BLACK SWAN: A Company of Wolves and Doppelgängers

At the conclusion of Darren Aronofsky’s THE WRESTLER, the ill-fated protagonist, Randy (Mickey Rourke) performs an aerial “Ram Jam” by leaping from the summit of the wrestling ring onto his opponent which not only heightens the tension on his heart, but also will inevitably kill him. This director’s visual motif of a character’s leap of faith pushing himself to undefined limits translates to the storyline of BLACK SWAN, a psychological-fantasy and mature fairytale “re-inventing” of Tchaikovsky’s “Swan Lake” grounded in the contemporary island of New York City.

As Aronofsky’s latest film opens over white titles on a black frame, a lone white spotlight illuminates an immobilized Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman) who is enshrouded in blackness on a borderless stage. The light continues to bathe her frozen pose which is not only symbolic of her solitude and her comfort level of being alone as she smiles at her state of desolation, but revealing of her status as a balletomane. She engages in a dance with the camera as it smoothly and fluidly follows her in a pas de deux. Moments later, their dance is disrupted by a dark figure approaching Nina from behind with headlong rage. With the camera changing partners and shooting over the other character’s shoulder in a hand-held method, this is not only emblematic of breaking the 180° rule, but representative of the crossover of elegant, cinematographic filmmaking techniques found in such films as Powell and Pressburger’s definitive ballet-fantasy, THE RED SHOES with those utilized in the New Hollywood. Such modern cinematic techniques include magnified sound effects (compliments of a talented Foley artist or a well-placed boom microphone) such as feet tapping the stage in ballet slippers and bones cracking as one’s toes curl. These standard actions (ambient sounds) are exaggerated and brought further to the foreground in modern cinema when in classical films they were either exhibited at the bare minimum or cut completely from the picture. There is a raw intensity to appreciate in Aronofsky’s vision of the modern ballet as he turns his camera to unexpected places like Nina’s pair of ballet slippers as she rips its stuffing from the sole like carcass off of a bone and its bottom is frenziedly slashed with a pair of scissors (no doubt to achieve comfortable footing on stage). In the film’s library of sound effects also exists variant sound cues of wildly flapping feathers which when fully and stunningly realized at the film’s climax, completes Nina’s transformation into a ‘Black Swan’ as black feathers cover most of her torso.

Pas de deux, Déjà Vu

Amidst Nina’s perpetual struggle for perfection in her craft and ambition to secure the leading role of ‘The Swan Queen’ in New York City ballet director Thomas Leroy’s (Vincent Cassel) bold re-imagining of “Swan Lake”, Sayers is continuously haunted by personal demons that invade her subconscious and seem to physically take shape in a developing rash on her back. This theme of anatomical penetration and deterioration - - an intensified study of the human body as a corruptible machine - - is consistent with Aronofsky’s body of work (π/PI, REQUIEM FOR A DREAM, THE WRESTLER). The film’s Director of Photography, Matthew Libatique, strengthens this notion by shooting much of the visual landscape in tightened medium shots to more deeply inspect a character’s range of motion. With the help of the SnorriCam device (a body-mounted camera), a character’s movement from their own point of view simultaneously creates for the viewer a heightened and disorienting experience. As Nina’s hallucinations grow stronger, she shakes them off her conscious with gratified ignorance when she isn’t scratching at her wound with the innocence of a child. The appearance of and growth of her lesion and the fantastical delusions that complement it are both a blessing and a curse, just as there is a constant struggle between innocence and sexuality, the diametrically opposed ‘White Swan’, Nina vs. the competitive ‘Black Swan’, Lily (Mila Kunis) and the colorful confrontation of white and black (Nina consistently sports pure, snow-white ballet fatigues with a tinge of pink whereas Lily is typically attired in black; in Lily’s seduction of Nina at a club, she offers Nina a lacy, black top to wear on top of her white frock). When Nina believes her innocence and flawless dance form will make her perfect for the role of ‘The Swan Queen’, these characteristics coupled with her fear of taking risks acts as her downfall. It is only when she exhibits a primal sexual advance towards the ballet company’s director that he is convinced the lead role belongs to her.

As witnessed in many of cinema’s dance-oriented films, a dance company’s success is dependent on group camaraderie, being on time to work and not sleeping with ‘the boss’ - - these manners are ignored in Aronofsky’s film. Additionally, the element of sabotage is thrown in for suspenseful effect as multiple characters vie to attain ‘the lead’ role. So ensues backstage politics which leads to backstabbing and character assassination on the modern stage. At a Gala party to celebrate the new dance season and Nina’s introduction as ‘The Swan Queen’ to a room full of arts patrons, a collection of New York’s upper crust and her fellow dance ensemble, Thomas whispers to Nina to brace herself as she is figuratively thrown to the wolves in her midst. She survives the evening without a scratch, however, she notices a small cut forming below her fingernail during Thomas’ endorsement speech praising her abilities. After the party, Thomas assures Nina that she did well which further alleviates any residual stress she feels for her understudy, Lily, whom she believes is trying to upstage her at every turn. Not only does Lily seem to have an uncanny resemblance to Nina, but also a penchant for disrupting Nina in practice (and a repetitive clumsiness that causes Lily to apologize to those around her) which bears heavily on Nina’s performance anxiety. With Thomas’ complimentary words, Nina officially becomes a detached outlier, not only dancing away from herself, but also outside of the sphere of the compatriots in her company. Uniquely, it is Nina’s self-sabotage that assists in strengthening her star power on the stage and at home with her overbearing ‘stage’ mother, Erica Sayers (Barbara Hershey) who repeatedly checks in with Nina via cell phone. A former ballet dancer herself before she focused on bringing up her daughter, Erica assures Nina that she’s “the most dedicated dancer in the company”. There is a moment that Erica continues to compliment Nina (calling her “sweet girl”) as she looks into a mirror over Nina’s shoulder when an unsettling graphic match reverse-shot is created - - as if Erica is horrified by something she sees in the mirror complemented by the simultaneous shriek of an underground subway train moving hurriedly on a track with the reverse shot match of Nina looking at her reflection in the soiled window of the subway car. It is as if Erica witnessed something disturbing in her daughter that only Nina could see through the power of reflection.

