Midway through the year of Our Lord 2010, I was challenged to write about Christopher Nolan’s Inception once a week for the rest of the year, a total of twenty-three posts over the course of half a year.
This is post twenty-four, the final post.
This… is my story.
What can I say that I haven’t already said? Perhaps nothing, including that opening question which I might have used in a post a couple of weeks ago. That isn’t to say that there’s nothing left to discover in this year’s most labyrinthine Hollywood tentpole – no, nothing could be further from the truth.
The fact of the matter that is my opinion is that you can only articulate so many things about a work – of cinema, of music, of art – before you’re left with the one thing you can’t translate for someone else: your personal experience with the work.
Track me down (preferably in a flattering but not creepy way) and engage in a conversation about Inception with me and the truth is you’ll probably hear me spout out a couple of the things I’ve written over the course of these twenty-three posts near-verbatim. Quips, criticism, praise – there’s only so many ways to state something before you end up treading on your own toes. Recycling becomes a calculated inevitability.
