Yes, I can see roughly half of you rolling your eyes. Don't think I can't. It stands to reason: Inception was hit pretty hard by the usual trend of being adored by everyone so much upon first viewing that it quickly soured upon repeat viewings, with people very keen to point out all of its fallacies, flaws, and less-than-stellar elements. Granted, the film still strikes me as fairly cold, with strikingly little emotion or characterization in the majority of its cast - particularly odd for a film all about coping with, and moving on from, trauma.
Oh sorry - I mean "a thriller set within the architecture of the mind." My mistake.
I do find it interesting how much a film like this serves as a litmus test for different viewership. A lot of people latched onto it as a high concept film, engaging largely in discussions of memory/time travel/parallel realities/what is reality/what the hell is happening anyway and is it all a dream. My take is that this is largely how Nolan conceived of the film first and foremost, which would explain why the screenwriting is fairly factual, exposition heavy, and occasionally stilted. That's more of an observation than a criticism, and there's something to be said for being so transparent about treating characters more or less like chess pieces and courting viewership on a different level. It's probably not how I would gear a film, but it certainly works well enough.
For me, though, the film was (surprise surprise) all about psychology. And this goes beyond the fairly surface level of trauma, acceptance and moving on. To me, the most interesting part about the film was the idea that you could remove the dream narrative(s) altogether and still have a pretty compelling treatise about how rhetoric and persuasion work, and the basis by which most human beings make decisions. It made me think of Malcolm Gladwell's Blink more than anything else: the idea that we vastly overcomplicate snap judgments that are made on very primal sensory or emotional levels above all else.
[Coincidentally, Leo was also supposed to star in the cinematic adaptation of Blink back when that was a thing that almost happened]
More and more these days I've been finding Occam's Razor to be a pretty applicable principle. And, in the Nolan era of filmmaking in which every narrative seems to become increasingly tangled in Gordian knots within Russian dolls within Rubik's cubes (don't ask me to visualize that), there's something pretty refreshing in 'The-Man-Who-Would-Be-Bane' quite sensibly rooting his entire plan upon "he has Daddy issues."
Kickin' it?
Or even "Leo can't let her go [yup, you asked for it] because letting go is hard." Elegant and oddly profound in their simplicity, particularly amidst all of the crumbling skyscrapers and Bond pastiches (and yes I am on board with the complaint that there are so many vastly more inventive ways to cinematically depict dreams than by having everything involving shooting, crumbling or being wet - we really are in Nolan's cinematic 'wet-dream' - ZOMG INCEPTION PUN).
It also helped explain some of the film's infamously flat performances and nonexistent characterizations as an artistic choice rather than inherent flaw: these characters are so fucked up, traumatized and used to baring their innermost selves in their dream-infiltration work that in 'real life' (but what IS... ah fuck it) they are guarded and sphinx-like, even to the audience. They are professionals here to do their job, and that is all we ultimately, on a base level, need to know.
Sure ain't the best for winning you Oscars, though.
This resonated, because more and more I've been finding a propensity for simplicity to work really well to keep my life and mood on track these days. It helps that I started reading Kurt Vonnegut again, who is the master of concise profundity, and generally a wildly inventive yet deeply calming fellow to revisit like an old friend. I spent so many months this summer trying to just allow myself to be chill and just enjoy where I was at in life but also get as much as I could done. The result: I struggled with all of the above more often than I'd be comfortable admitting, and more often than not ended up with paralysis, accomplishing little, and being pretty frustrated with myself because of it. I'm writing in the past tense here, but I'm sure I haven't fully run the gamut of experiencing this delightful brain dance in life. But it has gotten a shit-ton better this week. It's no coincidence that I start rehearsals for the Vancouver Fringe Festival play I'm in and camp work as of Sunday; it's as if the upcoming presence of scheduled commitments has an aura of productivity than I can sniff and feed off of a week away. But, with that has come some rather lovely clarity, which I thought was worth documenting in case it proves transitory.
What I think is the wisest attribute of Inception is how it houses such raw simplicity amidst all of its convoluted exterior trappings. Brains are ultimately quite simple despite how staggeringly, unfathomably complex they are. Similarly, I think I, like a lot of other people, tend to clutter up my brain and life with a lot of "what if"s or "what could/should never be"s when the feelings underneath are actually quite simple. It's almost as if the brain gets frustrated at how simple the underlying thought principles are and tries to stoke the fire into becoming more complex and lofty. But really it's the same old shit: fear of not living up to potential butting heads with daring to indulge myself with being comfortable and happy = not much of either getting done. It's the same struggle I had when I was half my current age [all right now, everyone pull out your calculators. Oh, right - pull out your cell phones, which is where most of the world's calculators exist now. Back in my day... ah forget it]; there are just more fancy-schmancy "adult" (and I use the word loosely) trappings adorning it now. I doubt it will ever fully leave me in peace.
