12 Sulking with Lisa Loeb on the Ice Planet Hoth 1:41 It's become cool to like Star Wars, Star Wars, which actually means it's totally uncool to like which actually means it's totally uncool to like Star Wars Star Wars. I think you know what I mean by this: There was a time in our very recent history when it was "interestin g" g" to be a to be a Star Wars Star Wars fan. It was sort of like admitting you m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.e twice a day, or that your favorite band was They Might Be Giants. fan. It was sort of like admitting you m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.e twice a day, or that your favorite band was They Might Be Giants. Star Wars Star Wars was something everyone of a certain age secretly loved but never openly recognized; I don't recall anyone talking about was something everyone of a certain age secretly loved but never openly recognized; I don't recall anyone talking about Star Wars Star Wars in 1990, except for that select cla.s.s of in 1990, except for that select cla.s.s of uber uber geeks who consciously embraced their sublime nerdiness four years before the advent of Weezer (you may recall that these were also the first people who told you about the Internet). But that era has pa.s.sed; suddenly it seems like everyone born between 1963 and 1975 will gleefully tell you how mind-blowingly important the geeks who consciously embraced their sublime nerdiness four years before the advent of Weezer (you may recall that these were also the first people who told you about the Internet). But that era has pa.s.sed; suddenly it seems like everyone born between 1963 and 1975 will gleefully tell you how mind-blowingly important the Star Wars Star Wars trilogy was to their youth, and it's slowly become acceptable to make Wookie jokes without the fear of alienation. This is probably Kevin Smith's fault. trilogy was to their youth, and it's slowly become acceptable to make Wookie jokes without the fear of alienation. This is probably Kevin Smith's fault.

What's interesting about this evolution is that the value of a movie like Star Wars Star Wars was vastly underrated at the time of its release and is now vastly overrated in retrospect. In 1977, few people realized this film would completely change the culture of filmmaking, inasmuch as this was the genesis of all those blockbuster movies that everyone gets tricked into seeing summer after summer after summer. was vastly underrated at the time of its release and is now vastly overrated in retrospect. In 1977, few people realized this film would completely change the culture of filmmaking, inasmuch as this was the genesis of all those blockbuster movies that everyone gets tricked into seeing summer after summer after summer. Star Wars Star Wars changed the social perception of what a movie was supposed to be; George Lucas, along with Steven Spielberg, managed to kill the best era of American filmmaking in less than five years. Yet-over time- changed the social perception of what a movie was supposed to be; George Lucas, along with Steven Spielberg, managed to kill the best era of American filmmaking in less than five years. Yet-over time-Star Wars has become one of the most overrated films of all time, inasmuch as it's pretty f.u.c.king terrible when you actually try to watch it. has become one of the most overrated films of all time, inasmuch as it's pretty f.u.c.king terrible when you actually try to watch it. Star Wars Star Wars's greatest a.s.set is that it's inevitably compared to 1983's Return of the Jedi, Return of the Jedi, quite possibly the least-watchable major film of the last twenty-five years. I once knew a girl who claimed to have a recurring dream about a polar bear that mauled Ewoks; it made me love her. quite possibly the least-watchable major film of the last twenty-five years. I once knew a girl who claimed to have a recurring dream about a polar bear that mauled Ewoks; it made me love her.

However, the middle film in the Star Wars Star Wars trilogy, trilogy, The Empire Strikes Back, The Empire Strikes Back, remains a legitimately great picture-but not for any cinematic reason. It's great for thematic, social reasons. It's now completely obvious that remains a legitimately great picture-but not for any cinematic reason. It's great for thematic, social reasons. It's now completely obvious that The Empire Strikes Back The Empire Strikes Back was the seminal foundation for what became "Generation X." was the seminal foundation for what became "Generation X."1 In a roundabout way, Boba Fett created Pearl Jam. While movies like In a roundabout way, Boba Fett created Pearl Jam. While movies like Easy Rider Easy Rider and and Sat.u.r.day Night Fever Sat.u.r.day Night Fever painted living portraits for generations they represented in the present tense, painted living portraits for generations they represented in the present tense, The Empire Strikes Back The Empire Strikes Back might be the only example of a movie that set the social aesthetic for a generation coming in the future. The narrative extension to might be the only example of a movie that set the social aesthetic for a generation coming in the future. The narrative extension to The Empire Strikes Back The Empire Strikes Back was not the Endor-saturated stupidity of was not the Endor-saturated stupidity of Return of the Jedi Return of the Jedi; it was Reality Bites Reality Bites.

I concede that part of my bias toward Empire Empire probably comes from the fact that it was the first movie I ever saw in a theater. This is a seminal experience for anyone, and I suppose it unconsciously shapes the way a person looks at cinema (I initially a.s.sumed all theatrical releases were prefaced by an expository text block that was virtually incomprehensible). The film was set in three static locations: The ice planet Hoth (which looked like North Dakota), the jungle system Dagobah (which was sort of like the final twenty minutes of probably comes from the fact that it was the first movie I ever saw in a theater. This is a seminal experience for anyone, and I suppose it unconsciously shapes the way a person looks at cinema (I initially a.s.sumed all theatrical releases were prefaced by an expository text block that was virtually incomprehensible). The film was set in three static locations: The ice planet Hoth (which looked like North Dakota), the jungle system Dagobah (which was sort of like the final twenty minutes of Apocalypse Now Apocalypse Now), and the mining community of Cloud City (apparently a cross between Las Vegas and Birmingham, Alabama). It's often noted by critics that this is the only Star Wars Star Wars film that ends on a stridently depressing note: Han Solo is frozen in carbonite and torn away from Princess Leia, Luke gets his paw hacked off, and Darth Vader has the universe by the jugular. film that ends on a stridently depressing note: Han Solo is frozen in carbonite and torn away from Princess Leia, Luke gets his paw hacked off, and Darth Vader has the universe by the jugular. The Empire Strikes Back The Empire Strikes Back is the only blockbuster of the modern era to celebrate the abysmal failure of its protagonists. This is important; this is why is the only blockbuster of the modern era to celebrate the abysmal failure of its protagonists. This is important; this is why The Empire Strikes Back The Empire Strikes Back set the philosophical template for all the slackers who would come of age ten years later. George Lucas built the army of clones that would eventually be led by Richard Linklater. set the philosophical template for all the slackers who would come of age ten years later. George Lucas built the army of clones that would eventually be led by Richard Linklater.

