into something meaningful order that will explain the big question: will the top stop spinning?

Inception ends with the audience wondering whether they’re witnessing a dream scene or reality.

Some people really don’t like this. They want a specific ending, like one where Dom wakes up and realizes that there was no heist; it was simply Adriadne performing “dream therapy” on Dom to bring him back to reality.

What can I say? If you didn’t like the ending, you didn’t like the ending. But if you wanted an ending like this, you really wanted to see a very different type of movie. Maybe you should go see Shutter Island. That has Leonardo di Caprio, dreams, a suicidal wife, and therapy sessions in it too. Maybe that’s closer to your taste.

Then, there are some people who think they’re criticizing the ending, but what they’re actually criticizing is their interpretation of the ending. As I said, Inception’s ending is ambiguous. It prompts you to interpret the movie. When you interpret the film, you will see the ending differently. Some people say “Well, I didn’t like it that Dom was still dreaming.” Is he really still dreaming, or is that your interpretation? Some people say “Well, I didn’t like the end because after all that tension, everything works out OK.” Does it work out OK, or is that your interpretation? Think critically about it, and you may find that what you dislike about the ending is the interpretation it prompted you to create, and not the actual ending itself.

Metropolis (1927)

I'll admit it:

I find silent movies very difficult to watch.

While many of them are very visually impressive or culturally interesting, it's difficult - if not impossible - for me to enjoy them on a cinematic level. For me, watching a silent movie is kind of like going to a mime opera. It's certainly an interesting experience, but you can't help but feel that something's missing. After all, how are you going to keep 'em down on the farm after they've seen Paris? What can I say? I'm a sound addict.

That being said, Fritz Lang's Metropolis is one of the best silent films I've seen. Even after eighty-three years, it's still an impressive film. I'm a big fan of German Expressionism, and this movie is an excellent example of that artistic movement. Lang's images are a brilliant blend of the Gothic and the futuristic, and it's easy to see how many sci-fi and horror filmmakers have been influenced by them.

Sweet Smell of Success (1957)

I really wish that I had the time to write a full-length review of this movie, but it’s getting close to finals week and term papers take precedence over movie reviews. So, I’ll just cut to the chase and say this is one of the best films I’ve ever seen.

Like Citizen Kane, Sweet Smell of Success is a thinly-veiled attack on a public figure (New York's most powerful gossip columnist Walter Winchell). Like Sunset Boulevard, it's an atmospheric film noir concerned with urban depravity and human putrefaction. It reminded me of a stage play, something between Shakespeare and David Mamet, because there's such a strong focus on the incredible power of language to destroy and deceive. The dialogue in this movie is incredible ("You're dead boy. Now get yourself buried," "No need to worry. The cat's in a bag and the bag's in the river," "My right hand hasn't seen my left hand in thirty years").

The film noir visuals are spectular. James Wong Howe outdid himself.

The performances by Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis are great too. They belong to a group of American actors I love. I’d suppose you’d call them the “sons-of-bitches” school (William Holden and Kirk Douglass would also be members).

"Match me, Sydney": Burt Lancaster as the unscrupulous gossip columnist J.J. Hunsecker

"Every dog will have his day": Tony Curtis as the "lean and hungry looking" publicity agent Sydney Falco

Double Feature: The Gay Divorcee (1934) & Top Hat (1935)

I just finished watching two musical comedies with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers – The Gay Divorcee and Top Hat. As far as plots go, these two movies were so similar they’ve already begun to blur together in my mind.

In both films, Fred Astaire is the dapper, smooth-talking song-and-dance man who pursues Ginger Rogers, the lovely, affluent young woman who, due to some unfortunate misunderstanding about his moral character, utterly despises him. Of course, at the end she’s won over by his sizable charm (and dancing ability). Along the way, there are ridiculous yet thoroughly predictable plot twists, unbelievable coincidences, gaping plot holes, jokes that fell flat sixty years ago, sly Production Code-era innuendos, incessant singing, and copious amounts of dancing.

I love Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, but I’ve certainly seen them in better movies, both together and individually (Fred Astaire's Bandwagon, which I just rewatched, is one of my favorite musicals). Both The Gay Divorcee and Top Hat seem so trite and superannuated it would be easy for me to write them off as hopelessly dated were it not for one thing – the incredible choreography and chemistry between Astaire and Rogers. As dated as these movies may be, there is something timeless and magical about watching Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dance together. I could go on writing, trying to explain what that something is, but I think Roger Ebert says it very well:

“Because we are human, because we are bound by gravity and the limitations of our bodies, because we live in a world where the news is often bad and the prospects disturbing, there is a need for another world somewhere, a world where Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers live. Where everyone is a millionaire and hotel suites are the size of ballrooms and everything is creased, combed, brushed, shined, polished, powdered and expensive. Where you seem to find the happiness you seek, when you're out together dancing cheek to cheek. It doesn't even matter if you really find it, as long as you seem to find it, because appearances are everything in this world, and ...

