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Posted in Writing with tags , , , , , , , , on July 20, 2010 by Sara Lilly

(Don’t read this is if you haven’t seen the movie. It’s not a review, more like an analysis and just a reflection.)

Know these things about me:

1. I’m a film fanatic.
2. I am pathetically obsessed with Leonardo DiCaprio. (Really. It’s quite sad, actually. At work, when people buy cigarettes and they’re obviously old enough, I type in his birthday [11.11.1974] when prompted by the computer.)
3. I am in love with Joseph Gordon-Levitt.
4. Ellen Page is one of my favorite actresses.
5. I was excited as FUCK to see Inception because of the above reasons.

I also had my qualms. I am not an action movie person. In fact, I used to hold a rather cynical point of view on action films. I believed they required no acting nor writing, just–bedazzle. Explosions! Hoorah!  A gunshot! Inception completely cured me of all my prejudices.

I absolutely adore this film. I cannot even express how much I love it. I have not felt this way about a movie in a very long time–I am compelled to see it again, and again, and again. (Today was my second time and I have every intention of going for a third and fourth.)

This is going to be cheesy–but, I feel so connected to this film because of my own personal experiences with dreams. As stated before, I’ve lost a friend to suicide. I’ve had realistic, extremely vivid, emotional dreams with my lost friend at the center. I’ve spoken to him. During my worst episodes of grief, I desparately prayed to God to let me sleep longer–forever even, if I could just see him and talk to him some more because of the utter relief I experienced in those dreams. Seeing him was like a huge weight off my shoulders and I felt so genuinely happy and excited because he was alive again.

But he’s not. He’s dead. It took me years and a therapist to come to terms with that so I could finally accept reality and live my life without regrets and without thinking, “I should have helped him.”

This movie was just so…AHHH, I can’t even think of the right words. It was so me, on so many levels. It has easily made it on my list as one of my favorite movies of all time.

By the way–the ending? (If you haven’t seen the movie and you’re still reading this, stop. Now.) I can’t accept that he was dreaming. My first instinct after seeing it the initial time was that it was real. I still feel that it was real. Maybe I want to because that’s the only way I relate to it. I feel that if it ends in a dream, the movie proved nothing. I think Nolan is a better writer than one who writes a circular narrative. In fact, he’s a fucking brilliant writer and deserves a giant, shiny Oscar for the phenomenal screenplay.

I cannot wait to see it for the third time.