Richard Linklater’s Waking Life (2001) is, even for such an unusual director, an unusual film. From the very beginning, the bizarre ‘Rotoscope’ animation technique, (also used in A Scanner Darkly, 2006) jars the viewer, challenging us to take on the tension between the cartoon fabric of fantasy and the apparently ‘live action’ movements and articulations of the actors behind the art. The technique prepares us for the philosophical thesis to come: this is a challenge to our regular experience of film, asking us to ‘combine [our] rational abilities with the infinite possibilities of [our] dreams.’ Waking Life is our inception (yes, recently-hyped film reference intended) into the dream-world conceived of by Linklater. However, while the film is an expression of a personal philosophy, its diversity and breadth of material make it sing: interweaving the voices of Linklater’s friends and influences, like the strange chamber music that links one scene to another.
The film follows a central character, a young man who is only referred to as a ‘dreamer’ (Wiley Wiggins), as he travels through various levels of dream experience. Each of the short scenes introduces ideas and concepts, quickly building up a density of thought which tells you that you’re going to want to watch this film a few times through. Yet, you’re in for the ride already, and the whole journey is essential to the understanding of the film: watching a scene in isolation on YouTube does not do justice to any of the ideas presented. The recommended experience, then, is to – in the words of the film – ‘Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream…’. Concepts crystalise and resonate, with different ideas rising to the surface with successive viewings. You get the impression that the sheer density of thought presented allows for a selective, open experience that is less possible in films with more traditional narrative investment.
I first watched this film in my undergraduate years, and then revisited it in several viewings a year or so ago. On the more recent viewings, I was reading Sartre, and Robert C. Solomon’s conversation with ‘the dreamer’ about the importance of Existentialist thought in our contemporary culture struck a chord. ‘Your life is yours to create’, he concludes, and Waking Life gives an inspiring presentation for what’s possible with that freedom. Among others, a virtuouso performance by the poet Timothy “Speed” Levitch provides some of the best lines of the film, while illustrating a ‘poetry of the immediate’:
“But didn’t I mention the ongoing ‘wow’ is happening right now?”
“This entire thing we’re involved with called the world, is an opportunity to exhibit how exciting alienation can be.
Life is a matter of a miracle that is collected over time by moments, flabbergasted to be in each other’s presence.
The world is an exam to see if we can rise into direct experience.
Our eyesight is here as a test to see if we can see beyond it. Matter is here as a test for our curiosity. Doubt is here as an exam for our vitality.”
“An assumption develops that you cannot understand life and live life simultaneously. I do not agree entirely.
Which is to say I do not exactly disagree. I would say that life understood is life lived.
But the paradoxes bug me, and I can learn to love and make love to the paradoxes that bug me.
And on really romantic evenings of self, I go salsa dancing with my confusion.
Before you drift off, don’t forget. Which is to say, remember.
Because remembering is so much more a psychotic activity than forgetting.”
Scenes like this one are filmic scripture, providing an extraordinary density of provocation in the screenplay, which, when combined with the visual presentation, approaches ecstasy.
Although this film has been loved by everyone I’ve ever spoken to about it, I can’t help but think it had an especially lasting impression on me. For weeks after viewing both times, I renewed my explorations of the dream world, fascinated by the possibilities of lucidity as a way to explore the hitherto-locked territories of my psyche. Although I haven’t yet learned to retain my consciousness while crossing the threshold into dreaming, perhaps one day I’ll get there. Dreaming isn’t only a sleep-based activity, anyway. Because of my upbringing, where the power of imagination and story was always emphasised, Waking Life reminded me of the extraordinary creative potential of the mind, when left to play. Dreams are just such a playground, where we have nowhere else to be. The mind is safe in this time, to explore and build. Other ‘safe’ places for creativity include quiet moments when you can look out of a window, time spent pegging out laundry or on long walks. To enter these psychic ‘spaces’ is to experience the limitless freedom that is one of life’s greatest pleasures.
As the film goes on, however, it becomes clear that Linklater’s creation has an explicit interest in the very tangible – and, by comparison, dangerous – idea of revolution, as stated by the Situationists. Young men march the streets, angry men shout through megaphones from moving cars, or set themselves alight in protest. Although the mind can create worlds in dream, fantasy or film, ‘the dreamer’ is finally left wanting to wake up. Only in the titular ‘waking life’ can he apply these powers to the social sphere. In this determination, how does Linklater’s film speak to me? As someone who grew up as a member of the LDS Church, I was taught to believe in visions: but not the visions of anchorites or hermits. Joseph Smith’s vision was recorded in its various forms as a justification for a bold, material enterprise that sought to change the world. The young boy’s dream was to bring the angels of the Bible into physical proximity (yes, spirit, we learn, is matter) to the people around him.
In this sense, Joseph Smith was a precursor to Linklater’s ‘dreamer’, for me. He’s a man who lived – as much as anyone else I can think of – the miracle of connection between the immaterial and the material. The revelations he received were always concerned with making the unseen, seen, and adding layers of spiritual significance to the landscape that surrounded him. If I can learn to do the same, I’ll have learned to bridge the gap that yearns from my genetics: the essence of my creative humanity.
Sounds like something worth trying? If you haven’t already, watch the film: it’s a trip.
For an extended analysis and breakdown of the 34 scenes, check out Doug Mann’s excellent online essay here.
NEXT WEEK: We’ll explore the radical cinematic method of the German-born auteur Werner Herzog, focussing on his equally profound and disturbing ‘Grizzly Man’ (2005). Please – rent a copy and take part in the discussion!