Now, I realize The Empire Strikes Back The Empire Strikes Back was not the first movie all future Gen Xers saw. I was eight when I saw was not the first movie all future Gen Xers saw. I was eight when I saw Empire, Empire, and I distinctly remember that a lot of my cla.s.smates had already seen and I distinctly remember that a lot of my cla.s.smates had already seen Star Wars Star Wars (or at least its first theatrical rerelease) and of course they all loved it, mostly because little kids are stupid. But (or at least its first theatrical rerelease) and of course they all loved it, mostly because little kids are stupid. But Empire Empire was the first movie that people born in the early seventies could understand in a way that went outside of its rudimentary plot-line. And that's why a movie about the good guys losing-both politically and romantically-is so integral to how people my age look at life. was the first movie that people born in the early seventies could understand in a way that went outside of its rudimentary plot-line. And that's why a movie about the good guys losing-both politically and romantically-is so integral to how people my age look at life.

When sociologists and journalists started writing about the sensibilities that drove Gen Xers, they inevitably used words like angst-ridden angst-ridden and and disenfranchised disenfranchised and and lost lost. As of late, it's become popular to suggest that this was a flawed stereotype, perpetuated by an aging media who didn't understand the emerging undercla.s.s.

Actually, everyone was right the first time.

All those original pundits were dead-on; for once, the media managed to define an entire demographic of Americans with absolute accuracy. Everything said about Gen Xers-both positive and negative-was completely true. Twenty-somethings in the nineties rejected the traditional working-cla.s.s American lifestyle because (a) they were smart enough to realize those values were unsatisfying, and (b) they were totally f.u.c.king lazy. Twenty-somethings in the nineties embraced a record like Nirvana's Nevermind Nevermind because (a) it was a sociocultural affront to the vapidity of the Reagan-era paradigm, and (b) it f.u.c.king rocked. Twenty-somethings in the nineties were by and large depressed about the future, mostly because (a) they knew there was very little to look forward to, and (b) they were obsessed with staring into the eyes of their own self-absorbed sadness. There are no myths about Generation X. It's all true. because (a) it was a sociocultural affront to the vapidity of the Reagan-era paradigm, and (b) it f.u.c.king rocked. Twenty-somethings in the nineties were by and large depressed about the future, mostly because (a) they knew there was very little to look forward to, and (b) they were obsessed with staring into the eyes of their own self-absorbed sadness. There are no myths about Generation X. It's all true.

This being the case, it's clear that Luke Skywalker was the original Gen Xer. For one thing, he was incessantly whiny. For another, he was exhaustively educated-via Yoda-about things that had little practical value (i.e., how to stand on one's head while lifting a rock telekinetically). Essentially, Luke went to the University of Dagobah with a major in Buddhist philosophy and a minor in physical education. There's not a lot of career opportunities for that kind of schooling; that's probably why he dropped out in the middle of the semester. Meanwhile, Luke's only romantic aspirations are directed toward a woman who (literally) looks at him like a brother. His dad is on his case to join the family business. Most significantly, all the problems in his life can be directly blamed on the generation that came before him, and specifically on his father's views about what to believe (i.e., respect authority, dress conservatively, annihilate innocent planets, etc.).

Studied objectively, Luke Skywalker was not very cool. But for kids who saw Empire, Empire, Luke was The Man. He was the guy we wanted to be. Retrospectively, we'd like to claim Han Solo was the single-most desirable character-and he was, in theory. But Solo's brand of bada.s.s cool is something you can't understand until you're old enough to realize that being an arrogant jerk is an attractive male quality. Third-graders didn't want to be gritty and misunderstood; third-graders wanted to be Mark Hamill. And even though obsessive thirty-year-old fans of the trilogy hate to admit it, these were always kids' movies. Lucas is not a Coppola or a Scorsese or even a De Palma-he makes movies that a sleepy eight-year-old can appreciate. Luke was The Man. He was the guy we wanted to be. Retrospectively, we'd like to claim Han Solo was the single-most desirable character-and he was, in theory. But Solo's brand of bada.s.s cool is something you can't understand until you're old enough to realize that being an arrogant jerk is an attractive male quality. Third-graders didn't want to be gritty and misunderstood; third-graders wanted to be Mark Hamill. And even though obsessive thirty-year-old fans of the trilogy hate to admit it, these were always kids' movies. Lucas is not a Coppola or a Scorsese or even a De Palma-he makes movies that a sleepy eight-year-old can appreciate.2 That's his gift, and he completely admits it. "I wanted to make a kids' film that would...introduce a kind of basic morality," Lucas told author David Sheff. And because the That's his gift, and he completely admits it. "I wanted to make a kids' film that would...introduce a kind of basic morality," Lucas told author David Sheff. And because the Star Wars Star Wars movies were children's movies, Hamill had to be the center of the story. Any normal child was going to be drawn to Skywalker more than Solo. That's the personality we swallowed. So when all the eight-year-olds from 1980 turned twenty-one in 1993, we couldn't evolve. We were just old enough to be warped by childhood and just young enough not to realize it. Suddenly, we all wanted to be Han Solo. But we were stuck with Skywalker problems. movies were children's movies, Hamill had to be the center of the story. Any normal child was going to be drawn to Skywalker more than Solo. That's the personality we swallowed. So when all the eight-year-olds from 1980 turned twenty-one in 1993, we couldn't evolve. We were just old enough to be warped by childhood and just young enough not to realize it. Suddenly, we all wanted to be Han Solo. But we were stuck with Skywalker problems.

There's a scene late in The Empire Strikes Back The Empire Strikes Back where Luke and Vader are having their epic light-saber duel, and one particular shot is filmed from behind Mark Hamill. Within the context of this shot, Darth Vader is roughly twice the physical size of Luke; obviously, the filmmakers are trying to ill.u.s.trate a point about the ma.s.sive size of the Empire and the relative impotence of the fledgling Jedi. Not surprisingly, they all go a bit overboard: Vader's head appears larger than Luke's entire torso, which sort of overextends any suspension of disbelief a rational adult might harbor. But to a wide-eyed youngster, that image looked completely reasonable: If Vader is Luke's father (as we would learn minutes later), then Vader should seem as big as your dad. where Luke and Vader are having their epic light-saber duel, and one particular shot is filmed from behind Mark Hamill. Within the context of this shot, Darth Vader is roughly twice the physical size of Luke; obviously, the filmmakers are trying to ill.u.s.trate a point about the ma.s.sive size of the Empire and the relative impotence of the fledgling Jedi. Not surprisingly, they all go a bit overboard: Vader's head appears larger than Luke's entire torso, which sort of overextends any suspension of disbelief a rational adult might harbor. But to a wide-eyed youngster, that image looked completely reasonable: If Vader is Luke's father (as we would learn minutes later), then Vader should seem as big as your dad.

