Elegant Perspective Dissonance

Christopher Nolan is one of my favorite working directors alongside Zach Snyder, David Fincher, Rob Zombie and Shinya Tsukamoto. Of all those, he undoubtedly reaches the largest audience and arguably makes the most important and accomplished films. He's also the youngest of the lot, a preternaturally gifted storyteller possessing a reserved demeanor and quiet, patient intelligence. I first became aware of him in the Spring of 2001 when, after reading many positive reviews, decided to give a little low budget film called Memento a shot.

The end of the 90's were a heady time as far as narrative film was concerned. Perhaps it was simply a nagging case of collective pre-millennial tension, but there was a veritable glut of movies dealing with pulling the covers back on our notions of so called reality. Existenz, Dark City, The Matrix and The Thirteenth Floor most notably were pushing the concept of toying with the audience's perception of reality to the forefront. Meanwhile, meta forerunners The Blair Witch Project, The Last Broadcast and of course Scream were more preoccupied with creating a universe in which the audience and the film makers are cognizant of one another with the expectations of the former informing the machinations of the latter. Hellbent on forcing artist, art and audience to acknowledge one another in a referentially reciprocal vanity mirror of congratulatory self awareness.

Memento cuts through all of that baggage, impossibly managing to challenge our cinematic mental acuity despite the surfeit of exercise these muscles had received for the previous five years. Hinging on an outrageously charming and painfully wounded performance from the always fascinating Guy Pearce (how I wish he and Nolan would work together again!), Memento is every bit the revelation 10 years on as it was upon its initial release. So crafty and clever and smartly satisfying, a perfect little puzzle box that transcends its central gimmick to somehow become an emotionally potent commentary on the lies we tell ourselves to justify our existence. The Nolan look is cemented here, that high definition warmness illuminating his confident camera movement and carefully considered angles. His inaugural partnership with cinematographer Wally Pfister hereon enters the pantheon of perfect collaborations alongside Carpenter and Cundey, Coen and Deakins, Hooper and Pearl. But, most importantly, the film is a wealth of story, script and performances. Memento might not have set the box office ablaze, but it served its purpose as the calling card for a major voice, strike that, THE major voice in popular cinema for the next decade and perhaps beyond.

His sophomore effort Insomnia took a while to get its hooks in me. After a structural atom bomb the likes of Memento, I was expecting to be blindsided again by his follow up. Thankfully, he opted to make his career about consistently crafting great films instead of constantly topping his latest magic trick (look how well that worked out for M.Night). Insomnia returns us to the themes of guilt and confused perception clouding our understanding of certain unpleasant realities. Al Pacino turns in work every bit the equal to anything in his pantheon and Robin Williams matches him note for note, only on a different instrument. The fog drenched pursuit of an unidentified suspect is a standout sequence in Nolan's career, the marriage of visual and thematic concerns personifying the dichotomy of the elegant and the dissonant I referred to in this piece's title. It is Nolan's least praised work, but that makes it all the more pleasing when you allow it to sneak up on you again.

Batman Begins introduced Nolan to the masses and to the world of big budget film. An improbably perfect pairing that for once benefited both audience and artist. Nolan's stab at the superhero genre not only legitimized such fare, it elevated it to absolute social relevance. Aside from some shaky handling of CGI (admittedly not his forte and he's largely abandoned it since) and spare silly moments done out of concession to the characters legacy (I'm Batman, anyone?), Batman Begins is a dramatically propulsive resuscitation. A grim, Gothic affair, both believable and more muscular than its numerous predecessors. Nolan found his muse in Christian Bale, who despite his unfortunate Terminator debacle, remains the greatest actor of his generation. This is his first time working with composer Hans Zimmer whose gargantuan brass and melancholy melodies fit Nolan's work like an expensive designer leather glove. The film was a huge success, artistically and commercially. It had the effect of a blank check being written for Nolan and he established a one for me, one for them relationship with the studios.

Coming up next: How that relationship panned out.