Review: Inception – Fuck Yeah To The Mind Fuck

Here’s the problem with me trying to write anything. I vomit passion. It works its way out of my pores, it rambles out of my mouth, it infects my fingers. Anything I write about anything no less than six months after I experience it, is horriblly disfigured by my passions. And the feelings I have now or will have then can be completely contradictory, and dammit I don’t really care.

There’s a certain point when the switch flips and I’m able to think about something analytically, but usually I can’t . Especially when I enjoy something.

Like Inception.

I’ve spent the entire last twenty-four hours completely swallowed up by the universe that Christopher Nolan built. A universe built in mazes, fabricated with the intent to meditate on ideas of ideas, guilt, consciousness, self-reflection, et cetera. Movies are special to me when they affect me. A universe also filled with gorgeous cinematography, white-knuckle action, and brief moments of humor. Every time I have to hear someone say, “Inception is a masterpiece” or “Inception isn’t a masterpiece”, I wonder quietly to myself what the fuck that means. I have absolutely no idea. But I do know Inception affected me.

Today reality was a bit blander. The saltine crunch of existence gummed up around my teeth with a bit more vividness. I was bored. I yawned. I wanted to dive deeper and deeper into the mazes, into the boxes filled with panoramic views of snow covered mountains and gun fights.

I know something is profound or as the kids say dope as fuck when I can’t stop thinking about it. When I remark to myself “Fuck, life feels mundane today.” And perhaps that’s why we watch the arts anyways. Just for that sensation. Begging some movie to transport us someplace.

Well played Nolan, you’re my homeboy now.

I don’t know how good I’ll think Inception will be in six months. Maybe I’ll be looking back at it like other fawning jizz-fests and face palm. I make no guarantees. Hold me to nothing other than my righteous boner for this movie at this moment in time, okay?

I wish I could say something like “Inception is going to save movies!” or “Inception is proof of so-and-so”, but that’s already been said and I’m not really interested.

As a writer, the narrative structure impressed me. Now, as a writer, I’m a hack. So there’s that. But where one might find a gimmick in the multiple narratives culminating simultaneously, I found an impressive achievement. I turned to my friend after the movie and said, “Jesus Christ, someone had to think of that.”

And through his actions, he’s had me thinking of it. I don’t know if it’s a detriment or a positive, but I’ve wasted 590 words and moments of your time without commenting on the characters. They were cute. They were fun. I’m not sure how invested I was in them, compared to how invested I was in the concepts they were facilitating.

Did I really care about Cobb on an emotional level? I don’t really think so. Did I root for him? Sure. But I mean, in the end? I was more intrigued in the puzzle, the intellectual game that was unfolding. And for me, that’s fine. Maybe on the next viewing, or the third, I’ll have time to focus on that more.

For the time though, I was watching planes of view bend, I was contemplating an eerie descent into my own brain. I admit that the movie worked so well for me, because the themes it echoed were so dear to my nerdy philosophical heart.

Nolan’s philosophical panderings in Inception were the intellectual equivalent of a cute girl in classes wearing nothing but a smile in front of me. I was helpless. I had to love her.

Like I said though, I hate reviews. And like I said, I don’t know how I’ll feel eventually. But I can’t blather up to the point of a release and at least not blather, incoherently, into a Microsoft Word document for you. Here it is.

Inception? Fucking amazing.

Stamped.

Approved.