Showtime!

Mirrors and reflections (as well as Lily’s duplicity) featured throughout the film prey on Nina’s paranoia of her abilities being overshadowed and eventually produce hallucinatory visions of a darker double with a pair of rubied, bloodshot eyes which are later followed by the appearance of barb-like feathers puncturing through her wound. A doppelgänger’s lair rests within the cold confines of the mirror which populates the entirety of BLACK SWAN and Pandora’s Box is unleashed through Nina’s continued scratching at its/her skin’s surface. When Thomas revealed to his company that they would be performing “Swan Lake’, Aronofsky seems to speak through him of his own film, "done to death [Nina’s performance literally ends with a poetic death], I know, but not like this. We strip it down, make it visceral, but real.” He asks of his company which of them is able to embody the white swan; as he inquires as to whom will be able to portray the black swan, his question is posed to his dancers directly in the reflection of the mirrors surrounding them. Nina also uses the reflective device as a tool to achieve absolute perfection through her own death at the finale of the performance. Taking a leap of faith from high atop the set piece of a cliff in the self-reflexive production-within-a-film, Nina lands safely on a mattress, but is found to have previously stabbed herself with a shard of glass from her dressing room mirror. Bookending the film in mirror-like symmetry with how it opened, Nina is again immobilized as she smiles at her “perfect” one-night-only performance while drowning in an intense white light. In Aronofsky fashion (a contemporary tragedian), no one will arrive in time to resuscitate her. Nina has exhausted her humanly value and will “lose herself”, as per her director’s (Leroy/Aronofsky) wishes. And by the film’s completion, it is the White Swan who overpowers the Black Swan as Nina finds comfort in her demise as black titles on white close the film and whiteness bleeds into the edges of the frame.

Give POLTERGEIST a ‘hand’

"Caveat venditor"

Latin translation of “Let the seller beware”

With Director Tobe Hooper and Writer/Producer Steven Spielberg’s 1982 release of POLTERGEIST, the classic haunted house ghost story is rebranded to reflect not only an ultramodern realm of intellectual horror, but also a highly-stylized, sophisticated investigation into the supernatural and a serious genre piece. The film’s title itself conjures up images of a collection of ghosts (let alone one as the singular “poltergeist” suggests) that wreak havoc on unsuspecting human targets while defying the laws of physics. It is as equally terrifying a moniker as the filmmakers’ prior forays into revolutionary horror movie-making (THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE and JAWS, respectively), but the underlying fear of POLTERGEIST lurks under multiple plot points including teleportation, human possession and sacrifice, sacrilegious desecration of a sacred burial ground and other psychic phenomena. And a visual motif that is consistently repeated throughout the film is the representation of hands and reaching out - - literally and figuratively - - both on earthly and spiritual planes.

As the film opens on what appears to be indiscernible spectral visions (the very first image appears to be an outstretched hand), the camera pulls out to reveal the remaining moments of a television station sign-off complete with various statues and images that are pure Americana while The Star-Spangled Banner plays on the diegetic soundtrack. You can’t help but feel the pageantry of the music as its stringed, brass and woodwind instruments signal the opening titles of the film; it rather adds a touch of elegance to the atmosphere of a seemingly suspenseful horror thriller. With these complementary sounds and images, it is therefore confirmed we are watching an American Film, but already, the motives behind such imagery are ambiguous. The TV station sign-off is terminated before welcoming a screen of snow-like static within its frame. One may argue that the initial elements on the tube signify a reality of unfolding events on an earth-bound plane whereas what follows in the static is an indeterminate portal into a second dimension.

The camera continues to slither past a man sleeping in a chair as his right arm falls over the edge and his hand rustles a plate of snacks. This sets off a chain of events beginning with the family dog, E. Buzz, awakening to the disturbance. The dog moves about the house as a way of introducing each member of the Freeling family. He leaves a bag of fallen potato chips in his wake, licks and noses the family members as if he, too, were a spirit interrupting their rest. Deep in slumber, the family completely ignores his actions. As soon as the youngest child, Carol Anne (Heather O’Rourke) rises from her bed (not necessarily from E. Buzz waking her), something impels her to the television set to which she innocently speaks as if she’s sitting across from a group of older strangers. One by one, her family awakens to her noisy dialogue. At the end of her conversation, she leans into and presses both of her hands onto the screen as if it’s some sacred altar. The child’s extended fingers create a graphic match with the next scene the following morning of a pair of trees on a mound of earth during an expansive, panoramic shot of suburban Cuesta Verde showing off the cookie-cutter homes in the developing neighborhood.

