#24 - MEMENTO
Memory can change the shape of a room; it can change the color of a car. And memories can be distorted. They're just an interpretation, they're not a record, and they're irrelevant if you have the facts. ~Leonard Shelby
Memento
2000
Director: Christopher Nolan
Starring: Guy Pearce, Carrie-Anne Moss, Joe Pantoliano
By now, the central conceit of Memento is widely known: it is the movie that is told backwards. This, of course, grossly oversimplifies the matter, making it sound as if this is a "gimmick" film. Nothing could be further from the truth. Gimmick films do not move past their gimmick; 3-D films are usually a flurry of style and zero substance, usually merely a mishmash of scenes that provide an excuse for random objects to fly at the audiences' heads. But Memento... ah, Memento is so much more.
For those who have been living in a cave for the past decade, the events in Memento unfold in reverse chronological order. Why? Why would a story be told backwards? Because our hero, Leonard Shelby (Guy Pearce), has a disorder that renders him incapable of forming new memories. This means that he does not remember who his friends are, who his enemies are, or what just happened. He does know, however, that he is avenging the rape and murder of his wife, and he is hell-bent on finding the man who did it and killing him. He tattoos his body with pertinent clues and statements, such as "John G. raped and murdered my wife." He takes notes with abandon and relies heavily on the written word. Naturally, there are people around him who want to take advantage of both his vulnerability and his bloodthirstiness.
Could this have been a gimmick film? You betcha. You've got to see it to believe it - a mystery unfolds backwards! Come one, come all! What elevates this, then, from its cheesy Smell-O-Rama cousins? I argue that it is because the gimmick is not a gimmick, but an absolutely necessary plot device to enable us to understand the mind of our protagonist. We are just as bewildered as Leonard with every new scene. Who is chasing him? Why are they chasing him? We don't know, and neither does he. We understand him, his constant feeling of desperation and instability. Like him, we learn to put the puzzle together backwards. We learn to look for the causes of the effects that we have previously seen. We, in essence, ARE Leonard Shelby, and when he is betrayed, we are betrayed as well.
Director Nolan (Batman Begins, The Dark Knight) is supremely confident in this, only his second feature film. The audacity to pull off such a convoluted narrative combined with the film's deliciously noir setting (this is, after all, ultimately a hardboiled detective story) is clearly not the work of a nervous, unsettled novice. He trusts his audience, something too few directors do. He knows that we are intelligent enough to follow along. He knows that we are capable of interpreting contrasting information rather than being spoon-fed oversimplified stereotypes. Yes, you probably have to work a bit harder to watch Memento, but in the end, isn't it worth it?
I do not wish to spoil the film for any who may not have seen it yet, but I must mention the ending. The ending - which is actually the beginning of the film, natch - punches you in the gut, knocking you out, and almost immediately making you want to watch it all over again. It changes the timbre of the entire movie, making you contemplate the nature of trust and memory. Which is more reliable, a clue or a memory? We are left wondering, and a little less naive.
The truly great films, the films that have endured, are perpetually rewatchable. Memento is a layered film, with clues embedded within clues, puzzles within puzzles, all tempting us to solve them, to unravel them, in order to create a clearer picture. You pick up more of these clues, unravel more of these puzzles with each repeated viewing, and you still have the feeling as if there is more to discover, more to know. For that reason, it belongs with the great films. It is an immensely psychological film, masquerading as a "gimmick."
Memento
2000
Director: Christopher Nolan
Starring: Guy Pearce, Carrie-Anne Moss, Joe Pantoliano
By now, the central conceit of Memento is widely known: it is the movie that is told backwards. This, of course, grossly oversimplifies the matter, making it sound as if this is a "gimmick" film. Nothing could be further from the truth. Gimmick films do not move past their gimmick; 3-D films are usually a flurry of style and zero substance, usually merely a mishmash of scenes that provide an excuse for random objects to fly at the audiences' heads. But Memento... ah, Memento is so much more.
For those who have been living in a cave for the past decade, the events in Memento unfold in reverse chronological order. Why? Why would a story be told backwards? Because our hero, Leonard Shelby (Guy Pearce), has a disorder that renders him incapable of forming new memories. This means that he does not remember who his friends are, who his enemies are, or what just happened. He does know, however, that he is avenging the rape and murder of his wife, and he is hell-bent on finding the man who did it and killing him. He tattoos his body with pertinent clues and statements, such as "John G. raped and murdered my wife." He takes notes with abandon and relies heavily on the written word. Naturally, there are people around him who want to take advantage of both his vulnerability and his bloodthirstiness.
Could this have been a gimmick film? You betcha. You've got to see it to believe it - a mystery unfolds backwards! Come one, come all! What elevates this, then, from its cheesy Smell-O-Rama cousins? I argue that it is because the gimmick is not a gimmick, but an absolutely necessary plot device to enable us to understand the mind of our protagonist. We are just as bewildered as Leonard with every new scene. Who is chasing him? Why are they chasing him? We don't know, and neither does he. We understand him, his constant feeling of desperation and instability. Like him, we learn to put the puzzle together backwards. We learn to look for the causes of the effects that we have previously seen. We, in essence, ARE Leonard Shelby, and when he is betrayed, we are betrayed as well.
Director Nolan (Batman Begins, The Dark Knight) is supremely confident in this, only his second feature film. The audacity to pull off such a convoluted narrative combined with the film's deliciously noir setting (this is, after all, ultimately a hardboiled detective story) is clearly not the work of a nervous, unsettled novice. He trusts his audience, something too few directors do. He knows that we are intelligent enough to follow along. He knows that we are capable of interpreting contrasting information rather than being spoon-fed oversimplified stereotypes. Yes, you probably have to work a bit harder to watch Memento, but in the end, isn't it worth it?
I do not wish to spoil the film for any who may not have seen it yet, but I must mention the ending. The ending - which is actually the beginning of the film, natch - punches you in the gut, knocking you out, and almost immediately making you want to watch it all over again. It changes the timbre of the entire movie, making you contemplate the nature of trust and memory. Which is more reliable, a clue or a memory? We are left wondering, and a little less naive.
The truly great films, the films that have endured, are perpetually rewatchable. Memento is a layered film, with clues embedded within clues, puzzles within puzzles, all tempting us to solve them, to unravel them, in order to create a clearer picture. You pick up more of these clues, unravel more of these puzzles with each repeated viewing, and you still have the feeling as if there is more to discover, more to know. For that reason, it belongs with the great films. It is an immensely psychological film, masquerading as a "gimmick."