Initially, I felt compelled to analyse 'The Matrix' from a philosophical or psychological perspective. To dig into the topic of existentialism and how the story questions free will. Or perhaps the plight of man, specifically Neo's, and his role in the world's predicament. But the emerging popularity of quantum mechanics and discussions about how a multiverse works are so much more interesting.
In the year that Pokemon cards were big business and Spongebob Squarepants made his debut, Keanu Reeves starred in the year's biggest blockbuster. He played Thomas Anderson, your stereotypical shy, loner computer geek with an obsession for a concept known as 'The Matrix'. Computer Programmer by day, cybercriminal by night, Mr. Anderson's world is turned downside up when a mysterious call beckons him to "...follow the white rabbit". And just like Lewis Carroll's reference suggests, Mr. Anderson descends through a rabbit hole that goes far deeper than he could ever have imagined.
Damn this movie still looks good 22 years later. It still dazzles us with great performances for a 90's sci-fi that's heavy on CGI and aesthetic. Hugo Weaving's delivery captures the monotone and robotic qualities that make him the perfect villain for this kind of story and Laurence Fishburne's memorable portrayal of Morpheus epitomises the father archetype with a god-like quality. Reeves, as the everyman, fits like a glove and plays yin to Weaving's yang. But well-written characters need a well-defined purpose, and what better way to give meaning than posing life's biggest questions?
Consider the significance of butterflies for a moment. In the final lines, our protagonist chooses his words very carefully, speaking of change; specifically, the fear of it. In the original shooting script, you'll find the word 'chrysalis' (the hardened outer protective layer of a pupa). Although it was eventually removed after test audiences revealed they didn't know the meaning, the symbolism spans the trilogy with constant examples of metamorphosis, resurrection, hope and courage.
The biggest leap of faith our characters endure, aside from the one atop a skyscraper, is the science of what bounds them. It's a social construct, where stakes are high and the implications of waking up in these new boundaries are as damaging for some as they are empowering for others. The mere analysis of the many-worlds theory is enough to make heads spin, but being confronted by a simulated reality when our knowledge barely fathoms the hypothesis could be enough to send us back to an infantile state.
In the year that Pokemon cards were big business and Spongebob Squarepants made his debut, Keanu Reeves starred in the year's biggest blockbuster. He played Thomas Anderson, your stereotypical shy, loner computer geek with an obsession for a concept known as 'The Matrix'. Computer Programmer by day, cybercriminal by night, Mr. Anderson's world is turned downside up when a mysterious call beckons him to "...follow the white rabbit". And just like Lewis Carroll's reference suggests, Mr. Anderson descends through a rabbit hole that goes far deeper than he could ever have imagined.
Damn this movie still looks good 22 years later. It still dazzles us with great performances for a 90's sci-fi that's heavy on CGI and aesthetic. Hugo Weaving's delivery captures the monotone and robotic qualities that make him the perfect villain for this kind of story and Laurence Fishburne's memorable portrayal of Morpheus epitomises the father archetype with a god-like quality. Reeves, as the everyman, fits like a glove and plays yin to Weaving's yang. But well-written characters need a well-defined purpose, and what better way to give meaning than posing life's biggest questions?
Consider the significance of butterflies for a moment. In the final lines, our protagonist chooses his words very carefully, speaking of change; specifically, the fear of it. In the original shooting script, you'll find the word 'chrysalis' (the hardened outer protective layer of a pupa). Although it was eventually removed after test audiences revealed they didn't know the meaning, the symbolism spans the trilogy with constant examples of metamorphosis, resurrection, hope and courage.
The biggest leap of faith our characters endure, aside from the one atop a skyscraper, is the science of what bounds them. It's a social construct, where stakes are high and the implications of waking up in these new boundaries are as damaging for some as they are empowering for others. The mere analysis of the many-worlds theory is enough to make heads spin, but being confronted by a simulated reality when our knowledge barely fathoms the hypothesis could be enough to send us back to an infantile state.
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