My good friend and prolific screenwriter, Liz Doran, didn’t agree with my take on Inception. Here are her dissenting and insightful thoughts.
It’s an interesting question this one of being moved by a film. Do I empathise with the protagonist? Am I emotionally engaged? Is this journey emotionally satisfying? I’m not here to argue that this should never be used as a judgement of story, but rather to question why this is the main criterion by which a film is judged?
In Greek theatre no one expected the protagonist to prevail. His fate (and they were always men) was at the mercy of the Gods (who, to be fair, were both male and female). At any point in the story, on a whim, the Gods could interfere with his journey and throw things into confusion. In the Homeric tradition there was no catharsis – there was adventure and the protagonist battled with a series of ever more dangerous obstacles in his search for home – but the audience was never expected to “relate” to Odysseus. They were never meant to feel that he “learnt” something by his adventures – these are quite modern notions of the role of story.
Interestingly – as a quick detour – David Simon has written about how The Wire is closer to ancient Greek storytelling tradition than what he calls modern Shakespearean tradition. This story is far more epic than a feature film and so Simon and his fellow writers are able to play with modern storytelling and use a different tradition for their tale of a city. Instead of having a hero who solves not only their own personal issues but also the greater problems to the world in which they live (aka modern story-telling dogma) they paint a picture of a world where circumstance, politics and greed rule. A world where an individual is actually bound to lose – arguably a world that reflects our own in a far more honest and intriguing way. The sheer scale of the story allows the creators to play with contemporary form and is I believe one of the main reasons that The Wire always tops the list of “best TV shows ever”. It’s also, I believe, high on the list of reasons that as a writer, the series television format is one of the most exciting opportunities for creativity and adventure with form, character and plot. But now I’m really off point.
Back to Inception. As I watched the film, I was taken by its cleverness and impressed by its spectacle but I was surprised by its simplicity. I should note that I don’t use simplicity here in a pejorative sense but rather in admiration. Creating a work of art that has complexity and simplicity is one of the hardest things for any artist to achieve.
So many reviewers had warned me that I would have to see this film at least twice before I understood what it was about but as I watched it I realised that this is really just a marketing device – or perhaps a truth that’s been created because of a dearth in creativity and originality in feature film story-telling, particularly in Hollywood. We live in an age of tightly prescribed story. Where there are courses and books and lecture tours that tell us exactly why a story must be like every other story in the cinema. What we have created with this story dogma is a stupid audience. It’s not their fault, if you only feed someone one type of food – how are they able to appreciate the spice and flavour of variety?
For all that Inception is a Hollywood film and it’s not allowed to break too many rules. The fact that it’s made so much money at the box office is however an indication that the audience isn’t as stupid as the studios would like to believe, the audience is in fact so clamouring for difference that a film that deftly combines spectacle with a puzzle is able to be marketed as the most complicated and clever film in decades. It isn’t the most complicated and clever film ever made but I do think it’s smarter than the average bear – and it’s clear that audiences worldwide have been grateful for a bit of intelligence in the mainstream. So what’s it all about? Well in the first instance – entertainment and spectacle, and it does that well. But why do I rate it so highly?
What I think Inception reflects is the very nature of contemporary storytelling and its connection to modern psychology. The twentieth century spawned the notion of psychology. I’m not here to analyse the difference between Freud or Jung or the value of dream therapy versus cognitive behavioural therapy but rather to note that the rise of personal psychology has been reflected in storytelling. Where Greek audiences used to look for adventure and the affirmation that life was something over which they had no personal control, now we look for catharsis and the confirmation that we are at the centre of our universe – that we alone control our destiny. In order to achieve this control we look for the moment of truth where the protagonist digs deeply enough into their past and into their personal belief systems, finds this “moment” that explains everything and then goes on to conquer the real world obstacle that they’ve been battling with. They uncover their unconscious desire in order to fulfil (or not – we still have tragedy) their conscious desire. Just as therapy enables a person to dig into their own histories and belief systems to uncover a deeper truth, the examination of which enables them to live a more personally fulfilling life.