Let the rain pitter patter


But it really doesn't matter


If the skies are gray.

Long as I can be with you,

It's a lovely day."

"Night and Day" from Top Hat

Ultimately, I suppose every work of art is torn between realism and fantasy, between a "documentarian" impulse to depict the world as it really is and an "entertainment" impulse to depict the world the way we want it to be. This seems especially true where movies are concerned, because the visual is the immediate and the immediate carries the power so many things.

Vertov's great experiment in utopian cinema: Man With A Movie Camera (1929)

When cinema was first invented, it was perceived as nothing more than a carnival amusement, a mere curiosity. However, as cinema began to develop, early filmmakers became intoxicated with the potential power of the medium. Some utopian visionaries imagined that cinema would eventually unite the world through the universal power of the image, which they believed needed no translation. In film, they thought, we can show the world the way it really is.

Spielberg's Hollywood-ized Holocaust: Schindler's List (1993)

However, over time, the grand rhetoric of the documentarians proved empty because the documentarian impulse itself was actually just another desire masquerading as something higher. Over the last century, we've seen many great "true life" and "true-to-life" stories in cinema. Movies like Schindler's List and To Kill a Mockingbird have helped raise awareness about important social issues. But ultimately, film - just like every other artistic medium -is incapable of containing the real world. So no matter how movies present themselves ("The incredible true story," "Only the most incredible parts of this story are true," "Based on a true story"), I believe the essence of cinema is always desire, the desire to witness and experience - if only for an hour or two - beautiful little worlds, worlds like The Gay Divorcee and Top Hat where the boy always gets the girl, people burst into song for no other reason than because it makes them happy, and Fred and Ginger can dance together until the credits roll.

Swing Time (1936)

The Asphalt Jungle (1950)

Crime is just a left-handed form of human endeavor.

- John Huston

The Asphalt Jungle is a celebrated film noir movie by John Huston, the celebrated director of celebrated film noir movies. He gave us films like The Maltese Falcon, The Treasure of the Sierra Madres, and Key Largo. His body of noir work is impressive, but I think this might be his best. I also think this might be the best noir film I’ve ever seen (and I’ve seen quite a few).

Basically, The Asphalt Jungle is a heist movie revolving around a plot to steal $500,000 in diamonds. The people doing the plotting are a shady group of characters. As Huston said in his introduction to the film, “You might not like them but you will find them fascinating.”

There’s Doc (Sam Jaffe), the criminal mastermind. He planned the heist in prison and begins initiating it the moment he’s released. He wants the money so he can flee to sunny Mexico and romance young girls.

There’s Emmerich (Louis Calhern), the financier. A crooked lawyer, he puts up the money for the heist. With the score, he hopes to continue supporting his life of luxury and decadence, symbolized by his mistress (Marilyn Monroe).

There’s Gus (James Whitmore), the driver. His job is to make sure everyone disappears into the night without a trace, a task that proves easier said than done.

There’s Ciavelli (Anthony Caruso), the safe cracker. His job is to beat the state-of-the-art technology that stands between the gang and the money.

There’s Dix (Sterling Hayden), the muscle. He’s a small-time thug who addicted to horse races, probably because they remind him of the Kentucky farm his family lost in the Depression, something he desperately wants to buy back someday.

Now, crime movies often have stereotypical characters, but thankfully the main cast never allows itself to fall into this trap. The actors present their characters as legitimate characters, human beings with fascinating personalities and intriguing motives. As an added bonus, the movie boasts a rather large collection of supporting actors (Jean Hagen, Barry Kelley, Marc Lawrence, Dorothy Tree, John McIntire) who are all fabulous. These minor characters help develop our understanding of the main characters, giving them depth and substance. For example, there’s Emmerich’s invalid wife (Dorothy Tree). This movie could allow us to simply see Emmerich as a sleazy lawyer who cheats on an invalid life with no screen time. But instead, this movie takes the time to show him visiting her on bedside, listening to her pleas and complaints about the way their relationship use to be. We see that he is wrestling not only with greed but guilt. When he commits suicide later in the movie avoid arrest, the gang mocks him. He would have only gotten a two-year sentence, they say. But because of this scene, we know Emmerich was trying to flee something worse than arrest.

