Sleep Perchances a Dream

While I did look up The Science of Sleep's overall "rotten" rating before watching it... I didn't read any of the reviews. Suffice it to say the 69% rating it received had me expecting a mild to moderate disappointment. And the very anticipation of disappointment was, well... disappointing.



Michel Gondry's previous feature film, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) is among my favorites (I know, I know... I've already made that known countless times on this blog). And if I had the impression there'd be any use in a Top Ten list, Sunshine would most definitely be on there (though, to be fair, my "top ten" would likely include no fewer than 20 films). So the mere thought of a D+ average for Gondry's newest had me crestfallen.

Much to my surprise, then, I actually enjoyed The Science of Sleep (2006). I wouldn't put it up there with Sunshine, though it is the sort of film I'd recommend to my friends. It's whimsical and charming. And the stop motion animation throughout is the sort of imagery that leaves a smile on your face.

But that's not to say it's altogether flawless, and I can see why some critics are hesitant to dish out heaps of praise: it lacks the depth of plot that made Sunshine so compelling (perhaps Gondry could've used Sunshine co-writer Charlie Kaufman on this project as well). And it's difficult to pinpoint an actual "purpose" for the film. Is it about a man recovering from his father's death? Is it about his reconciliation between his French and Mexican parentage? Is it about a dreamer at odds with a cubicle world?

Or is it, as most of the trailers lead us to believe, a movie about a boy who likes a girl who doesn't like him back even though they're clearly meant to be together?

Before I hazard a guess, it may be worthwhile to note that the one thing I hate about writing fiction for a critical audience is the assumption that everything must have a point... that there must be a central focus; rising action; falling action; etc. While it's true that, at any given point in our lives, we may be preoccupied with a particular event, said event is seldom the only thing that drives our thoughts. Rather, every day is a compilation of catalysts and consequences that propel us further towards (in-) action.

It always struck me as unfair that a story, then, could only have one purpose. Or even that it should have any purpose.

Am I saying the The Science of Sleep is without focus?

No. I'm just saying I wasn't so much concerned with finding, dissecting it, and pinning it to a wall. Not to mention, a movie that deals so much with the variegated nature of dreams should, itself, be a patchwork of sorts.

And so The Science of Sleep paints the dreamworld of its main character, Stéphane (played by Gael García Bernal). Stéphane is a 20-something artist who falls so deeply into his own dreams that he often fails to distinguish them from reality. The end result is a film that, itself, switches between dreams and reality, often transitioning so fluidly that even the viewing audience is unable to tell one from the other (this, in part, because Stéphane has painted a reality for himself that somewhat imitates his dreams — where water is made of cellophane; cities are made of cardboard; and trees ride freely aboard ships).

For this, Stéphane reminds me a bit of Jean-Pierre Jeunet's Amélie. He's inventive and creative, and does just about every beautifully imaginative thing to capture the attention of his next door neighbor. He evinces the sort of childlike charm that most of us abandon with time: and this charm appears in his dreams; in his reality; and his sometimes painful struggle to separate the two.

In fact, as the film progresses the very thing that makes Stéphane so appealing bears the unfortunate side effect of bordering on mental illness. That is to say, Stéphane seems perfectly normal in the beginning — just a bit quirkly — but we eventually (and subtly) come to realize there's more to it than that. He ultimately suffers for his 'beautiful affliction.'

The end result: a string of surrealistic images that could have benefited from a bit more glue to hold them together (yes, I admit, this film is missing something). But, man, if it wasn't pretty while it lasted.


NOTE: About 1/4 of the film is in French; be prepared to read subtitles.