Unexceptional

Rating: 5/10 (16 July 2010)

Christopher Nolan's disappointing follow-up to The Dark Knight has an intriguing enough premise. It's just a pity the man himself couldn't have settled for a "Story by" credit and let someone else – perhaps his brother? – take up the quill and ink. Because the only respite we get from the barrage of exposition occurs during one of the many exciting, imaginative action sequences. (The cliff-side finale is not among them, sadly.) Perhaps Nolan wanted to make absolutely sure that the audience knew what was at stake by the time the corridors started to flip and the subconscious snow started tumbling down the mountain. Even his symbolism is spelled out, lest we miss a moment of the craftsman's genius: it's like watching Tarkovsky with the writer's commentary blaring over the top.
As you may or may not (or even wish to) know, the plot involves a moody widower (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his team of Wall Street extras infiltrating the subconscious of the son (Cillian Murphy) of a wealthy businessman (Pete Postlethwaite). Being a self-proclaimed mind-bender doesn't excuse the series of convolutions that puts the team at actual risk, but suffice to say, down this deep we're pretty much in the Wes Craven school of dying in your sleep, or near enough.
Leonardo DiCaprio is at his spitting best; Joseph Gordon-Levitt is wasted on action duties; Michael Caine is... oh no, he's gone; Marion Cotillard screams like a cat; Tom Hardy shines.
For me, the most disappointing aspect lies in the fact that this is a dream film without a single, solitary dream-like image. Nothing uncanny, eerie, unsettling or psychologically askew. Perhaps this is how Nolan dreams – in solidly defined 'levels', with straight-lined origami cities, empty of metaphor or oneiric imagery. Nolan's dreamscape is a pristine museum, carefully and verbosely labelled, occasionally confusing, but not in a fun way; ultimately nothing more than a playground for confident men in tailored suits.