So, the best means of mediating this? [I won't use the word solution, partially because that implies finality that I doubt will ever be the case with this kind of thing, and partially because I'm in the midst of reading the rather excellent The Book Thief which makes me think of 'The Final Solution' which gives me the heebie-jeebies]. The same solution as always: to just take thoughts, feelings, and experiences as they come, allowing them to exist without judgment. Counseling psychology calls this the "mindfulness" approach. Buddhism sometimes calls it something different, but the principle is the same. The "without judgment" part has been really useful for me - noting what is going on as a means of observation rather than criticism or even an attempt to actively manipulate or reshape things. It's not easy. But it has worked multiple times in the past. And it worked again this week. Part of that was being at peace with the realization that a large part of why I'm feeling more relaxed now is because of the proximity of my upcoming business without the customary follow-up of scathing 'why couldn't you fix this on your own steam, goddamit?'
Some days I don't end up getting a lot done. Some days I just want to play Skyrim instead. Some days I don't, but end up doing so anyway. And that's all okay.
A tip, for any beloved readers who find themselves in similar quandaries: it seems to help if I have to-do lists, but don't necessarily set hard and fast objectives every single day (unless stuff is due, of course. Then the oh-so-helpful last minute panic and adrenaline set in, and everyone knows they are productivity's best friends). That way there's less worry of always feeling inadequate, like there's always more to do and like a failure, and more like "hey, I got some stuff done today! I chipped away at shit! Cool!" Again, pretty simple stuff, but you'd be surprised how effective it can be. That said, everyone has their own mental rhythm, so if that particular tactic doesn't work, try try again.
Basically, this week I reminded myself that I'm rather extraordinarily fortunate, and quite happy despite myself. And that was a pretty awesome realization to sink in, no matter how temporary it might prove. Right now it's pretty rad.
And check it: I found a nifty fact and everything, and it was just waiting to be plucked up from a sandwich board outside a pet washing place on Broadway of all places!
#63: 
Cool, right? I thought so! Just one more reason to desperately want a dog. *Wistful sigh*
So, with that note, I am being mindful (geddit?) of the fact that it is 2:40am and I should probably sleep soon. Accordingly, I will leave you to peruse through some of the more awesome bits of Inception trivia, should dregs of trendy skepticism still remain intact. I encourage you to play Edith Piaf [one of my favourite songs!] on a simulacratic loop as you do so.
"If you take the first letters of the main characters' names - Dom, Robert, Eames, Arthur, Mal and Saito - they spell "Dreams". If you add Peter, Ariadne and Yusuf, the whole makes "Dreams Pay", which is what they do for a mind thief."
[cool!]
"In an interview with 'Entertainment Weekly', Christopher Nolan explained that he based roles of the Inception team similar to roles that are used in filmmaking - Cobb is the director, Arthur is the producer, Ariadne is the production designer, Eames is the actor, Saito is the studio, and Fischer is the audience. "In trying to write a team-based creative process, I wrote the one I know," said Nolan."
[Very cool!]
"The running time of 2 hours 28 min is a reference to the original length of Édith Piaf's song "Non, je ne regrette rien", which lasts (on its first recorded edition) 2 minutes 28 seconds."
"The running time of the movie on DVD is exactly 8888 seconds."
[SUPACOOL]
"Dom Cobb's main objective is to get Home. His name, Dom, literally means 'home' in most Slavic languages. The root word "*dom" comes from the Latin word "Domus". Words like 'Domesticated' and 'Domicile' all share the same "*dom" root."
[how's that for efficiency in characterization? Scott Bukatman, who wrote a great piece about characters being singularly - sometimes restrictively - defined through their names would probably have something to say about that]
"The slow, gloomy, blaring trombones in the main theme of the film score are actually based on an extremely slowed down version of the fast, high pitched trumpets in the beginning of the Édith Piaf song "Non, je ne regrette rien," which is used as a plot device in the film. Furthermore, when music is heard by someone who is currently within a dream, the music is perceived as slowed down. Thus, the main theme of the film score is almost exactly what the beginning of "Non, je ne regrette rien" would sound like to a dreamer. This thematic device is brought to its logical conclusion when the song plays at the end of the credits, signaling that the audience is about to 'wake up' from the film."
[and here I always liked to fondly refer to it as 'the foghorn theme']
And, as a final note, I'd like to point out that the discourse on dreams was, as is usually the case, conclusively rocked by Bill Watterson.
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