Every contemporary script-writing book talks about some form of a “moment of truth” for the character, usually just before the second act turning point. There are all sorts of different names for it – but for today let’s stick with catharsis. Because catharsis is what Inception is all about.
No one needs me to retell the story of this film except to say that a team of dream thieves go deep inside the unconscious of a rich man to plant an idea. In order for this idea to appear to be truly his they must make it simple and inarguable – and so they make it about a fundamental psychological trope – his relationship with his father. At the same time there is a parallel story of heartache and loss. Cobb is grieving the death of his wife and as the story unfolds we are allowed into his grieving process. In order to overcome his grief, he too must travel deep into his unconscious and find the moment of truth. He goes back to the world he and his wife created together and to the house that Mal made – her childhood home. He finds her “secret box”, and places within it a simple thought – a thought that will eventually kill her (that the world they have created isn’t actually real – all good and well until they return to “reality” and she starts to doubt the veracity of reality itself). In going back to this place and finally admitting his role in her death – he is freed from his grief and allowed to rejoin his family. (And on this note – I don’t think it matter whether or not this is “real” or not (it is all a dream? Will the top spin forever or stop?) – because none of it is real, it’s all a story and for the purposes of the narrative… he goes back to his family). Both the parallel stories of Inception are classic psychological journeys and both of them follow the Hollywood storytelling model of personal catharsis being the trigger for individual success over a chaotic world.
What I enjoyed about this film was the intellectual exercise at play. Christopher Nolan has made a big budget Hollywood film – that has made hundreds of millions of dollars – that is actually about contemporary Hollywood storytelling itself. (It’s also about the notion of reality, the role of the unconscious in personal development and I believe the role of the collective unconscious – aka films themselves – in society. But that’s a whole other conversation…)
I love that there is no emotional manipulation in this film. I love that our heartstrings aren’t pulled, that we don’t need to emotionally engage with the characters and I really love that this is a story about catharsis rather than an invitation to feel the catharsis with the protagonist.
It’s a puzzle – a mind game with the audience that invites participation and active thought. It’s a film that asks you to question the nature of the story itself. And it’s clever enough and beautiful enough to keep an audience engaged (those box office figures don’t lie) but it’s simple enough for a general audience to comprehend. It is, for a change, a Hollywood film that delivers what it promises – spectacle and story… and something to talk about afterwards.
So many Hollywood films merely follow the rules and I believe the fact that Inception is actually about the exploration of how those rules work, is one of the reasons for its popularity. I don’t know why scriptwriters think that their technique and form is invisible to an audience. It’s difficult to achieve and it’s absolutely a worthwhile exercise to not only understand form, but to be able to work effectively within it, but the audience can see it. The “rules” of storytelling are ancient and universal (no matter the peculiarities and bias of an age). Audiences have expectations for story and will turn away in droves if these expectations aren’t met. But that doesn’t mean you can’t play with these expectations.
We all know how boring it is to watch a film, play, book that is written by the numbers. One of the most effective ways to overcome this ennui and sense of familiarity is to create an engaging, real and original character – a character that the audience will love and want to succeed. One they will want to go on a personal, psychological journey with – one they will emotionally engage with. Many of my favourite films follow this model.
And another way to challenge the audience’s familiarity with form is to make a film about the form itself. This is a difficult and treacherous journey and there are many films (mostly, it has to be said, art house films) that are wrecked on the shores of form exploration. But Inception isn’t one of them.
This is a Hollywood spectacle. A beautiful puzzle that lays bare the structure of contemporary storytelling – and indeed the structure of popular psychology – and treats its audience with respect. It feeds the audience a different diet and after years of emotionally engaging hamburgers, I’m not alone in being glad to have something a little bit different put on my plate.
