Been There, Done That; A Second Look at Christopher Nolan’s Inception
Thursday, July 22nd 2010
I've been waiting for Inception for a long time—ever since I saw the previews, ever since I saw Dark Knight, ever since I read that Christopher Nolan had been crafting the script for some ten years. Inception was marketed as that 2010 summer movie that would add narrative depth and cinematic awe to all the meaningless, mediocre scifi regurgitations and reboots that plagued 2009 (GI Joe, Star Trek, Terminator Salvation, Transformers 2, to name a few).
So my problem is first and foremost coming to terms with my disappointment after seeing Inception, and second figuring out why the movie failed to do something truly great. In Andrew O'Hehir's review of Inception at Salon, the subhead reads "Christopher Nolan's much-hyped thriller is a joyless, awkwardly constructed mess," and I unfortunately have to agree.
There's no doubt that Inception is visually spectacular. The architecture of each setting (with the exception of the third level of the dreamscape) and the costume design give off that out-of-time noir I loved in Dark City, and the dream physics in Nolan's interior worlds are as much a marvel as the postmodern martial arts were in The Matrix. And of course Inception has the same incredible soundscape that we experienced in Dark Knight.
Despite all these achievements, Inception's narrative flaws keep it from leaving a permanent impression on my brain, like Dark City and The Matrix have. I've noticed that a lot of people who love this film are prone to lashing out at critics because they believe the critics don't understand what's going on. But the reality isn't that we don't "get it" so much as we just don't care: without a powerful conflict and powerful characters to drive a movie, it doesn't matter how "layered" or "complex" the details of the plot are.
Cobb/Mal's "totem"
For one, Inception has no central antagonist, and so it's not clear what counts as the central conflict until almost the very end. Of course, this isn't a plea to plant a mustachioed villain into Inception so that we can have someone to blame for all the evil in its world (if there is any to begin with). I like my antihero as much as you like yours, but why should we root for a gang of dream-diving criminals who are struggling to prevent one corporation from creating a monopoly so that some other corporation can go on with business as usual? Should the posse get a pat on the back for brainwashing an otherwise innocent (filthy-rich and clueless) young esquire? It's definitely a cool heist, but I don't see anyone except high-powered executives feeling heroic about pulling off the caper.
Mal, Cobb's elusive wife
Maybe the caper is all beside the point. I accept that the whole heist is morally ambiguous, like all heists should be in an amoral world. There's nothing more we can say about that. So maybe the central conflict is Cobb against Cobb? That is, Cobb coming to terms with the possibility that he's indirectly responsible for his wife's suicide, and therefore responsible for destroying his family. I like to think about the relationship between Mal and Cobb in contrast to the relationship between Annie and Chris in What Dreams May Come. Both Annie and Mal are trapped in a liminal space that can only be breached by that of their soulmate; Annie is trapped in Limbo unable to come to terms with her suicide, and Mal lurks beneath the subconscious waiting for Cobb to return to her. In What Dreams May Come, we empathize with Annie and Chris more so than we do with Inception's couple, because Annie and Chris are believable as a family, yet we never see (or can conceive of) Cobb or Mal as parents in Inception. It may be because we get to understand both Annie and Chris independently of each other in What Dreams May Come. In Nolan's movie, however, "Mal as Mal" is not a character, so we don't have this opportunity. Mal, as a projection of Cobb's subconscious, is supposed to represent Cobb's insecurities, but instead her destructive behavior reflects more of Cobb's perception of her than his perception of himself through her. The struggle unfolds too literally, as a struggle of Cobb against Mal rather than Cobb against himself. The movie wants us to empathize with the two as a couple so that we can get to that dramatic end scene. However, the problem is that we don't have any reliable conception of Mal and Cobb's relationship, and so the vision of Mal is ultimately erratic, incomplete, and incoherent. And while this may have been Nolan's intention, it doesn't make getting a hold on the film's central conflict any easier.
