A dream is always just a dream

Q: What are you writing?

A: A novel.

Q: What’s the story?

A: That’s no story. It’s just people, gestures, moments, bits of raptures, fleeting emotions…In short, the greatest story ever told.

Q: Are you in the story?

A: I don’t think so… But then, I’m kind of reading it, and then writing it.

(Waking Life, Richard Linklater, 2001)

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Plowing the Fields of Dreams (Inception)

With your feet in the air and your head on the ground

Try this trick and spin it, yeah

Your head will collapse

But there’s nothing in it

And you’ll ask yourself

Where is my mind

(Where is my mind – Pixies)

Six days ago ten years from now (check the picture of my ticket if you don’t believe me, although I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t believe me. I never lied to you, cross my heart and hope to die) I went to see Inception, one of the most awaited movies of the year.

~

OK, back to the present day. Six days later, I have to tell you that I don’t remember much from this picture.

Was I impressed by the stunning visual experience? Sure I was.

Was I impressed by the concept of this movie? Sure I was.

Did I like the movie? I did-ish (which means: kind of).

Would I recommend it to any cinema lover? Sure.

Does it matter if I would recommend it or not? Of course not.

Would I call this film a cold, calculated intellectual exercise in movie making? Yes, I would.

Is it true that I was tempted to title this post Stillborn? Very true.

~

Why would I be so foolish to use such a mean, hateful, nasty, malicious, even offensive title? Well, for a start, let’s say it is in my nature (not really, I’m messing with you, or is it with me?).

Or, let’s say that my dreams never ever were so logical and obedient.

Or, in my dreams, I don’t remember seeing the incredible delicious (it’s not a good time to ask me why I said ‘delicious’, sorry!)  Ellen Page explaining every step of my unimportant, banal dreams (my nightmares are available only for the paying subscribers of this site; again, my  apologies to all the people with normal, abracadabra, non(?)-Freudian dreams).

~

What was I saying? Oh, yeah, the other night I watched for the fourth time (don’t worry, it’s just a number I’ve invented right now; no connection with the fourth-level-deep in the dreams of the naughty guys hosting the marvelous world of Christopher Nolan)  Stardust Memories. Stardust is Woody Allen reaction to Fellini’s 8 1/2.

Why do I mention Woody Allen in this context? Well, I prefer any day or night a movie by Woody Allen to any post-Memento Nolan.

~

Do I have more to say? Go see Inception.

~

PS12.  This text doesn’t try to say that I regret the 9 euros spent on the ticket, ’cause I don’t.

PS27.  That’s it. See you tomorrow night.

PS39.  If you ever get lost in the world of this story, don’t worry; there’s always Ariadne‘s thread to follow…

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