Neo-Wonderland of Noir, Philosophizing, and Spectacle

I probably haven't studied any other film from the end of the 20th century more than I have "The Matrix:" as a philosophical, political and religious text; as genre entry from cyberpunk, to noir (or "neo" noir), and even superhero flick; and as reflexive visual-effects spectacle, mainly, while recently reviewing it for its "Alice in Wonderland" allusions. One of the most influential films of its day and, indeed, ever, I also find it continually interesting and thrilling. One need only sample the numerous imitations of the visual effects, fashion of the characters and style of the picture in subsequent movies to understand what a cultural touchstone it became.

References to Lewis Carroll's Alice books are plentiful. Trinity's first messages to Neo conclude with the order to "Follow the white rabbit," which appears as a tattoo. From there, a psychedelic connection is made between the books and film, including a trip to a rave and talk of mescaline recalling Alice's adventures with consuming mushrooms and other substances that altered her size. Neo also transmogrifies after ingesting the red pill. As Wonderland was a dreamworld, Neo also repeatedly wakes up, as if from a dream, after such curious events. He even talks to himself like Alice did, and both have something of identity crises. Stylistically, there are all the shared mirror, doors and staircase motifs, and the zoom-ins through the Matrix code have the appearance of traveling through rabbit holes. A similar symbolic relationship could be made of Neo's rebirth from his womb-like pod, as he's flushed down another sort of rabbit hole. Upon first exiting the Matrix, Neo literally enters the looking-glass--or, rather, becomes one with it. Before this, Morpheus explicitly cites "Alice in Wonderland" in comparison to Neo's experience--in a room with checkerboard floor tiles no less. Another children's book is once referenced, too, with "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz" (or, surely more often thought of, the 1939 film), written as an Americanized and dumbed-down version of its Victorian counterpart. Also note that it's the "ignorance is bliss" character--whose own name, "Cypher," suggests a lack of critical thinking, as well as computer code--who mentions Dorothy and Kansas.

Of all the genres one could ascribe to "The Matrix," I find noir the most compelling, including as it applies to the Carrollian dreamworld and ties into the issues of choice and fate and the rest of the philosophizing. Noir, or more specifically neon-noir, style is established from the opening of the Warner Bros. logo, which appears in neon green over a black-and-white background. Henceforth, dark colors dominate along with the standard low-key lighting, as well as the neon lights and greens. Even the office exit signs are green instead of red, as if giving the greenlight for Neo to exit the Matrix. We also get some variation in color correction to distinguish the dream and real worlds. One of the main ways noir and Wonderland are connected here are by the wake-up calls. In noir, such a metaphorical awakening to whatever mystery or murderous corruption oft begins with a literal phone call. Sam Spade in "The Maltese Falcon" (1941), for instance, wakes up to a ringing phone whereupon the police inform him of his partner's murder. Likewise, Neo receives literal wake up calls from phones and clocks, but also in the first scene in which we find him, where Trinity sends through his computer screen, "Wake up, Neo." Moreover, all of the inhabitants of the Nebuchadnezzar hovership are only able to be awakened from their adventures in the Matrix via land lines, and they also communicate with members back on the ship through their mobile flip phones. Another noir device exploited is the cleansing rain, employed here for Neo's extraction from the Matrix. And, we get at least a couple femme fatale candidates: mainly, Trinity and, more briefly, the woman in red. Meanwhile, Morpheus fills the mentor role, and his name recalls the god of dreams and sleep. The other important names here also tend to take on a religious significance, which fits rather well with the implications of awakening, as well as fate and whatever variation on fighting corruption or evil characteristic of noir.

Neo is a messiah figure. He's the "One" (even "Neo" is an anagram of this). Although there are other sectarian references and, generally, the picture is pluralistic, more specific to the Christian conception, as a Christ figure, Neo is awakened by "Trinity," as in the one from the Christian doctrine. Although not antithetical to the predestined disposition many noir gumshoes find themselves in, this blatant religious allegory seems to me more consistent with the superhero genre--especially with Neo's Superman-like flying and other supernatural abilities and saving of humanity. Heck, just consider the similarities in how phone booths are used or the alter egos. Since the Richard Donner films, at least, Superman has been a Christ figure--crucifixion poses and resurrections included, and the theme has only become only more entrenched with the versions directed by Bryan Singer and Zack Snyder.