Dream physics in Inception
The four-sleeps-deep dreamscape is a pretty neat idea, if not a tired one. We should definitely laud Nolan for developing all the intricate rules involved in entering, operating within, and waking from the dreamscape—I'm sure we'll see these rules reinforced in Inception for the PS3 and/or various role-playing game adaptations. Yet, since we've approached the dream argument from all kinds of angles in scifi since it was first articulated by some long-dead philosopher, we can no more laud Inception's originality on the basis of employing this concept any more than we can laud Avatar for having any originality whatsoever. We've seen less complicated versions of Inception's dreamscape in the simulated realities of The Thirteenth Floor, Vanilla Sky, Total Recall, and of course in the "evil daemon" of The Matrix—and these were all better executed. All Inception does with the question of What is real? is dress it up in a cliché via an interminably boring series of long, melodramatic monologues and sleepy, slow-motion action scenes. And worst of all, Inception concludes with one of the oldest cop-out clichés of all time: once we've been returned to the waking world, Nolan prevents us from seeing whether Cobb's spinning top (which symbolizes his anchor to the waking world) falls, so as to leave us questioning the outcome of their heist and whether they "actually" resurfaced from the dreamscape.
So in short, I guess my impression after seeing Inception was something akin to, "been there; done that."
And I'm still bored.
The reason why we're invested in the heist is because it determines the emotional fate of the film's protagonist. The caper is just the means to an end. The fact that the heist involves faceless, monopoly-sized corporations is moot because its end game is tied to the central character. If the heist fails, Cobb cannot go home and see his children. So although the players involved might be arbitrary, the heist itself is not. If you did not make that connection I can see how the proceedings would be devoid of any tension or suspense, although I personally thought Nolan made the stakes quite clear.
So yes, the mechanics of the caper are besides the point. And yes, the central conflict is Cobb against his inner demons, mainly the memories of his dead wife Mal. But I think its unfair to say that we're unable to empathize with them as a couple/family because we're never given any context to these relationships. It's true that Nolan gives minimal evidence of their history but it's wrong to say he gives us nothing. As for them as parents, there's one scene I would say disproves your point. It's the one where Cobb speaks to his children over the phone. In that scene DiCaprio convincingly portrays Cobb's pain and the love and yearning he has for his children. I believed him as a parent and felt the motivation that drives Cobb for the rest of the film.
The relationship between Cobb and Mal is something Nolan asks the viewer to provide. He gives us glimpses of warm memories and we are left to fill in the blanks with our own experiences. We are meant to identify with their love, more so than to experience it. He employs the same technique in Memento. This can be seen as lazy but I still found it effective and I assume it helped greatly in keeping the dense script as lean as possible.
And I think it makes sense that Mal is less a representation of Cobb's insecurities and more of a literal projection of herself. Or rather, I think it's a fair artistic choice considering the noir-Bond genre Inception seems to strive for. Mal is the classic femme fatale, so its only reasonable that her role is more of a villian than an abstract collection of psychoses. Also, before Mal committed suicide, she was very aggressive and it only makes sense that Cobb's manifestation of her exaggerates that behavior. Besides, Mal is the main reason for Cobb's insecurities in the first place. What easier way of representing that than of Mal herself?
You criticize Inception for not being original and from borrowing elements from other movies but you fail to recognize that those movies you listed aren't totally original themselves. Vanilla Sky is a remake of Abre los ojos, and The Matrix was heavily influenced by Alice in Wonderland, animes such as Ghost in the Shell, Stanley Kubrick's 2001, Philip K. Dick novels, and countless myths and philosophies. It's not necessary for art to be entirely original, just honest and effective.
Finally, you only seem to think Inception is asking "what is real?" But the ultimate question the movie brings up is "does it matter?" Nolan is asking if emotional catharsis can be achieved not only in dreams but also movies or art in general. Can a creation from someone's imagination achieve a true human response? It's a lofty and ambitious question to ask and one that he seems to answer in the movie's final scene. Cobb spins the top but eventually walks away to embrace his kids, he stops caring what's real or not and finally decides to move on.