Liz Doran
(See AP’s response below in the comments …)
(And Liz’s response to AP’s response below that …)
{ 14 comments… read them below or add one }
Interesting thoughts Liz
But I figure if Nolan only had a third of the budget it might have been a more thought provoking film. We could have had the clever ideas without all the pointless VFX AND it would have been at least half an hour shorter.
Tarkovsky’s classic “Stalker”, and more contemporary Hollywood films written by the likes of Charlie Kaufman such as ‘Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind’ and ‘Being John Malkovitch’ and even actor Leonardo DiCAprio’s s previous effort ‘Shutter Island’ also messed with our minds and play with ideas of memory, personality, desire and the sub-conscious, but were so much more engaging and enjoyable !! That’s why I go to the movies, for story not VFX – which btw tends to put me to sleep.
And while on the subject of sleep, its been said that the reason that we give our dreams very little further thought (even forgetting them entirely) when we wake up is because we immediately realize that the dream world we were so engrossed in was nothing but mere illusion. Instead we are impelled to get on with our so called ‘real’ lives.
(Buddhists and Hindus would argue that these real lives we lead are also an illusion from which a few enlightened beings will awake. The word Buddha means “awake”).
Whilst many films I’ve seen have stayed with me over the years, I’m afraid that with Inception I was able to leave the cinema giving the film very little further thought, so perhaps I just dreamt the whole thing.
Winston Furlong
“I love that there is no emotional manipulation in this film. I love that our heartstrings aren’t pulled, that we don’t need to emotionally engage with the characters and I really love that this is a story about catharsis rather than an invitation to feel the catharsis with the protagonist.” Would it have diminished the audience’s enjoyment if we had emotionally engaged with the characters? Surely not. Why would a story “about catharsis” be slighted by actually feeling catharsis for the character? To buy this argument, I would have to believe that Nolan consciously set out to not emotionally engage us. If so, why did he choose to have Cobb trying to reunite with his children? Why did he not, to take the lead from your piece, have Cobb try to reunite with his Jungian therapist? That would have ruled out any possible emotional engagement and, by your reasoning, would have made it a superior form of entertainment. If you love the form because it’s a puzzle, I get that. But I think it’s stretching it to say that it’s a better film BECAUSE it has no emotional engagement.
“It feeds the audience a different diet and after years of emotionally engaging hamburgers, I’m not alone in being glad to have something a little bit different put on my plate.” Oh, how I WISH I had had years of emotionally engaging hamburgers. I think it’s the emotionally engaging film which is the rarity. Most films try for emotional engagement but fail through lack of talent, understanding of the form, or application – because creating that emotional engagement and sustaining it for 90 mins isn’t as easy as the best screenwriters make it look. And the remainder fail because their efforts at subverting the form only serve to make you more fully appreciate it.
It’s great that you loved it, Liz. And you saw far more in the film than I did. But, we will just have to agree to disagree on its merits and the reasons for its extraordinary popularity.
well I don’t think it’s a BETTER film because it doesn’t have great emotional engagement for an audience – that’s obviously the key to art that is memorable and long lasting – and not my point at all.
I just think there are other things to admire in the work. It’s an intelligent Hollywood action film and that’s a rare achievement.
Liz I really enjoyed your article and agreed with many thoughts.
Personally, I left the cinema exhilarated and in awe of Nolan’s ability to craft some complex ideas into a simple story.
Nolan as a film maker continues to fascinate me as he plays with narrative, illusion and forces us to question ourselves of what do we believe.
I think truly he is a voice for our times as he plays upon culture’s influence on our minds, the dangers of not questioning that and the hope that we will all search for deeper meaning within ourselves.
In conclusion, Inception raises questions that a hollywood film rarely does and I think Nolan should be congratulated for that.
