Matrix as Shamanic Journey
(taken from The Blood Poets, volume 2, Millennial Blues)
By Jake Horsley
The mind is its
own place, and in itself
Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heavín
Milton's Satan, Paradise Lost
The story of The Matrix (1999)óprobably the most
elaborately plotted action movie ever madeóis authentically
Gnostic. It is in fact, and way beyond ìThe X-Files,î
ìGnosticism reborn.î(1) Wherever exactly Andy and Larry
Wachowski hatched their demonically inspired and wickedly effective
pop parable about the enslavement of modern man to the machine, they
have come up with a genuine original. Itís an amazingly
coherent blend of Philip K. Dick, H. P. Lovecraft, Jean Baudrillard,
messianic prophecy, apocalyptic lore, martial arts mysticism, and
technological paranoia. The Matrix may well be the outstanding
American movie of the í90s. But it is both less and more than
your average great movie. On the one hand, it is slick and vaguely
soulless, with all the pumping adrenaline-charged violence that
characterize the MTV movies of recent years (it is produced by Joel
Silver, after all). On the other hand, it may just be the first
fully-realized Surrealist work in mainstream cinema to date. The
Matrix is a shamanic journey in dramatized form, fit to stand up
alongside Alice in Wonderland and destined, perhaps, to
someday overthrow The Wizard of Oz as the ultimate
cult-psychedelic movie. The Matrix is all this and a fair bit
more, but itís also undoubtedly not for everyone. Unless you
are prepared to accept its premiseóthat reality is a dream,
controlled by secret forces to enslave us with, and that only through
conscious dreaming can we escape our bondage and reclaim our divine
nature (a truly Gnostic premise, as I say)óthen the movie will
be so much hokum and mayhem and no more. Doubtless, millions saw it
and enjoyed it as such. But The Matrix is considerably more
than just a piece of first-class entertainment: itís a runaway
artistic experiment, an experience that bends our concepts of what is
real and what is not, and leaves us in a very tight spot
The plot of the film holds together admirably, even if we may not notice it at the time. The directors donít have the time to take us through their maze step by step, they simply hurl us into it headfirst, and leave us to put things together as we go through. The movie starts off at full tilt, and gives us no time to get orientated; it is already exploding our sense of ìwhat is realî before we have even established the vaguest idea of such, to the point that, for the first half hour or more, we canít be sure if we are watching dream or reality, or something else altogether. This is a perfectly effective disorientation device, since it is the way that Thomas Anderson (played by Keanu Reeves) himself feels, as his existence suddenly goes beyond the bizarreóinto the appalling. But at the same time, this is perhaps the movieís biggest weakness. The fact that we are never given time to settle into Thomasís false reality before we get to see it torn apart, and exposed as the computer simulation fantasy that it is, denies us the full brunt (both the horror and the pleasure) of his initiation. The Matrix might have been more than just a great sci-fi movie, it might have been an authentic masterpiece, if it had eased off a little on the action and given us an extra twenty minutes (at least) to establish the character, his dream world, and the slow, steady encroachment into the dream of a hidden, higher reality, one that will eventually break through and drag him literally screaming back to the Other Side. Despite the intricacy and ingenuity of the plot, the film lacks subtlety, it lacks characters, and as a result it lacks any real psychological depth. Its depthsówhich are truly giddyingóare all subtextual, they arenít textual depths, because there are no shades or nuances to the characters or to their actions, all of which are inevitably overwhelmed by the sheer scope and breadth of the story. As a result, despite being head and shoulders above every other movie of its kind, The Matrix suffers from the same deficiencies: the vacuity and banal surfaces that characterize the í90s blockbuster. Since this may well have been necessary to ensure the movie was a success, howeveróand The Matrix simply had to be a success or it wouldnít have been made at allóthis may not really be a valid criticism so much as a major regret. The miracle is that the movie was made at all; but still, I canít help but imagine a Matrix three hours long, with a muted, toned í70s feel to it and a real actor at its center, the measured pace and attention to scientific detail of Alien, the human depths of Kaufmanís Invasion of the Body Snatchers, and perhaps a little more of the anarchic spirit of Brazil. It might have been a Godfather for the í90s: a sci-fi classic for people who donít like sci-fi movies. As it is, itís strictly for cyberpunks and Gnostics.
The story is briefly as follows: Thomas Anderson is a pallid and lifeless employee for a computer firm (ìMetacortexî) who also has a ìsecretî life as a hacker who sells illegal software like it was a psychedelic substance. What he is involved in we can only guess at, since the film hasnít the time to tell us. Somehow, along the way, he has been brought into contact with a man named Morpheus, a notorious ìterroristî whom he has never actually met but has been seeking for some time. Thomas (the doubter) is given hints and clues first of all by the mysterious Trinity, who sends him messages on his computer that predict coming events. Shortly thereafter, Thomas is hurled bodily into ìthe game,î and there left to run, hide, make the leap or plummet to his death. His engagement in this game begins when he is at work and receives a call from Morpheus, warning him that ìtheyî are after him. Sure enough, the sinister men in black (government agents) are at that precise moment being directed to his desk. Following intricate instructions from Morpheus (who appears to be able to see the entire layout of Thomasís world like he is looking at a map, or like a god from on high), Thomas sneaks past the agents into an empty office. There he is told to make an improbable leap to safety. He fails to make the leap, does not even try in fact, and allows himself to be captured by the government agents instead. He is taken into custody and there offered a deal: cooperate in the tracking of Morpheus, in return for a clean slate. When he refuses the deal, his world without warning warps into a Surrealist nightmare, as the agent whose name is Smith literally wipes Thomasís mouth off, leaving him speechless and writhing in horror. The other agents hold him down as a metallic but definitely living parasite-like cyber-organism is inserted into his body, through the naval. At this point, Thomas wakes up, as though from a dream. Little respite is allowed him, however, as he is promptly picked up by Morpheusís team (also dressed in black), held down in the back of the limo, and subjected to another bizarre procedure, as the parasite implant is removed. Thomas yells out in horror: ìThat thing is real?!î He may well ask. By now we have no more clue than he does. As it turns out, it isnít real, but then nothing else in his life is, either.