The sterility of the homes is offset by the scraggly offshoots of the unattractive trees that populate the bald, green hillside community of Cuesta Verde, the name of which is laden with double entendre. Cuesta may be translated from the Spanish verb conjugation of ‘to cost’ and/or a ‘coast’, ‘slope’ or ‘hill’ and the most fitting translation for the film being ‘taking on the burden of something for a cost (and experiencing struggle)’. Verde translates as ‘green’ or ‘unripe’ (e.g. the development is in its early stages) as Carol Anne’s father, Steven (a nod to Spielberg?) Freeling (Craig T. Nelson) is selling burgeoning real estate to new homeowners in this nearly vegetation-free mecca of suburban sprawl. The trees themselves look as though they were manicured for landscaping on Beelzebub’s (a slight anagrammatical version of the name of the Freeling’s dog, E. Buzz?) lawn. At first glance, it appears as if the real estate developers are the true foe of the film who have bulldozed rich land for their own benefit. Mr. Freeling just happens to be Igor to his Dr. Frankenstein employer, Mr. Teague (James Karen) pulverizing the soil to make way for new tract housing and inviting new clients to purchase into the development community. “I can’t tell one house from the other.”, one of Steven’s customers intimates during a tour of a model home. And the fresh saplings that dress the yards are merely a façade much like the foam/Astroturf grounds that were featured in Tim Burton’s BEETLEJUICE. For the sake of POLTERGEIST, the plant life that exists in Cuesta Verde appears to be lifeless and petrified.

The film’s only attractive tree-like detail is Carol Anne’s snow-white, wicker headboard on her bed fashioned in the shape of a tree with splayed limbs. This is in harsh contrast with the hideous tree it faces outside of her and her brother Robbie’s (Oliver Robins) bedroom window. Steven tries to impress upon Robbie that the tree has not only existed long before his company started building homes in Cuesta Verde, but that he built their home next to it as a way of protecting their family. A showdown between Robbie and the immense limbed eyesore is inevitable. And nothing his father can say will instill reassurance that his son can have a good night’s sleep.

This is a pattern that continues throughout the film: one of constantly losing control (often accentuated by the appearance of hands and reaching outwards).

• Carol Anne is summoned out of a peaceful, nocturnal slumber to engage in a conference with the “TV People” in her family’s television (which ends with her applying her hands on the set). Upon her second meeting in front of the snow-filled television set, Carol Anne reaches out her hand as a misty shape reminiscent of a bony hand lashes out at her before dematerializing into a smoky plume. Shortly thereafter, the television screen sends forth a great burst of light, burning a hole into the wall above the parents’ bed. In one of the film’s eeriest moments, E. Buzz is later compelled to lay one of his dog toys on the bed directly below the burned cavity in the wall as if it’s a sacrificial gift.
• Steven and his buddies cannot watch a football game without the strange occurrence of “Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood” interrupting their televised match (Steven and his neighbor repeatedly point and click their hand-held remote control devices at each other’s home to see whose program will prevail and ultimately be watched).
• Carol Anne’s canary, Tweety, is found dead in its cage (an omen of bad things to come, its tiny claws pointed upwards). As soon as Steven finishes unsuccessfully brandishing his remote control at his neighbor, a graphic match of Steven's wife, Diane (JoBeth Williams) holding Tweety by his claw is compositionally mirrored as she holds the bird over the toilet to be flushed. When Tweety is properly buried in the family’s flower garden, it is later unearthed by a massive bulldozer (with powerful metallic blades resembling an outstretched hand digging into the dirt).
• Diane is unable to have her children properly push their dinner chairs under the dining room table. At one instant as she turns to go into the kitchen, the chairs stack upon themselves on top of the table.
• A member of the construction crew helps himself to Diane’s coffee and cooking (by reaching through the kitchen window past the blinds).
• The tree that Steven said had been firmly planted into the ground is not formidable enough to withstand the onslaught of a tornado and is entirely plucked from its foundation and pulled into the cyclone (after it tries to devour Robbie when it pulls him from his bed with its enormous hand-shaped limbs).
• After hanging in mid-air and losing her grip on her bed which snaps like a twig in her fingers, Carol Anne is consumed by a force in her closet with flashing lights reminiscent of light beaming through a film projector compliments of “The Beast” and is transported to another dimension where exist the “TV People”.
• A trio of parapsychologists, Dr. Lesh, Ryan and Marty (Beatrice Straight, Richard Lawson and Martin Casella) are completely shaken by the forces that exist in the Freeling household that they must consult Tangina (Zelda Rubinstein), an “extraordinary clairvoyant” to “clean” the house and expel the demons that hold Carol Anne hostage. After recovering the child and all seems back-to-normal, the possessed home regresses to its earlier state of supernatural control as coffins (and skeletons, apparently made of real human cadavers) begin firing out of the ground as well as bob in once hallowed ground which is now a hollowed swimming pool in the Freeling’s backyard.
• After escaping the clutches of the evil spirits that release a stream of chaos onto the Freeling’s street, Steven races his family in their station wagon to the safety of a Holiday Inn motel. Even after he pushes the wheeled television set out of their room and the closing credits roll over Jerry Goldsmith’s portentous score, the film’s final moments include a choir of giggling children - - as if suggesting a return by another breed of POLTERGEIST.

Whether the film is presenting a stinging anti-television message or simply using the device of the television set as a doorway into another dimension (ala a Crystal Ball evocative of the snow globe present in one of Spielberg’s favorite films, CITIZEN KANE), POLTERGEIST is a competent and accessible horror film that has achieved pop notoriety, spawned sequels and been paid homage in film, television and the written word. Adept at bridging the gap between an earthly and spiritual plane through the use of this contemporary, man-made portal which beckons the personal touch of a hand to rightly initiate its power (to turn on, switch channels or turn off), the filmmakers even go so far as to connect both realms through a type of invisible birth canal that releases ectoplasmic afterbirth making the process of crossing over something entirely human. For all of the film’s richly textured layers and accomplished filmmaking feats, would you agree that POLTERGEIST deserves a big … round of applause?