As a fan of Nolan I have to say that I too was disapointed and agree with many of the points made by Allen. It is obvious from the story that Mr Nolan was trying to engage the audience with Cobb and his quest for catharsis but something about the story or performance was lacking. I didn’t feel any empathy for the character or his objectives. Despite the story suggesting at times that his reunification with his children was his primary objective it often seemed that his was self centered and really only interested in… well I don’t know what… By the time we got the final act when 30 minutes or so in dreamland equated to the van being in exactly the same position as the last time we viewed it I wish I had chosen to watch something else and only a packed house on the opening day at I max prevented me from walking out. I don’t care for 100% formula films but I must feel some connection with the protagonist/s in order to spend more than ninety minutes in a theatre. I have to say that I felt this was a bigger budget, more extravagant and VFX ladden remake of inception.. And unfortunately not as good..
I meant to say remake of Momento …
Thanks Liz, I found your analysis very educational and thought provoking.
Your point about the differences between Greek theatre and modern storytelling suggests to me that perhaps we need to remember that the rules of storytelling are not fixed and immutable but are always evolving and dependant on the culture and psyche of the audience.
Even though people like Joseph Campbell have found many universal themes when comparing world mythology it doesn’t automatically follow that they have the same power and relevance in the modern world as they did in the old, or that all the twists and turns of those myths need to be religiously adhered to.
Carl Jung often warned of the over use of myths, that “Archetypes are like riverbeds which dry up when the water deserts them”.
I sometimes wonder if many of the current dogmas of screenwriting (like in “Save the Cat”) aren’t just good examples of the theories of Pavlov and his dogs (conditioned reflex) more than any kind of insight into the craft of storytelling?
As a side note to Allen, a work colleague of mine saw Toy Story 3 and didn’t like it because it was too emotional, too soppy. I thought to myself – can we take from this that Toy Story 3’s writing is flawed? Because it didn’t do it for him? No, it’s just the old age, it’s a matter of taste debate and in many ways I think it’s the same for Inception.
Liz, a lot of what you write about Inception rings true for me. I didn’t miss the empathy. However, I did miss the truth.
Inception is a puzzle and it invokes in me the same kind of glee with which my Nana would greet a new Times crossword. It concentrates my attention on form such that “empathising” with the protagonist is no more required than in a PS3 game. Instead, the elements of characterisation (in which “he must the journey deep into his unconscious and find the moment of truth”) are presented as formal elements like any others in a brainteaser. It concentrates the audience’s attention on form so completely that it is able, as you write, to be about catharsis rather than provide catharsis.
What I found most intriguing, however, was that Nolan’s dreamworld did not even remotely feel like any dream I have ever had (and I’d guess no-one else’s either). It was not scary or strange and had little of what Freud called the “uncanny”. In fact, all of the levels of the unconscious in the film simply resemble other movies more than anything else, and while the interweaving of them is compelling, the movies themselves are pedestrian.
At first, I put this down to some to the idea that nowadays films constitute our “collective unconscious”.
Then I read your observation that contemporary storytelling promotes the notion that “that we control our destiny”. The action genre reinforces this with more conviction than perhaps any other. And so my guess is that depicting even a little of how we really experience our unconscious would have frustrated the opportunity for “success over a chaotic world”. Defeated, in other words, the fantasy that the conscious mind can exert control over the unconscious.
For that is a fantasy, isn’t it? I cannot think of anything farther beyond our control than the unconscious.
So what? The Dream Factory peddles fantasies. And $227m in a weekend suggests that this particular fantasy has quite an appeal.
Such an appeal, in fact, that I have begun to wonder if the reduction of the unconscious to something quotidian and mechanistic, in order to ensure it’s controllable, suggests something about the “nature of contemporary storytelling”.
It is true that in life it is important to exert control over our own destiny. It is not also true that there is much we cannot control, and growing up and growing older means coming to terms with the fact that one cannot fashion the world according to one’s own desire?
