Monthly Archive for July, 2010

“Inception” Discussion

So I’ve seen “Inception” twice now, and plan to see it two more times. That’s the courtesy I give Chris every time he drops a new one on me, I like to get myself to a place where I really grasp the DNA of the story. It is a terrible process to try and rank Nolan’s filmography, as you are trafficking in titans, and all of them vie in earnest for your affections. Nonetheless, before yesterday evening, my unofficial breakdown was as follows:

1. The Dark Knight. His crown jewel.

2. Memento. A movie whose legacy as one of the great mind-benders has only increased with time.

3. Batman Begins. The film that saved Batman. And Warner Bros.

4. Insomnia. Often overlooked because it’s his most straightforward affair, but an incredibly deft thriller whose sturdiness was proof that Nolan had mastered the fundamentals of good storytelling. He didn’t need to hide behind tricks.

5. Following. His debut picture. An adorable little lo-fi gem, and almost the cerebral cousin to “Clerks.” Like Kevin Smith’s debut, it’s a daringly flawed film that is lovable for its refusal to apologize.

6. The Prestige. An engrossing battle of wits between 19th century magicians that is nearly brought down by a surprise ending too easy to see coming. Nearly. Fortunately, “The Prestige” is imminently re-watchable, one of those movies that blossoms as the viewer searches for the layers of meaning in each pass.

Now that “Inception” is out, we have a new member in the family. The first question is: does it meet Nolan’s high standards of quality? Does it get to enter the pantheon? Because make no mistake, even “The Prestige” in dead last place stands head and shoulders above the best films most other directors will ever make. That’s quite a high bar to jump over, and I can’t fathom that Chris won’t someday fail to make the leap.

But not today. Today he gets to put another notch on the metaphorical belt. “Inception” is a classic, one of the most distinct and original films I’ve ever seen. Like all of Chris’ work, its chief victory is its ability to fuse the intellectual with the visceral, to bring ideas to spectacle. And because the project is something of a victory lap for him after the runaway success of “The Dark Knight,” Nolan shifts into high gear and slams down the pedal as hard as he can. He reaches, as always, for the highest things he can possibly grab, constantly competing with himself to come up with bigger action and bigger ideas. This is the headiest intellectual stuff he’s ever attempted, it makes “Memento” look almost straightforward. It’s also the grandest spectacle of his career. “Inception” is Chris doing what any artist at this stage in his career should be doing: pushing himself.

Still, it doesn’t quite ascend the heights of his Bat-Flicks, and I’ll get into why later. For now, assume my new hierarchy is:

1. The Dark Knight

2. Memento

3. Batman Begins

4. Inception

5. Insomnia

6. The Following

7. The Prestige

Leading Man

Leonardo DiCaprio is perhaps the most natural leading man Chris has ever gotten his hands on, and it’s something of a miracle they didn’t work together sooner; the two even look alike. DiCaprio specializes in precisely the kind of intellectual angst that Nolan is obsessed with, he is the quintessential striving man. Bale had the same drive, but it was more carnal, more beast-like, rooted in the physical. Guy Pearce’s masterful work in “Memento” was almost detached, he was a man who had learned not to look into the abyss too deeply. And Pacino was Pacino, Nolan’s greatest achievement with him was bringing his tremendous abilities back down to Earth. All of them answered the call successfully, and yet each was borrowing some piece from Chris’ own psyche, not the entire thing.

DiCaprio is different, he feels almost like a stand-in for Nolan. His mannerisms, his way of thinking and behaving, have a quality to them that seems more personal than anything Chris has put on the screen before. In truth, Dom Cobb (Leo’s character) has more in common with Nolan than any of his other leading men: he is a husband and a father (or was), a highly intelligent weaver of fantasy, and a man perpetually in love with mazes and paradoxes. He is not an object of wrath like Bruce Wayne, or barely clinging to sanity like Leonard Shelby–he’s a philosopher, an intellectual, and a prisoner of the need to know.

It’s no coincidence that “Cobb” is a name Nolan has used for another one of his characters: the original Cobb was the sharply dressed, malevolent Mephistopheles to the nameless protagonist’s Faust in “Following.” This cyclical nomenclature is meant to bring the attentive viewer back to “Following” in more ways than one. That film, being Chris’ first, was an intensely personal war between two sides of the same coin. Cobb (the original) and the protagonist were two characters pulled from the inside of Nolan’s mind, where they had likely been battling for supremacy long before. Consider the two Cobbs Chris has given us:

Dom Cobb (DiCaprio): an extractor, a man who sneaks into other people’s dreams and acquires information they don’t want anyone to have access to.

