Freshman Focus: Christopher Nolan's "Following"
The enduring wrath of COVID-19 has upended the entire movie industry as we know it, forcing studios to show their hands and release their giants despite the calamity, or keep them hidden for the indefinite future. While studios stand in the shadows awkwardly twiddling their thumbs, in all likelihood no one feels more agitated at the moment than the Patron saint of big-budget films himself, Christopher Nolan. This proven, prolific filmmaker whose immeasurable body of work spans two memorable decades of excellence, was left no choice but to release his latest time-bending epic Tenet amid the pandemic, after several troublesome delays, to some less-than stellar results.
With a reported $225 million budget, Nolan’s latest was pre-packaged for massive box office appeal. The sheer scale and spectacle by which he’s well known to deliver promised a magnitude that intended to shepherd audiences back into theaters and break a symbolic barrier. But in a time with rapidly changing perceptions of how we need to define normality moving forward, the traditional theatrical release schedule is looking more and more hazy by the day.
With many a night spent in confinement, instead of sitting in the airy comfort of an IMAX auditorium, we’re forced to sit cross-legged on our futons trading incoherent theories about Interstellar with roommates. While Nolan’s reputation is largely built upon the hype of his films’ spectacularity, I’d argue that his true talent lies in his ability to create art that incites critical thinking and discussion from his target audience—the average moviegoer. The cerebral demands of his style support not just his incredible skill as a director, but a gifted storyteller as well. Looking back on his luminous career, the blueprints can be found in his first feature film, Following. This 1998 super low budget thriller set the tone for his future and laid the framework for his narrative style.
Don’t let them teach you otherwise, stalking is NOT an acceptable form of social distancing.
Following tells the story of a reclusive young writer (played by Jeremy Theobald) with a strange penchant for pinpointing and following random strangers in crowds through the bustling streets of London. While he tries his best to operate by a rudimentary code of ethics, his life takes an abrupt turn when he meets a confident grifter (played by Alex Haw) who invites him to take part in the ultimate form of vicarious living: burglary.
The film’s low-fi conviction is a testament to what can be done on a measly budget of $6,000—microscopic in relative terms. What Nolan lacked in funds, the more he made up for in clever flourishes and swanky, brooding style that shaped his approach to filmmaking and earned him instant recognition as one of the UK’s finest rising auteurs. While he continued his ascent to the ranks of mythological proportion in the years that followed, his inaugural debut still stands alone as the sturdy foundational point for which he built his entire forthcoming legacy upon—and we’re going to break down just why.
Psychological Fixation
Much like Following’s enigmatic protagonist, Nolan has shown a particular interest in the inner workings of the human psyche; the understanding of cognitive mechanics permeates most of his work. Throughout his career, this intense fascination has often manifested itself through psychologically complex characters, each one carefully crafted with layered purpose to navigate grandiose, open-world playgrounds. Their personalities reflect poise and resolve, though subtle fractures bring light to their hidden obsessive (and sometimes destructive) tendencies. Beneath the blockbuster pageantry of what’s become Nolan’s signature style, there lives a bleak subtext that helps define those who populate his elaborate onscreen worlds.
While 2010’s box office smash hit Inception touted a $160 million budget, his stunning set pieces and groundbreaking effects would largely be ineffective without a thoughtful character study at its core. The high-concept premise: a sleek heist crew with really cool haircuts weave their way through lush dreamscapes led by the charismatically tortured Dom Cobb (portrayed by Leo DiCaprio) to invade the metaphysical plane of other people’s subconscious. While considered the best at what he does, the residual guilt and trauma he’d sustained from the death of his wife is shown to be further worsened by his habit for getting lost in the revolving zoetrope of fantastical dream states. By progressively losing his grip on reality, Cobb shows a constitutional inability to accept his existence for what it is, exploiting a primordial character flaw echoed from Nolan’s very first film.
Minus the magnificent rotating hallway fight sequences and really expensive Hans Zimmer score (though leaving in the cool haircuts), Following plays out through its fleshed out protagonist (credited only as ‘The Young Man’) who is also shown to be driven by an equally intrinsic desire to vicariously live life through other people’s perspectives. Portrayed as a reclusive outsider, The Young Man rejects all accountability and justifies his bizarre obsession for following strangers by using those insights to provide context for his fiction writing. After pursuing and inadvertently catching the attention of a handsome grifter who exudes the unwavering confidence he subconsciously aspires for, The Young Man finds himself spiraling into an oblivion that forces him to question his own perceptions of self.
Men in suits explaining things. That is the Nolan way.