As the scene continues, Luke is driven out onto a catwalk, where he loses his right hand and is informed that he's the heir to the intergalactic Osama bin Laden. He more or less tries to commit suicide. Now, Luke is saved from this fate (of course), and since this is is a movie, logic tells us that (of course) Vader will fall in the next installment of the series, even though it will take three years to get there. This is all understood. But that understanding is an adult understanding. As an eight-year-old, the final message of a movie, logic tells us that (of course) Vader will fall in the next installment of the series, even though it will take three years to get there. This is all understood. But that understanding is an adult understanding. As an eight-year-old, the final message of The Empire Strikes Back The Empire Strikes Back felt remarkably hopeless: Luke's a good person, felt remarkably hopeless: Luke's a good person, but Luke still lost but Luke still lost. And it wasn't like the end of Rocky, Rocky, where Apollo Creed wins the split decision but Rocky wins a larger victory for the human spirit; Darth Vader beats Luke the way Ike used to beat Tina. A psychologist once told me that-over the span of her entire career-she had never known a man who didn't have some kind of creepy, unresolved issue with his father. She told me that's just an inherent part of being male. And here we have a movie where the hero is fighting every ideology he hates, gets his a.s.s kicked, and is then informed, "Oh, and by the way: I'm your dad. But you knew that all along." where Apollo Creed wins the split decision but Rocky wins a larger victory for the human spirit; Darth Vader beats Luke the way Ike used to beat Tina. A psychologist once told me that-over the span of her entire career-she had never known a man who didn't have some kind of creepy, unresolved issue with his father. She told me that's just an inherent part of being male. And here we have a movie where the hero is fighting every ideology he hates, gets his a.s.s kicked, and is then informed, "Oh, and by the way: I'm your dad. But you knew that all along."

In this same scene, Darth Vader tells Skywalker he has to make a decision: He can keep fighting a war he will probably lose, or he can compromise his ethics and succeed wildly. Many young adults face a similar decision after college, and those seen as "responsible" inevitably choose the latter path. However, an eight-year-old would never sell out. Little kids will always take the righteous option. And what's intriguing about Gen Xers is they never really wavered from that decision. Luke's quandary in The Empire Strikes Back The Empire Strikes Back is exactly like the situation facing Winona Ryder in 1994's is exactly like the situation facing Winona Ryder in 1994's Reality Bites Reality Bites: Should she stick with the nice, sensible guy who treats her well (Ben Stiller), or should she roll the dice with the frustrating boho bozo who treats her like c.r.a.p (Ethan Hawke)? For a detached adult, that answer seems obvious; for people who were twenty-one when this move came out, the answer was just as obvious but completely different. As we all know, Winona went with Hawke. She had to. When Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert reviewed Reality Bites, Reality Bites, I recall them complaining that Ryder picked the wrong guy; as far as I could tell, choosing the wrong guy was the whole point. I recall them complaining that Ryder picked the wrong guy; as far as I could tell, choosing the wrong guy was the whole point.

You don't often see Reality Bites Reality Bites mentioned as an important (or even as a particularly good) film, but it grows more seminal with every pa.s.sing year. When it was originally released, all its Gap jokes and AIDS fears and Lisa Loeb songs merely seemed like marketing strategies and ephemeral stabs at insight. However, it's amazing how one film so completely captured every hyper-conventional ideal of such a short-lived era; mentioned as an important (or even as a particularly good) film, but it grows more seminal with every pa.s.sing year. When it was originally released, all its Gap jokes and AIDS fears and Lisa Loeb songs merely seemed like marketing strategies and ephemeral stabs at insight. However, it's amazing how one film so completely captured every hyper-conventional ideal of such a short-lived era; Reality Bites Reality Bites is a period piece in the best sense of the term. And in the same way I have a special place in my heart for the first film I saw inside a movie house, I reserve a special place in my consciousness for the first film so unabashedly directed toward the condition of my own life. I was graduating from college the spring is a period piece in the best sense of the term. And in the same way I have a special place in my heart for the first film I saw inside a movie house, I reserve a special place in my consciousness for the first film so unabashedly directed toward the condition of my own life. I was graduating from college the spring Reality Bites Reality Bites was released, and-though it didn't necessarily seem like a movie was released, and-though it didn't necessarily seem like a movie about about me-it was clearly a movie me-it was clearly a movie for for me. Eighteen months earlier, everyone I knew had seen Cameron Crowe's me. Eighteen months earlier, everyone I knew had seen Cameron Crowe's Singles, Singles, which we initially viewed as a youth movie. When we went back and rented which we initially viewed as a youth movie. When we went back and rented Singles Singles in the summer of 1994, I was suddenly struck by how old its cast seemed. I mean, they had full-time jobs and wanted to get married and have babies. in the summer of 1994, I was suddenly struck by how old its cast seemed. I mean, they had full-time jobs and wanted to get married and have babies. Singles Singles was just a normal romantic comedy that happened to have Soundgarden on the soundtrack. was just a normal romantic comedy that happened to have Soundgarden on the soundtrack. Reality Bites Reality Bites was an equally mediocre movie, but it validated a lot of mediocre lives, most notably my own. As I stated earlier, all the cliches about Gen Xers were true-but the point everyone failed to make was that our whole demographic was comprised of cynical optimists. Whenever my circa-1993 friends and I would sit around and discuss the future, there was always the omnipresent sentiment that the world was on the decline, but was an equally mediocre movie, but it validated a lot of mediocre lives, most notably my own. As I stated earlier, all the cliches about Gen Xers were true-but the point everyone failed to make was that our whole demographic was comprised of cynical optimists. Whenever my circa-1993 friends and I would sit around and discuss the future, there was always the omnipresent sentiment that the world was on the decline, but we we were somehow destined to succeed individually. Everyone felt they would somehow be the exception within an otherwise grim universe. This is why Ryder had to pick Hawke. Winona made the kind of romantic decision most people my age would have made in 1994: She pursued a path that was difficult and depressing, and she did so because it showed the slightest potential for transcendence. Not coincidentally, this is also the Jedi's path. Adventure? Excitement? The Jedi craves not these things. However, he does crave something greater than the bloodless existence of his father. Quite simply, Winona Ryder were somehow destined to succeed individually. Everyone felt they would somehow be the exception within an otherwise grim universe. This is why Ryder had to pick Hawke. Winona made the kind of romantic decision most people my age would have made in 1994: She pursued a path that was difficult and depressing, and she did so because it showed the slightest potential for transcendence. Not coincidentally, this is also the Jedi's path. Adventure? Excitement? The Jedi craves not these things. However, he does crave something greater than the bloodless existence of his father. Quite simply, Winona Ryder is is Luke Skywalker, only with a better haircut and a killer rack. Luke Skywalker, only with a better haircut and a killer rack.