Thanks for your extended response! I really appreciate your taking the time to discuss.
The reason why we're invested in the heist is because it determines the emotional fate of the film's protagonist. The caper is just the means to an end. The fact that the heist involves faceless, monopoly-sized corporations is moot because its end game is tied to the central character. If the heist fails, Cobb cannot go home and see his children. So although the players involved might be arbitrary, the heist itself is not. If you did not make that connection I can see how the proceedings would be devoid of any tension or suspense, although I personally thought Nolan made the stakes quite clear.
I agree that was Nolan's intention. It's implied that there's an allegorical connection between the heist and Cobb's personal quest, I just don't think his storytelling pulls it off. To me, there's a huge emotional disconnect between the overloaded fx of the heist and Cobb's personal quest.
So yes, the mechanics of the caper are besides the point. And yes, the central conflict is Cobb against his inner demons, mainly the memories of his dead wife Mal. But I think its unfair to say that we're unable to empathize with them as a couple/family because we're never given any context to these relationships. It's true that Nolan gives minimal evidence of their history but it's wrong to say he gives us nothing. As for them as parents, there's one scene I would say disproves your point. It's the one where Cobb speaks to his children over the phone. In that scene DiCaprio convincingly portrays Cobb's pain and the love and yearning he has for his children. I believed him as a parent and felt the motivation that drives Cobb for the rest of the film.
I concede that I shouldn't have said *any* context--he does give us one or two scenes (using almost exactly the same footage of the children and the same context for them), but our point of contention here is really that I didn't find these scenes at all convincing and you do. They weren't enough for me to buy into his parenthood and they didn't provide depth for Cobb's character. Moreover, I felt Mal is portrayed as a "she-devil on the loose" stereotype, and little else.
The relationship between Cobb and Mal is something Nolan asks the viewer to provide. He gives us glimpses of warm memories and we are left to fill in the blanks with our own experiences. We are meant to identify with their love, more so than to experience it. He employs the same technique in Memento. This can be seen as lazy but I still found it effective and I assume it helped greatly in keeping the dense script as lean as possible.
I think you make a valid point here, but I just didn't find their relationship convincing. It may be because the film itself is an experiment in piecing together reality, and so for me as a viewer, having their relationship also be insubstantial (or fragmented in its portrayal) wasn't helpful in terms of empathizing with them as a couple.
And I think it makes sense that Mal is less a representation of Cobb's insecurities and more of a literal projection of herself. Or rather, I think it's a fair artistic choice considering the noir-Bond genre Inception seems to strive for. Mal is the classic femme fatale, so its only reasonable that her role is more of a villian than an abstract collection of psychoses. Also, before Mal committed suicide, she was very aggressive and it only makes sense that Cobb's manifestation of her exaggerates that behavior. Besides, Mal is the main reason for Cobb's insecurities in the first place. What easier way of representing that than of Mal herself?
My point here was twofold; that since Mal is supposed to be a representation of Cobb's subconscious, she *can't* be a literal projection of herself--she can only be a projection of Mal's perception of her and his memories of her (and therefore, since she represents his insecurities, a representation *of himself*). And second, that even if she were intended to be a literal representation of herself, we could never trust such a representation as viewers since she exists solely in Cobb's mind. And so as a result, it becomes increasingly difficult to empathize with their relationship. I believe the movie wants us to pity Cobb and identify with him, but we will always distrust him because he is, by virtue of constructing Mal in his own image within his mind, an unreliable narrator.
You criticize Inception for not being original and from borrowing elements from other movies but you fail to recognize that those movies you listed aren't totally original themselves. Vanilla Sky is a remake of Abre los ojos, and The Matrix was heavily influenced by Alice in Wonderland, animes such as Ghost in the Shell, Stanley Kubrick's 2001, Philip K. Dick novels, and countless myths and philosophies. It's not necessary for art to be entirely original, just honest and effective.
