Friday, July 16, 2010

Why Inception Works

I don't want to say any more than I have to.

First, I'll repeat something that I've been saying since I left the theatre and something that I doubt I will ever stop saying in relation to this film: Inception is how you would properly film a Philip K. Dick story. I've heard a lot of references to Tarkovsky and Kubrick, but I can't help but shake that this world is uncannily familar to the ones dreamt up by PKD, and so "Blade Runner" becomes a better reference point1 to compare with "Inception," which exists against--no, with Nolan's past works.

I don't want to talk about characters and plot, about psychology and narrative. I'm not sure if I ever would willingly, but it is not a discussion I want to have now.

The point of this conversation is to discuss the film's conceit: that we can consciously suggest thoughts that will shape a person. It is not the mind bending dream constructing/diving, because that mechanic didn't have to be accomplished through the use of science fiction. "The Life of David Gale," "The Game2," and Leo's last film "Shutter Island" are all films that deal with how an elaborate conspiracy can be constructed to manipulate a person. "Inception" is no different: it involves the use of technology--"Inception's" vast wealth of conspiratorial funds and the power that it invokes, powerful sedatives, dream-sharing black-box technology3  and, the greatest tech of all, the years of unseen development that produced people who can successfully dream-dive, so to speak, against, generally--with the minor outlying of "The Life of David Gale," vast conspiratorial wealth and power and the brilliant knowledge that the conspirators bring to their theatre. These films all focus on a certain theatrical quality that we have in our lives: the recognition of narratives within our own lives and the relative reality of our own narrative as other people stage direct and stage tech our lives. Further, they illustrate that we exist within in a theatre whose script and stage directions we are making and following, following and making--often both at the same time. But that's only so many words on lighting rigs and fog machines, it still isn't the primal mechanism.

The heart of "Inception," and all of the films suggested as chorus to it, is that thought has a power, a vitality. We are capable of being manipulated by thoughts and that, without our knowing--or at least conscious knowing, the thoughts we take for real and for the basis of our judgments are just as fragile as anything else. It breaks down our very ability to sense, to think, to be real because these stories attempt to shine a light on the motherboard of our mind and tell us how it works and that we should be okay with our capacity to observe this far down into the House of Leaves. In a sense, the only way to reject "Inception" can not be based on saying that it was too complex, but that it wasn't complex enough to be irreducible. Perhaps the only way to fear "Inception" is if one feels that looking at one's soul turns one into a pillar of salt, as opposed to making its glorious nature shine until blindness.

Since it is a film about reason, it must also be a film about faith, for, without even some basic belief in our own capacity for it, the film cannot work without a balance of the two. The characters name mystery, and the heralding of danger that it entails--sometimes better than others, but that doesn't mean that they can mortally wound it. Far from it. Instead, they find a way to live with it and trust in the fact that some things can be revealed. We can only know fog for the presence of light, source be damned.

"Inception" is the building of a tremendous cathedral. Meant to house mystery, the world's and ours, it shows depictions of the unknown but inevitably, through the lens of time, forges a path, just as the cathedral organizes its energies to guide patrons though mystery.

A daring person might say that this is art for art's sake.

To me, it's just fucking awesome.


1. Which makes sense if we consider the rest of Scott's works--although "Runner" came long before Scott's career showed us the ammunition of his canon.
2.Note: I lost.
3. The only device, plot and technological, in the film that doesn't totally make sense is how there can be another dream-box inside of a dream. The answer that comes to mind first is that  it extends from the capacities of the box, and second that it is from the quality of technique of the divers. However, I would like to note that it was only while writing this that I actually even considered this, while watching the film the thought never even came to my mind.

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