Contemporary storytelling celebrates the former. What has happened to the latter? Why does David Simon feel the need to adopt a defensive, even belligerent tone when describing the unfashionable supremacy of the Fates in The Wire?
You write that in their drama, the Greeks sought “the affirmation that life was something over which they had no personal control.” My understanding of this is that it reflects the religious rituals from which theatre was derived. Fundamental to those rituals was supplication – the recognition that life is a mystery, beyond our understanding, and that death is inevitable, and that the proper response is acceptance.
Which is, as far as I know, common to all religious traditions, and might reach its apotheosis in Buddhism. Religious ceremony offers spectators the opportunity to let go of their frustration at powerlessness in the face of Life, and thereby find a moment of peace. The Greeks termed this “catharsis”, and the “moment of truth” it embodied was the recognition that our destiny is ultimately beyond our control.
Unlike us, the Greeks saw this ‘surrender’ – this perception that control is a fantasy – as so important, so fundamental a learning about life, that they enshrined in their highest art form, the tragedy.
In other words, they celebrated it. In contrast, in our era, as David Simon suggests, powerlessness can only be something bad, something indicative of failure or dysfunction, something to be suppressed.
That’s not true.
Since no-one has commented since last September, allow me, Mr Bancroft, to be the one to thank you for your thought-provoking contribution.
How many Hollywood films boast Happy Ending plots, entailing the Hero’s triumphing over adversity by dint of his/her own efforts to win his prize? “Hero’s Journey” films all repeat the same lie: that success in the Land of the Free is all up to the individual.
Hubris, anyone?
Andrew (Sharp not Bancroft), your comment left me a little confused. Did you like Inception or not? It has a “Happy Ending plot”. Cobb does what he sets out to do – implant the secret – and gets what he sets out to get – regain contact with his children. It’s not an ending that works for me, however, because the characterisation is so slight. And, it’s certainly not a film that I would ever feature in a Hero’s Journey course because Hero’s Journey films are about the interior journey – not the exterior.
Your other comment seems to indicate that you believe Hero’s Journey films a) all have happy endings and b) all involve the hero winning their prize. This makes me question whether you have actually ever read either Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces or Christopher Vogler’s The Writer’s Journey. Because neither of these assertions is true.
Brokeback Mountain, Dead Man Walking, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, Dead Poets Society and the The Lives of Others are all films whose endings I feature in my Hero’s Journey course and none of them are what you would call “happy”. All involve death at or near the climax. Satisfying? Totally. But happy? No, I wouldn’t think so.
And as for your claim that they are about the hero winning the prize? You’d probably find it helpful to read my post on The one subplot you really need. Because in that I point out that the transformation at the heart of the Hero’s Journey is about the protagonist giving up on Western notions of achievement and success and taking the path that offers fulfilment. Rocky, Strictly Ballroom, and Little Miss Sunshine are films that also feature in my Hero’s Journey class and in none of these films do the Heroes get the prize. Rocky doesn’t win the title, Scott doesn’t win the dancing championship and no-one in Little Miss Sunshine gets what they set out to get. But are the endings all satisfying? Absolutely. Because the characters demonstrate spiritual rather than material growth in a highly cinematic way. And that’s what audiences want. Satisfying endings – not “happy” endings.
LOL I’m probably more than a little confused myself! I did like “Inception” but I also agree with your comments on it. I thought Liz Doran’s alternative take was persuasive, and Andrew Bancroft raised some interesting points too. It’s true, I have not read “The Hero with a Thousand Faces” in its entirety (i.e. I have only browsed it, I’m quick to admit) but I have read Christopher Vogler’s book more than once, and read various other interpretations of Campbell’s book too. And yes, your course looks like one I’d like to take, and probably should take, as I have always enjoyed film script analysis… but only, I confess, as a hobby. In fact I am an avid admirer of those clever people who can write screenplays that “play” and enjoy deconstructing plots after the houselights come up, along the lines of what I have understood to be the Hero’s Journey. You are right to pull me up short for having too shallow an understanding of it all: I’m sure you’re right, and as such I probably have scant right to be heard on these pages, though if missing the point helps that point to be made clearer, then I am glad to be of service!
