Meanwhile, explanations are offered, buildings collapse on themselves, DiCaprio frets moodily, henchmen fall over and that white van keeps falling off that bridge ... It's all very beautiful, and mostly very empty.
It is not that I don't understand (well, pretty much, anyway) or appreciate the intense ambition of Christopher Nolan's trip into the world of dreams. But why did a movie designed to blow your mind, leave mine, while originally tickled, ultimately unmoved
Inception is Instruction Manual Cinema, a film that spends so much time explaining the rules of its narrative conceit that it fails to either emotionally engage or, except in a few notable spots, viscerally thrill.
A what's on your mind invasive sci-fi noir specializing in homo sapien interior decorating, that operates at a level way beyond viewer comprehension. Though this messing with your head nap time thriller boasts intermittent mind bending imagery.
The dream logic of Inception -- which deals, like Nolan's far more intriguing Memento, with the architecture of memory and the nature of reality -- is stymied by a clunking script, crammed with expository exchanges and urgent blather.