Waking Life

I remember the first time I saw Waking Life, a film by Richard Linklater. It is a meandering film about dreams and reality and where the subconsciousness meets conscious thought. I loved it. I thought it was interesting and highly cerebral. For a while after I saw the film I experimented with "lucid dreaming" and even now still expierience lucid dreams.

When I saw that it was going to be on IFC I was really excited. I hoped to be filled again with wonder and awe, to let the ideas on consciousness, dreams, and death pour through me and fill me with new vigor and vitality.

As I watched the film I felt detached. I was annoyed at the cartoon overlay, and found it distracting. The lack of structure bored me and I had to force myself to continue to watch. I kept looking for that gem of wisdom I had found so many years ago. I tried to glean anything I could from the film, but like grains of construction sand, it simply slipped though my grasp.

Maybe I'm too ridgid in how I think now, or maybe my taste in film has changed, or maybe I've heard too much metaphysical psychobable to care about these emphemeral ideas anymore. I can't help but wonder if it is me or the film? Or is it rather, like a dream the essence of it slips away more and more with every waking moment?

Either way, I was sad to be so disinterested in a film that I had once cherished.