Because no character in this movie is flat or one-dimensional, we see them as real people with real motives. This not only creates depth but suspense. Since this is a film noir movie made in 1950, we know how it will end. We know things will go badly for the gang. But the question is how will their foolproof plan fall apart? In every interaction between the characters, big or small, we see the chance for disaster growing. Because the characters are represented as real people with real motives, we see that anyone in this movie could be the undoing of someone else. We know everything will break and fall apart; what we don’t know is who will break it and why. That’s what we’re watching to find out.

However, great performances and a great script aren’t the only attributes of this movie. Visually, it’s one of the finest film noir movies I’ve ever seen. The opening sequence – a sterile, empty, people-less city that seems to exist for one lone man, a cruising patrol car, and a moody soundtrack – tells you everything you need to know about film noir.

The lonely man...

On the run...

From the police...

While watching The Asphalt Jungle, I recalled a recent conversation I had with some fellow movie buffs about the merits of the Motion Picture Production Code, also known as the Hays Code. The Code was enacted in 1930 by Hollywood to self-censor movies, making them acceptable for the general public. Today, the Code seems archaic (it also seems delightfully quaint or bitterly repressive, depending on your point of view). However, I’m not sure we would have a movie like The Asphalt Jungle were it not for the influence of the Hays Code. In fact, I’m not sure you would have the entire film noir genre.

Due to the Hays Code, the film industry wasn’t allowed to represent criminals or crime in a positive light. “The sympathy of the audience should never be thrown to the side of crime, wrongdoing, evil, or sin,” the Code warned. As a result, gangsters had to die in gunfights (Public Enemy), femme fatales had to meet fatal ends (Double Indemnity), and murderers had to walk death row, typically supported by a priest in their last earthly minutes (The Postman Always Rings Twice).

Now, most filmmakers resisted the Code in one way or another. Some found ways to get along with. Some found ways to cleverly subvert it. However, others found, under its restrictions, the chance to create profound metaphors for the human condition. Film noir is the prime example of this. Noir stories are always stories about people living on the margins of society. Most of them are criminals. Because of the Hays Code, these stories have a default ending: the protagonists go to jail or die (or sometimes both).

Filmmakers could only create one ending for these stories, so they decided to create one that reflects problems in art and life reaching back to the days of Sophocles and Euripides. In the hands of skillful directors like John Huston and Bill Wilder, the ill-fated film noir protagonist becomes a player in an existential drama, fighting against cosmic injustice. Film noir protagonists are lost, cynical, struggling, striving, deceitful, hurting, hurtful, and above all, lonely. They are lonely because they live, and ultimately, die alone. They’re trapped in their situation, with no one except themselves to rely on. All their hope and hard work is destroyed, inevitably, by either cosmic ironies or human frailty. Visually, the essence of film noir may be its dark shadows and lonely city streets. Philosophically, however, the essence of film noir is Jakes Gittes' (Jack Nicholson)’s look of complete anger and inability at the end of Chinatown as he realizes there is nothing he can do to make this situation right.

“It’s Chinatown, Jake.”

Film noir movies are always fatalistic, but I don’t think the genre itself is fatalistic. People love film noir movies. Somehow, they’re cathartic. Nobody really knows why. Nietzsche said people love tragic art because it allows them to confront the nihilistic Void of existence. Freud said people love tragic art because it’s a talking cure, something that can help them work out their psychological problems. That’s what they said; but they said a lot of things.

I love film noir. I don’t know why I love it, but I do. It's a genre full of bad endings and beautiful finishes.

The Seventh Seal (1957)

For me, all art is about either the presence or the absence of God.

Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal (1957) is certainly a film about the latter. As the wandering knight (Max Von Sydow) says in his confession, “I live in a world of shadows, a prisoner of dreams. I want God to put out his hand, show his face, speak to me. I cry to him in the dark but there is no one there.”

The knight is Antonius, a returning Crusader experiencing an existential crisis. As Antonius travels across a plague-stricken Europe, he is confronted by Death who has come to relieve him of his life. However, he manages to temporarily postpone his own demise by challenging death to a game of chess, played out in installments. In between these rounds, Antonius travels homeward, desperately trying to find the answers to the Great Questions that burden his soul.

The Seventh Seal is so saturated with philosophical themes and literary allusions it feels as if the screenplay might have been written by Chaucer or Dante. The film seems more like literature than cinema, which probably helps explain why it was so hugely significant in changing people's understanding of movies in the late 1950s. Though The Seventh Seal’s critical position seems to have waned recently, this film was undeniably instrumental in causing millions to see cinema as a significant artistic medium instead of just entertainment for the masses.

