A single idea from the human mind

It's true that while watching Inception your mind will mainly be occupied by trying to understand it. The premise of going into people's dreams isn't that complicated, but there's a lot of strange rules to it. A subject's subconscious has to enter a designed dream where other subconsciouses (plural of subconscious?) can come along for the ride. Then there's dreams within dreams, a strange 'limbo' place even further down, and 'totems' that remind people where they are. The idea of 'inception' is to plant an idea in someone's mind rather than extract information, which sounds quite difficult. Thankfully Leonardo DiCaprio and his various assistants are up to it. Like the best heist films, every stage of its plot is based on a clever idea, a twist that changes everything. And even if you strip away all the layered psychology, there's still a good action film underneath. It can go anywhere it wants at the flick of switch - from inner city car chases (with a train) to snow fortresses and weightless corridor fights. The highlight is the cityscape that folds in on itself, rising and falling like all the people are going to fall out. It's brave to spend this much money on something so wilfully complex. It's like Christopher Nolan has been let loose with millions of dollars to do whatever he wants. The result is an inventive, imaginative, intelligent thriller.

You don't usually get questions like 'what is reality?' from mainstream cinema, but that's the first thing this film makes you think. Next to all the explosions and shooting there are people discussing (usually quite quickly) the difference between dreams and reality. The plot sets up layers of dreams, with the top one being called 'reality'. Obviously, you've got to wonder if it really is, and what it means in the first place. These are the sort of philosophical ponderings the film promotes. Whether or not everyone is always in a dream or not is irrelevant though, it just matters that you thought about it.

And with that I'm having a two-week break from these internet things.

He's not the driver, he's the undertaker

It can't be easy to look like the walking embodiment of evil, but Viggo Mortensen manages it in Eastern Promises. Even amongst the other thorougly evil Russian gangsters he looks like a bad sort. Maybe it's the sunglasses, or the hair, or the sight of him defrosting a frozen corpse with a hair dryer - he definitely looks mean. He serves as the driver and 'undertaker' for a Russian crime family, who specialise in a variety of bad things. A midwife starts poking around asking questions about a baby that was born in her hospital. Obviously this isn't a good idea. Viggo Mortensen's character has a habit of waiting for her in ominous places (he makes anywhere looking ominous) and saying nice things that sound very threatening. It's a dark and convincing world, and at times extremely violent. David Cronenberg's previous film, A History of Violence, showed how he can punctuate a drama with some nasty scenes. Here it's as unpleasant as it's meant to be, starting as it means to go on with a slicey assassination in a barber shop. This shady world is so convincing, the characters so horribly realistic, that you don't see the surprise coming. It's the best sort of twist, one that has clues laid throughout the plot that you don't want to notice, until one scene changes everything and it all makes sense.

As a gangster film it doesn't have flair or comedy; it's more of a dark, violent drama. It may be categorised as a 'thriller' but there aren't that many thrills, it's more worrying. You'll worry about the silly woman who won't stop going to see evil criminals. You'll worry what the crime boss means when he looks at a baby and says 'we can do a deal, yes?'. You'll also worry about any scene that involves the walking embodiment of evil. It occurred to me halfway through watching it that Liam Neeson could turn up and easily kill all of these people. He doesn't do that, but he could.

Staring at goats isn't as much fun as you'd think

George Clooney as a psychic spy. Jeff Bridges as a hippy soldier. Goats. This all sounds entertaining, but it's just not as much fun as it should be. It's a shame, because the premise is a good one. A lonely journalist starts investigating the government's more 'free-thinking' military operations - running through walls, invisibility, staring at animals until they die - and ends up traipsing through the desert with a retired spy on a secret mission. Flashbacks show how these ideas came about, in sequences that are 'sort of true'. This is where the real action is, in crazy generals handing out daffodils and teaching meditation through dance. It's always disappointing to see the story go back to the desert, where, as you can imagine, not much happens. Eventually the past catches up, but fails to live up to its promise. It's the sort of film where you'll already have seen the best bits in the trailer. There's still a few nice moments though. George Clooney's character comments that after trying to develop invisibility for a while they 'changed the goal to the idea of not being seen', 'Like camouflage?', 'No, not like camoflage'.

