Sleepy. Hollow.

When I was about eight, I went through that inevitable phase of ending every story I wrote with “...and then I woke up. It had all been a dream.” With Inception, which I finally got round to seeing yesterday, Christopher Nolan does the same thing, but in the first five minutes, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then it’s a bit ambiguous, THE END. There’s lots of shooting, but no real bodies – because after all, it had all been a dream – which makes it something akin to an unauthorised remake of The A-Team, or perhaps the world’s most expensive paintball game.

That said, the bit where Paris folds up on itself is pretty cool.

PS: Another take on it by Patroclus; and in the comments thereto, an analysis that makes sense, but doesn’t make it any better.