P.S. No souls, spirits or skeletons were harmed in the making of this blog post. So please, no curses (is it a coincidence that Gene Shalit (who is one of the only images to appear on the Freeling’s television set) recently departed from NBC’s “Today” show?) - - don’t make me get all Expecto Patronum!

A familiar, yet satisfying Town north of Boston ImProper

Ben Affleck’s second directorial effort, THE TOWN, is a competent entry in the heist-movie genre which distinguishes him as an auteur of Boston-centric cinema. Just as much high detail and style for the unofficial “Capital of New England” is afforded by the filmmakers as Truffaut and Godard likewise have bestowed upon their native Paris. Beantown’s rich history of economic and technological growth, political impact and its reputation for being a positive center of higher education is threatened by an element of crime pouring out of the open wound of its neighborhood of Charlestown, MA regrettably dubbed: “The Bank Robbery Capital of America”.

Forget about the film’s apparent allusions to not only the South Boston ambience and epically familial tragedy of Scorsese’s THE DEPARTED, the costumed ensemble of crooks and their Angeleno crime waves in Bigelow’s POINT BREAK and the sympathetic musings of a master thief in Jewison’s THE THOMAS CROWN AFFAIR. The mechanics of Affleck’s movie-making toolkit are on full display and despite the barrage of profane machismo, combine in a way that resembles a throwback to classic production aesthetics when scenes of intense action were storyboarded and one-on-one moments between characters exuded either a tender or tense theatricality. One scene in particular exhibiting both of these qualities is handled with the utmost sensitivity which reaches an apex of delightfully, Hitchcockian suspense.

After a series of romantically tinged rendezvous between skilled bank robber, Doug MacRay (Ben Affleck) and his mark, a former bank manager, Claire Keesey (Rebecca Hall), they reach a point in their relationship when their feelings for one another are no longer inhibited by nervous restraint and a desire to be with the other is as palpable as a blow to the head. Claire has no idea that the man who sits opposite her sipping on a soft drink on a momentously sunny day in the park also helms a crew of professional bank robbers responsible for successfully pulling off a daring heist of her bank and ultimately holding her hostage. Under the guise of a compassionate friend to help calm her nerves after experiencing post-traumatic stress from the episode, Doug engages in a ruse of sharing her company to determine if she’s squealed to the authorities. As his hoax begins to disintegrate when true love becomes evident and is pondering “putting this whole town in my [his] rearview”, a figurative black cloud enters to unsettle the mood (also donning black clothing) in the form of Doug’s childhood friend and associate James “Jem” Coughlin (Jeremy Renner). What follows is a prime example of textbook-style editing and a cleverly coordinated composition of characters with James situated between Claire and Doug inquiring after their afternoon tryst while Doug focuses on concealing the tattoo on the back of James’ neck (the only evidence Claire recalled from the holdup) that will undoubtedly blow their cover.

The film continues on this consistent path of characters on the verge of becoming victorious only to be awakened by disillusionment. And with multiple modes of transportation present (cars, buses and trains), the boundaries of Charlestown seem impervious to escape. Just as in Clouzot’s classic white-knuckler, THE WAGES OF FEAR, its characters are not only trapped within the confines of its South American town’s invisible borders, but are suffocated by the fear of exhausting all opportunities for escape and not earning the wages necessary to secure their individual freedoms. Doug’s crew continues to knock over banks and elude the bluecoats as a kind of sport, but for what aim, it is never made entirely clear. In one respect, they are commissioned by Fergus Colm (Pete Postlethwaite), the big don, whose cover is a local flower shop (who slices thorns off of roses like someone who shears human flesh) and is responsible for organizing elaborate heists throughout town. On the other hand, it is an unfortunate vocation that generates massive doses of adrenaline and is possibly the one job they’re good at. It calls to mind an oxymoron: occupational hazard.

In Gregory La Cava’s classic, MY MAN GODFREY, Carlo (Mischa Auer) somberly speaks of money and its vice-grip over all in its grasp as “the Frankenstein monster that destroys souls”. As Affleck inventively stages the film’s climactic heist in the bowels of Fenway Park, a stadium which Fergus regards as a stately cathedral that must be invaded and financially toppled, is it just a coincidence that the renowned left field wall in the stadium is called the “Green Monster”? Money is as much a character in the film as any of its major players: it’s counted, bound, buried under ground, measured, analyzed, weighed, compared to a man’s (and woman’s) worth. It eventually leads one to the way of the gun or when someone like Claire can control the flow of it on a daily basis (demonstrated through her career as a bank manager), can perform a charitable act like refurbishing a decrepit ice rink. If there’s one thing we’ve learned from the movies it’s that crime does not pay.

A visible symbol that appears on a number of occasions throughout the film is the obelisk of the Bunker Hill Monument: the last vestige of law and order standing in a landscape marked by violence and corruption. Unlike the presence of other much taller financial, political and business institutions that surround it and have since fallen to decay or economic ruin, the towering, granite monolith suggests a strong foundation of values that are solid through and through. For the sake of THE TOWN, it is a recurring visual motif that acts as a firm reminder against lawlessness. Moreover, the sweeping shot of the tower is often spliced together with sequences featuring FBI Agents Adam Frawley (Jon Hamm) and Dino Ciampa (Titus Welliver) progressively gaining on Doug’s team’s tail. At one moment when Doug is walking the streets at night, the Monument looms behind him in the left-hand corner of the screen flooded by spotlights that gives the impression of conscious guilt overpowering him. Doug is obviously having serious doubts about his profession. Featured just as prominently in the film is the Leonard P. Zakim Bunker Hill Memorial Bridge in which its high-tension white cables resemble a net being thrown across a part of the town. Meanwhile, various police nets are strategically employed to catch Doug and his men but are repeatedly felled by his crew’s cunning. At times, the ten-lane bridge even appears to double as a cable-stayed prison cell. The effect that law enforcement has on Boston’s bridges is intensified when Agent Frawley orders the bridge to close on traffic after Doug’s team leads the fuzz on a high-powered, bullet-riddled chase through narrow street canals of brick and cobblestone.