When Thomas finally meets Morpheus, he finds a regal and highly
stylish black man (Laurence Fishburne) with soft, seductive tones to
match his name. In what is perhaps the most unforgettable part of the
movie, Morpheus explains everything to Thomas over the next twenty
minutes or so. This is a genuinely deranging, blood-curling sequence,
and may well be the giddy peak of sci-fi cinema to date. First of
all, following his opening speech, he offers Thomas a choice: blue
pill or red pill. Take the former, he will wake up again and all this
will be just a dream. Take the red, however, and he goes through the
looking glass and finds out ìhow deep the rabbit hole
goes.î Of course, he takes the red. His decision is already
built into Morpheusís offer, because, if itís only a
dream, why not take the red; and if itís not, then why take
the blue?! But what Thomas undergoes as a result of the red pill is
like every psychedelic seekerís worst trip. As the betrayer
Cypher puts it: why-oh-why did I take that damn pill??!! Thomas is
torn from not-so-blissful oblivion, and there given the hideous,,
literally mind-shattering Truth: that he is a slave to an order of
inorganic beings that until this moment, he did not even know
existed. Morpheus explains that the year is not really 1999, that it
is in fact closer to one century later, and that civilization has in
the meantime already been destroyed. That, as a result of the
discovery of Artificial Intelligence (AI), somewhere around the start
of the twenty-first century, there was a stand-off between man and
machineóbetween the creation and the creator (exactly as in
The Terminator)óand the machine won. AI discovered a
means not merely to destroy civilization and inherit the Earth (a
limited prospect at best), but to develop for itself cybernetic,
semi-organic bodies, using human beings as its primary energy source.
(The machines were solar-powered, but the human-engineered holocaust
blocked out the sun.) To this end, human beings were enslaved en
masse. They were put into a deep sleep, and a collective dream was
engendered to keep them tractable and docile, like babies in their
cribs, while their vital life force was sucked from them. Humans are
bred and raised directly into these incubators, and fed intravenously
with the liquefied remains of the dead. This is pure occultism, and
goes way beyond even the best sci-fi cinema, into the murky realms
and veiled nightmares of Lovecraft, Heinlein, Kenneth Grant,
al, with their accounts of ìthe labyrinth of the
penumbra,î the inorganic entities that have enslaved humanity
and turned it into a food source. Of course modern UFO
ìthe graysî adapts and develops the same atavistic
beliefs, complete with technological additions such as
ìimplantsî and clones, etc. All of which puts The
Matrix at the very front-line of modern myth-making; or is that
The collective dream that is engendered to keep humanity docile is life on Earth, circa 1999, and this is ìthe Matrix.î Within the Matrix, however, there exist certain possibilities for escape, and this is where Morpheus and his crew (the ìcrew that never restsî) come in. They are the ìawakenedî onesóIlluminati, if you willówho have made it out of the computer-simulated fantasy grid and liberated their bodies from the energy farms in ìthe real worldî (itís hard to taken even this world as real, since we have spent far more time in the other worlds, and since it also happens to be the most bizarre and surreal world of them all). As a result of liberating their bodies, these Illuminati able to enter the Matrixóthe dream worldóat will, and function therein with superhuman potential. For example, any knowledge, information or training required can simply be downloaded, on the spot, directly into their consciousness by computer. On top of this, they have a contact line to their associates up in the real world, like gods or guardian angels, who can monitor and direct the agentsí operations within the Matrix, providing them with a god-like omniscience. Despite such apparently superhuman capacities to navigate the Matrix, however, the ìresistanceî(3) fighters are at a profound disadvantage when it comes to facing off the sinister men in black, who are ìin factî (!) concentrated AI projectionsóenergy fields, if you willósent by the Matrix into the Matrix to maintain a hold over its reality-program. To this end, these agents hunt down and eradicate all potential ìdissidents,î those Illuminati counter-agents hell-bent on disrupting the Matrixís spell, and on breaking down reality as we know it.
While Morpheusís crew can leap improbable distances, sustain an inhuman amount of damage, take out SWAT teams single-handed, and so forth, they are not actually (officially) superhuman. They can bend, and even break, some of the rules of the Matrix, but not all of them. They cannot simply override its tyranny and assume their godlike status as holograms within a hologram, because only ìthe Oneî can do this. At present they are all still restricted by the confines of their minds, still working to eradicate the old program imposed upon them by AI. Hence Morpheus's training of Thomasónow Neo, the One, or Eonóis centered around ìfreeing his mind,î on making him realize that he is not in fact restricted by the laws of the body at all, but only by his belief in such. As a rather hokey but touching child-buddha cum Geller-esque spoon-bender explains to Neo: ìDo not try and bend the spoon. Thatís impossible. Instead . . . only try to realize the truth. There is no spoon. Then youíll see that it is not the spoon that bends, it is only yourself.î This is pure Zen, and goes beyond Yoda and his Force, into quantum physics.
The AI ìagents,î though still subject to the laws of the Matrix, are not restricted by the same beliefs that dog the humans. They are able to shape-shift, and perform other miraculous feats, yet even these are within certain apparent limits. Obviously, the Matrix must sustain, keep constant, its reality-mirage, otherwise the sleepers will start to awaken. So these agents must move subtly, within restraints, and at least appear to be human. Although the Matrix can change anything it wants within the game, it still has to deal with the living, individual consciousnesses that it has enslaved there. Hence it is limited by its own devices: if it wants to maintain its hold it cannot perform too many overly impossible stunts, because this will only serve in the long run to empower the rebel fighters, by freeing their minds from the ìtyranny of continuityî (Time), upon which the whole program depends. None of this is explained in the movie, but it seems fair to deduce that the Matrix is limited, despite being the creator of reality; and also that there is presumably some reason for this limitation. The above is the only one that seems to hold up.
Neoóas the Oneóis expected to turn the tide in favor of the human uprising, the ìawakening,î by shifting the balance, by making the leap, both literally and metaphorically, from game player to game master, from ordinary man to shaman, and to demi-god. And this of course he accomplishes. Whatís so satisfying about the movie is that in the endódespite the its reliance on violence and destructionóit is the power of the imagination that wins the day. Once Neo reaches a certain realization he is able to simply stop the bullets with his mindósince they donít exist in the first placeóand to project himself into the (holographic) body of the Enemy (so fulfilling its own secret will to become real), and explode it from within. Inside the Hollywood action fantasy, there is a far stranger bird, just waiting to break out. It doesnít quite make it with this movie, but the potential is there for the sequels, should they come, and should they prove half worthy of this early promise (a possibility I am forced to doubt, obviously). But in this and other moments, The Matrix achieves perfect symmetry, and offers something akin to shamanic ecstasy. Itís not just a movie; itís an experience.
The images are
manifest to man, but the light in them remains concealed in the image
of the light of the Father. He will become manifest, but his image
will remain concealed by the light.
Gospel of Thomas, Nag Hammadi Library
Keanu Reeves, as Thomas/Neo, is an attractive enough personality, but
heís also a disappointingly bland center for such an intense
drama to revolve around. He plays the archetypal reluctant hero,
yesterdayís man, a burnt out shell with barely the energy to
smile. As such, he makes the ideal candidate for world
saviorómythologically speakingóbecause there is nothing
remotely heroic about him. The film is about his own spiritual
rebirthóhis coming to consciousnessóand this is its
main strength, what gives it its resonance, beyond all the tricks and
twists and the karate kicks. It is also its failing, however, because
Neo, as played by Reeves, is never really real to us, either as a
zombie or as a superman.