Recent action movies I have sat through, such as “Salt”, “Killers” and “Knight and Day” have left me feeling fed up about the way so many films drive remorselessly towards neat resolutions, with the hero(ine) overcoming ridiculous odds with a flick of his/her hair. Probably I was wrong to conflate the idea of Hollywood formula films with the Hero’s Journey: maybe the overlap is unintentional – and who am I to argue with Sophocles? When I said “Happy Endings” I was in fact not only referring to “the-dog-barks-and-everybody-laughs” type endings (to quote a television director I once knew) but was referring to endings in general which offer “closure”, with all loose ends tied up neatly and “good” triumphing over “evil” – regardless of whether or not the hero is left “happy”. In other words, most movies. And the point I was feeling my way towards was this: The American Century has also been Cinema’s Century. Could it be a coincidence that cinema audiences favour movies which persuade them to identify with a hero who falls back on his/her personal inner resources to restore order to a dysfunctional world? Could it be that popular cinema has been used to promote the interests of the individual over those of the collective, and could it be that this has helped America perceive itself as a kind of Lone Ranger, smokin’ out the bad guys, and turning a blind eye to alternative perspectives which do not support the solipsistic idea that that nation is the hero of all nations on the earth?
While I greatly admire strongly constructed movies, lately I have also been attracted to movies which are (or appear to be?) open-ended and mysterious, such as “Still Walking”, “The Father of My Children” and “The White Ribbon.” They were all satisfying movies for me, but I am not sure why.
I hope I have somewhat clarified my earlier comment.
Good response, Andrew.
There is a common misconception that “Hollywood movie” is a synonym for “Hero’s Journey” movie. It isn’t. Many Hollywood movies are written by people with no genuine understanding of the archetypal resonances at play and no view on the human condition they feel bound to share. They think they have to have a happy ending so they do, whereas those who truly understand this shape and write from truth will be willing to push the audience in the knowledge that if the conclusion affects them emotionally, the audience will go with them.
But even if you are totally familiar with the Hero’s Journey and you can point to each step in your screenplay, it doesn’t mean that the film is going to work. Because it’s such a timeless familiar story, you are going to need to be exceptionally talented to animate it – to make it seem fresh and new. So if a film “conforms” to the Hero’s Journey and doesn’t work, don’t blame the paradigm. It’s like saying that if a guy crashes a Porsche, the engineers back in Stuttgart are to blame. No, the paradigm works. If it didn’t, we wouldn’t know about it. Campbell was only able to identify it because it has endured for thousands of years and found expression in every culture. It works. But it demands exceptional creativity and originality to make people forget that they’ve seen it before.
(Pardon my tardiness, but I’ve only just found this site. Better than cocaine, so far. But I digress…)
“Andrew (Sharp not Bancroft), your comment left me a little confused. Did you like Inception or not? It has a “Happy Ending plot”. Cobb does what he sets out to do – implant the secret – and gets what he sets out to get – regain contact with his children.”
Did he? We saw Cobb’s spinning top wobble, but we never saw it fall. I think Cobb was trapped in false, but happy dream, missing out
on a genuine ‘Happy Ending’. Would this be a better fit for Cobb’s journey?
A deep reading that may give Nolan more credit than deserved. In the theaters, I immensely enjoyed the spectacle of The Dark Knight and Inception. However, they fall apart with each viewing. Story flaws aside, it comes down to one dimensional characters and contrived dialogue, only saved in one instance by an amazing performance by Heath Ledger. It is no coincidence that he directed The Prestige. Nolan’s films are all the smoke and mirrors of a talented illusionist, but not someone who can truly invoke movie magic.