Though twelve years and $159,994,000 stand between these two benchmark films, both share commonalities that run deeper than the superficial grandeur of Christopher Nolan’s mainstream appeal. Do we like seeing Tom Hardy in a tailored suit firing grenade launchers at bad guys? Sure—but the crux of Nolan’s work has always meant to grip audiences on a subconscious level, engaging them with a relatable human element that conceptualizes the mind’s inner clockwork. In both Following and Inception, through two opposing character studies in two unrelated contexts, we’re invited to analyze two men who live by a single converging thought as it passes through through the lens of a psychological breakdown in motion: repression, obsession, and the ensuing coil of indulging oneself in it. Their respective journeys support the deep metaphorical nuance that poses the human mind as the romanticized object of Nolan’s undying affections.
Non-Linear Structure
With his back pocket full of clever sleights, one of the more upfront flourishes of Nolan’s filmmaking vision is his use of non-linear story structure. Many of his films are told in a narrative style that utilizes shifting patterns of crosscuts to represent different points in time. While some filmmakers use this chronological tactic for sheer deception or tonal appeal, Nolan’s use typically holds complex thematic relevance in the way it relates to his characters. With the constant shift in overlapping narratives, he is able to retain complete control of the way his characters’ viewpoints are presented; only through actions and motivations do we carefully start to peel the layers back and piece their journey together ourselves.
Pictured: Nolan flexing more than just a creative muscle.
In the history of film, perhaps no non-linear narrative is talked about with such unanimous admiration than Memento, Nolan’s 2000 cult classic that firmly cemented his place in the Hollywood power rankings. The auteur’s second feature film astonished critics and audiences, who praised its bleak originality and cleverly executed twists. The film is methodically constructed around its protagonist and his unique neurological condition, a chronic amnesia that impedes his quest to find and kill his wife’s murderer by resetting his memory every 15 minutes. As a structural representation for this disorder, the film’s plot unfolds in a puzzling juxtaposition that intercuts between two visually opposing timelines: black/white and color.
While the film’s black/white segments start at the beginning of the story and move forward chronologically, the interwoven color segments start at the end and work their way to the start, with both timelines eventually merging at the end of the film. Sounds complicated, right? Well, it’s supposed to. And to make any attempt to further elaborate would only end in shameful embarrassment. Though his films have a certain reputation for being undeniably watchable, it’s worth noting that to be able to experience their intended effect, some deductive reasoning is not suggested, but required.
Two years before Memento thrust Nolan into the hot seat, Following preemptively set the stage by subverting traditional story structure to show a metamorphosis in motion. The film’s abstract narrative, once again, plays out in several overlapping timelines. While Memento uses color, Following’s unique storytelling device is most aptly distinguished by an inexplicable change in its protagonist’s physical appearance over a certain period of time:
Told mainly in three interweaving timelines, The Young Man’s physical appearance is altered more drastically the deeper he spirals into his crooked mentor’s influence. In the language of film, a physical transformation is typically meant to represent a character’s arc, or personal journey. Think Jeff Goldblum in Cronenberg’s The Fly.
Michael J. Fox in Teen Wolf.
Hell, even Michael Keaton in the God-forsaken trainwreck that is Jack Frost.
The connective tissue that binds these wildly different characters are the physical transformations they must undergo to reach some deeper form of resolution within their own lives. So, while Following doesn’t meddle with the concept of magical snowmen, its irregular editing structure amplifies the metamorphosis. And by showing The Young Man’s varying progressions over time, Nolan pieces together a puzzle that elicits reflections on reclusiveness, desire and consequence that solidified his abilities as a multi-faceted storyteller who understands that there’s more to every story than just what’s spoon-fed to us.
Aside from Memento and Following sharing commonality in their irregular editing structure, their associated prestige as back-to-back breakout entries built a firm and early awareness around Nolan’s special talent for abstracting narrative without diminishing entertainment value. A self-professed student of architecture, Nolan assembles his films to mimic the art of building design; while both entries stand tall as functional forms of cinematic entertainment, they also evoke the complexity of three-dimensional space. Nolan stands at the helm, choosing specifically when to disperse just enough information, so the story takes shape as it goes. Each shifting angle is carefully planned for optimal immersion without sacrificing integrity.
Neo-Noir Elements
Every conquest begins with a seed of inspiration; for Christopher Nolan, it’s impossible to truly dive into his work without first reflecting on the influences that helped shape his style. Heavily inspired by hardboiled film noir of the 1940’s, Nolan’s work echoes the resurrected vanguard, whose stylish portrayals of cops and criminals illustrate the gray areas in morality and justice. By blurring the lines that separate good and evil, film noir introduced a cynical realism to the larger popular consciousness.
