Plato's Cave or a Trick on Us

What is reality? A fairly loaded question granted and its answer is always relative to the individual who is asked. But beyond the explanations of multiple dimensions in astrophysics, or the existential pursuits of proving a dream is just as reasonable a reality as "reality" itself (whatever that means) lies one true medium which demands questioning our conventional understanding of reality. Film is a medium that would, in my opinion, bewilder Plato into utter insanity when attempting explains its significance to the concept of reality. While at face value film seems nothing more than a sophisticated version of the allegory of the cave, such a simple explanation omits the significance of the audience's input and participation. Given our modern society which is general ruled by capitalist pursuits of marketing and manufacturing, the cave wall and the images projected are not left to the whims of the guards, but is instead dictated by the free expression of desire for someone or something to relate to. To put it more simply any true filmmaker is out to make a product which relates and connects with an audience primarily to sell as many tickets as possible and make enough money to justify to production studio to finance another film. But the soul of a film, the purpose of any filmmaker is to create something which resonates with an audience and help them feel less alone in the world. Midnight in Paris is a film which presents us with a fictional world which the audience and main character Gil can freely travel through the apexes of modern French history and culture. Is it obvious that this world crafted by Woody Allen nothing more than a product of his imagination? Sure it is, but does that mean it cannot be interpreted as a form of reality...that is not so easily answered. A particular moment in the film which truly struck me on an emotional, physical, and even existential level is when Gil meets Earnest Hemingway. As a Hemingway fan myself I was easily impressed by the introduction of the literary giant, but I still felt firmly in place in the reality that was my cold, stiff rolling chair, sitting before this dilapidated and worn out projector screen. Then something happened, something magnificent had occurred, I was suddenly and violently transported into the film itself. There I sat to Gil's left and Hemingway’s right and I began to imagine a world which went beyond the script and the camera. As I heard Hemingway speak and Gil's astonishment awaken my spirit, I dared myself to step into that window of cinematic brilliance and decided to enjoy delicious ale with my literary hero and lived vicariously through the eyes of Gil. Reality is truly what you make of it and in the right filmmakers hands a film can truly defy your preconceived and unbearably average notions of human reality. To ask whether one should believe in the illusions created by Hollywood or question those subversive illusions is honestly irrelevant to me, what is relevant is that I got to watch my hero on screen relate and converse with what can be considered a postmodern character. Allen may be trying to allude to the deceptive practices of Hollywood, but he can never deny me the simple pleasures of seeing an old friend again in one form or the other. I rather believe in a reality which can bring back our greatest heroes and most beloved of artist, instead of a world which just accepts them as porous bones in worn out wooden boxes. Call me naive or maybe an eternal optimist, but either way I feel more comfertable remembering my heroes by recreating them in new and inventive ways.