Fully buying into Danny Boyle’s thriller Trance requires an awful lot of faith in hypnosis as a mental tool with Inception-level powers when it comes to creating and enforcing complicated mental states and elaborate mindscapes. Boyle doesn’t need hypnosis to justify the film’s flashy rendition of the world as a collection of crisp, sterile glass-and-metal spaces filled with intense neon colors; striking visual styles have been part of his films since the earliest days. But the way he visualizes hypnotic trances as subjective fantasy worlds gives him plenty of excuses to fully indulge his love for dream logic and discombobulating editing. Usually, though, the plot rationalization for the woozy subjectivity of his cinematography is more universal, and easier to accept: drugs in Trainspotting; madness in Shallow Grave, The Beach, and 28 Days Later; the outsized imagination of childhood in Millions; extreme physical privation in 127 Hours; and so forth. In Trance, viewers are expected to recognize a hypnotist as someone with a nigh-magical ability to manipulate subjective reality, and the entire story hinges on that unlikely belief.