With a few exceptions, the genre’s identifying motifs permeate most of Nolan’s work. The faithfulness he pays to its tropes have branded the filmmaker a staunch revivalist of the neo-noir movement. The viewpoints he poses on moral ambiguity adds a layer of philosophical weight to even his most commercially marketable films. Riding the momentum of 2002’s critically praised Insomnia, Warner Bros. gave Nolan a young director’s dream shot: to breathe new life into the proverbial superhero film. With a built-in fanbase that almost guaranteed financial success, Warner Bros. knew their property was in good hands…but no one could forecast that what followed would ultimately determine a new direction in moviemaking for the next two decades. To this day, Nolan’s Batman trilogy is largely credited with revitalizing the superhero origin epic and ushering in a brave new era of bolder heroic entertainment.
Prior to 2005, superhero movies leaned into a more jovial sensibility but ignored a crucial element to what made comic book heroes so culturally significant for over 70 years: a relatable component. In the gunsmoke of a post-9/11 world, Nolan set out to build a cinematic universe that could bottle the hysteria of an uncertain time. And no film in his subsequent trilogy quite captures that essence like 2007’s The Dark Knight, a superhero film that casts a more stoic light on the caped crusader by disguising itself as a grounded neo-noir. It follows Batman as he goes toe-to-toe with Heath Ledger’s iconic Joker, an unpredictable anarchist whose acts of terror thrusts Gotham City into a state of panic. While Batman struggles to retain his just constitutions in the face of civil erosion, Joker’s total lack thereof reframes Gotham’s perception of “hero” and “villain”.
Confrontations over awkwardly small tables: a recurring motif
Though he doesn’t wear a cowl or brandish cool gadgets, Following’s protagonist faces a moral crossroads of his own. The Young Man’s absurd impulse to follow strangers is fueled by his instinct to create, though his skewed sense of “right” or “wrong” leads him to seek inspiration in the worst ways—after all, film noir doesn’t always have to follow the good guys. The ambiguous line that separates right and wrong is a staple element of the genre; much like Scorsese and Schrader did with Taxi Driver, Nolan wanted to flip the script on normative expectations by showing what ethical diplomacy looks like from the opposite end of the law. And while The Young Man’s initial intentions are strictly nonphysical in nature, his tendency to be swayed by deceptive influence ignites a domino effect that challenges the very code he lives by. And like most enigmatic figures in film noir, the deeper he falls into the influence, the clearer his abandonment becomes.
In many ways, Following and The Dark Knight are two linear points that best represent the initial ascent of Nolan’s career. One reinvigorated the superhero movie, the other lacked resources to even be filmed on industry standard equipment. But while these films wildly differ in scale, they both posit a case study in how deeply you can bend the framework of neo-noir and still tell a compelling story in the process. The way he presents the ambiguous nature of morality highlights Nolan’s mindfulness to what makes the moviegoing experience relatable on a human level. We don’t rewatch Batman Begins because we like marveling over Gary Oldman’s exceptional mustache game, or Christian Bale’s dominant jawline. Well okay, maybe I do. But besides me, people generally see Nolan’s films and respect them on a deeper level because of his ability to craft a dignified story that doesn’t shy away from morality, regardless of scale.
The Summary
As Tenet resumes its shaky theatrical run, for the rest of us moviegoers who remain unsure about seeing it in theaters, we’re left with a clear and unfillable movie-shaped hole in our lives. But as we inch toward inevitable acceptance that in-home streaming is, in fact, the modern moviegoing experience, I strongly encourage movie fans to do a little digging of your own; find your favorite filmmakers, go deep into their filmographies, find patterns and study their artistic growth. For Christopher Nolan, this growth is incomparable to any filmmaker working today, specifically because of what his films have meant to the discourse of our generation’s mainstream movie culture.
With an uncompromising ability to craft thrilling set pieces that set the bar for all movies in the 21st Century, what keeps his films etched in the popular consciousness are the word-of-mouth discussions that circulate in their wake. Following cemented his firm commitment to delivering dynamic entertainment with a certain degree of mental dexterity that marked him as one of the most ambitious creative voices of our time. Now, is this to say his movies are logistically perfect? Not really. Objectively speaking, the crux of his higher-concept films are usually based on incredulous leaps of faith that fold under deeper examination. But let’s be reasonable—the average moviegoer isn’t exactly Neil DeGrasse Tyson. His worlds come with a fixed-in suspension of disbelief and his audiences are willing to accept those minor imperfections because of the deliberate effort at toying with structure, introducing a philosophical spin on marketable movies and bringing elevated storytelling to the forefront of entertainment. Whether you agree with me or not, the simple fact is: you don’t see him putting nipples and bulge on a Batsuit (rest in peace Joel Schumacher, you crazy diamond).