Amidst the roaring blaze of TEC-9 gunfire followed by regular shower storms of lead bullets and wildly exciting (and seemingly storyboarded sequences of) vehicular battering rams leaving a wake of steel carnage throughout the circuitous streets of Charlestown, these elements are just props in Doug’s arsenal when combined with the theatricality of his team’s striking costumes. These consist of skulled monsters with thick dreadlocks, hockey masks, aged nuns in traditional habit culminating in the employment of Boston P.D., EMT and MBTA uniforms. As the heists grow more complicated, the manner of costume becomes increasingly stripped down to the flesh of the men donning them and as their faces are revealed, their fate seems rightfully sealed. To his advantage, Doug knows when the performance is over and exits the proverbial stage of Charlestown that Affleck’s players had populated. By the film’s climax, Doug has spirited away to an unnamed locale with no more familiar landmarks and has even fashioned himself a heavy beard. He appears drained of energy and out of character from the man he played in his former town. He not only lived there, he was THE TOWN; he owned it. So does Affleck, as its director.

The Dream is Real … or is it? : breaking down ('collapsing') INCEPTION

"Whatever we build in the imagination will accomplish itself in the circumstance of our lives."

William Butler Yeats

The crux of Christopher Nolan’s fantasy-heist film, INCEPTION, is whether or not we can believe in its protagonist’s conception of reality vs. a state of dreaming. In arriving at a verdict, the viewer is pitted into a complexly labyrinthine landscape which not only celebrates the genesis and execution of ideas but revels in the process of collaboration on the part of its skillfully crafted characters as they navigate through elaborately architected environments that may crumble at any moment. The film is cinematic baklava and consists of layers upon layers of multi-textured concepts that logically and rather lucidly test the illogical limits of human imagination in a world where dream sharing, removing an idea (extraction) or planting one into another person’s mind (inception) is possible. As these conceits are tested and ingeniously realized on film and when, for instance, our comprehension of gravity is inverted, thankfully, the adept hands of the film’s writer/director guide us through shaky bafflements to a calming, stable ground. In so doing, Nolan deserves a compliment of the highest order; and in home-video circles, one might easily consider this his Criterion disc.

The film’s protagonist, Dominic ‘Dom’ Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio), a gifted thief specializing in the extraction of one’s secrets through their dreams, is delivered from an unknown origin onto a sandy beach awash with seawater crashing against him; a visual metaphor for inception of birth, undoubtedly. This is the first sequence of the film’s many riddles wherein we are to question whether this is truly a vision of present reality, a projection of the dream world or in fact, a hint of a non-linear journey through a state of mental limbo that can potentially ensnare a dreamer’s mind for a period of decades to infinity. I believe it is the latter and acts as a bookend with the film’s climactic mission of inception. Upon closer inspection, however, the ambiguous placement of this scene showing Cobb asleep on the shore at the base of an Asian compound makes one wonder if what follows is a completely dreamed fabrication. Even as Cobb is captured by armed guards that may be mental constructs created by his aged employer, Mr. Saito (Ken Watanabe) sent to capture him on the beach, the projected landscapes, the characters that populate them and all elements therein, may come complements of Cobb’s subconscious. This is further stressed by the vision of Cobb’s two children playing in the sand who always appear just out of his reach. And the environment all too much resembles the dystopic shorelines he created in his own personal limbo and result from the memories he shared with his deceased wife, Mal (Marion Cottilard), the film’s prime antagonist.

Mal is the antithesis of Dom and their relationship with each other was immortalized in their act of dream sharing powered by their passion for creativity and engineering/dismantling entire civilizations for their amusement. The awe-inspiring element of their creations taking shape and others toppling to make way for new constructions can likely be considered one of the cinema’s great romantic delights. Mal’s downfall and eventual suicide was a result of her not being able to differentiate reality from a dreamscape which was further provoked by Dom’s ability to make the clear distinction between the two states. Dom’s regression into his memories of their lives together strengthens her existence. It is as if she is his effeminate projection of himself as both characters are cunning, anticipate each other’s moves and are able to make a clean kill in the field of battle. Technologically speaking, Mal, similar to Dave Bowman’s disembodied nemesis in Kubrick’s 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY, Hal (both of whom share similar branding), may be considered a gorgeous glitch who continues to thwart Dom’s efforts and draw him closer to the dark side of his mind to be lost forever in an eternity together in limbo. That her memory had become so deeply embedded into Dom’s subconscious, her presence can only be characterized as a specter who haunts Dom’s progress he experiences in his personal reality along with his fellow business colleagues, his ‘dream team’: Arthur (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), Dom’s Point Man and closest business associate; Ariadne (Ellen Page), the Architect responsible for building the elements with the dream and whose moniker significantly refers to the daughter of King Minos in the Greek Myth who helped Theseus escape the labyrinth; Eames (Tom Hardy), the Forger and skilled chameleon who can morph himself into other characters for the sake of the team’s mental reconnaissance and Yusuf (Dileep Rao), the Chemist, whose powerful potions are able to sedate the team into multiple dream levels.