Part of the reason so many critics think The Empire Strikes Back The Empire Strikes Back is the best is the best Star Wars Star Wars movie is just a product of how theater works: movie is just a product of how theater works: Empire Empire is the second act of a three-act production, and the second act is usually the best part. The second act contains the conflict. And as someone born in the summer of 1972, I've sort of come to realize I'm part of a second-act generation. The most popular three-act play of the twentieth century is obvious: The Depression (Act I), World War II (Act II), and the sock-hop serenity of Richie Cunningham's 1950s (Act III). The narrative arc is clear. But the play containing my life is a little more amorphous and a little less exciting, and test audiences are mixed: The first act started in 1962 and has a lot of good music and weird costumes, but the second act was poorly ch.o.r.eographed. Half the cast ran in place while the other half just sat around in coffee-houses, and we all tried to figure out what we were supposed to do with a society that had more media than intellect (and more irony than personality). Maybe the curtain on Act II fell with the World Trade Center. And as I look back at the best years of my life, I find myself wondering if maybe I wasn't unconsciously conditioned to exist somewhere in the middle of two better stories, caught between the invention of the recent past and the valor of the coming future. Personally, I don't think I truly understand invention or valor; they seem like pursuits that would require a light saber. is the second act of a three-act production, and the second act is usually the best part. The second act contains the conflict. And as someone born in the summer of 1972, I've sort of come to realize I'm part of a second-act generation. The most popular three-act play of the twentieth century is obvious: The Depression (Act I), World War II (Act II), and the sock-hop serenity of Richie Cunningham's 1950s (Act III). The narrative arc is clear. But the play containing my life is a little more amorphous and a little less exciting, and test audiences are mixed: The first act started in 1962 and has a lot of good music and weird costumes, but the second act was poorly ch.o.r.eographed. Half the cast ran in place while the other half just sat around in coffee-houses, and we all tried to figure out what we were supposed to do with a society that had more media than intellect (and more irony than personality). Maybe the curtain on Act II fell with the World Trade Center. And as I look back at the best years of my life, I find myself wondering if maybe I wasn't unconsciously conditioned to exist somewhere in the middle of two better stories, caught between the invention of the recent past and the valor of the coming future. Personally, I don't think I truly understand invention or valor; they seem like pursuits that would require a light saber.

Within the circuits of my mind, the moments in The Empire Strikes Back The Empire Strikes Back I most adore are whenever Yoda gives his little Vince Lombardi speeches, often explaining that-in life-there is no inherent value to effort. "Do, or do not," says the greenish Muggsy Bogues. "There is no I most adore are whenever Yoda gives his little Vince Lombardi speeches, often explaining that-in life-there is no inherent value to effort. "Do, or do not," says the greenish Muggsy Bogues. "There is no try try." And that's an inspiring sentiment. It's the kind of logic that drives the world. But in my heart of hearts, the part of the film I can't shake is when Luke Skywalker and Han Solo are riding around Hoth on tauntans, which are (for all practical purposes) bipedal s.p.a.ce horses. When things get rough, Han Solo cuts open the belly of a tauntan and stuffs Luke inside the carca.s.s; he saves him from a raging blizzard by encasing him in a coc.o.o.n of guts. I a.s.sume we're supposed to find this clever and disgusting (or maybe even inventive and heroic). But I just know I'd rather be inside the belly of the beast.

1. I know n.o.body uses the term Generation X Generation X anymore, and I know all the people it supposedly describes supposedly hate the supposed designation. But I like it. It's simply the easiest way to categorize a genre of people who were born between 1965 and 1977 and therefore share a similar cultural experience. It's not pejorative or complimentary; it's factual. I'm a "Gen Xer," okay? And I buy s.h.i.t marketed to "Gen Xers." And I use air quotes when I talk, and I sigh a lot, and I own a Human League ca.s.sette. Get over it. anymore, and I know all the people it supposedly describes supposedly hate the supposed designation. But I like it. It's simply the easiest way to categorize a genre of people who were born between 1965 and 1977 and therefore share a similar cultural experience. It's not pejorative or complimentary; it's factual. I'm a "Gen Xer," okay? And I buy s.h.i.t marketed to "Gen Xers." And I use air quotes when I talk, and I sigh a lot, and I own a Human League ca.s.sette. Get over it.

2. Case in point: When Episode I Episode I-The Phantom Menace came out in 1999, all the adults who waited in line for seventy-two hours to buy opening-night tickets were profoundly upset at the inclusion of Jar Jar Binks. "He's annoying," they said. Well, how annoying would R2D2 have seemed if you hadn't been in the third f.u.c.king grade? Viewed objectively, R2D2 is like a dwarf holding a Simon. came out in 1999, all the adults who waited in line for seventy-two hours to buy opening-night tickets were profoundly upset at the inclusion of Jar Jar Binks. "He's annoying," they said. Well, how annoying would R2D2 have seemed if you hadn't been in the third f.u.c.king grade? Viewed objectively, R2D2 is like a dwarf holding a Simon.

So I'm eating supper in a Kentucky Fried Chicken, and this crazy old woman who looks like a disheveled version of Minnie Pearl taps me on the shoulder and asks, "Can you buy me some chicken?" I, of course, say, "What?" Because this does not seem like an appropriate question. She asks again, "Can you buy me some chicken?" This time I flatly say no. Then she changes her query and asks, "Can I have a dollar to buy me some chicken?" I again decline, and she skulks away, exiting the establishment and camping out in front of the KFC sign on the sidewalk.

Ten minutes later, I finish the last nibble of my b.u.t.termilk biscuit, all the while watching this old woman through the window. She continues to unsuccessfully panhandle. As I leave the restaurant and begin walking home, I pa.s.s this woman and she stops me again. "Can you buy me some chicken?" she asks. Again I say, "What?" She proceeds to repeat her question, and-upon my silence-asks if she can instead have a dollar to buy some chicken for herself.

To me, this just seems like a poor business philosophy. I realize street people don't really provide a "service," per se, but-if you had to quantify what they do do contribute into some kind of discernible social role-the most flattering description might be that they make us feel like we're part of a civilization. They are part of the urban landscape, they are reminders of how life is wicked, and they are profiles in courage. contribute into some kind of discernible social role-the most flattering description might be that they make us feel like we're part of a civilization. They are part of the urban landscape, they are reminders of how life is wicked, and they are profiles in courage.

