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I would make fun of Matthew Broderick but considering the fact that he once drove down the wrong lane and killed two women? A razor scooter is probably a good choice of transportation for him.
The Science of Sleep, appropriately enough, opens in the middle of a dream. Stephane (Gael Garcia Bernal) is in a television studio made almost entirely out of cardboard, hosting his own show, and showing the audience how dreams are prepared. Some ingredients: random thoughts, memories from the past, love, friendships, relationships, songs, etc. Of course, these are also the ingredients that Michel Gondry uses while writing his first film. The Science of Sleep is, without a doubt, a Gondry production. His work (ranging from the films he’s done with Charlie Kaufman to his music videos to the doodles he draws on toilet paper and sells on his website) are all chock-full of insane, adolescent imagination and energy. He’s created a city out of cardboard tubes and a spin art machine out of a piano, essentially proving himself to be a hyper-intelligent twelve-year-old who doesn’t see things as what they are, but instead views them as what they could be.
It’s no coincidence that, similar to Gondry, Stephane is essentially an adolescent. The Science of Sleep is Gondry’s most personal film to date. He fills the movie with images of his own childhood nightmares; most notably, the motif of enormous hands previously seen in both the Foo Fighters’ “Everlong” video and Gondry’s own documentary, I’ve Been Twelve Forever. There are also aspects of his personality and life: the inventions, the language barrier -- he even filmed the movie in his old France apartment) It’s a brutally personal film which makes it simultaneously more appealing to the viewer but almost painful to watch. You can feel the jealousy when Stephanie dances with someone else, and you instinctively cringe when Stephane awkwardly lashes out to Stephanie towards the end of the film.
The film provides no real catharsis for the audience, but rather it ends on a strange note in Stephane's dreams, bringing the film full circle.
The crickets and the rust-beetles scuttled among the nettles of the sage thicket. "Vámonos, amigos," he whispered, and threw the busted leather flintcraw over the loose weave of the saddlecock. And they rode on in the friscalating dusklight.
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I've not commented on anything yet :(
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