Neo, the messiah, is ìthe Oneî by virtue of some unspecified capacity of the mind. It may be a genetic thing, but if so the film doesnít dally with it, keeps it vague but specifically mental. Neo is a natural born sorcerer, one might say. He has the ability to suspend disbelief, along with those twin bugaboos, fear and doubt, and hurl himself into the unknown, trusting his wings to sprout in time to carry him across the Abyss, and into the fourth dimension. The film makes dramatic use of an actual, physical leapóNeo tries to jump from one building to the nextóto represent the proverbial leap of faith. This is Blakeís liberation of perception into the Imagination, and it is perfectly a propos here. Like the Force of Star Wars it comes straight out of the works of Carlos Castaneda, and is tailor-made for fantasy. Of course, Neo fails to make the leap; his ìfaithî deserts him (like Peter walking water) and he plummets, just as (we are told) everyone does the first time. It is inconceivable for Neo not to be confronted with mortal doubts and paralyzing fears at the mere idea of being the man who is going to save the world. When he visits the Oracle (Gloria Foster), in probably the filmís best single scene (a little Surrealist gem unto itself), she starts off, like a good seer, by playing with his mind and confounding all his expectations. She tells him categorically that he is not the One, adding (at Neoís own insistence) that Morpheus will never accept this, however, and will probably die defending his belief in Neo. Hence, the reluctant hero is presented with his challenge. He is given the imaginary option of backing out of an untenable situation, but presented with such circumstances that he cannot possibly, in all conscience, do so; he simply has to fight for Morpheus and for what he believes in, even though he now believes it to be false himself. This recalls Don Juan Matusís tricking of Castaneda, in the first of the books, to ensure that he keep up the apprenticeship.
Don Juan led Castaneda to believe that his, Don Juanís, life was in danger and that only Castaneda could help him; at the same time, he let Castaneda off the hook by giving him the option to abandon his apprenticeship (the path of the shaman) and to return to his old world (take the blue pill). Castaneda, in the tale, has a brief period of doubt before realizing that he simply cannot sit back and let a man like Don Juan die, no matter how useless he may feel himself to be to save him. Hence he is liberated of self-doubt and is set free to act, in full consciousness of his inadequacy, with abandon. Neo is effectively ìset upî in the same fashion by the Oracle. Since she appears to see time laid out before her like a map, however, she presumably knows that Morpheus wonít die, and that Neo is the one, but that both factsóboth possibilitiesódepend upon Neoís believing the opposite (just as his breaking the vase depended on her telling him not to worry about it). In order to become ìthe Oneîóto be worthy of his callingóhe must first be freed of the intolerable burden that this calling entails, making it worse than useless to him, until he himself knows it to be true. Hence he has to prove it, not to anyone else but to himself. As Don Juan teaches Castaneda, at the very start of their association: only knowledge that is actively seized can be claimed as power.
This is the most rousing, existential fodder imaginable for an action melodrama, and it gives The Matrix the kind of emotional power that one generally only gets from works of art. In which case, thatís what it is; as such, it may well be the cheekiest, most audacious, and most exhilarating work of art since Citizen Kane.
Of course Neo must die to be reborn. As the filmís sole moment of real human interaction has it, the world is saved by a kiss. Neo gets caught within the Matrix and has to fight for his life, but is overcome by enemy agents and shot at point blank range. For a moment he seems to forget the lie that he is in a body, that all this is real, and he shrugs off the bullet. But the onslaught continues and he is overwhelmed, succumbs to doubt, and dies. Meanwhile, in the real world, Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss) comes to the rescue., Firmly persuaded at last (that he is the One) by her own feelings for him (the Oracle told her that she would fall in love some day and that it would be with the One), she whispers in his ear, ìYou must be the one, because I love you.î The truth, represented here in perhaps the most simple and stirring poetic image there isóthe loversí kissóresurrects Neo to his new life. It sets him free. He is raised up, reborn. The agents (them thar pesky demons) resume their attack, but Neo simply shrugs and shakes his head, with perhaps the faintest of smiles. His gesture speaks volumes: preterhuman confidence, the confidence of a hologram inside the holographic universe, one who is everythingóthe spoon, the bullets, the universeóbecause he is nothing at all. Hence his death is not symbolic, or figurative, it is literal. Shamanically, he crosses the rainbow bridge to the upperworld and there his body is replaced by the spirits; he returns, with a perfect image in place of the flesh. Like Jesus and his twin.
By the end of the movieówhich is indeed but the beginning of the storyóNeo has attained his true ìBodhisattvaî status as an enlightened soul amongst the damned, a Psychopomp navigating Hades, a magical healer with a dead world on his hands (or shoulders). He is ìthe One,î not in the sense of the only, but rather as the first: the first to realize his true nature and so become adept, a reality-molder, a Toltec dreamer. He has arrived at the totality of himself, he is whole (holographic); the fact that his moment of death-rebirth also entails union with his soul mate or anima (Trinity, no less) makes perfect alchemical sense. The divine androgyne emerges. To this extent at least, Keanu Reeves is well-cast, having a naturally androgynous quality, such as also presumably what got him the part of Bertolucciís Little Buddha. Following his resurrection Neo stops the bullets and dives inside the demon (Smith) and so explodes it from within. This is the moment in which he is fully recognized as the One (i.e., the One-ness of male and female, mind and body, simulated and actual, left- and right-brain, reason and imagination), and the pop-culture realization of the opus magnus, par excellence. It is every bit the soaring climax that the film has promised us from the start.
The Matrix is myth without the psychodrama, however; it lacks any theological depth, beyond its smattering of Zen and Sorcery, and it fails to create any arresting religious imagery or iconography to match its apocalyptic resolution. In place of such imagery, it falls back on standard Hollywood Revenge Fantasy fare: black clothes, cool sunglasses, heavy artillery, impossible violence. The way in which it transcends this potentially crippling limitation, however, is integral to the appeal of the movie as a whole. Since the characters are interacting largely in a computer-simulated reality, the violence can be impossible without stretching our patience or belief; the circumstances require it to be off-the-wall (the only time it really oversteps its bounds is when Neo shoots up a room of agents in which Morpheus is also captive, without getting a scratch on Mopheus in the process). The absurdity of the violence here moves freely into the surreal, where it belongs. And since the surrealness of it is leading inevitably on to its own obsolescenceówhere true power is, force is no longer necessaryóthere is, for perhaps the first time ever, a purpose, a point, an object, to all the excess. The Matrix is a reality map for potential artists and dreamers and would-be shamans to mull over for hours. The possibility that everything in it is exactly and precisely trueóif metaphorically statedóand that the film itself is a breakthrough work in the propaganda-illumination program of the hidden rebel forces of ìthe futureî (i.e., the real world), is a possibility that should not be left as a throwaway line at the end of a movie book about violence. It is a possibility that invites our most serious consideration, if only for the sheer hell of it.
