The midterm exam of my ill-fated foray into programming chiefly concerned recursion, the application of a function within itself. Behind the sci-fi world building and action-film posturing, Inception is an experiment in audience manipulation via recursion. Nolan builds worlds within worlds, and sees how far the viewer can follow.

There are several points where this could have gone awry. Nolan could easily have turned the dial of intentional disorientation one step too far, pushing the film into actual incoherence. Conversely,  the exposition behind the core concept could have drowned a less competent script in patronizing dialogue. Ellen Page could have been as out of place as I expected. But Christopher Nolan pulls off a six-plate balancing act, and earns another feather in his directing cap (to say nothing of the inevitable Oscar).

Inception’s core conceit is that men can enter, and modify, dreams. The protagonist is the world’s foremost dream thief (I imagine it’s not a flooded market), who steals ideas in the shifting dream world for the cutthroat corporate world. He takes on one last job (an sentence that usually serves as a red flag cliché, but is handled with surprising grace) placing a destructive idea in a billionaire’s daddy-issue ridden mind. On paper the whole thing sounds a bit like an abandoned prog rock album concept, but the viewer is pulled in nonetheless.

The outlandish (by Hollywood standards) nature of the premise is firmly grounded with the structure and conventions of a heist film. The viewer receives further help in the form of Ariadne (Ellen Page) whose primary role in the film’s first half is asking what the hell is happening on the viewer’s behalf. Her education as the team’s “architect” leads to the second and third most visually compelling moments in the film, with the first being reserved for the perspective-twisting climax.

The most frequent point of reference for describing Inception has been The Matrix, and it’s not an unfair comparison. Both movies play with themes of a wafer-thin reality, and both are action blockbusters that achieve the rare feat of being intellectually compelling. The key difference is that Inception mercifully lacks room for horrifying sequels.

Inception should be noted for having no true villainous presence. It’s the first action film I’ve seen seriously employ “man vs. self” as the central conflict without the appearance of cloning, magic, or amnesia (barring The One, a film I have a troubled history with). In the finale it pulls off the equally rare tightrope act of balancing enough tense action sequences to tide over the most unwashed adrenaline junkie, and retaining the character dynamics and mind-bending complexity that attracted the more pretentious set. Not enjoying Inception is a strong sign that one should quit the silver screen entirely.

Best Feature: An unforgettable action sequence in a hotel hallway.
Worst Feature: A certain slow-motion van is unintentionally hilarious.

One sentence version: If you thought the Matrix needed a heist in place of spin kicks, you’re in luck.

7/23/2010
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