In a film brimming with so many fantastical elements where the line between reality and the dream-state is blurred while fusing with devices of advanced technology to capably perform industrial mental espionage, the near future as envisioned by INCEPTION may be more narrowly characterized as ‘post human and elegant cyberpunk’. By the team’s entering dreamed simulations (the thorough process of which is never fully explained: it consists of a push of a button in a device which fits snugly into a silver briefcase that releases a sedative through filaments connected to one’s wrist in order to enter the shared dream world) targeting their mark, Robert Fischer (Cillian Murphy), the heir to a competitive business empire of Mr. Saito, further shows how much farther humans are trying to leave the real world in search of an unexplored, typically disorienting, non-organic future. Physical human life is therefore expendable once entering the artificial/virtual world that exists in the mind of the person who’s responsible for dreaming the environment. In this post-industrial age, bulky, mechanized machinery has been sacrificed for more ‘elegant’ micro-circuitry that’s often able to fit into one’s pocket or the confines of a briefcase and can hardwire into the human network within moments without showing signs of entry (after Dom’s first journey of extraction into Saito’s mind, upon waking, Saito is unable to find on his wrist the entry point of the wire Dom’s team used). The film’s wall-to-wall, non-diegetic score is metallic and steely and reminiscent of a fusion of science, mathematics, technology and an organic world at odds. Musical notes punctuate the film space and plucked guitar strings depart like faded memories into the ether. And the inclusion of Édith Piaf’s “Non, je ne regrette rien” in the film’s diegesis not only resonates as a sublime, anthem-like yearning for moving forward with no regrets, but helps to reinforce Dom’s strategy of maneuvering through the levels of a dream: the only way to move forward and be successful is to go deeper, not in reverse.

Human biology and technology intermingle in a way that this vision of the future may be defined as post human. In the dream world, human constructs can become chameleons and bend their gender just as the concept of time is accelerated during each dream level that is penetrated. Identities are altered in a way like most people change their shirts and the dreamers can choose to either maintain or abandon any likeness to their original identities. Likewise, artificial environments are created as close to resemble the real world with the addition of cleverly architected mazes to not only give the space more dimension, but offer Dom’s team an edge against hostile projections with which they may have to engage in combat. The fictional realm into where the dreamers travel consists of memories and projections of one’s subconscious that can lash out at visitors to a dream-state when threatened. Biology and conscious existence are tested in that when one dies in a first-level dream-state, they wake up. However, when one is multiple dream levels deep and experiences death, the cost is a trip into limbo where rational thinking in the real world is lost and one is destined to remain for decades to an eternity.

Greed, an aged concept, continues to exist and control the extent of how far/deep/often one is willing to travel or invest in these experiments. The rich who become financiers for the enterprising of extraction/inception will claim ultimate dominance in this, the futuristic utopia. Saito, who expenses Dom’s activities is relegated to being ‘a tourist’ so that he can first-hand witness his investment in their professional endeavor. Christopher Nolan may be anticipating the Chinese will become the new global power, thus making the film somewhat anti-American. The concept of dream sharing is not only reserved for the upper class, but also utilized by those in a lower echelon as depicted in the basement of Yusuf’s chemical laboratory. The proceedings in Yusuf’s lab reminded me of the hallucinatory sequence in Sergio Leone's ONCE UPON A TIME IN AMERICA when DeNiro's David/'Noodles' puffs away in the opium den during the film’s bookends. Although we are meant to believe that everything that has preceded this opening moment has occurred (e.g. David’s meeting the other boys in his crew of gangsters, engaging in a life of crime and corruption, etc.) who's to say that the events of the film ever happened? As in INCEPTION, there are henchmen (projections?) creeping in the shadow puppet theatre (there are puppets projected on the screen canvas as walking projections navigate in front of the screen) looking for Noodles which makes one wonder if the filmed events are real or not. Perhaps Leone’s film was induced through the opiate just as the events in INCEPTION are brought on by a mechanized-induced sedative into the bloodstream.

When determining whether INCEPTION is entirely a dream or not or if Cobb is trapped in limbo to dream forever, even as he walks through the baggage claim and his teammates look directly at him (just as the projections did in the previous dreams of the respective characters), the participants could be sharing a present plane of reality, but I believe that they are merely projections of Cobb’s subconscious. The totem Cobb continually references (a spinning top which falls when he is awake) may be an altogether dreamed extension of his denial that he is trapped within a dream; whether it topples or not, is of no value. And the ambiguous ending of his top wobbling neither proves or disproves he is awake or dreaming because it is in Cobb’s dream that the object is powered to spin incessantly, wobble or topple. Cobb is able to eventually see the faces of his children in the film’s climax, but that action could've also been produced care of his dream-state. For someone who made a living residing in and spending much of his life in the dream world, as Yusuf’s colleague mentions about their clientele, many of them seek Yusuf’s assistance in order to be woken up. On the first occasion that Cobb samples Yusuf’s sedative, there is a hint that he could still be under the influence of his drug-induced dream state: as he spins his top on the precarious corner of a sink, Cobb never sees it completely topple and more importantly, he witnesses an illusion of Mal against the reflection of the bathroom mirror. And never for the remaining duration of the film does his top completely come to rest.

