Tuesday, January 11, 2011


I just watched Inception with my wife and I wish that I had some 'plumbing the depths of the subconscious' comment to offer, but I don't. I saw an interview once with Christopher Nolan (the writer cum director, or is that the other way around), and remember being a little, well maybe not underwhelmed, but certainly not overwhelmed. Whelmed, I guess.

The movie was good (read:entertaining - for all cinematic criticism, the development of a "mature movie industry" and budgets that could shame the cholera out of Haiti, there is only one thing that matters when it comes to movies- -would you delay urinating for wanting to see what happens next? The quality of the movie is in direct correlation to the bladder discomfort you are willing to ignore. (nota bene: The effects of the Weinsteins' award season marketing has no impact on any side of that equation, none, unless they know something about pee that I don't, which on the surface is possible), but I digress), and I do like Ellen Page. She is Canadian and not very tall and I hear she does stuff like read books. I thought her character's motivation was totally unclear and there was no real inter-character or intra-character development, but who cares, they are bending shit with their mind and washing up on the beaches of their un (sub?)conscious. Which illustrates the second rule of movies (remember the first is "hold the pee = entertaining = good"): If you can't write plot, write cool.

Nolan's plot was fine, not wickedly genius, but fine. His cool, on the other hand, was wickedly genius within a dream about wicked geniuses. The flashes back to the free falling van were very gratifying (for reasons unknown - unless "cool" can be a panacea for me here) and he didn't ruin it all at the end - which is not easy and involves denying instinct.

So why is this post titled "Fathering", well, aside from the fact that no one has to explain their art to Warren (are Empire Records' references now uncool? Understatement ahead: I've been out of the game for awhile.), the other thought I had was how much kids matter. I suppose that one could choose to not go all in with your kid, to leave oneself some out, some modicum of defense. I am certain that people do this everyday, but in a movie of questionable motivational foundations, did you ever question Leo's desire to see his kids faces? I say, no.

When Holly and I talk about having another kid, I become enthralled with the idea that we will create another person that I will love as much as Eddy. At the same time, it scares me to death that I will have twice as much to lose in this world.

Oh, and Jon, whenever you read this (if ever, but I suspect you will), I have no delusions except one. It's good to be back.

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