The Seventh Seal has been parodied in everything from Monty Python to (500) Days of Summer, and for good reason: its imagery is incredibly iconic. The images of Death are particularly amazing. These and other images help make the film feel very surreal and dreamlike in parts. Visually, it rises above historical or mythic depictions of the Middle Ages, creating a wasteland of unanswered metaphysical dilemmas.

Yet, at the same time, the film has undeniably realistic qualities, largely because of its actors who reflect the grimness and plainness of the world their characters inhabit. Their performances are fascinating and stirring. There are so many great interactions in this movie. My favorite, I believe, is the scene where Antonius' nihilistic squire converses with a local artist painting a mural in a church. They discuss the nature of death and art, an exchange I found fascinating.

The Seventh Seal creates an intriguing universe for us to experience. This is a world where men see supernatural visions and make fart jokes; a place where people contemplate existential dilemmas while singing tavern songs. Its full of all the paradoxes and contradictions that come when people encounter the Extreme. Like Bergman's Europe, it's a world trying to come to terms with the threat of complete disillusionment and total destruction. Bergman's knight wants to know where God is after the Crusades and the Plague. After WWII and the nuclear bomb, Ingmar Bergman wanted to know the same thing.

Where is God, and why does he seem so silent?

That's a heavy question for a movie. The Seventh Seal certainly doesn't answer it, but it asks it very well...

82nd Academy Awards

What the Academy likes: Real movies about real wars in real places.

What the Academy doesn't like: Fake movies about imaginary wars on imaginary planets.

I always enjoy watching the Academy Awards, even though they're often cheesy or overdone. This year was fairly predictable but still entertaining. I was delighted to see The Hurt Locker beat the pulp out of Avatar (a very, very overrated and overwatched movie). Kathryn Bigelow is now the first woman to win best director, a remarkable achievement that was probably overshadowed by the sentimental wins of Jeff Bridges and Sandra Bullock. I was glad to see them take home Oscars, but I think people in years to come may be disappointed that Colin Firth and Carey Mulligan were passed over.

Inglourious Basterds was my favorite film of the year, so I was disappointed that the Academy showed it such little love. Quentin Tarantino deserved Best Original Screenplay, if nothing else. Well, at least Christoph Waltz won Best Supporting Actor. He truly deserved that.

What the Academy likes: good actors who play washed-up country western singers trying to make a come back.

The red carpet left a lot to be desired...most of the actors and actresses looked too plain and the interviews seemed rushed and clumsy (Penelope Cruz looked fantastic as always, though). Alec Baldin and Steve Martin were very entertaining, however. I thoroughly enjoyed them as hosts.

And many of my predictions were right, which is always good for my ego.

Golly, Sandra!

All in all, not a bad Oscar night...

THE WINNERS

Best Picture: The Hurt Locker (I predicted: The Hurt Locker)

Best Actor: Jeff Bridges for Crazy Heart (I predicted: Jeff Bridges)

Best Supporting Actor: Christoph Waltz for Inglourious Basterds (I predicted: Christoph Waltz)

Best Actress: Sandra Bullock for The Blind Side (I predicted: Sandra Bullock)

Best Supporting Actress: Mo'Nique for Precious (I predicted: Mo'Nique)

Best Animated Feature Film: Up (I predicted:Up)

Best Art Direction: Avatar (I predicted:Avatar)

Best Cinematography: Avatar (I predicted: The Hurt Locker)

Best Costume Design: The Young Victoria (I predicted: The Young Victoria)

Best Director: Kathryn Bigelow for The Hurt Locker (I predicted: The Hurt Locker)

Best Documentary Feature: The Cove (I predicted: Food, Inc.)

Best Documentary Short: Music By Prudence (I predicted: can't remember...)

Best Film Editing: The Hurt Locker (I predicted: The Hurt Locker)

Best Foreign Language Film: The Secret in Their Eyes (I predicted: The White Ribbon)

Best Makeup: Star Trek (I predicted: Il Divo)

Best Music (Original Score): Up ((I predicted: Up)

Best Music (Original Song): Crazy Heart's "Weary Kind" (I predicted: Crazy Heart)

Best Short Film: Logorama (I predicted:Logorama)

Best Sound Editing: The Hurt Locker (I predicted: The Hurt Locker)

Best Sound Mixing: The Hurt Locker (I predicted: The Hurt Locker)

Best Visual Effects: Avatar (I predicted: Avatar)

Best Writing (Adapted Screenplay): Precious (I predicted: Up in the Air)

Best Writing (Original Screenplay): The Hurt Locker (I predicted: Inglourious Basterds)