Upon the film’s screening for critics, Nolan was questioned whether or not he was influenced by Alain Resnais’ enigmatic classic, LAST YEAR AT MARIENBAD. It is true that both films feature ornately designed (and moments of crumbling) architecture through which snappily dressed characters often have difficulty maneuvering and a male protagonist who is obsessed by a woman he once knew in his past (or in his dreams), but the major difference lies in the films’ narrative structures. In the trailer for MARIENBAD, audience members were invited to become co-authors of the film and play the “truth game” by digesting important visual clues given by the director to shape the cinematic puzzle to a desired conclusion. What is truth or fiction, past or present is blurred and the concept of time is open to interpretation as the events that occur typically do so from multiple memories and points of view. What cannot be denied is how closely the film resembles a non-linear ghost story in its use of organ music that echoes through endlessly dark corridors and past extensively mirrored hallways by which well-dressed spirits are destined to stroll. And just as there are several games to be played in Resnais’ film (Nim, checkers and shooting sports), Nolan supplies Cobb’s core team-members with game-like totems (a top, a loaded die and a chess piece) while both directors pit their characters into a cinematic maze.

In this still from MARIENBAD, notice how the chateau’s guests (ghosts) cast shadows, but the topiaries do not.

Notice the visual similarity in the spatial relationship of characters in the prior image with those in this sheet-poster for INCEPTION:

One of the most striking cinematic similarities with INCEPTION (besides ON HER MAJESTY’S SECRET SERVICE in the film’s action sequence in the snow-capped mountains) is Satoshi Kon’s anime film, PAPRIKA, in which a group of scientists use a device called a “DC Mini” allowing them to engage in dream therapy by entering the dreams of patients to cure their ailments and anxieties. Once the device falls into the wrong hands, the characters’ dreams enter the real world and run amok with the concept of reality hanging in the balance. There is also a brief nod to Nolan’s own BATMAN BEGINS as a sedative is dripped onto Fischer’s hood which immediately knocks him into the next dream level, a behavioral reminiscence of his hooded ‘Scarecrow’ character who sprayed his enemies with an equally powerful neuro-toxin to send them into a hallucinatory state bringing on their deepest fears. Fischer literally walks into a direct homage to 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY when he approaches his father’s deathbed: Victorian and wooden furnishings are in contrast with the sterile and cubed floor and wall composition which bears an uncanny resemblance to Dave’s dwelling in the finale of Kubrick’s film. In the same scene, Dave accidentally knocks over a wine glass from his table that shatters on the floor which mirrors a broken champagne flute on Mal’s hotel room floor. Then seconds later, the appearance of Dave’s older self makes me recall the aged make-up of Mr. Saito in the opening moments of INCEPTION.

Despite these similarities in Nolan’s cinematic peer group, he has managed to manipulate the traditional laws of cinema to craft a film so intensely surreal, that the inspiration of ideas on the part of the viewer far outweighs frustrating bewilderment. Your imagination is also not only soothed, but you may leave the viewing feeling as if you’ve witnessed a new breed of film ultimately realizing that the act of inception is possible - - as you undoubtedly fell under its spell and allowed the idea to enter your own consciousness. As we currently live in a society tempted by ‘plugging in’ and doing it often, a repeat visit to experience INCEPTION is truly a dream come true. You just have to remember to wake up or risk being lost in the dream forever.

SEX AND THE CITY 2: A frigid, fashionable faux pas & holy hot mess

Apart from the film’s title being an undoubted misnomer, SEX AND THE CITY 2 fails on many fronts, not the least of which is that many of the proceedings don’t even take place in “the city” of New York from where the Candace Bushnell-penned franchise had pumped its essential lifeblood. Instead, the island of Manhattan is literally just that: a metaphorical island to where the film’s protagonists (Carrie Bradshaw, Miranda Hobbes, Samantha Jones and Charlotte York) travel between exploits at a Connecticut estate and the resort mecca of Abu Dhabi. And for all of the luxurious regalia as well as the overweight price tag of the couture on display, the experience received upon watching Writer/Director Michael Patrick King’s latest flicker verges on valuelessness.

The film is purely high fantasy: not in the epic sense as found in the works of C.S. Lewis or J.R.R. Tolkien, but with elements that are just as wholly unbelievable. For instance, in a hard-hitting economy that has been likened to a global Depression and economic apocalypse, anyone would be hard-pressed to resign from a career (with potential six-figure earnings) simply because one’s employer rudely ignored an employee (Cynthia Nixon) in a staff meeting. At least Miranda clocked out of her busy law firm with plenty of time to grab a cab and arrive at her son’s grade school to witness his being awarded first prize for a mouse maze he created. Sewn throughout the film is plotting just as contrived. All’s well that ends well in the fantasy realm of this New York City where an executive can make such a decision, however, it is not justified or a logical choice to employ in the real world. Just as curious is the fact that a trader on Wall Street, Mr. Big (Chris Noth), unwinds almost to the point of obsession to classic black and white movies. Even as he expresses regret at the Dow dropping one hundred points in the market, he exudes a lackadaisical charisma comparable to Jack Donaghy on television’s “30 Rock” who rarely takes anything seriously and makes the term ‘high-powered executive’ sound like an oxymoron.

The most fantastic aspect and the film’s ultimate blaspheme is the import of sex to the city of Abu Dhabi where the visual feast of the female flesh (primarily outside of the hotel’s “free zone” e.g. the hotel grounds) is frowned upon and any public display of the physical act of lovemaking invites one to serving time in prison or worse. Whether the fearless foursome of femmes are belting out “I Am Woman” in a karaoke club located in one of the most misogynistic countries in the world or laying out poolside with their erotic zones exposed (when they could have donned a “burqini”) or even when Carrie employs a tactic from IT HAPPENED ONE NIGHT to hail transportation in a Moroccan market with her nude leg proving “that the limb is mightier than the thumb”, the inclusion of such details in the script not only borders on the absurd, but sets a dangerous precedent for anyone (especially impressionable teenaged-girls) who may want to imitate such a trip ala “Girls Gone Wild” - - unlike Spring Break in Miami Beach, such a pleasurable yet risky peregrination on foreign soil would assuredly result in a similar re-“hash” of events previously laid out in grisly detail in MIDNIGHT EXPRESS or BROKEDOWN PALACE where one’s sex as opposed to stimulants is peddled and an unfortunate climax (no pun intended) is achieved.