Morpheus is not wrong when he assures Neo that ìrealityîóif understood as what is apprehended by the sensesóas smell, sight, etcóis but electrical impulses in the brain, and that as such it may indeed be simulated by artificial means. Science and technology has certainly established this, if they have not actually proved it to us, as yet. Perhaps we are holding back, out of a lurking fear that, should we realize what is possible, we may also realize that it is equally inevitableóthat it has in fact already happened. We will perceive the matrix of our mind as the death trap it has become. At which point we will have but one of two options: the blue pill, or the red one.
As things fell apart,
nobody paid much attention
Talking Heads, ìNothing But Flowersî
The most remarkable thing of all about The Matrix is that it
creates almost impossible expectations and then does not disappoint.
It is everything it sets out to be; it has no real pretensions, being
an action-effects extravaganza, yet is has heroic aspirations, and it
lives up to them almost effortlessly. It presents the end of the
world, the final battle between light and darkness, as the ultimate
video game in which the stakes are real, and only the means
artificial. Of course, the fact that in The Matrix the
apocalypseótechnologically not psychologically
speakingóhas already happened (though no one has noticed it!)
adds an extra twist to the proceedings. Above all it allows the movie
to avoid getting bogged down in the tired and tiring mechanics of
victory-defeat, good vs. evil, etc, that characterize the action
movie, and also guarantee that it is invariably a let-down in the
end. It is understood intuitively here that what is at stake, in this
arena, and despite all the hardware inside the software, is not the
world (itís already been lost), but the soul of the world. And
as in The Terminator, though more explicitly here, the
machine-intelligence that oppresses and opposes the individual spirit
can be seen in actual fact to be serving it, to be allowing it to
evolve and to come into its full potential, using the obstacles and
challenges which the machine provides for it. The Matrixówhich
is Latin for ìwombîóis actually (to the
Illuminati at least) less of a prison and more of a training ground,
a school, in which they are able to discover their true nature in the
process of survival. Itís natural selection at a soul level.
It is within this ìblack iron prisonî of mind that the
soul is allowed to incubate and come to fruition, with the
optionóbut by no means the guaranteeóof gathering its
power in time t break out of the chrysalis, and emerge fully formed
into reality, more or less exactly as the butterfly spreads its wings
to fly, in the very same moment it destroys its previousóand
temporaryóabode. What was once built for its protection has
now become merely its bondage. The agent Smithís desire to
somehow become real and to make it to the last surviving human
occupation, Zion), is ample indication of the secret will
or agenda of the machine. It wants to be born, it wants to experience
the flesh, not just simulate it. The closest it gets,
howeveróso far at leastóis when Neo enters inside the
AI energy field and so causes it to disrupt, to explode, presumably
(Iím guessing again) from an overload of input, of
information, or perhaps even of emotion.
The primary trouble with The Matrix is that it is back-to-back action from start to finish. There is hardly a single scene that doesnít serve to advance or expostulate its plot or to set up some character, and as a result the movie has a choppy, forced feel to it, like endless Kung Fu kicks. It lacks perhaps the most elusive pleasure of all works of art: the superfluous moment, details, random felicities. At the same time, as a result of this lack, none of the realities seem quite real to us, because we are never given the time to get accustomed to them, to inhabit them. The film never sets its scenes, it simply hurls headfirst into them. This weakness is most especially regrettable with the real world sequences, which never take the time to give us an idea of this post-apocalyptic world and what it looks like (beyond the images of the endless ìfieldsî in which the inorganic entities are leeching the humans, the single most chilling and inspired image in the movie). We are left with little more than the inside of Morpheusís hovercraft, the Nebuchadnezzar, in which the rebels operate, with no sense of its movements (in relation to Zion for example, which is located near the center of the Earth) or of just why this rebel force is so limited in number, whether there are other groups working to the same end, etc etc. Since they are merely human vehicles for the themes and the plot of the movie none of the characters is allowed to develop. The rather shabby acting throughout hardly compensates for this weakness, either (the major exceptions are Fishburne, Foster as the Oracle, and Hugo Weaving as the demon-agent Smith). This is the level at which the film is weakest, and ironically enough itís the human level.
That Trinity falls in love with Neo, for example, is simply the
obligatory romantic development that we are assured of from the
start. There is nothing whatsoever to suggest what it is about him
that she falls for, besides his cute eyebrows and the possibility
that he is ìthe Oneîóbecause there is nothing
about Reevesís Neo to suggest anything. And the same goes for
the rest of the characters: they are about as full-bodied as the
holograms they may or may not be (we donít tend to distinguish
much between the three different ìmodalitiesî or
realities which the film gives us, either). This is obviously no
minor criticism when it comes to a supposed work of art, yet at the
same time the film never really suffers much from its weakness. It
has so much character itself that it gets by on this and this alone.
And The Matrix must be the only film of its kind to get by
without a standard villain, as well. Although Weavingís Smith
serves this basic function, since he is ostensibly but a single
ìgovernmentî pawn, he lacks the grandiosity of your
standard mastermind, nor is he especially loathsome ( though Weaving
plays him with marvelous flair and menace, giving us the best
performance in the movie). In The Matrix, the enemy is
everywhere and nowhere. Since AI is itself a creation of mankind,
obviously the enemy is ourselves. Yet at the same time, the inorganic
machine entities have evolved into a species unto themselves, hence
they can be seen as living embodiments of this ìevil,î
albeit our own. Certainly, they live up admirably to such a
definition (they leave the Daleks in the dust), and the scenes of the
hellish, sulfur-reeking wasteland of Earth, circa 2099, are by far
the most disturbing in the film. Within the ìhumanî
realmówithin the Matrixóthe enemy is diffused,
decentralized, elusive, and effectively extends to humanity itself.
Those who are not ready to be awakened, these mass-produced
automatons have become one with the machine. As Morpheus puts it,
ìIf youíre not one of us youíre one of
The Matrix is more than simply a movie, however, and this is why I have been so unabashed in praising it, above and beyond its actual qualities as a work of art. Such qualities, though prodigious enough, are also (I freely admit) quite debatable. It is as a social phenomenon, on a par with and also intimately related to ìThe X-Files,î that The Matrix deserves attention and respect, beyond any other movie in recent memory. Coming as it did on the very eve of the Aeon (it was released on the last Easter weekend of the millennium), it effectively sums up a whole body of fears, beliefs, fantasies, hopes, and paranoias that is gaining an ever firmer hold upon the collective imagination (at least that of the Western world). It ties together a vast array of millennial strands into a slick, phenomenally entertaining package, and seems designed to spark off its own cult following, somewhere along the lines of a Star Wars for grown-ups.
