Report on Cannes, Keanu, and Matrix Reloaded

Girona airport, waiting for a plane. What else? Missed the one to London this morning, having gone to the wrong airport. Assumptions are fatal. The day so far has been one long negotiation with trains, buses, telephones, a day in the matrix. Another one.

Since I left London, there has been nothing but struggle, it seems. The lesson seems to be just that: the warrior’s struggle never ends. I long to get to Mexico, but once I arrive there, I shall probably start thinking of somewhere else.

This planet is overrun. It is a plague, an infestation, and as long as I’m part of it, I can never escape it.

Cannes was interesting. Certain elements intervened to ensure that I get copies of the book to Keanu and the Wachowskis, though now I have seen the sequel, I wonder if there’s any sense in it. They all seem to be utterly plugged in. Hollywood is the enemy, may as well face it.

But one of our gang (warrior Mark) ran into Agent Smith (Hugo Weaving) at Soho house, and since he was carrying copies of the book, he approached him and handed one over. Hugo looked pleased and said, “Keanu would love a copy!” So my man produced another copy and handed it over. The following day I went into Cannes again with a friend and between us we deduced where the Matrix crew were staying (huge Reloaded banners hanging outside the Carlton being our first clue). I bluffed the receptionist into giving me the room number for publicity, went up and inscribed a couple of copies for Keanu and the Wachowskis.

I found out later that he and the rest of the cast left Cannes in disgust, if not shame, after the vitriolic response to Reloaded. Apparently there was a backlash from French critics against the infiltration of the festival by Hollywood blockbusters, and Reloaded got the brunt of their attack. At least that is the story I heard, some time later. Poor Keanu. One of the reasons I was so keen to hook up with him was because I had a dream with him some nights before. He was depressed and discouraged (when I saw the sequel, I knew why); I told him that, little by little, he would lose his sense of self and all fear would go along with it. He had to do this a little at a time, so that he could learn to disguise his transformation, otherwise people would assume he had gone insane. It seemed like sound advice to me.

I also left our number on a separate note in the book, in case he wanted to meet up; and of course I was unable to abolish entirely the hope that Keanu would call us. And of course, he didn’t. All this was just another detour from my true purpose, which is not to make connections within the matrix, obviously. Equally plain, Keanu and his $50 million might come in handy, but only if he’s able to grok our true purpose. This seems increasingly unlikely, dreams notwithstanding.

Seeing the movie has deflated my spirits considerably, however indulgent that may be on my part. It is a necessary disillusionment, but the result is that not only have I lost faith/interest in the Wachowskis and the Matrix phenomenon, but also, to a lesser extent, in the book. My worst fear has been realized. The book must stand alone, or fade away like a bad dream (along with the rest of the Matrix hoopla).

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Jake Horsley, May 27 2003

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