So I'm doing both.
Because, on the one hand, this is a film that will stay with you, have you remembering bits and bobs for days after seeing it. But it's also a film that has an immediate impact, gives you a buzz, and - in my case - has you grinning all the way home. Welcome back to the big screen, Danny.
Now, granted, Mr Boyle hasn't exactly been away - between this and his last masterpiece, 127 Hours, people may have noticed a small party he staged in London last summer. An event, I think it's fair to say, that put his name on a broader canvas than his films have managed (and I say that appreciating that Slumdog Millionaire landed him an Oscar and Trainspotting is now firmly ensconced in the cultural lexicon of this great nation).
So it could have been easy for Danny to return to his day job with a mainstream blockbuster - a film for the masses, something granny could take the kids to. That would have been the simplest project (especially given Trance was being filmed while he was sorting out the Olympic beanfeast), but Danny Boyle is not a man for the simple approach. No siree Bob.
Which is a bloody good job, because not doing Trance would have been a travesty.
On the face of it, it's a simple tale of an art heist gang falling out with each other as they try to find where James McAvoy's Simon has hidden the Goya he was supposed to be stealing. He probably wouldn't have forgotten if Vincent Cassel's Franck hadn't twatted him with the butt of his sawn-off shotgun, of course, but what's done is done so a hypnotherapist is called in to get to the bottom of the problem.
And that's where it gets interesting.
Rosario Dawson's Elizabeth is good at her job. So good, she becomes the centre of the movie, working to help Simon while doing plenty to suggest she's happy to help herself along the way. And this is where Mr Boyle (NOT OBE) comes into his own.
Playing with time frames, reality, and the audience's heads, Danny weaves a tale of, well, I think I can say deceit without giving too much away. Because it's a crime caper essentially, and double-crossing, backstabbing, shooting and torching cars is all to be expected. That's pretty much laid out in the trailer.
What isn't laid out is how he goes about it. With clever use of shot framings and music, the audience is kept off balance throughout. Just when you think you've got a steer on where Trance is heading, he pulls your chair away, forcing you to question your own assumptions and judgements, making you think again about who is on who's side, and crucially, who you should be feeling empathy and sympathy for.
And that's where Trance is in a league of its own. Like others of its ilk - Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind and Memento have been referenced by the director - the key to enjoying Trance lies in the randomness of the tale, the leaps and jumps as the pieces are put in place and then moved as you try and solve the riddles.
And the cast excel. It's a select bunch (there's only really the main three plus the rest of the gang - Danny Sapani, Matt Cross and Wahab Sheikh) but they all play a crucial role in sowing seeds of doubt and intrigue as real events and those realised through hypnosis collide like clashing tides. No one puts in a bad performance, with the lead trio of Cassell, McAvoy and Dawson all performing with measured perfection. Interestingly, watching Trance has made me reappraise McAvoy's Welcome To The Punch performance as well. There, I thought he did a bang-up job, measured it perfectly. Here, he trounces that. Sublime would be a good word, although that may be a heady mix of the wine and post-screening euphoria - but I can't imagine anyone else playing his part as well as he does.
But it's not all intrigue and suspicion. There are some lovely, gory horror touches, there's harrowing violence - I'm pretty sure there are a couple of kitchen sinks in here too - and then there's the music.
Music can do one of two things. As with Lincoln, it can go beyond suggestion and just smack you over the head as it instructs you as to what you should be feeling at any given moment. Alternatively it can be used, as it should be, as an added weapon, another tool in the director's little kit of tricks to set the tone. And Boyle does this to perfection.
The intro is quite gentle, as McAvoy narrates the set-up to the lifting of the painting. Then we change gear, and the music gets the adrenalin pumping as the gang set about lifting £27m-worth of oily canvas. Perfect. Then there are moments when Boyle deliberately shifts the tone, using quirky tunes to offer respite from the onslaught, to lift the mood before bringing it crashing brutally back down to earth. Again, done to perfection.
I can't talk about the rest of the film - and I REALLY want to - because there is no way of doing so without ruining what unfolds. Suffice to say, it's like unravelling a ball of wool with the kitten still attached - just when you think you're getting somewhere, you lose the end and have to grab at another bit and grip a bit harder. You may think you've spotted what's coming, but nothing here is that simple. Far from it.
Right, my glass is empty and Dave Hause's Prague (Revive Me) has just finished, so I'm off to bed. I'll conclude upon the morrow. I know this makes bog all difference to you, reading the completed piece as you are, but indulge me. And go listen to the aforementioned ditty. It's bloody brilliant.
Ahh, tea. Elixir of the gods. Welcoming me with her warm embrace as I sit here, blinking, at the screen. A decent night's sleep would have been good last night, but Richard Parker seemed determined to try and catch giant moths while wearing clogs. He's now out, resuming yesterday's hunt for baby dragons or somesuch.
So how does Trance sit the next day? What memories have remained or been stirred?
Well, it's still good. It's still making me smile (especially that bit where Cassel has his.... No, no, I've said too much already), and the final 20 minutes are still spinning around my head. But is it all flair and no substance? Well, yes, a bit. But so what?
It's a seriously stylish film, beautifully shot and brilliantly edited, even if the story really isn't all that. But the twists are good, and the moments where you're trying to second guess whether you're watching a memory, reality, or a safe place inside the brain, are stunning. Especially as the film plays out. And unlike Inception, there's no ambiguous ending, although that's not to say everything is all wrapped up like a brown parcel.
The over-riding feeling I'm left with is warm satisfaction. Satisfaction at having watched a well-balanced, very well made film, made by a man who is so clearly at the top of his game it's almost frightening. There are wry smiles, chuckles, wince-inducing scenes with pliers and one moment where every man in the room very noticeably tensed and shifted in their seats. You engage with this film from the off and it keeps hold throughout. And you love it all the more for that.
Basically, it's got the lot. And a painting.
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