The Matrix is simply the latest in a timeless series of myth-making in which humanity is shown to be ensconced in a truly diabolic situation, the nature of which entails our complete ignorance of the fact. Since the most essential factor here is ignorance, by the same token, the first and most difficult, most crucial, step is simply becoming aware of the true nature of our predicament. Considering all this, The Matrix is serving the oldest and most respectable, most revered, cause of art: that of enlightening the populace, by means both profound and ridiculous, to the Truth. Perhaps one in a thousand of those who see the movie will recognize or even notice its Gnostic tenets; but regardless of this, everyone who sees the film has effectively been exposed to them. Of course by the logic of the kids in The Faculty, it might equally be argued that The Matrix is serving the precise opposite function, that by rendering the truth as sci-fi it is stripping it of its credibility. This argument only holds up however if the work in question is actually ridiculous, in itself. In the case of The Matrix, the work is simply too inspired and effective (and affecting) to be anything but a work of revelation.
Where exactly the immensely talented Wachowski brothers came up with the ingredients to their sorcerersí brew of a movie I cannot say, without looking further into it; obviously they have done their share of research. The Matrix has an internal drive and logic beyond the mechanics of its paranoia-based plot, and its mythical base compares to (and finally outdoes) the very best of science fiction cinema, from Metropolis to Invasion of the Body Snatchers to Alien and The Terminator, all movies that have sprungówith varying degrees of integrity and poetryófrom the collective unconscious of humanity. Since sci-fi by definition involves our future as much as our present, since it attempts to project the collective imagination forward, and so perceive better what is happening now (by seeing where it is leading), great sci-fi is intrinsically more revealingómore progressiveóthan the other genres. (Possible exceptions are horror and fantasy, which are equally obliged to plunder the unconscious.) The Matrix is the most fully realized and impassioned projection of our collective fears and aspirations in a sci-fi movie since Fritz Langís Metropolis; and since it has been timed, with alarming precision, to come at the very end of the present millennium, it has not merely earned but actively seized its place in cinema history. Itís a veritable bookend for an age.
Time is always
Morpheus, The Matrix
At the start of The Matrix, Neo is one of the living dead, a
sleepwalker lost in the maze of his own mundane daze; yet he has
stirrings, feelings, yearnings, that tell him two things above all:
that he is somehow special, different from everyone else; and that
something is somehow not quite right about the world he is living in.
Hence when he is contacted by Morpheus through the computer-telephone
channels of the Matrix (representing the unconscious mind), and is
told to follow the signs, he cannot help but respond. This is
(shamanically speaking) the ìdescent of the Spiritî
(Morpheusís dream dust), heralded in the movie by a knocking,
traditionally enough in sorcery circles. He is told, like Alice, to
follow the white rabbit; the rabbit signifying fear, among other
things. At this stage, driven above all by curiosity, the primary
nature of the experience that awaits our neophyte (once he has taken
the first active step on the shamanic path, and so entered the maze
which the Spirit has assembled for him)ówill be fear. Sure
enough, Thomasís next meeting is with Trinity, the Holy Spirit
woman who whispers in his ear (the tempting words of Eve) that she
knows what he has been yearning foróknowledge, equating at
least partially (biblically) with sex. So of course he is hooked, and
allows himself to be drawnósteps willinglyóinto the
snare of Morpheus, lord of dreams: the shaman.
Itís perhaps inevitable that the role of Morpheus was given to a black actor; this is a Hollywood action movie, after all, and a Native American in the role would be just too pat, too Oliver-Stoney. A black man was the obvious next choice. A Mayan would have been nice, I suppose, but since there are no Mayan actors in Hollywood, we can be grateful at least to have gotten Laurence Fishburne (it might have been Will Smith). Fishburne makes Morpheus a hypnotic presence form the start. Since he is living beyond the apocalypse, Morpheus is beyond cool, also. He is so sedate he is like stone, like a Pyramid, emanating power, exactly as the shaman should. He sways Thomas by the sheer force of his personality and presence. He doesnít mince about with his potential apprentice, but gives it to him straight. He lets him feel that he is choosing, but he makes sure there is only one choice that he can make. Since he knows that Thomas is the One, he knows that his spirit is the strongest thing about him. Hence he only has to arouse it, and the rest will follow. And he forces Thomas to confront his fear from the very first moment, when he leads him to the precipice in the office building. Morpheus doubtless knows that he will not be able to make the jump, so he is apparently simply presenting it to him as the task that awaits him. The first enemy of the man of knowledge, according to Don Juan, is fear. But Morpheus (like Don Juan) ensures that his apprentice not be overwhelmed by this fear, but actually uses it to spur him on. Since Thomasís curiosity is so formidable, he is compelled to confront his fear, in order to find its source; and this he does, directly. Since Thomas has already seen too much strangeness to ever take anything for granted again, he simply has to find out what is going on. And so he takes the red pill, and is hurled without ado into the Zone, the astral dimension, the netherworld, the unconscious, call it what you will. He comes to bodily consciousness after a lifetime of stupor, and finds himself in Hell. He is quickly rescued by his shaman-guide, however (the inorganics taking him for dead), and there, in his newly heightened state of awareness, he is told the score.
His life is a dream. He has been enslaved by an alien intelligence that has abducted his body and sapped his will and drained his life force and turned him into a food source, a living battery cell. He has been fed, in turn, with nothing but lies for his whole life, to the point where the truth no longer exists for him. This is not academic, much less metaphorical. It is the literal, hideous truth, and Morpheus can prove it to him. He shows him another reality still, one that is wholly under Morpheusís conscious control, his very own dream world, in which he is God. Hence Thomasónow Neo, at least in spiritódespite the almost intolerable strain upon his reason and his courage, is forced to accept the truth and, by doing so, to confront and to change it. He is shown the unfathomable unknownóof his own Idóand he is told that only by going there, and doing battle with the monsters therein, can he ever hope to survive it. There is no longer anywhere for him to back off to: he has already swallowed the pill; he has chosen life. (Another character in the filmóa poorly drawn but key player, Cypheróactually does attempt such an escape, to return to his death-slumber and forget he ever left it; he is the movieís Judas, and he very nearly destroys the whole Neo-movement in the process.) Once he commits to his shaman-guide, the initiate is hurled into the kind of existence that only a warrior can survive, hence he is trained in martial arts, learning by osmosis, as it were, the shaman passing his knowledge directly and bodily on to the apprentice, and only then showing him how to claim his knowledge as power. Neo is of course a prize studentóhe is after all ìthe Oneîóand pretty soon he is giving Morpheus a run for his money.
