A stationary glass sees its watery contents inexplicably tilt 45 degrees. A corridor spins like a hamster wheel as two antagonists are flung onto its ceiling. A city street literally curls in on itself as if it were being rolled up like a carpet. Buildings crumble. Bridges arch themselves up over rivers. Bodies are suspended then fluidly rotated in mid-air.
Welcome to the brain-sizzling, mind-altering world of Chris Nolan’s Inception, an existential blockbuster set – as the blurb goes – “within the architecture of the mind”. Or, if you like, a cerebral netherworld in which dreams and reality are inextricably meshed, one where you no longer know if you’re awake or asleep.