I don’t remember when it was that I saw the film, but it was long ago enough that the details are lost to my memory and only the impression remains. I have the feeling that I overdid my analysis at the time and that the ending left me a bit unhinged – but I can’t remember how it ended. I couldn’t bring myself to watch it again for some reason, but maybe I’ll give it another shot now and see how my perspective has changed. I did enjoy the newness of the experience, and nothing I’ve seen since has had the same effect with mixed mediums.
I do really like this though;
“The world is an exam to see if we can rise into direct experience.
Our eyesight is here as a test to see if we can see beyond it. Matter is here as a test for our curiosity. Doubt is here as an exam for our vitality.”
When I am able to keep this perspective in the forefront of my mind the world is a completely different space – one that I am more comfortable with and at home in. When I fall back into the filters of religion and society, I feel like my view is muted and blurry. I’d rather be more invested in the overall experience than the details. It may be unnerving for me, but films like this help me to re-angle my focus when it gets shifted or too narrow.
Thanks Corktree. I feel just the same way – and I’m interested in Levitch’s language here – which sounds like the traditional LDS teaching, that life is a ‘test’. The idea of a test without a fixed conception of an examiner – for me – leads to a completely different experience: not punitive, but an opportunity.
Do take a look at the movie again – it’s certainly not one that should be watched only once! The ending is a crescendo, but you could watch it in two parts, or three. The important thing, I think, is that you spend time ‘in’ the film.
It has been many years since I watched Waking Life , but its a film I’ve watched many times. Although the film is not for casual viewing, I find it exhilerating to watch, something that challenges me visually and mentally. I think there is something very powerful about discussing dreams in a medium (film) that is essentially about our communal hopes and dreams. Also, I love the way the animation takes us immediately out of our comfort zone, perhaps invoking a visceral or emotional response, it, quite literally, forces us to look at the world in a different way. To juxtapose that with fantasy with realism and philosophy is very powerful.
Besides that, Before Sunrise and Before Sunset are two of my favorite movies, so I loved seeing Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy reprising those characters in the intimacy of a possible dreamworld, which is where, as viewers, a large part of us wants them to be.
To introduce (I hope) discussion on a related point:
Does anyone have experience or thoughts about lucidity, or ‘exploring the dreamworld’ in a wider sense? I love how Waking Life challenges me – every time I watch it – to more fully experience and try to understand this huge part of my inner ‘world’.
I hope I’m not posting too late. But I can’t not say something about this film!
I first watched Waking Life in high school. I fell in love with the movie right away. It became common for me to have whole scenes of dialogue penned in black ballpoint on my arms. (I was one of those girls.) I began experimenting with sleep and dreams. Instead of sleeping for a block of 8 hours, I experimented with 6, 5, 4, or 3 hours. I decided to set my alarm to wake me every 90 minutes, (which was supposedly how often one typically REM sleeps,) and then write down what I remembered about my dreams in a ‘dream journal’ I kept near my bed. I had grand plans to analyze my dreams and discover inner truths about my unconscious. :) Also, prompted by the movie, I started asking myself everyday if I was dreaming. This eventually carried over to my dreams and I could then recognize I was dreaming while inside a dream. I could make decisions and explore things, but I never got to the point of having too much control over what other characters did (or 360 vision, etc.)
More importantly however, Waking Life was a movie that changed the way I thought about humanity. One scene sticks out in particular. In a stairwell, a random woman passes by the main character, (she has magic moving hair.) After they pass, she turns around, walks back to the main character and starts talking about how she doesn’t want to just smile politely and “be an ant,” but that she wants to know him, she wants him to know her, not just be an ant doing their duty mindlessly in an ant colony. This scene resonated with me deeply. I felt kind of alone in the world, and it was inspiring to know that other people in the world wanted to feel connected in the same way that I did. (Not to mention I sometimes have the urge to basically recreate this scene when I see people who look interesting or who I might share a brief moment with, but my social radar says this would be too creepy.)
Lastly, not to descent too much, but I disagree about watching the movie in separate parts. (At least not at first.) I think people who watch Waking Life usually love the unconventional animation. It has a unique look, you’re not sure whats going to happen, you kind of feel like you’ve consumed a visual psychedelic, etc. But, as the film goes on, the instability of the images begins to weigh on you. Its still beautiful, but even people who love philosophy, start to ask themselves how much longer the movie is. Visually and emotionally, there is a weight on the viewer. I think this is an important part of the experience of the film. In the beginning, the main character is exploring through the dream-like world with curiosity, going with the flow. But as he becomes more and more aware, he gradually develops frustration with the dream world. He’s unsure why he’s stuck in between dreaming and waking life. He wants his reality to make sense again. I believe Linklater wants you to feel, like the main character… a bit worn, and even relieved at the end. But if you separate the film into parts, I don’t think you will feel those things. Maybe someone has some opposing thoughts about this, I’d be interested to hear them.
Marissa – not too late at all! Thanks so much for sharing your thoughts.
I always find it encouraging to hear from people who have successfully trained themselves to be able to explore the dreamworld: ‘Oneironauts’, at the film calls them. To date, I’ve had one experience where I achieved lucidity, but it was very brief – still, I hope that one day I’ll get it. Asking myself ‘Am I dreaming?’ is an important question, because as well as setting in place a habit for achieving lucidity in sleep, it encourages me to consider the freedom of the waking moment.
That scene in the stairwell is brilliant – it’s a human moment snatched from the flow of mundane existence. I think lots of people – if they could get past the usual oppression of social norms – would much rather have this kind of interaction in their lives, that not. So in dreams and in daytime, it’s on us to create these moments, and enrich our lives by being responsible for our actions, in a dynamic and purposeful way.