




6. Waking Life, Richard Linklater. 2001. Critical approval: 80%. Released the same year as Mulholland Drive, as if to declare a new wave of artistry at the dawn of a new millenium, this head trip makes a philosopher out of you like it or not. The anonymous main character stands for us as he proceeds in a dream state that gradually becomes clearer, and he enters discussions about reality and the meaning of life. André Bazin enthusiasts will be pleased here, as Waking Life celebrates the idea of the "holy moment", which invites philosophical curiosity as means to a higher consciousness. The portrayal of potheads and slackers is especially brilliant, as their minds aren't slack at all. The critical point of the film is that reality is but a single instant which the brain falsely reconstructs as time, not itself novel philosophy perhaps, but in context this all adds up to a unique look at dreams.

8. What Dreams May Come, Vincent Ward. 1998. Critical approval: 55%. A blazing canvas of the afterlife, where the experience of heaven or hell is shaped by one's dreams. Yes, Robin Williams stars (strike one), and the "love conquers all" theme too melodramatic (strike two), but the transcendental concepts are ragingly effective, and the imagery at every moment stunning. Chris' heaven is a literal paint job, and parts of hell are straight out of Dante's Inferno. The film is about reincarnation, though Christianized. Side note: be sure to watch the alternate ending on the DVD, which is viscerally faithful to the book, showing Chris and his wife reborn in a third world (among the pain and screams of childbirth) in order to pay off their debts of karma, instead of America again, as toddlers, just to have fun meeting each other again for the first time.
9. The Science of Sleep, Michel Gondry. 2006. Critical approval: 70%. About a young man's inability to reconcile his dreams with reality, and his childlike infatuation with a woman who shares his creative interests. Gondry serves up a lot of eye candy here -- cellophane-like water, cardboard television sets, giant rubber body parts, animated miniatures, and other forms of bizarreness that serve as the "building blocks" of dreams. As the film progresses, the line between his dreams and waking state blurs in direct proportion to his romantic obsession, and he tries to hurt himself (physically and emotionally) as a child would. This is the film of frustrated dreams, of self-invention -- he fancies himself a gourmet cook, a lover, and a music-maker, while in the real world slagging away at an unrewarding job (the production of nude calendars). A film Michel Gondry was made for, relying on inventive visuals.

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