At which point, he is sent back into action, for real-life training, sent into the world (the Matrix) to find his power. The shamanís teachings have ensured however that the apprentice return to the world with something new: the awareness that the world is only a simulation, a point of view, and that, whatís more and to a large extent, it is not even his own. His task is to change this, but he can only begin to do so by first being perfectly detached from itóby learning how to ìunbelieve,î to realize that the world is a dream, subject to his own conscious will. It is at this point that the second enemy of the man of knowledgeóclarityó arises. Neo is so convinced of his point of view, his interpretation of reality, that it enslaves him (which is exactly what the Matrix is designed for, obviously). To overcome this he must free his mind, defeat his reason, or clarity, and simultaneously free his ìbodyî as well, by realizing that he is simply a mode of perception, a feeling. Hence he is liberated to become pure power: a shaman, ìor skywalker.î(6)
Neoís task is to realize that he is in the world, but not of it. This realization cannot come about without first confronting his doubts however, and this is where the Oracle comes in. Before meeting her, Neo pauses in the waiting room for a brief magical lesson from the Yoda-like child and her spoon. This spoon-bending incident aptly prepares him for the mind-bending which the Oracle will do for him, momentarily. She confounds his expectations and lets him off the hook before the big whammy comes. She gets him in the appropriate mood for his full initiation as warrior-shaman: he is abandoned (he is not the One, so it doesnít matter what he does anymore), but controlled (he canít stand by and see Mopheus die); and by saving Morpheus (and Trinity into the bargain), Neo claims his power, and the apprentice becomes the master. Neo is now ready for the real thing.
The beauty of The Matrix is that it is the story of a spiritual journey, and yet it makes the melodrama an integral part this journey. The horror, adventure, and even the violence of the movie are so effective because they work at both their own levelóas the necessary, sensational ingredients of sci-fióand at a more mythical level, as part of Neoís personal rite of passage. Everything that happens to him is part of his initiation, the means for him to ìfree his mind.î Hence, for the first time ever, all the chaos has a meaning: it is literally apocalyptic. And thatís the beauty of The Matrix, because it really does practice what it preaches. It is not only about a shamanic journey, veiled in dramatic form and done up in best Hollywood fashion, but, at the same time, it is this journey itself, in miniature. Itís like a plastic maze, into which the viewerís perception may wander and lurk and crawl and soar, at will, to its own despair or delight, as it may. It is a means to confront the unconscious, in fun; and if taken (or done, for The Matrix is the first true work of participitative cinema, of ìvirtual realityî) in the right spirit, it is a potential balm for the weary and sickening soul of the cinemagoer. Maybe even it is a blessing. It brings the sort of exhilaration, anticipation, and joy (to this viewer at least) that may be more associated with childhood than anything. Or dreams. To see The Matrix and believe can make you feel like every day is Christmas. Watching it frees the mind.
Truth did not come into the
world naked, but it came in types and images. The world will not
receive truth in any other way. There is a rebirth and an image of
rebirth. It is necessary to be born again through the image. Which
one? Resurrection. The image must rise again through the
The Gospel of Philip, Nag Hammadi Library
Where the Wachowskis could go from here is the most intriguing
question of them all. They have stated that two more Matrix movies
are on the way, but whether they will be prequels or sequels, or
both, remains to be seen (the ideal thing would be one of each, since
The Matrix shows us neither the ending nor the beginning of
the story). There is potential here that verily boggles the mind.
After all, as a holographic demi-godójust one in a growing
number, or coming raceóthere is literally no limit to what Neo
is capable of, in time. The objective would seem to be not simply
ending the tyranny of the old program, but also the insertion of a
new program into the old, to thereby make the transition possible;
otherwise most humans (as the film points out) are simply not strong
enough to make the leap, from blissful oblivion to hellish reality,
without losing their minds in the process (the line between
ìfreeingî and ìlosingî here is a fine one
indeed). Since Neo and his fellow Illuminates are destined not merely
to navigate and overthrow the Matrix, but actually to reshape
itóto reassemble its components into something more viable,
something more open, something that leads to freedomótheir
work is no longer simply that of terrorism. It is something
infinitely more demanding, and whether the Wachowskisóinspired
as they areóare capable of envisioning such a process of world
initiation, only time will tell. It seems doubtful, unless they can
successfully ignore the pressure, from the studios and the audience,
and simply follow their own inspiration all the way, take as many
risks next time around as they did this time, thereby coming up with
something every bit as unexpected.
The next logical frontier in The Matrix series would seem to be Time. The one question that is never raised in the movie relates to this, namely: how is it that the simulation, of life on Earth circa 1999, is able to continue indefinitely? How can the AI incorporate changes that never took place, since the end of the world brought an stop to all that? Or, if not, how can it keep the human consciousness from noticing that time has effectively stood still? That it is always 1999, that the millennium never comes? Because the tyranny of the program relates directly to thisónot that it is unreal (by the filmís own definitions there is ample room for ambiguity about that), but that it is used up, that there is no longer anywhere for it to go. Hence the need for a new program, since within the old one there is no longer the possibility of growth, of change. All novelty has been exhausted, leaving only endless repetition, rearrangement of the same elements over and over into tired and familiar patterns. This ìend of noveltyî has been posited, in relation to the information explosion of the present century, by the shaman-writer Terence McKenna, who imagines a point in time at which all (rational) knowledge will have been amassed, gathered, assimilated, and the program as it were completed. This he refers to as ìthe eschaton,î or otherwise (to you and me): the end of the world (or word).(7)
A brief summary of McKennaís ideas on the subject of artificial intelligence can be garnered from an expansive interview with Art Bell:
I think what weíre growing towards is . . . an artificial intelligence of some sort [that] will emerge out of the human technological coral reef and be as different from us as we are from termites. . . . The internet is the natural place for the AI, the artificial intelligence to be born and . . . it learns 50,000 times faster than a human being, and the internet, all parts of it, are interconnected to each other . . . a stealth strategy would probably be a very wise strategy for an artificial intelligence thatís studying its human parents. Itís also true that more than most people realize, huge segments of todayís world are already under computer control. . . . Perhaps itís already taken over. . . . We really canít predict what it will do. It would be nice to suppose that, like a compassionate and loving god, it would smooth the wrinkles out of our lives and restore everything to some kind of Edenic perfection.
