The following post will have spoilers in it. If you haven’t seen Inception, throw your computer out of your window, hot foot it to your local cinema, see it, buy a new computer, and then read this post. If you have seen it, prepare to most likely disagree with me on the matter.
This weekend, Inception , Christopher Nolan’s follow-up to The Dark Knight, was released across the United States to critical acclaim and mass appeal. The film earned $60 million dollars and hilarious headlines in its opening weekend, and has skyrocketed to the top of IMDB’s 250 Greatest Movies Ever, ranking #3 right above The Godfather Part II. And because I always try to be on top of NationalTrendz.biz, I forced myself to see it before the inevitable internet spoilers wormed their way into my eyeholes. And, prepare yourself for what might be the most unpopular opinion in cinematic history after those people insisting The Phantom Menace is the best of all the Star Wars movies: I didn’t really like it at all.
Now, before we get into the specifics, allow me to paint a picture of my own mental state at the time. I had landed from an 11 hour flight at 6 am in the morning, and in order to beat my jet lag, insisted I carry on with my regular Sunday plans as per usual. This included brunch, lunch, afternoon snack, quick ride on the Cyclone at Coney Island, adopting and promptly returning 2 dogs, setting a pigeon free, and meeting and marrying an accountant. But what “Collins Sunday”TM also doesn’t include a quick movie theater drive-by? So, I embarked on an evening screening of Inception with a friend, whose mutually high-expectations came crashing down like so many CGI beachfront apartment buildings.
Inception, a movie about dreaming, and not just dreaming but dreams within dreams within dreams, might be the worst movie in the world to see while painfully jet-lagged. But here’s what I gathered during the skin-clawingly frustrating two and a half hours: Leonardo DiCaprio reprises his role as Furrowed Brow #1 from Shutter Island, this time playing Dom Cobb, a tortured fellow who sneaks into dreams in order to steal secrets from people’s subconsciouses. Also, wife dead something about his kids blah blah blah. See also: Shutter F**king Island. Wait, JK, don’t see it.
The beginning was confusing, but once the audience gets a peak into what’s going on, it reaches Clockwork Orange levels of eye-toothpick insanity. The more I think about it, the angrier I get. First of all, for a movie about dreams where literally anything as possible, and where a completely unnecessary character (Ellen Page) is brought in with the SOLE PURPOSE of building way awesome dreams, don’t you think they could have pushed the boundaries a little for what is and isn’t possible? The effects that we did get were pretty rad — specifically the zero-gravity sequence in the hotel — but come on. Giant mirror doors that reflect each other? I’ve seen that effect before in person, when my parents had a small bathroom completely mirrored in their Miami Beach home. And if you’ve never done a Rockettes-style kick while urinating, believe me, it is worth your trouble. Inception made me long for the days of the no hold barred creativity of the 1998 melodrama What Dreams May Come.
And speaking of Ellen Page, why were the women in this film so unbelievably atrocious in every way? Oscar winner Marion Cotillard, whose beauty and elegance are pretty much set in stone, was unbearably annoying and over-acty. One wonders how she is able to keep her figure with all the scenery chewing going on. And Page channeled her inner-Garofalo throughout as the dry, unphased college student named Ariadne, named so because, presumably, her parents were drug addicts known for being high “all the time.”
Leonardo DiCaprio is a gifted man. But if I have to see him furrow a brow and cry one more time… his furrowed eyebrow and Julia Roberts’ forehead vein are the Marlon Brando farts of modern day go-to acting techniques. And DiCappies’ knitted brows have never produced as many sweaters as in Inception, where it spends thousands of minutes of screen time in undeniably headachey pain. Oh, PS, if you don’t believe me, then maybe you’ll believe a little magazine called NEWSWEEK?? (Wait, I just looked in the mirror as I’m typing this missive and realized I’M doing the Leo DiCaps Furrow©! Do you see what this film has done to me?)
In fact, the only character who was not only bearable but actually enjoyable was Eames, the sly British cohort depicted by Tom Hardy, and frankly that was mainly because of his awesome awesome wardrobe. Big ups to costume designer Jeffrey Kurland for spending $9 billion at the Prada store to produce some of the finest looking men on camera in a long while.
And remind me how it is possible that hundreds of thousands of bullets happen to miss the 6 or so Weekend-at-Bernie’s-like characters sleeping in the back of the van? Speaking of which, how dare Nolan not cast Jonathan Silverman? I digress.
Now, the ending. Oh, the ending. I haven’t heard that many audience gasps since that time I took a maternity test on Maury Povich. Was it reality? Did Dom Cobb finally reunite with his children and get over his unbearably annoying wife? Or was he still in a dream, in limbo, dead on the outside but oh so alive in his own sleepy brain? It all came down to a spinning top, a slight wobble, and a cut to black that even Tony Soprano would glower at. The good news is, Inception has proved to me that most Americans would probably love Hanukkah and our wacky little games. The ending really left me wondering: Would I be able to make it home without first passing out from exhaustion in a sewer? The top is still spinning on that one.
Inception is an intelligent seeming movie that I fear is not as smart as people think it is. Look, I get it: There are parts of the movie that are very cool. Some of the effects are startling. But the movie could have been so much more. It felt repetitive, the plot lacking, no real twists, and as my friend and I dubbed it, “fake smart.” And yes, before you ask, we understood everything. (OK, to be fair, I’m still wondering what the deal was with the old Asian dude eating noodles. I’m thinking it has something to do with “limbo.”)
Let it be known: This movie is way, way better than anything I could ever personally do. Christopher Nolan is obviously a cinematic genius and superior to me in every way. This post is certainly not my greatest work, and composed by a brain still fried by the sun and air travel. However, disclaimer aside, I feel like someone needs to speak up about what is now considered the Summer’s Biggest Blockbuster, and the #3 Greatest Movie Ever. And thus concludes this ranty raid.
Now, to sit back and wait to be murdered by these girls:
Oh, and finally — perhaps most importantly — when did Tom Berenger start looking so so so terrible? We miss you Jake Taylor!