As a comedy it's not that funny and as political satire it's not that edgy. It runs a middleground, not doing either particularly well but working in parts. It could have done with a bit more of a creative spark, a bit more imagination. They didn't try to go too far outside the lines, it's very neat and tidy and doesn't push any boundaries. It's almost subversive in that it defies expectation, like it must have been really hard to make such an interesting subject so formulaic. Not bad, but just watch the trailer if you want a laugh.

The old magician and the curious boy

I remember Michael Caine saying (in an interview, I haven't spoken to him) that Is Anybody There? is the first time he'd died in a film. Not shot or blown up or run over, just died from being old. It's a film completely occupied with death. Morbid and funny and sometimes morbidly funny. An eleven-year-old boy lives in an old people's home and has to put up with people dying all around him. As this becomes a part of his life he attempts to understand it, asking questions about 'bright lights' and 'long tunnels'. He approaches it with a child's eye for magic. He talks about ghosts and spirits and seances and says that 'it can't just be black'. Michael Caine, an aging magician, shows him exactly how magic works. It's by sleight of hand and tricks of perspective, its methodical and simple. Magic doesn't exist. The boy's wonder is ruined and he no longer asks any questions. He can even do the card tricks himself. This link between a magician's art and a child's magic was an interesting approach, something I hadn't seen before. But after all, the adults can't really answer the boy's questions, they just stop him asking.

As a film it seems to have strange pacing. Everything goes downhill quickly at the end, like somebody flicked a switch. Maybe it was to cut everything off at the end without emphasis, but after a long build-up it goes out very quietly. Obviously there's something very quiet about the whole film. It's a British indie sort-of-thing that'll do exactly what it wants. Not entirely depressing, just not cheerful. You probably shouldn't watch it if you feel a bit ill, it'll just make you worse. Watch something a bit happier. Maybe a musical.

The West Wing: Season Five

The problem with reviewing the fifth season of The West Wing is that I can't really remember what happened in it. Without Aaron Sorkin the show had to find its feet again with a bunch of new writers. But I'm looking at an episode list right now, and without the plot summaries I'd have almost no idea what went on. 'The Benign Prerogative', 'Talking Points', 'The Stormy Present' - I have no idea. Even when I read the synopsis I have trouble. The season is held up by its bookends - the conclusion of the kidnapping and the trip to Gaza for the finale. Even though Zoey is returned quite quickly, like they were trying to wrap up the Sorkin era, these two arcs are excellent. 'Gaza' and 'Memorial Day' are so good they seem to define the season, as they rise out of the relatively dull middle section with an explosion. The fact that episode twelve is called 'Slow News Day' says an awful lot. It's mostly standalone episodes that don't stick in the mind, that are about politics that don't seem to matter. It drifts by without having much impact.

Although, the lowest point of The West Wing is still good television. The writing, though not as sharp as Sorkin's, still keeps some of its quality. Determinedly. They had to imitate a style that appeared effortless and turned out to be quite hard. It lost its pace. 'They forgot to bring the funny'. And sometimes even the camera isn't very interested, slowly moving into a scene like they're not all in a rush. It might be fair to say that a group of writers can't sustain a year in the White House like Sorkin could. Where the remaining two seasons shake everything up with elections and job changes, season five is just a normal year. But unlike the first four it doesn't really know what to do. So it's a dip from season four. A big dip. Nobody loves it. But it sits there in the middle of the box demanding to be watched again, so you can find all the stories that you'd forgotten and forget them again. It has its place in the series: it's the stamp of a new era that starts on shaky ground, the harsh divide between the old and the new. It'll never be as good as it was, but it'll get close.