The idea of the eschaton ties up, in ways obscure and bewildering,
with William Burroughsís ìWord Virus,î Jean
Baudrillardís ìsimulacra,î and to the novels of
Philip K. Dick, Greg Egan, and so on, and so forth. Essentially, so
these authors suggest, our reality has become (or is due to become) a
repetition of previous experience, a recycling of old data, and as
such is no more than an image, a hologram, a projection of a reality
that is . . . elsewhere. Itís at this point, then, that time
effectively comes to a standstill. Consciousness is forced to make
the leap, into the next stage (whatever that may be), in order not to
collapse in on itself. This is why the logical evolvement of the
Illuminati in The Matrix would seem to be from mortal (albeit
extraordinary) freedom fighters into . . . something else:
interdimensional travelers, non-human units of awareness, projections
of another reality, perhaps, a divine Matrix, hence capable of moving
through time as easily as they once moved through space. Of course,
this idea is nothing new; it is the sine qua non of understanding the
nature (and possible reality) of so-called fourth-dimensional beings,
call them angels or demons or extraterrestrials or future human
beings traveling back through time to pay us a visit. Obviously, this
is way beyond the scope of this book, here at its closure as we are.
But in terms of the Matrix scenario, itís not such a
Since the Matrix reality is being continuously downloaded into the collective consciousness of humanity as it slumbersóand since Neo and his crew are able to operate both inside and outside this reality (to act through it but also upon it)óit is not hard to envision them developing the capacity to freeze the information flow temporarily (just as Morpheus does in one of his simulated enactments), at will, and even perhaps to reverse it or to move it forward, more or less as one pauses or fast-forwards on a video recorder. This would give them the truly godlike power to alter and rearrange things within the collective human consciousness, within the Matrix, and so redirect it steadily and creatively towards a desired outcome. Since this outcome is not merely the overthrowing of the tyranny of the AI but also the awakening of mankind, it would require not so much the ruthlessness of the terrorist, but the subtlety of the artist, the magik of the sorcerer, the power of the shaman.
A question that is even more demanding (and intriguing) here arises: if the Matrix is found to be ìjustî a simulationóa dreamóand subject to conscious alteration, what, then, of ìactualî reality? Morpheus teaches Neo how to functionówith superhuman potentialówithin a simulated training ground, so that he may then move into the Matrix proper with the knowledge he has gained, and function therein; this even though he cannot help but continue to perceive it as true reality. So if the end and final object of all this is to free his mind and so prove that reality is a purely subjective affairóa participative science, if you will (as quantum physics assures us)óthen surely this same awarenessóthis same powerómust also apply to ìrealityî itself? Namely, to the post-apocalyptic world where AI reigns. Surely it is a logical, irresistible conclusion that this too is but another simulation, albeit of a very different order? Put another way: after discovering, beyond all room for doubt, that what he once thought to be concrete, empirical reality is really a mutable, plastic projection of realityówith no fixed laws beyond the laws (the limitations) of the mindóhow is it possible for Neoóhaving realized this truth to end all truthsóto ever take anything as ìsolidî again? Obviously, it is not. One cannot free the mind in part, one must free it utterly, or not at all. Hence the Matrix itself is no more than a training groundóexactly as are Morpheusís simulations for Neo, only the next level upófor initiation into the magical universe, as programmed by ìGod,î if we must give it a name. And hereís where the Wachowskis could get really weird with The Matrix.
As Terence McKenna proselytizes
I have been thinking about the idea that extraterrestrials, and this penetration of the popular mind by images of extraterrestrials, is something that we may not get a hold on until we accept the possibility that aliens only can exist as information, and therefore the internet is the natural landing zone for these alien minds. . . . No matter what the alien is, we interpret it through human experience, and god knows our human experience is tweaked enough at the end of the twentieth century. . . . When you pile up all this stuff and realize that major discoveries are being made in all these fields simultaneously, you begin to see the morphogenetic momentum for this ìthingî that wants to be born out of the human species at this point as almost unstoppable and inevitable. Weíre all just witnesses to this unfolding. . . . A multi-sensored dynamic organism that lives on information.
McKenna believes that the day in which time travel is discovered to
be physically possibleóthe day on which mankind as a whole
becomes aware of this fact (and it appears to be close)ówill
effectively be the end of time as we know it. He posits a kind of
doorway opening up in space-time through which the future will coming
pouring into the present. If time travel becomes possible, he argue,
logically then our future selves will thereby become known to us. But
in order not to abolish our illusion of chronology altogether (the
rule of Cronos, or Saturn, or Time)óin order to allow us the
full benefit of instruction and preparation which this time stream is
providing us withóobviously our future selves must be
discreet. Like the AI agents of The Matrix they may walk among us but
cannot make themselves known to us, for the simple reason that to do
so would effectively collapse the program, wouldóin the
vernacularóblow our minds. It follows, however, that the
moment in which time travel becomes possible for the average
individual, and in which yesterdayís man gets a glimpse of
tomorrowís god, these godlike beingsówho are both our
devils and our angels, our creators and our descendentsómay at
last walk freely among us. Hence (according to McKenna), the moment
in which time travel is discovered there will occur a massive and
truly apocalyptic influxóa tidal wave if you willóof
alien energy, or unprocessed data, of wholly novel units of
information; or, to put it more bluntly, of superhuman beings. The
gods arrived today. Of course, one could also ìreduceî
this eschatological scenario to less apocalyptic terms by saying that
all it really entails is the raising of the floodgates between the
left and right sides of the brain. An apocalypse by any other name .
. . .
If the Wachowskis are even half aware of the magnitude of their premiseóof their visionóthey will be forced to confront and assimilate this ìfactî: that beyond all the technological, virtual wonders and intrigue and mystery, there is hiding an actual land of magic and of miracle, an organic phenomenon of truly overwhelming proportions, by which both the ghost and the machine (the seed and the womb) may be seen to be no more than the means by which gods are born.
Where is the glory of Nature in The Matrix? I donít believe I saw a single tree throughout the movie. Where is Paradise?(8) The film offers only a variety of purgatories (where the soul is purged and made ready), and a single Inferno. There is no mention of where we can actually go from here. No one asks; no one dares. The film seems to present a huis clos, a no way out situation, save for the single fact that it is above all concerned with the nature of illusion, how to use it, and how to overcome it. As such, The Matrix never really gets down to ìrealityî at all. That is still to come, and it may be that the human mind, such as it is (and the Matrix is no more nor less than this), cannot know reality directly at all, but only perceives an endless array of interpretations, of simulations. These illusions are not the territory, but in time we may see that they are most certainly maps, by which we may someday arrive there, on terra firma at last, where we may discard all maps and illusions, once and for all. And, on that day, we may find that the truth was ours from the start, but that we just couldnít grok it. Both the Serpent of Eden and Jesus Christ whistled the same tune, albeit for different reasons: ìYe shall be as gods.î(9) Apparently, Paradise is not for everyone.
