As a pretentious graduate student of English literature, pseudo-intellectual movies—especially ones disguised as blockbusters (or vice-versa)—immediately turn me off. I can smell a movie that is in way over its head from a mile away, and my biggest fear going into Inception was that it would be just that: pop entertainment that thinks it's smarter than it actually is. And while Inception is pop entertainment at its finest, it also offers the viewer two hours and twenty minutes of cinema that is complex but not convoluted, surprising but not full of gimmicky Shyamalan-esquire twists, and intelligent until the very end. I have never really been disappointed by Christopher Nolan, and Inception is certainly not an exception. That said, there are of course many other redeeming qualities about this movie, so many, in fact, that this review could go on for ages and ages. From the sound design and the original score by Hans Zimmer to the cinematography by Wally Pfister, all technical aspects of this film are above industry standard. Nolan knows well enough to surround his director's chair with well-qualified cast and crew, and, again, Inception is no exception. Performances are good across the board, with Cillian Murphy as the corporate heir and Marion Cotillard as the mysterious wife standing above the rest; DiCaprio is great as always, but in Inception he melts effortlessly into the ensemble, giving others numerous chances to shine. Perhaps the only legitimate criticism of Nolan has been his rather cold perfection; his movies seem to lack a certain emotional core, even though they are made with precision and care. This is not the case with Inception. The core plot of the movie revolves around Cobb's relationship with his dead wife, both within his own memory and also within his subconscious's projections in the dream worlds. Mal (Marion Cotillard, pronounced "mall") constantly encroaches upon his team's efforts, and she represents a force of nature whenever she appears on screen. Her cool, statuesque demeanor is a sharp contrast to the warmer tones of some of the dream worlds, and as soon as she appears, we wait with a collectively drawn breath to see what havoc she might wreak. This damaged relationship drives the movie forward through all of its complexity and rules, and never once is it lost within the kinetic or intellectual layers of the script. So the critics who have taken Inception to task for its lack of emotional content clearly watched a different movie, because there would be no Inception without Cobb's emotional confusion and turmoil.
With all of that said, Inception's strongest attribute is its potential to incite active, engaged, and intellectual dialogue between movie-goers. Dreaming is something we all share (though obviously not in the same way as the characters of Inception), and the exploration of the natural dreamscape within the world of the movie is thought-provoking and stimulating. If dreaming is simply a simulacrum of reality, Inception does an outstanding job focusing our eyes on the potentials for dreams to be an escape—if not crutch—from the pain and sameness of reality. Cobb uses the dream world to return to his most cherished (and most regretted) memories of his late wife, though as Ariadne (Ellen Page) points out, this is futile and ultimately damaging to his subconscious. The fact that his repression of past traumas in his relationship keeps manifesting itself in the day-to-day activities of his extraction job is perhaps the movie's most salient point, because even though Cobb deals with these incursions effectively, there is still a trace of doubt in his eyes. Credit DiCaprio for completely selling Cobb's insecurity, albeit maintaining a sense of calm and control his leadership requires.
The last hour of Inception is quite simply virtuoso film-making, at all levels of the process. A van falls backward off a bridge for literally 45 minutes, but it makes complete sense within the story; in fact, the image of the van falling is something to which we consistently return, reminding us of the outer layers of the dream worlds even as we lose ourselves in the action and plot happening at deeper levels. When Ariadne regresses from Limbo to the top layer of the dream world, we are suddenly sucked back up through the various layers as the audience, and it is so like waking up from a dream that I cannot even describe it properly. We are thrust back into our seats, waiting for the last dream to fall away
waiting for the real world to fall back upon us. It is bittersweet and almost unwelcome, because we know the movie is ending, and to be so completely transported for two hours is quite a feat. Inception is much like a good dream: you do not want it to end.
The last shot of the film is no less than one of the most brilliant last shots in the history of mainstream cinema. I am resorting to this hyperbole because it pulls off the inception of the movie: Christopher Nolan implants an ambiguity into our heads with the final few frames (both visually and aurally) that simply will not go away. Not only is this because the entire movie can be reinterpreted depending on how the ending is viewed, but also because in our hearts we have already decided what we want out of the ending. For the director to leave the ending mostly open to interpretation—and Cobb's fate, as well—is probably the most brilliant thing he could have done with this movie. As Cobb says, "An idea is the most resilient parasite," and the final few seconds of Inception will stay with you for days and weeks to come. Highly recommended.
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