Or at least they could could be profiles in courage, if they weren't so G.o.dd.a.m.n inconsiderate. How can you not remember talking to me, old woman? It's not like you're haunted by career responsibilities and bombarded by stimuli; in the past ten minutes, you've merely asked random strangers for free chicken. Is recalling that I've already declined to give you my charity too much to ask? Must you treat me like a complete stranger? As members of the same civilization, can I not expect the courtesy of a knowing glance when you beg for chicken a second time? be profiles in courage, if they weren't so G.o.dd.a.m.n inconsiderate. How can you not remember talking to me, old woman? It's not like you're haunted by career responsibilities and bombarded by stimuli; in the past ten minutes, you've merely asked random strangers for free chicken. Is recalling that I've already declined to give you my charity too much to ask? Must you treat me like a complete stranger? As members of the same civilization, can I not expect the courtesy of a knowing glance when you beg for chicken a second time?

That's the problem with homeless people: To them, we're all just a number.

13 The Awe-Inspiring Beauty of Tom Cruise's Shattered, Troll-like Face 1:51 Last night I awoke at 3:30 A A.M. with a piercing pain in my abdomen, certain I had been infected by some sort of Peruvian parasite that was gnawing away at my small intestine. It felt like the Neptunes had remixed my digestive tract, severely pumping up the ba.s.s. Now, the details of my illness will not be discussed here, as they are unappetizing. However, there was one upside to this tragedy: I was forced to spend several hours in my bathroom reading old issues of Entertainment Weekly, Entertainment Weekly, which inadvertently recalibrated my perception of existence. which inadvertently recalibrated my perception of existence.

As a rule, I do not read film reviews of movies I have not seen. Honestly, I've never quite understood why anyone would want to be informed about the supposed value of a film before they actually experience it. Somewhat paradoxically, I used to earn my living reviewing films, and it always made me angry when people at dinner parties would try to make conversation by asking if they should (or shouldn't) see a specific film; I never wanted to affect the choices those people made. When writing reviews, I actively avoided anything that could be perceived as an attempt at persuasion. Moreover, I never liked explaining the plot of a movie, nor did I think it was remotely interesting to comment on the quality of the acting or the innovation of the special effects.

Perhaps this is why many people did not appreciate my film reviews.

However, the one thing I did did like discussing was the "idea" of a given film, a.s.suming it actually had one. This is also why I prefer reading film reviews of movies I've already seen; I'm always more interested in seeing if what I philosophically absorbed from a motion picture was conventional or atypical, and that can usually be deduced from what details the critic focuses on in his or her piece. This was particularly true on the morning of my cataclysmic tummy ache, when I stumbled across like discussing was the "idea" of a given film, a.s.suming it actually had one. This is also why I prefer reading film reviews of movies I've already seen; I'm always more interested in seeing if what I philosophically absorbed from a motion picture was conventional or atypical, and that can usually be deduced from what details the critic focuses on in his or her piece. This was particularly true on the morning of my cataclysmic tummy ache, when I stumbled across EW EW's January 4, 2002, review of Vanilla Sky Vanilla Sky.

I am keenly aware that I am the only person in America who thought Vanilla Sky Vanilla Sky was a decent movie. This was made utterly lucid just forty-five seconds after it ended: As I walked out of the theater during the closing credits, other members of the audience actually seemed angry at what they had just experienced (in the parking lot outside the theater, I overheard one guy tell his girlfriend he was going to was a decent movie. This was made utterly lucid just forty-five seconds after it ended: As I walked out of the theater during the closing credits, other members of the audience actually seemed angry at what they had just experienced (in the parking lot outside the theater, I overheard one guy tell his girlfriend he was going to beat her beat her for making him watch this picture!). Over the next few days, everything I heard about for making him watch this picture!). Over the next few days, everything I heard about Vanilla Sky Vanilla Sky was about how it was nothing but a vanity project for Tom Cruise and that the story didn't make any sense; the overwhelming consensus was that this was an overlong, underthought abomination. This being the case, I was not surprised to see was about how it was nothing but a vanity project for Tom Cruise and that the story didn't make any sense; the overwhelming consensus was that this was an overlong, underthought abomination. This being the case, I was not surprised to see EW EW's Owen Gleiberman give Vanilla Sky Vanilla Sky a grade of D+. His take seemed in-step with most of North America. However, I found myself perturbed with one specific phrase in O.G.'s review: a grade of D+. His take seemed in-step with most of North America. However, I found myself perturbed with one specific phrase in O.G.'s review: The way that the film has been edited, none of the fake-outs and reversals have any weight; the more that they pile up, the less we hold on to any of them. We're left with a cracked hall of mirrors taped together by a What is reality? What is reality? cryogenics plot and scored to [director] Cameron Crowe's record collection. cryogenics plot and scored to [director] Cameron Crowe's record collection.

The phrase I take issue with is the prototypically snarky "What is reality?" remark, which strikes me as a profoundly misguided criticism. That particular question is precisely why I think Vanilla Sky Vanilla Sky was one of the more worthwhile movies I've seen in the past ten years, along with was one of the more worthwhile movies I've seen in the past ten years, along with Memento, Mulholland Drive, Waking Life, Fight Club, Being John Malkovich, The Matrix, Donnie Darko, eXistenZ, Memento, Mulholland Drive, Waking Life, Fight Club, Being John Malkovich, The Matrix, Donnie Darko, eXistenZ, and a scant handful of other films, all of which tangentially ask the only relevant question available for contemporary filmmakers: " and a scant handful of other films, all of which tangentially ask the only relevant question available for contemporary filmmakers: "What is reality?" It's insane of Gleiberman to suggest that posing this query could somehow be a justification for hating It's insane of Gleiberman to suggest that posing this query could somehow be a justification for hating Vanilla Sky Vanilla Sky. It might be the only valid reason for loving it.

By now, almost everyone seems to agree that the number of transcendent ma.s.s-consumer films shrinks almost every year, almost to the point of their nonexistence. In fact, I'm not sure I've heard anyone suggest otherwise. Granted, there remains a preponderance of low-budget, deeply interesting movies that never play outside of major U.S. cities; Todd Solondz's twisted troika of Welcome to the Dollhouse, Happiness, Welcome to the Dollhouse, Happiness, and and Storytelling Storytelling is an obvious example, as are mildly subversive minor films like is an obvious example, as are mildly subversive minor films like Pi Pi and and Ghost World Ghost World. P. T. Anderson and Wes Anderson make great films that get press and flirt with commerce. However, the idea of making a sophisticated movie that could be brilliant and and commercially ma.s.sive is almost unthinkable, and that schism is relatively new. In the early seventies, commercially ma.s.sive is almost unthinkable, and that schism is relatively new. In the early seventies, The G.o.dfather The G.o.dfather films made tons of money, won bushels of Academy Awards, and-most notably-were anecdotally regarded as d.a.m.n-near perfect by every non-Italian tier of society, both intellectually and emotionally. They succeed in every dimension. That could never happen today; interesting movies rarely earn money, and Oscar-winning movies are rarely better than good. films made tons of money, won bushels of Academy Awards, and-most notably-were anecdotally regarded as d.a.m.n-near perfect by every non-Italian tier of society, both intellectually and emotionally. They succeed in every dimension. That could never happen today; interesting movies rarely earn money, and Oscar-winning movies are rarely better than good. t.i.tanic t.i.tanic was the highest-grossing film of all time and the 1998 winner for Best Picture, so you'd think that might be an exception-but I've never met an intelligent person who honestly loved it. was the highest-grossing film of all time and the 1998 winner for Best Picture, so you'd think that might be an exception-but I've never met an intelligent person who honestly loved it. t.i.tanic t.i.tanic might have been the least watchable movie of the 1990s, because it was so obviously designed for audiences who don't really like movies (in fact, that was the key to its success). At this point, winning an Oscar is almost like winning a Grammy. might have been the least watchable movie of the 1990s, because it was so obviously designed for audiences who don't really like movies (in fact, that was the key to its success). At this point, winning an Oscar is almost like winning a Grammy.

