Paris folded in half, and in half again. Penrose stairs and other
Escheresque games. Noirish hotel hallways of mystery, with elegant,
mysterious-skinny Joseph Gordon-Levitt slipping through them, upside
down and sideways.
Dicaprio doing his bewildered, slightly
battered man-of-honor shtick, leaving the impression of a hero who is
just slightly too dim to have been tempted by the more outrageous
possibilities of his situation.
Ingenious ingenue Ellen Page as a graduate
student in architecture--oh menace of overdue education loans and unsatisfiable culture claims! No wonder she sells out to the first faintly plausible employer who appears and lures her by destroying a cafe and pretending to take her seriously.
And French Oscar-winner lady Marion
Cotillard playing that even more terrifying menace to chunky American
manhood, a person who is both a wife and a European. A menace more
terrifying then a Death Star wrapped in a failed iPhone wrapped in a
ripe chunk of sub-prime mortage, buddy.
Oh, and Christopher
Nolan's insane genius for helming movies about beautiful, damaged,
guilt-ridden men, his love for Hitchcock's exploitative take on Jimmy
Stewart, and dudes who may or may not have killed their wives (if only
they could remember) and the downtrodden underdog geniuses like Nicola
Tesla and The Joker.
Inception, you are truly the most best movie
of the summer. I love you with all of my damaged heart, infected by
infinite comic book and Movie Loft and graduate-school-bullshit-theory
ridden brain. Call me, and we'll make beautiful, stupid love!