To be fair, no one would define "originality" as "to suffer from the anxiety of influence," which everything ever written suffers from, and neither do I. And so I agree with you on that point; we can't fault (or laud) a movie just for using a tired trope or adapting from source material. But the movies I listed take a tired trope and build upon it in either a novel way, or in a way that, when you consider the whole work thematically, is refreshing to think about because it offers something more than the trope in the end. For me, Inception didn't do that. It doesn't make a point, in the end, that's bigger than the simulated reality trope.
Finally, you only seem to think Inception is asking "what is real?" But the ultimate question the movie brings up is "does it matter?" Nolan is asking if emotional catharsis can be achieved not only in dreams but also movies or art in general. Can a creation from someone's imagination achieve a true human response? It's a lofty and ambitious question to ask and one that he seems to answer in the movie's final scene. Cobb spins the top but eventually walks away to embrace his kids, he stops caring what's real or not and finally decides to move on.
I think that the sentiment you're describing is already contained within the question, "What is real?" When we ask that question, we're simultaneously examining the value of our own reality in comparison to other fictive ones, and we're beginning to doubt our response to those realities, and our place in them as lucid dreamers or thinkers of the "waking world"--whatever that may be. More to the point--if Cobb had stopped caring about what is "real" and what is not by leaving the top spinning in the final scene, why would he have left Mal and his "fictional" children within the limbo of his subconscious in the first place? If the film is telling us, "it doesn't matter what's real," we'd presume the story would have ended in limbo. This is one of the reasons I find that final scene problematic. So if you're able to come away with something more from the final scene than the simulated reality trope and the default questions that come with the "dream argument," I think it's worth plucking through Inception to see what evidence got you there. For me, though, Inception just presents us with a spinning top as its conclusion, as if to avoid the question "What is real?" rather than confront it.
First of all, let me just say that it's refreshing to participate in filmic discourse that's actually insightful and productive. It’s a rare thing to come across on the internet, to be sure. I find all of your arguments to be well-articulated and valid. Many of which I cannot argue with since I believe our discord boils down to personal taste. As you said, what I found to be satisfying and convincing was largely ineffective for you.
I saw Inception for the second time this weekend and had many of its perceived flaws in mind (including yours). This I think only enriched my experience. I can understand the problems that people have with the film but I was still enraptured with the story and world Nolan presented to me.
As for your rebuttal to my response:
I suppose the heist does act as an allegory for Cobb's journey, though that's not what I was referring to. I was speaking of the more literal ramifications of the heist, not any of its subtext. My heart was racing because I wanted to see Cobb go home and see his children, and failure of the mission would prevent that.
You are correct in stating that Cobb is an unreliable narrator. We cannot trust any of his memories and must constantly question his perception (which creates a more engaging experience in my opinion). This by no means discredits the film because I think the way you connect with this character is emotionally. With that bond established, the audience is able to experience the movie as if they are Cobb. In this way we recognize our narrator's lack of credibility but at the same time we are able to accept what's occurring on screen. We have to come to terms that Cobb may be wrong, but we have to realize that's the type of character we're asked to explore and empathize with. It's very similar to the relationship the audience has with Leonard Shelby in Memento.
You make a compelling argument for the apparent thematic contradiction Nolan failed to recognize. I entertained the notion and was able to surmise a few counter arguments. The most substantial is the verbal agreement between Cobb and Saito. I believe they promised each other that if one enters Limbo then they would return to reality as "young men together". The key word here is "together". Cobb recites this to Saito at the end to try and persuade him to leave Limbo. There is an interesting kinship these two characters developed over the course of the movie and Cobb uses this bond as leverage for Saito's return. The only way Saito was going to "awaken" and return to reality was if Cobb left with him. So Cobb left Limbo to save Saito. I believe this to be the most logical explanation.