I realize citing the first two G.o.dfather G.o.dfather films is something of a cheap argument, since those two pictures are the pinnacle of the cinematic art form. But even if we discount Francis Ford Coppola's entire body of work, it's impossible to deny that the chances of seeing an films is something of a cheap argument, since those two pictures are the pinnacle of the cinematic art form. But even if we discount Francis Ford Coppola's entire body of work, it's impossible to deny that the chances of seeing an uber uber-fantastic film in a conventional movie house are growing maddeningly rare, which wasn't always the case. It wasn't long ago that movies like Cool Hand Luke Cool Hand Luke or or The Last Picture Show The Last Picture Show or or Nashville Nashville would show up everywhere, and everyone would see them collectively, and everybody would have their consciousness shaken at the same time and in the same way. That never happens anymore ( would show up everywhere, and everyone would see them collectively, and everybody would have their consciousness shaken at the same time and in the same way. That never happens anymore (Pulp Fiction was arguably the last instance). This is mostly due to the structure of the Hollywood system; especially in the early 1970s, everybody was consumed with the auteur concept, which gave directors the ability to completely (and autonomously) construct a movie's vision; for roughly a decade, film was a director's medium. Today, film is a producer's medium (the only director with complete control over his product is George Lucas, and he elects to make kids' movies). Producers want to develop movies they can refer to as "high concept," which-somewhat ironically-is industry slang for "no concept": It describes a movie where the human element is secondary to an episodic collection of action sequences. It's "conceptual" because there is no emphasis on details. Capitalistically, those projects work very well; they can be constructed as "vehicles" for particular celebrities, which is the only thing most audiences care about, anyway. In a weird way, film studios are almost was arguably the last instance). This is mostly due to the structure of the Hollywood system; especially in the early 1970s, everybody was consumed with the auteur concept, which gave directors the ability to completely (and autonomously) construct a movie's vision; for roughly a decade, film was a director's medium. Today, film is a producer's medium (the only director with complete control over his product is George Lucas, and he elects to make kids' movies). Producers want to develop movies they can refer to as "high concept," which-somewhat ironically-is industry slang for "no concept": It describes a movie where the human element is secondary to an episodic collection of action sequences. It's "conceptual" because there is no emphasis on details. Capitalistically, those projects work very well; they can be constructed as "vehicles" for particular celebrities, which is the only thing most audiences care about, anyway. In a weird way, film studios are almost requiring requiring movies to be bad, because they tend to be more efficient. movies to be bad, because they tend to be more efficient.

However, there's also a second reason we see fewer important adult films in the twenty-first century, and this one is n.o.body's fault. Culturally, there's an important cinematic difference between 1973 and 2003-and it has to do with the purpose movies serve. In the past, film validated social evolution. Look at Jack Nicholson: From 1969 to 1975, Nicholson portrayed an amazing array of characters-this was the stretch where he made Easy Rider, Five Easy Pieces, Carnal Knowledge, The Last Detail, The King of Marvin Gardens, Chinatown, Easy Rider, Five Easy Pieces, Carnal Knowledge, The Last Detail, The King of Marvin Gardens, Chinatown, and and One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. It might be the strongest half decade any actor ever had (or at least the strongest five-year jag since the fall of the studio system). And what's most compelling is that all the people he played during that run were vaguely unified by a singular quality. For a long time, I could never put my finger on what that was. I finally figured it out when I came across a late-eighties profile on Nicholson in The New York Times Magazine The New York Times Magazine: "I like to play people who haven't existed yet," Jack said. "A future something."

Nicholson was particularly adroit at embodying those future somethings, but he was not alone. This was what good movies did during that period-they were visions of a present tense that was just around the corner. When people talk about the seventies as a Golden Era, they tend to talk about cinematic techniques and artistic risks. What they should be discussing is sociology. The filmmaking process is slow and expensive, so movies are always the last idiom to respond to social evolution; the finest films from the seventies were really just the manifestation of how art and life had changed in the sixties. After a generation of being entertained by an illusion of simplicity and the clarity of good vs. evil, a film like Five Easy Pieces Five Easy Pieces offered the kind of psychological complexity people were suddenly relating to in a very personal way. What people like Nicholson were doing was offered the kind of psychological complexity people were suddenly relating to in a very personal way. What people like Nicholson were doing was introducing introducing audiences to the new American reality: counterculture as the dominant culture. audiences to the new American reality: counterculture as the dominant culture.

Unfortunately, that kind of introduction can't happen in 2003. It can't happen because reality is more transient and less concrete. It's more difficult for a film to define and validate the current of popular culture, because that once linear current has been splintered; it's become a cracked Volvo windshield, spider-webbing itself in a manner that's generally predictable but specifically chaotic (in other words, we all sort of sort of know where the national ethos is going, but never know where the national ethos is going, but never exactly exactly how or how or exactly exactly why or why or exactly exactly when). Cinematically, this creates a problem. Traditional character models like "The Everyman" and "The Antihero" and "The Wrongly Accused" are no longer useful, because n.o.body can agree on what those designations are supposed to mean anymore (in Christopher Nolan's when). Cinematically, this creates a problem. Traditional character models like "The Everyman" and "The Antihero" and "The Wrongly Accused" are no longer useful, because n.o.body can agree on what those designations are supposed to mean anymore (in Christopher Nolan's Memento, Memento, all three of those labels could simultaneously be applied to the same person). Modern movies can no longer introduce impending realities; they can't even explain the ones we currently have. Consequently, there's only one important question a culturally significant film can still ask: What all three of those labels could simultaneously be applied to the same person). Modern movies can no longer introduce impending realities; they can't even explain the ones we currently have. Consequently, there's only one important question a culturally significant film can still ask: What is is reality? reality?