Cobb (Alex Haw): a thief who makes a habit out of breaking into peoples’ homes when they’re away, and learning who they are by examining their personal belongings.

Do you see the similarity? Both are thieves, both penetrate the private spaces of other people while they are unaware, and both are looking to take primarily from the mind, not the body. DiCaprio and Haw both played characters who invade the lives of strangers. They use theft almost as an excuse, because what they really want is a reason to pry open the existence of another human being. Rooted at the core of this is a borderline neurosis, a compulsive fascination with the minds of other people. The reasons for this interest go deeper than there are words for, but it’s worth mentioning that there are several mental handicaps characterized by an inability to transpose a duplicate of the “self” onto other people. A person with autism is almost defined by the fact that their minds do not look at other people and see “another me, just different looking.” They do not see other agents comparable to themselves. Philosophy and existentialism stumbles backwards into the same conclusion: how are we so sure people with autism are wrong? How can we look at one another and know there is another me inside of there? There is plenty of proof, but nothing that couldn’t be faked by the mind. I think Chris Nolan is fascinated by the greatest question mark in human existence: other people.

Kubrick, a director Chris is increasingly mentioned in the same sentence with, was also fascinated with this, but in a different way: he wound his characters up like clocks, looking for the mechanical in them, trying to find the line between human and organic machine. Nolan does not accuse people of being machines, he seems willing to grant basic humanity to others, but in doing so he finds himself at a much more frightening conclusion: if we really are human, we are fundamentally unpredictable. If I was forced to sum up every Nolan film ever made, I might (and I stress “might”) consider using the phrase, “A human being is a maze.”

The two Cobbs are also commemorative landmarks, ways for Chris to look at himself. When he wrote the original Cobb, he was a man of relatively limited means, making movies on a shoestring budget armed with nothing besides the drive to do it. Haw’s Cobb is the same, we have the impression that his financial resources are constricted by his effervescent lifestyle, and he surrounds himself with people of a similar disposition. Now we arrive at DiCaprio’s Cobb, a man who is wealthy even in forced exile, and who rubs elbows with CEOs and multi-billionaires. This is much like Chris’ ascension from independent filmmaker to Warner Bros’ go-to hit-maker.

So Cobb is autobiographical in more ways than one, and Leonardo DiCaprio is the perfect choice to essay that role. He brings a streamlined, Hollywood version of Chris Nolan’s presence to the screen, letting us experience the man’s mind in a singular way. DiCaprio also brings another vital asset to the table: selling exposition. His character is forced through some pretty heinous dialog passages in a desperate scramble to force “Inception” to make sense. This is stuff you just don’t say in real life: “I can’t create you in all your perfection, in all your imperfection.” It’s an uphill battle to make that crap stick, but he’s on it like white on rice. Leo’s gift as an actor is angst, you can give him the most preposterous things in the world to say, but if his character is tormented by existential burdens, they’ll sound fine. The shivering timbre of his voice and the restless, piecing character of his face makes us accept him as haunted automatically.

Whew.

Okay, that’s enough for now. There’s much, much more, but I don’t want to overwhelm you here, so let’s do this in pieces.

How to Destroy Angels

Hello again, Dear Reader.

So Trent Reznor formed a band with his new wife Mariqueen Something or other (can’t remember her last name, sorry!), and also longtime collaborator Atticus Ross called “How to Destroy Angels.” That’s a slightly terrible title, but Reznor has always gotten away with pretentiousness. Anyway, they released their debut EP for free over the internet a little while back, but it’s only hitting stores now. I’ve been listening to it for a few weeks, and it’s been an interesting experience. It’s not bad music, but it suffers from being too similar to Nine Inch Nails. Perhaps that’s only fair, Reznor has been recording under that name for two decades now, but it’s still the case. The instrumentation is literally impossible to discern from a NIN record.

Of course, the big change from NIN to HTDA is Reznor’s wife, Mariqueen, is now on vocals. I’m all for a chick leading Trent’s music, but I think they have a little more work to do first. Someone pointed out in a review recently that HTDA teaches you just how much you underestimated Trent’s singing abilities, and it’s quite true. I had always assumed that his voice broke even at best; it’s thin-sounding, lacks diaphragm support, and doesn’t take to a wide emotional range very well. But even if all of those things are true, I was still wrong. It turns out, Trent’s voice has been a crucial anchor in his music, in ways far deeper than any of us ever appreciated. Something about the character of his voice bridges the gap between man and machine. Even the thinness is actually an asset, because it allows him to avoid boisterousness when his lyrics go kind of dorky. The man evolved his sound in step with his voice, and when you replace it, it’s surprising how much of the formula falls apart.