Philosophically, the film most explicitly references Jean Baudrillard's "Simulacra and Simulation," the book featured in Neo's first scene and hollowed out to the chapter "On Nihilism," alluding to the fiction and meaninglessness of his existence inside the Matrix, as well as Neo's similarities with the original popular Nietzsche Übermensch, or Superman. Later, Morpheus quotes the "desert of the real" from the same book and within a TV-enclosed simulation no less. My main criticism of "The Matrix," however, would be that it's too simplistic and unambiguous in its dreamworld and real-world dichotomy, including to sustain any sort of Baudrillardian or otherwise sophisticated postmodern exploration. That said, I think it does better with its other major philosophical or spiritual allusion, which like Wonderland is initiated by another sort of tunnel, as well as other sort of chiaroscuro effects akin to those of noir, the cave allegory of Plato. Theologians have spent centuries, too, on making Platonism compatible with Christianity, which makes for a nice fit for "The Matrix." Central to this is the Oracle--the sort of prophet that Plato's Socrates visited at Delphi. Indeed, the one in the film points to the words above her kitchen door "know thyself" in Latin, but which is actually an Ancient Greek aphorism from that Temple of Apollo. It's also a maxim attributed to Socrates.

What I like most about the cave allegory, though, is that with its illusory, flickering shadows, it's well suited to cinematic reflexivity, as are dreams. For all its Baudrillardian and hamfisted cyberpunk polemic of man-v-machines, railing against the illusion of the Matrix, this is a film that is based in fantasy and spectacle. It's not that this can't be read cleverly: as a geek fantasy of mind-over-matter, of hacking, hiding and surviving in reality but looking cool fighting in shades, leather and trench coats when plugged in (literally plugged in--love the puns, including the bug one); as struggle against authority and conformity of corporate cubicles (even their names suggest a dull orthodoxy: Anderson, Smith) or literal silencing by Agent Smith's "gestapo tactics;" or, in light of the Wachowskis subsequent transitions, as a transgender allegory (reportedly, studio cowardice prevented there being a trans character on screen). All of which fits well with the Wonderland transmogrification, noir awakening and philosophical illusions. Peer into the looking-glass, however, or the reflections in bending spoons, sunglasses and skyscraper windows, and the most apparent dreamworld is film itself.

The closest here to a film-within-film is the old-fashioned television, which Morpheus rather ironically employs to introduce Neo to reality and to explain the Matrix. This film and the art form in general are fundamentally about dualities, doubles, déjà vu, "living two lives." This is the basis of acting, too, of someone pretending to be another, of changing appearance inside simulations, of agents body snatching, of wanting to be "someone important, like an actor." It's also telling that the best parts occur in the simulations. Befitting the now-retro tech of the film, what with the land lines, flip phones, monitors and all becoming almost as antiquated as that TV, this is a film when films were mostly still films, albeit digitally enhanced. We're introduced to Neo with the computer screen reflecting back upon his face, or rather vise versa, as well as kung-fu training seen through computer code and many other shots framed by screens--mise-en-abymes, a world inside computers. This stands next to the best capturing of motion from multiple cameras with the bullet-time photography since the chronophotography of the likes of Eadweard Muybridge. Trinity's entire opening sequence runs through homages to masters of filmic spectacle past, from Hitchcock's "Vertigo" (1958) and "The Birds" (1963) to Spielberg's "Duel" (1971). It's not without irony, too, that these wannabe saviors of humanity, in fact, slaughter a lot of humanity, including in the ultraviolent lobby shootout, complete with slow-motion and Neo's trench coat framed at his feet like a superhero cape, or every time they kill an agent inhabiting another's body, such as after that Western-style standoff in a subway. This is a picture of illusion--a visual-effects spectacle. In the end, with the "One" synthesizing the duality, it's we, the spectator, who wake up from the spectacular Wonderland, the flickering shadows of the simulated world inside a film, and exit the dream.

(Included in my list Through the Looking-Glass: A Ranking of Films Reflecting Lewis Carroll’s Alice Books.)