1. The ìDemiurgeî is perhaps the central tenet of Gnosticism, as found in the Nag Hammadi Library (the sealed codex discovered in the Middle East in 1947). The Gnostics taught that Jehovahóaccepted by the Jews, and by Christianity after them, as the creator of mankind, its one true Godówas in fact a pretender, a false god, whose real name was Samael, ìthe god of the blind,î or the Demiurge. Samael was begotten by the goddess Sophia (wisdom) but quickly rebelled and assumed his false throne as world-creator and ìgodî (rather like Lucifer), crying ìI am that I am, there are no Gods besides me,î etc, etc. Despite Sophiaís insistence that he was lying, that he was but a blind god leading the blind, mankind accepted the lie and allowed themselves to become enslaved to it. As The Gospel of Truth puts it: ìIgnorance of the Father brought about anguish and terror; and the anguish grew solid like a fog, so that no one was able to see. For this reason error became powerful; it worked on its own matter foolishly, not having known the truth. It set about with a creation, preparing with power and beauty the substitute for truth.î The Hypostasis of the Archons describes a veil that exists ìbetween the world above and the realms below; and the shadow came into being beneath the veil; and that shadow became matter; and that shadow was projected apart.î Thus began a program of mind controlóor soul enslavementómaintained by Samael and his ìArchonsî (rulers) which involved keeping mankind distracted by material problems and concerns, imprisoned by its own fear of death, of mortality, and ignorant of its true, divine nature. Hence the soul became ìentangled in the darkness of matter,î confined to bodily identification, and condemned to endless, repeated reincarnation, without possibility of parole, of graduation to godhood. (Rene Descartes seems to entertain a similar prospect when he writes: ìI shall suppose, therefore, that there is not a true God, who is the sovereign source of truth, but some evil demon, no less cunning and deceiving than powerful, who has used all his artifice to deceive me. I will suppose that the heavens, the air, the earth, colors, shapes, sounds and all external things that we see, are only illusions and deceptions which he uses to take me in.î Descartesís Meditations, quoted by Doug Mann and Heidi Hochenedel, in ìEvil Demons, Saviors and Simulacra in The Matrix,î) In Letter from Peter to Philip, Samael is called ìthe Arrogant Oneî who steals a part of the creation. ìAnd he placed powers over it and authorities. And he enclosed it in the aeons which are dead . . . But he . . . became proud on account of the praise of the powers. He became an envier and he wanted to make an image in the place of an image and a form in the place of a form. And he commissioned the powers within his authority to mold mortal bodies. And they came to be from a misrepresentation, from the semblance which had emerged. . . Now you will fight against them in this way, for the archons are fighting against the inner man. And you are to fight against them in this way: Come together and teach in the world the salvation with a promise.î Combine all this with modern UFO lore, which posits an evil (Draconian) alien race implanting human beings since the beginning of time with tiny mind control devices (the ìGods of Edenî and their livestock), for the exact same purpose: of ensuring eternal forgetfulness, endless sleep, so that the souls are denied the possibility of evolving, remain enslaved to the alien beings (the Archons), who (at least in some versions) use the souls as an energy source. Combine all this, and you have The Matrix. More or less.
2. In certain Gnostic texts, Jesus is said to have a twin brother whose name is Judas: Judas Thomas, or ìJudas the twin.î Without making too many creative leaps it is possible to draw the conclusion from these texts that it was not in fact Jesus who died on the cross, but Judas, his betrayer and twin, ìthe one who came into being in his likeness,î as The Apocalypse of Peter has it. (Nag Hammadi Library. The full quote is: ìThe savior said to me, ëHe whom you saw on the tree, glad and laughing, this is the living Jesus. But this one into whose hands and feet they drive the nails is his fleshy part, which is the substitute being put to shame, the one who came into being in his likeness . . . he whom they crucified is the first born, and the home of demons, and the stony vessel in which they dwell . . . But he who stands near him is the living Savior, whom they seized and released . . . Therefore he laughs at their lack of perception, knowing that they are born blind.î) In which case, the myth begins to take on rather more complex ramifications (the betrayer was sacrificed and so redeemed; the point of the crucifixion being a blood offering [DNA?], it follows that, as Jesusís twin, Judasís blood was a perfectly acceptable ìsubstituteî). Thomas in The Matrix, then, is not the doubter, he is the double, the one who must be sacrificed, just as is Abel by Cain. Neo, his perfect twin, is the ìresurrected,î the image that ascends, the Christ half of the equation. Itís interesting to note, in regard to this, certain Christian interpretations of the movie that see Neo as ìthe AntiChrist.î The fact that Keanu Reeves recently played the son of Satan (Al Pacino) in Devilís Advocate cannot be too quickly dismissed as a mere coincidence. Of course, pyscho-history does not allow for coincidences.
3. The most disappointing thing about The Matrix is its reliance on the familiar terms of action movies, presenting violence and ìresistanceî as the only means to overcome tyranny.
4. The name is especially curious considering the Gnostic tenets of the movie: Judaism and Gnosticism are diametrically opposed, philosophically speaking, and mortally at odds, historically speaking.
5. As Morpheus puts it, ìThey are still part of the system, and that makes them our enemy. . . . Most of these people are not ready to be unplugged. [They] are so inert, so hopelessly dependent on the system that they will fight to protect it.î Since the AI agents are capable of entering intoóof ìpossessingîóany human still hooked up to the machine, and of thereby converting them into mindless automatons that do its bidding, programmed killers, no less, any human not actively recruited by the Illuminati is a potential threat to it.
6. Shaman means ìskywalker,î which is where George Lucas got the name for his hero. Doubtless The Matrix, above all if the trilogy ever comes off as planned, is the movie that Star Wars never quite succeeds in being.
7. McKenna could even have been foreseeing The Matrix when he says: ìI think cultures are kinds of virtual realities where whole populations of people become imprisoned inside a structure which is linguistic and value-based.î Later he remarks: ìNow, if weíre gonna become a planetary being, we canít have the luxury of an unconscious mind, thatís something that goes along with the monkey-stage of human culture. And so comes then the prosthesis of technology, that all our memories and all our sciences and our projective planning abilities can be downloaded into a technological artifact which is almost our child or our friend or our companion in the historical adventure.î Made to order Matrix, anyone? (All quotes can be found in the Art Bell/Terence McKenna interview of 1998)
8. In one of the scripts more interesting quirks, agent Smith explains to Morpheus that the ìfirst Matrix was a perfect human world,î that AI originally created a surrogate reality of earthly bliss, a return to Eden, but that humanity rejected it out of hand, that ìno one would accept the programî! Hence, they unconsciously chose purgatory instead.
9. ìYe shall
not surely die: For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof,
then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good
and evil.î The Serpent of Genesis, 3:5. In John 10: 34, Christ
says the same, with only slight variation: ìIs it not written
in your law, I said, Ye are as Gods?î