I had begun to wonder if that wasn’t the case when he released “The Slip,” the last NIN record. The thing was free, so you’ll never hear me complain about it, but I could never shake the sensation that it was tossed off. The songwriting was solid but unremarkable, and the record lacked those meteoric highs that NIN albums almost always achieve. The production was clean but kind of small, especially when compared to the epic scope of most of Trent’s work.

And yet, “The Slip” is a great album. Actually, it may be one of NIN’s best. How these two truths could exist together bothered me for quite some time. I admit I’m not positive I understand it even now, but there are at least two factors involved: first, “The Slip’s” casual nature was actually a refreshing change of pace. NIN has never made a sub-par album, but especially on “The Fragile,” he can get a little bogged down in ambition. These LPs become almost exhausting because of how hard Trent pushes himself, and how obsessively he checks and re-checks every note. It gets to the point that you end up with records that are grand, and deep, and satisfying, but also heavy, and laborious, and exhausting.

“The Slip” is like a sports car, it zips around effortlessly. It’s the closest the band may ever come to punk. And, because Reznor actually slacks off a bit and relaxes, it actually feels fun. These uncluttered, stripped down little beasts let you get right to the candy center of what makes Nine Inch Nails so compelling. They’re like shot glasses full of industrial pop. It also helps that the record features two of Reznor’s finest instrumental pieces ever, “The Four of us are Dying” and “Demon Seed” (not technically an instrumental since he keeps chanting things, but come on).

And the second reason, circling back to HTDA, is Trent himself. Some assume that Reznor’s gift is to bring depth to the music with his voice, but I think it’s actually the exact opposite: he brings lightness. His touch is deft, skipping over the depths of the notes like a stone over water. You might almost consider his singing as some kind of musical grammar, creating sequences and order out of walls of noise. That he can do this while never feeling invisible or unimportant means that Trent is a master of tonal control. When a song is corny, it’s corny in the right way. When it’s over the top, it gets away with it. It’s no small thing to maintain this kind of precision over twenty years.

The point is, by removing this essential ingredient, HTDA suffers. “The Spaces in Between” is a menacing, low-key ballad that would have scored a touchdown with Trent on the mic, but with Mariqueen it goes flat. That’s not because she’s a bad singer, she’s actually quite good, but the music that the band is writing is firmly, unavoidably NIN. It’s just going to take them time to shake that off. “Parasite” fairs a little better, but the vocals are more submerged there, so it’s hard to count that as a victory.

But hope is not lost. There are two tracks that really score victories: “Fur Lined” and “The Believers.” The latter is pretty much a winner because, again, the vocals are in more of a supporting role, but it’s still a great song. “Fur Lined,” on the other hand, is all Mariqueen, and it’s a giant success. The trick here is that the music is tonally distinct from anything NIN would do. It’s not only spunky, it’s actually feminine, and that’s the trick to making HTDA a good band. They must, must, must write vocal parts that Trent cannot and would not do. The high point of the song comes midway through the second verse, when Mariqueen suddenly pops up into a semi-squeal on, “I don’t want to lose control!” In this moment, I can see where this band should go, and they need more like it. Their lead singer is wasted on “A Drowning” because she’s forced to keep her voice down in the basement, where it does not want to be. The song is an utter snooze fest, and runs about three minutes too long. “The Spaces in Between” fares better because the chorus is solid, but the opening line of “All our blood lying on the floor” is a dud. The song really starts off on a bad foot, but manages to save itself. And really, Mariqueen has a good voice for this kind of music: it’s unpretentious, elegant, and she has great control of it. But it must be implemented correctly to really soar.

In conclusion, “How to Destroy Angels” is a perfectly good EP, especially for NIN fans. It’s a more mellow take on Trent’s style, which a lot of people may find appealing, and all of the songs are sturdily written and constructed. However, I fear that many people are going to wink wink nudge nudge think of this as an unofficial NIN release, and they may continue to do so until HTDA asserts itself. “Fur Lined” is a great first step, it almost felt like a blend of NIN and Tegan and Sara (and I adore both, so bring it on). Keep on pushing in that direction.