I'll concede that Vanilla Sky Vanilla Sky poses that question a little too literally at times, inasmuch as I vaguely recall one scene where Tom Cruise is riding in an elevator and someone looks at him and literally asks, "What is reality?" The cryogenics subplot is also a tad silly, since it sometimes seems like an infomercial for Scientology and/or an homage to Arnold Schwarzenegger's poses that question a little too literally at times, inasmuch as I vaguely recall one scene where Tom Cruise is riding in an elevator and someone looks at him and literally asks, "What is reality?" The cryogenics subplot is also a tad silly, since it sometimes seems like an infomercial for Scientology and/or an homage to Arnold Schwarzenegger's Total Recall Total Recall. But f.u.c.k it-I'm not going to overcompensate and list a bunch of criticisms about a movie I honestly liked, and I did did like like Vanilla Sky Vanilla Sky. And what I liked was the way it presented the idea of objectivity vs. perception, which is ultimately what the "What is reality" quandary comes down to. In Vanilla Sky, Vanilla Sky, Cruise plays a dashing magazine publisher. He likes to casually bang Cameron Diaz, but he falls in love with the less attainable Penelope Cruz (it is a credit to Cruz that she makes this situation seem plausible; Penelope is so cute in this film that I found myself siding with Cruise and thinking, "Why the h.e.l.l would anyone want to have s.e.x with a repulsive hosebag like Cameron Diaz?"). When Diaz figures out that Cruise has been unfaithful, she goes bonkers and tries to kill them both by driving a car off a bridge. She dies, but Cruise escapes-with a horribly disfigured face. Despite his grotesque appearance, he still pursues a satisfying relationship with Cruz and intends to repair his mangled grill through a series of plastic surgeries. Against all odds, his life (and his face) improves. But then it turns out that the diabolical Diaz is still alive...or maybe not...maybe she and Cruz are actually the same person...or maybe neither exists, because this is all a fantasy. Frankly, whatever answer Crowe wanted us to deduce is irrelevant. What matters is that Cruise ultimately has to decide between a fake world that feels real and a real world that feels like torture. Cruise plays a dashing magazine publisher. He likes to casually bang Cameron Diaz, but he falls in love with the less attainable Penelope Cruz (it is a credit to Cruz that she makes this situation seem plausible; Penelope is so cute in this film that I found myself siding with Cruise and thinking, "Why the h.e.l.l would anyone want to have s.e.x with a repulsive hosebag like Cameron Diaz?"). When Diaz figures out that Cruise has been unfaithful, she goes bonkers and tries to kill them both by driving a car off a bridge. She dies, but Cruise escapes-with a horribly disfigured face. Despite his grotesque appearance, he still pursues a satisfying relationship with Cruz and intends to repair his mangled grill through a series of plastic surgeries. Against all odds, his life (and his face) improves. But then it turns out that the diabolical Diaz is still alive...or maybe not...maybe she and Cruz are actually the same person...or maybe neither exists, because this is all a fantasy. Frankly, whatever answer Crowe wanted us to deduce is irrelevant. What matters is that Cruise ultimately has to decide between a fake world that feels real and a real world that feels like torture.

Cruise chooses the latter, although I'm not sure why. Keanu Reeves makes the same choice in The Matrix, The Matrix, electing to live in a realm that is dismal but genuine. Like electing to live in a realm that is dismal but genuine. Like Vanilla Sky, Vanilla Sky, the plot of the plot of The Matrix The Matrix hinges on the premise that everything we think we're experiencing is a computer-generated illusion: In a postapocalyptic world, a band of kung fu terrorists wage war against a society of self-actualized machines who derive their power from human batteries, all of whom unknowingly exist in a virtual universe referred to as "the matrix." hinges on the premise that everything we think we're experiencing is a computer-generated illusion: In a postapocalyptic world, a band of kung fu terrorists wage war against a society of self-actualized machines who derive their power from human batteries, all of whom unknowingly exist in a virtual universe referred to as "the matrix." The Matrix The Matrix would suggest that everything you're feeling and experiencing is just a collective dream the whole world is sharing; n.o.body is actually living, but n.o.body's aware that they aren't. would suggest that everything you're feeling and experiencing is just a collective dream the whole world is sharing; n.o.body is actually living, but n.o.body's aware that they aren't.

For Reeves's character, Neo, choosing to live in the colorless light of hard reality is an easy decision, mostly because The Matrix The Matrix makes the distinction between those two options very clear: reality may be a difficult brand of freedom, but unreality is nothing more than comfortable slavery. Cruise's decision in makes the distinction between those two options very clear: reality may be a difficult brand of freedom, but unreality is nothing more than comfortable slavery. Cruise's decision in Vanilla Sky Vanilla Sky is similar, although less sweeping; his choice has more to do with the "credibility" of his happiness (his fake life would be good, but not is similar, although less sweeping; his choice has more to do with the "credibility" of his happiness (his fake life would be good, but not satisfying satisfying). Both men prefer unconditional reality. This is possibly due to the fact that both films are really just sci-fi stories, and science fiction tends to be philosophy for stupid people.1 Every protagonist in a sci-fi story is ultimately a moral creature who does the right thing, often resulting in his own valiant destruction (think Spock in Every protagonist in a sci-fi story is ultimately a moral creature who does the right thing, often resulting in his own valiant destruction (think Spock in The Wrath of Khan The Wrath of Khan). But what's intriguing about Keanu and Cruise is that I'm not sure I agree that choosing hard reality is is the "right thing." the "right thing." The Matrix The Matrix and and Vanilla Sky Vanilla Sky both pose that question-which I appreciate-but their conclusions don't necessarily make logical (or emotional) sense. And that doesn't mean these are bad movies; it just forces us to see a different reflection than the director may have intended. It probably makes them both pose that question-which I appreciate-but their conclusions don't necessarily make logical (or emotional) sense. And that doesn't mean these are bad movies; it just forces us to see a different reflection than the director may have intended. It probably makes them more more intriguing. intriguing.

The reason I think Cruise and Reeves make flawed decisions is because they are not dealing with specific, case-by-case situations. They are dealing with the entire scope of their being, which changes the rules. I would never support the suggestion that ignorance is bliss, but that cliche takes on a totally different meaning when the definition of "ignorance" becomes the same as the definition for "existence."