Cobb's departure from Limbo can also be attributed to its disreputable nature. Throughout the film Limbo is described to be a raw, undesirable, negative space; it’s a state of infinite wanton-like being. Eames implies if one stays in Limbo long enough then their brain gets "fried". When Cobb re-enters Limbo at the end of the film, he’s aware. Assuming Cobb shares the same negative perception of Limbo, it's safe to say he would have no intention of staying there, even if he could spend time with his children. Besides I'm sure Cobb would not be too keen in living in a world he built with Mal, there would be too much emotional baggage.
And I have to disagree with you when you say Inception avoids the reality question. I think concluding on the spinning top directly addresses it. It's the last thing the audience sees and the first thing they think of as they file out of the cinema. Also, I think you dismiss Inception's theme too easily. Sure the reality trope has been explored countless times in art, but I don't think it makes it any less interesting. Besides, I think Inception presents the question in a fresh and interesting context. Much has been said on Inception and how it acts as a metaphor for filmmaking. There's at least one reference to each of Nolan's previous films. The process of creating believable dreams and presenting it to an "audience" is similar to making movies. Lastly, it's been said how much Cobb resembles Nolan himself (DiCaprio has said he based the character on the director). In my opinion, that just makes the film even more layered and fascinating.
True that. If only there were more scifis like Inception coming out soon to discuss!
So is Inception about promises rather than love? Nolan sure does hammer us over the head with the Saito/Cobb "bond" from start to finish (in that annoying self-referential "let's-repeat-this-cryptic-phrase-over-and-over-again-until-it-clicks" refrain). I personally find "promises" as a theme more interesting than the (IMHO, weak) Mal/Cobb's relationship. But I don't think "promises" play any significant role outside of Saito/Cobb's relationship. It's worth exploring further, though, because there might an alternative reading of the film in that. You also bring up the possibility that Inception is "meta-cinema"--in the sense that this is a film about filmmaking. I can see how you'd argue that, but it sounds to me like an attempt to shoehorn the text to fit the interpretation--what specifically in the film suggests that reading other than allusions to Nolan's other films? For example, In 2001: A Space Odyssey, one critic argues that we can interpret Kubrick's monolith as the viewing screen of the theater, given its aspect ratio and its transformative power. I always thought that was a sharp reading, but I didn't buy it because there's not much else within the film itself that suggests that sort of reading. In lit and film crit, I grant there are plenty of interpretations to draw from a single work, but if you can draw too many too easily, you begin to get the impression that the work really isn't about anything in particular; it's too flexible, it's not passionate. For example, Dark City is passionately about "what makes human beings human" above and beyond the simulated reality trope; The Matrix (#1) had a passionate "fight the power" attitude that goes beyond false realities. In these movies, a few core themes crop up, and in that intensity, they move us. With Inception, I still can't say what the movie's actually "about" in this sense. I find myself asking the question, What did I come away with after two and a half hours? The notion that we can never know what's real, and so it doesn't matter what's real (been there)? Or that the quest for "clear and distinct perception" is the only worthwhile quest (done that)? The film doesn't lean one way or the other, as we've seen: it doesn't lean toward the former because Cobb rejects the false realities within his subconscious; it doesn't lean toward the latter because Nolan doesn't allow the totem to fall. Inception's ending becomes too open-ended, suggesting everything and nothing at the same time, and fails to pose a conclusion plotwise or thematically.
Here's the part in the discussion where I say let's agree to disagree. But not before I share my last thoughts.
I consider Inception to be about two distinct ideas. The first being about perception and reality. The second is how that pertains to cinema. I do think there are substantial, legitimate examples of how Inception is a metaphor for the filmmaking process. Read Devin Faraci's article on CHUD.com called "Never Wake Up: The Meaning and Secret of Inception". I don't agree with him that the whole movie is a dream, but he makes a convincing argument for the filmmaking process metaphor.
Wow, I really like that reading. I could definitely buy Inception as "a film about filmmaking" if we accept that Cobb's "reality" is also a dream for all the reasons this reviewer noted. The problem for me, of course, is that I find the reading more beautiful (read: convincing/consistent) than the work itself.
Thanks for sharing!
I agree, it's excellently written. Glad you enjoyed it!