Christopher Nolan is no longer a director, he is a magician. The type of magician that has the power to transform the audience’s thoughts and question the reality of not what is in front of them, but what exists around them.

Nolan is no stranger to the thriller genre. With overflowing, complex plots in Memento and Prestige, toying with the viewer is his strong suit. After ten years of writing, Inception is Nolan’s opus.

Viewers will find much of the film adrift in their own interpretation. Much like Prestige, Inception isn’t about seeing what is there, it is about understanding what isn’t. Cobb (Dicaprio) works as some dream robber, performing jobs to gain valuable information from the subject’s dream that he is in.

Cobb has just burned his last bridge when Saito (Watanabe), a rich businessman, offers Cobb a opportunity to return from his exile to be with his kids. The offer, however, is the perpendicular task of the implantation, or inception, of an idea into the victim’s psyche. A task that everyone, except Cobb, passes off as impossible.

The mission is to subconsciously convince the son, Robert Fischer (Murphy), of an ailing energy tycoon to split up his father’s company. A move that would prove too prosperous to Saito’s business interests. Cobb collects a team of dream magicians all charged with unique jobs. Ariadne (Page) becomes the architect, employed to create the visual aspects of the dreamer. Others take part as being able to change personas in the dream or sedate individuals. All, in the end, falling victim to the secrets Cobb has let seep into his dreams and memories.

There is no way to fully explain the rest of the plot with any respect to the reader. As the audience, we often find ourselves trapped in the maze of reality, with only the Virgil-esque Cobb at our side for interpretation. To simply put words next to each other would leave the moviegoer lost in a sea of ink, one that only Nolan could helm out of. There are plenty of gun fights, car chases, and explosions which will quench any yearning for action. Playing off of Momento and The Prestige, the final scene will leave the viewer to question the existence of what really just happened. Again, was it something we saw, or was it something we thought we understood.

The director uses the labyrinth of the subconscious to question the idea around the audience. Maybe, in theory, we are all victims of each other’s subconscious, constantly interpreting and creating the world around each other. On the way home, I couldn’t help but think that everything around the next corner was just a recreation from my memory. I had driven down this street a thousand times and because of this, my subconscious was recreating something that I had experienced those thousand times, leaving me to dream or delve in other thoughts. Maybe this is Nolan’s scope, then again, maybe it is Nolan’s hope that when we die, we only wake up as if it was just a dream.

If the world was fine with turkey and ham, why did we create SPAM? Such a question could be pondered with the ostentatious remake of The Karate Kid.

Jackie Chan as a comedy prop in the past

I have empathy for Jackie Chan. After basically whoring himself out to the American stereotype of Chinese culture in films such as Rush Hour and Shanghai Knights, Chan has finally gotten a mainstream role that can exist on its own in Chinese culture. He overall succeeds with a stellar acting performance void of those unnecessary one liner’s found in Rush Hour. Still, the atmosphere that exists around him is laden with puns and unconscious racial obscenities.

The film starts in a subtle Detroit atmosphere where Dre (Jaden Smith) and his mother (Tariji P. Henson) are leaving for a new life in Beijing, China. The first thing that is to be noted is the heavy use of English language. Everyone from Dre’s principle to his love interest, Meiying, speaks fluent English.

After making a pass at Meiying, Dre is approached with the vociferous Cheng. Dre tries to fight Cheng but ultimately ends up in the dirt, lacking the kung fu to best Cheng. After getting his ass kicked a few more times, Dre finds rescue at the hands of the maintenance main, Mr. Han (Chan).

Han and Dre go to Cheng’s gym leader to settle the feud, but the Hollywood-esque gym leader challenges Dre to a tournament in return for the bullying to cease. Only here does Han agree to train Dre.

Han notes Dre’s predilection for laziness and punishes him by making him take off and hang up his coat for about 45 minutes of the film. When Dre finally has enough, it is revealed that when he goes through the motion without the coat, he has become a superb blocker, keeping up with all of Han’s punches instantly.

Dre fights in the tournament and is able to beat fighters twice his size. After undoubtedly breaking his leg, he still is able to beat arch-rival Cheng for the title and good has officially defeated evil. The students of the wanton gym leader pledge allegiance to Han and Dre, which is cute, but an ultimately obvious ending.

The film comes up short by only incorporating fifteen minutes of Chinese heritage. We go up to a temple on a mountain to drink spiritual water and do a short routine on top of The Great Wall. In the end, Karate Kid fails to incorporate more scenery than Big Bird Goes To China.

Casting Jaden Smith was an overall ultimate mistake on behalf of director Harald Zwart. The Hollywood pond is too small for the cocky, “I’m better than everything” attitude filled by father Will Smith.

Columbia Pictures had a real opportunity vessel to educate American youth on the misconceived notations of Asian culture. Sadly, they only continued to highlight racial stereotypes on both sides of the Pacific.

Summer has hit and to me that means one thing: concerts. Festivals like Bonnaroo, Lollapalooza, Pitchfork, and a slew of others. The music is usually enough to keep anyone focused and dancing, but some concerts sometimes require a little bit more. It seems slightly sacrilegious to attend a Dropkick Murphys or Gogol Bordello show without at least a little bit of liquor in your belly.

However, this can be problematic when you’re working an 8-hour gig in order to pay for rent, gas, concert tickets, let alone $4.50 for a single shot of Jack Daniels or a 3-dollar beer from the hassled bartender at the side of the stage. What is an honest concert loving American to do?

The only real options to gaining alcohol is to pony up your hard earned cash after you already bought your pricey ticket.  Or, better yet, sneak it in. The only problem is that concert venues recognize this as a very tempting option as well. Classic tactics such as flasks, bottles in coat pockets, and even pints in the sock are failing in the face of increased security and prolonged pat downs.

There are some quality products such as The Beerbelly, which is made up of a neoprene and a polyurethane bladder with a tube for dispensing. In layman’s terms, it’s a plastic bag you strap to your belly that imitates the stomach of a college senior in a frat and has a tube that conveniently dispenses beer or liquor into your mouth. The only problem with products like this is that they cost $49.95 for a basic model.

I’ve luckily happened upon a tactic while I was studying in Ecuador that works perfectly for concerts. In many Ecuadorian stores and gas stations it is customary that you drink any soda or beer you might purchase in the store or near the premises. This is so that the storeowners don’t have to risk losing the bottles which they can return to the bottling companies for money. To avoid this risk, they will give you your beverage in the equivalent of a “to-go sack”. This is simply a plastic lunch sack that they pour the beverage into and tie up at one end. It holds carbonation surprisingly well and can be drank by ripping out a corner of the bag and sipping until it’s gone.

The benefit of these plastic sacks is that it can feel very much like the fillings of any pair of briefs or a bra. It can be attached to articles of clothing by simple pressure, a twist tie, or a small amount of any adhesive. These bags can easily hold 12-16 oz. with very little risk of spilling.

I’d recommend using mixed drinks or beer because once the whole is ripped or the top is opened it is fairly difficult to get it closed again. This can lead to the bags being drank quite quickly, and a lunch sack of Jager or vodka can get you well past the point of enjoying the concert, unless you want to hear the band’s hot new track from inside a bathroom stall.