On ‘Dream Scenario’, A24, and difficult movies
It’s Nicholas Cage Vs the World again, in ‘Dream Scenario’
There are two kinds of Nicholas Cage performance in this world: in which he plays a decent person trying desperately to explain himself, if you would only just listen, and in which he plays someone that doesn’t give a toss — and is happy to burn nearly everything to the ground. In this sense Dream Scenario erects, paints, and sends the fourth wall a-tumbling down. Cage quite charismatically plays Paul Matthews, a not so charismatic college professor who wakes up one morning to discover that he is a recurring presence in everybody else’s dreams.
Cage’s commitment to a bit, dramatically speaking, cannot be understated. I invested time and snack money in Dream Scenario based on long ago pleasant experiences watching the man churn in likewise fare, Adaptation and Family Man; and to be honest I have zero evidence either of those movies has aged well. In Dream Scenario Cage commits to collegiate balding, and also to the idea that a man in Paul’s special dilemma would look to advance his intellectual legacy.
The screenplay sidewinds playfully in its first act, to impress upon us that we have encountered a version of this man if not on campus then in literature. He is at war with a rival he suspects has plagiarised and consequently cashed in on his research. He is in a happy marriage with a smart but exhausted partner (Julianne Nicholson from Mare of Easttown!) who amiably plus-1’s to things, and who is happy to discuss and laugh at the quirks of a fading sex life. There are 30 minutes or more of awkward reunions, cuddles, and confrontations that if you were in the room for, or the scene, you might place and pull hands from butt pockets repeatedly — or bounce wandering eyes on and off the nearest signage. This fascination with foible is casually ignored when Paul decides to indulge the resulting media circus, and it’s brutally forgotten altogether when said media circus turns into a village mob because Paul has begun to torture people in their dreams.
This is my thing with the A24 factory, which — please don’t get me wrong — continues to sponsor and deliver loads of fascinating ideas for movies. But the glut of it is such that sometimes I wonder if I’m merely witnessing the results of a super-productive brainstorm, and premature endorsement of a script that dazzled for about 40 pages and thus bought itself a ton of goodwill at significantly less than market rate. There are two through-lines in Dream Scenario, executed (it ought be said, amongst some pissiness here by me) rather excellently: here is a middle-aged man who finds himself in a peculiar but charming predicament, and here is how that predicament gradually evolves into a nightmare.
I don’t mean to diagnose anybody’s writing before I get through the doors at Knopf, but if I’d been in that initial pitch meeting I would have wondered if having a college professor for a protagonist bought us the opportunity to investigate things at some stage. Paul has a rival with a clear or at least passing interest in his work; a wife who supports him through some sophisticated (you’ll agree) ups and downs; and even a dean who indulges his oblique emotional vocabulary and occasional neurotic episodes. Why didn’t suddenly gaining everything, or ultimately losing everything, compel some sort of suburban caper around why this shit was happening?
This would have resulted in a longer movie, with a strange descent into hell the protagonist and his audience could have negotiated together. Instead we got a cynical ad for an ending, introducing an opportunistic Silicon Valley money-grab whose machination interjected to affect roughly ten minutes of movie. The ending was heartbreaking too, and lovely enough as a concept for me to dab at at least one eye. It just didn’t feel earned, though I’m sure Mr. Cage would beg to differ.
