INCEPTION--THE OFFICIAL MOVIE REVIEW

Review

INCEPTION

Starring Leonardo DiCaprio and a bunch of other people.

By Mark Scheinbaum

Okay, so I am a little behind the times. When “Inception” hit the theatres my kids said it was one of the best movies of the year, maybe the best, and one of the best they have ever seen.

DISH-TV decided to throw me some free HBO crumbs this weekend, and one of the freebies was this flick. I missed the first 20 minutes, but the kids said even though they liked it, they did not fully understand it. My favorite wife told me people say you have to see this movie three, or four, or more times to get all the nuance and excitement.

I think this is indeed a great movie, good acting and direction, lots of action, and it keeps you interested with Matrix-like twists and turns. I suspect the main reason people have trouble understanding it is perhaps because they lived a sheltered life, or obeyed too many rules in college, or perhaps while on parole from Leavenworth.

To help you understand Inception, here is my one-paragraph review:

Make believe you are a 19-year-old college freshman, goofy looking with no money, and the Angelina Jolie lookalike in your Finite Mathematics class, is tired of A-list escorts, and adopts you as her sex toy. On your first date you go to a sleazy biker bar and you have one Jim Beam too many and have a slight buzz. Partially whacked you notice the bartender passes a needle with some powdery goo on it to your date, she does something with her fingernails, and then grabs your hand, and skin pops heroin into the capillaries under your nail. Now your buzz is in full flight. She runs her hand over your crotch and says, “Hey, put this on your tongue, let it dissolve, and drink this.” She pours another double shot of sour mash into your glass, puts a flake of LSD on your tongue, and watches you drain your glass. Your head is spinning when she drags you to a Times Square arcade and places Virtual Reality glasses on your face and puts $100 in the slot for a two hour “ride.” The rest you only remember from two days later when Page Six of the New York Post has you dancing with RuPaul at Dennis Rodman’s Bat Mitzvah reception. The reception is a legal fee fundraiser for O.J. Simpson. Paul is in Vera Wang, and Dennis is in a LaCroix gown. O.J. is absent. The picture shows you in black crocodile Justin boots with tassels, no socks, an open navy blue Armani blazer, and gold Speed-Os. Around your next is a round 19-inch clock on a heavy gold chain, designed by Flavor Fav. You saw the article and photo because the paper was draped over your face when you woke up with a gigantic migraine, with two uniformed police officers smacking your ribs with nightsticks, telling you to get moving. Oh yeah, it is rush hour and you are spread eagle in the main waiting room at Penn Station. The next day you see the girl in class and she said, “Hey, I had fun, and well, don’t be too upset, it happens to every guy at one time or another, I tried every trick I knew to really turn you on, but heck, maybe some other time.”

Roll credits.

###