Look at it this way: Let's a.s.sume you're a married woman, and your husband is having an affair. If this is the only lie in your life, it's something you need to know. As a singular deceit, it's a problem, because it invalidates every other truth of your relationship. However, let's say everyone everyone is lying to you is lying to you all the time all the time-your husband, your family, your coworkers, total strangers, etc. Let's a.s.sume that no one has ever been honest with you since the day you started kindergarten, and you've never suspected a thing. In this scenario, there is absolutely no value to learning the truth about anything; if everyone expresses the same construction of lies, those lies are are the truth, or at least a kind of truth. But the operative word in this scenario is the truth, or at least a kind of truth. But the operative word in this scenario is everyone everyone. Objective reality is not situational; it doesn't evolve along with you. If you were raised as a strict Mormon and converted into an acid-eating Wiccan during college, it would seem like your reality had completely evolved-but the only thing that would be different is your perception of a world that's still exactly the same. That's not the situation Cruise and Reeves face in these movies. They are not looking for the true answer to one important question; they are choosing between two unilateral truths that apply to absolutely everything. And all the things we want out of life-pleasure, love, enlightenment, self-actualization, whatever-can be attained within either realm within either realm. They both choose the "harder" reality, but only because the men who made The Matrix The Matrix and and Vanilla Sky Vanilla Sky a.s.sume that option is more optimistic. In truth, both options are exactly the same. Living as an immaterial cog in the matrix would be no better or worse than living as a fully-aware human; existing in a cryogenic dream world would be no less credible than existing in corporeal Manhattan. a.s.sume that option is more optimistic. In truth, both options are exactly the same. Living as an immaterial cog in the matrix would be no better or worse than living as a fully-aware human; existing in a cryogenic dream world would be no less credible than existing in corporeal Manhattan.

The dream world in Richard Linklater's staggering Waking Life Waking Life ill.u.s.trates this point beautifully, perhaps because that idea is central to its whole intention. ill.u.s.trates this point beautifully, perhaps because that idea is central to its whole intention. Waking Life Waking Life is an animated film about a guy (voiced by Wiley Wiggins) who finds himself inside a dream he cannot wake from. As the disjointed story progresses, both the character and the audience conclude that Wiggins is actually dead. And what's cool about is an animated film about a guy (voiced by Wiley Wiggins) who finds himself inside a dream he cannot wake from. As the disjointed story progresses, both the character and the audience conclude that Wiggins is actually dead. And what's cool about Waking Life Waking Life is that this realization is not the least bit disturbing. Wiggins's response is a virtual nonreaction, and that's because he knows he is not merely in a weird situation; he is walking through an alternative reality. Instead of freaking out, he tries to understand how his new surroundings compare to his old ones. is that this realization is not the least bit disturbing. Wiggins's response is a virtual nonreaction, and that's because he knows he is not merely in a weird situation; he is walking through an alternative reality. Instead of freaking out, he tries to understand how his new surroundings compare to his old ones.

There are lots of mind-expanding moments in Waking Life, Waking Life, and it's able to get away with a lot of s.h.i.t that would normally seem pretentious (it's completely plotless, its characters lecture about oblique philosophical concepts at length, and much of the action is based on people and situations from Linklater's 1991 debut film, and it's able to get away with a lot of s.h.i.t that would normally seem pretentious (it's completely plotless, its characters lecture about oblique philosophical concepts at length, and much of the action is based on people and situations from Linklater's 1991 debut film, Slacker Slacker). There are on-screen conversations in Waking Life Waking Life that would be difficult to watch in a live-action picture. But that would be difficult to watch in a live-action picture. But Waking Life Waking Life doesn't feel self-indulgent or affected, and that's because it's a cartoon: Since we're not seeing real people, we can handle the static image of an old man discussing the flaws of predestination. Moreover, we can accept the film's most challenging dialogue exchange, which involves the reality of our own interiority. doesn't feel self-indulgent or affected, and that's because it's a cartoon: Since we're not seeing real people, we can handle the static image of an old man discussing the flaws of predestination. Moreover, we can accept the film's most challenging dialogue exchange, which involves the reality of our own interiority.

The scene I'm referring to is where Wiggins's character meets a girl and goes back to her apartment, and the girl begins explaining her idea for a surrealistic sitcom. She asks if Wiggins would like to be involved. He says he would, but then asks a much harder question in return: "What does it feel like to be a character in someone else's dream?" Because that's who Wiggins realizes this person is; he is having a lucid dream, and this woman is his own subconscious construction. But the paradox is that this woman is able to express thoughts and ideas that Wiggins himself could never create. Wiggins mentions that her idea for the TV show is great, and it's the kind of thing he could never have come up with-but since this is his his dream, he must have done exactly that. And this forces the question that lies behind "What is reality?": " dream, he must have done exactly that. And this forces the question that lies behind "What is reality?": "How do we know what we know?"

This second query in what brings us to Memento, Memento, probably the most practical reality study I've ever seen on film. The reason I say "practical" is because it poses these same abstract questions as the other films I've already mentioned, but it does so without relying on an imaginary universe. Usually, playing with the question of reality requires some kind of probably the most practical reality study I've ever seen on film. The reason I say "practical" is because it poses these same abstract questions as the other films I've already mentioned, but it does so without relying on an imaginary universe. Usually, playing with the question of reality requires some kind of Through the Looking Gla.s.s Through the Looking Gla.s.s trope: In trope: In Waking Life, Waking Life, Wiggins's confusion derives from his sudden placement into a dream. Both Wiggins's confusion derives from his sudden placement into a dream. Both The Matrix The Matrix and and Vanilla Sky Vanilla Sky take place in nonexistent realms. take place in nonexistent realms. Being John Malkovich Being John Malkovich is founded on the ability to crawl into someone's brain through a portal in an office building; is founded on the ability to crawl into someone's brain through a portal in an office building; Fight Club Fight Club is ultimately about a man who isn't real; is ultimately about a man who isn't real; eXistenZ eXistenZ is set inside a video game that could never actually exist. However, is set inside a video game that could never actually exist. However, Memento Memento takes place in a tangible place and merely requires an implausible-but still entirely takes place in a tangible place and merely requires an implausible-but still entirely possible possible-medical ailment.

Memento is about a fellow named Leonard (Guy Pearce) who suffers a whack to the head and can no longer create new memories; he still has the long-term memories from before his accident, but absolutely no short-term recall. He forgets everything that happens to him three minutes after the specific event occurs. is about a fellow named Leonard (Guy Pearce) who suffers a whack to the head and can no longer create new memories; he still has the long-term memories from before his accident, but absolutely no short-term recall. He forgets everything that happens to him three minutes after the specific event occurs.2 This makes life wildly complicated, especially since his singular goal is to hunt down the men who bonked him on the skull before proceeding to rape and murder his wife. This makes life wildly complicated, especially since his singular goal is to hunt down the men who bonked him on the skull before proceeding to rape and murder his wife.

Since the theme of Memento Memento is revenge and the narrative construction is so wonderfully unconventional (the scenes are shown in reverse or