Sex (the act of love-making, not the gender), as it is portrayed in the film, is performed in a raucous and noisy manner and in one edited transition is juxtaposed to a pair of screaming children writhing in and amongst their parents in bed. Romance is sacrificed for a deafeningly, flamboyant and vulgarized act. It is sweaty, loud and only involves a woman skirting menopause (Samantha Jones) with both a middle-aged and a bronzed Adonis. And on one occasion, an unimaginative homage is paid to Hitchcock’s TO CATCH A THIEF as Samantha reaches her sexual apex with her partner as fireworks are released (from an unknown origin) beachside. Similar to the crassest (teen) comedy one might find in the Judd Apatow camp, the lack of refinement is further perpetuated with such ill-mannered phrasing as “Lawrence of my labia” and “Charlotte has a sand-wedge” when referring to Charlotte’s nether region as she sports a tight pair of slacks. This is not to argue that grown women aren’t allowed to engage in such fancies, let their hair down and shake some action, but in the landscape of SEX AND THE CITY 2 where the girls have not only amassed multiple fashionable frocks (certainly not held up by modesty), absorbed unlimited libations and had illimitable access to sex, it’s very apparent their eyes are larger than their stomachs and have devoured more than their fair share of the proverbial cake.

What’s more offensive in a film that obsesses over the superficiality of sex as if it were a new style of fashion that comes and goes with the change of seasons, is that the women in the film aren’t totally confident in their abilities to both have sex or engage in decent human behavior. Coupled with dialogue that makes naughty references to sex abounding in clichéd double entendre a go-go and speaking objectionably to one another veers into a realm of self-deprecating excess. Whether for male or female audiences, this is not the feel good movie of the year. Far from a character study where there might be a sophisticated attempt at a proper analysis into their own respective developments, these women appear as though they’re in their own version of DEATH BECOMES HER and are literally falling apart at the seams; a Venus de Milo personified. Even when her hormone pills and creams are confiscated by airport security, Samantha’s dependency on the medical product turns her into a hormonal junkie as she massages her body with yams and devours hummus for its natural enzymes before menopause overtakes her. Comic relief wanders into the pathetic.

Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda are each but a canvas for its writer to paint upon (and accessorize compliments of Dior, Valentino, plunging necklines, sequins and the latest trends; in that case, the benefit of their cinematic existence is that they help stimulate the economy). Whereas the former three relentlessly journey into shallow terrain bursting with artificiality as they partake in discussions regarding haute couture, a potentially cheating husband and wanting to escape the responsibility of marriage for two days a week, fortunately, Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) has an air of modesty about her character and quite possibly shares the least abysmal dialogue with those in her network. She then abandons this strong characterization momentarily as she texts on her cell phone (absent presence) while others are trying to enter into a dialogue with her. To her advantage, she at least tries to ingratiate the group into the culture of Abu Dhabi by discussing the language and showing consideration to others at every turn. Not soon after, Samantha mars any possibility of a positive affiliation with the natives when she is caught publicly having sex on a beach thereby revoking their hotel privileges. No matter, they manage to procure Business Class tickets on a departure flight returning to the U.S.A.

I don’t see how this franchise can continue any further. Firstly, it is the men of the film (from the Wall Street Executive, Mr. Big, to the faithful Moroccan man servants) who exhibit any confidence and strike up a meaningful rapport with those around them. It nearly always seems like a chore to complete a conversation with any of Carrie’s crew and to do battle with their neuroses. And it’s difficult to admire or follow along in anyone’s adventure who constantly produces an endless stream of ennui and apathy. The female protagonists of SEX AND THE CITY 2 have no control over their surroundings even though they like us to think they do i.e. survival in any city takes more than just being able to successfully hail a cab or order the next round of Cosmopolitan cocktails. Unfortunately, Carrie and her girls prove that it really is a man’s world when they end up conducting themselves as tragic, hapless clowns. If Carrie is such a studied guru of relationships, why does her character revel in avoiding to share advice with her friend concerned for her potentially crumbling marriage; or when she selfishly tries to control Mr. Big’s itinerary complemented by her own gluttonous indulgences of sex, shopping for clothes, shoes, jewelry and making dinner reservations.

Even the original SEX AND THE CITY film opened with Carrie discussing how girls come to New York looking for “labels and love”. It’s self-indulgent fantasy, pure and simple. There is no better visual display of the fantastical than in the Busby Berkeley-esque staged sequence that appears during “the gay wedding” in the film’s opening. Although it’s not as cunningly lyrical as Berkeley, the set-design and the overall choreography is really entertaining and shows King comfortable in this gay element. The appearance of Liza Minnelli is merely the frosting as she channels Beyoncé (as embarrassing as it might come across) in a vigorous dance routine. (Icon-status aside, there’s just something inappropriate and distracting about someone not acting their age. On the opposite end of the spectrum, I was reminded of the tasteful and glorious dance number in MYRA BRECKENRIDGE featuring a booming-voiced Mae West that captured the right amount of sex appeal, sophistication and maintained an edge so campy that imitation is imminent. See for yourself.) With a subtle, yet humorous delivery, Mario Cantone, the gay bridegroom and probably the most talented and accomplished entertainment hyphenate in the cast, grows concerned when he thinks Liza is going to have a heart-attack. As for the audience in my theatre: total flatline.