MY MOVIE SHELF: Memento

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 200  Days to go: 204

Movie #177:  Memento

Memento was kind of a flash in the pan, and undeservedly so. It should’ve been a phenomenon. Yes, it launched the careers of Christopher and Jonathan Nolan and skyrocketed Guy Pearce into the briefest glimpse of superstardom (before he fizzled out his leading roles and settled into a regular Hollywood routine of various supporting roles, from love interest to villain to villainous love interest), but it should’ve been so much more. It should be considered a landmark film. Instead it’s an interesting piece of trivia.

The reason for this huge discrepancy in the film’s remembered status as a unique gimmick versus its potential as a groundbreaking piece of storytelling is due, I think, to the fact that people didn’t really get it. Sadly, people are stupid.

Memento‘s structure is intricate and complex. It requires attention to detail and nonlinear thinking. It is an extremely satisfying and mind-blowing viewing experience, and it pays off in greater and greater amounts with each subsequent screening. Unfortunately, I think most people saw it once, remarked favorably on the backward storytelling structure, and then didn’t give it another thought, when in reality there’s so much more there.

The bulk of the story is told backwards, yes. All the scenes of Leonard (Pearce) that are filmed in color are shown in reverse order — the final scene, the penultimate scene, the one before that, and so on, not to the chronological beginning of the events in the movie, but close to it, to the inciting event that puts Leonard on the path he currently takes. The scenes in black and white, however, filmed almost entirely in Leonard’s hotel room with him talking to an unheard person on the phone, travel forward. They start at the actual chronological beginning of the movie’s events and lead to that same inciting event the technicolor scenes are moving toward. They meet at the climax, when all is made clear.

Not only is this structure innovative and clever, it’s also clearly delineated (by the use of color versus black and white) and an excellent way to mimic Leonard’s short-term memory loss. As every scene begins, we are disoriented, as he is. We have no idea where he is or how he got there, and neither does he. Our only advantage over Leonard is that we know what happens next, but we’re still puzzling it together, just as he is. It’s really exquisite when you look at the big picture.

The things we’re puzzling, of course, are not quite the same things Leonard is puzzling. He wants to know who raped and murdered his wife (Jorja Fox) and he has a bunch of tattoos proclaiming “facts” to lead to the killer. We the audience are interested in that as well, because it is Leonard’s driving purpose, but it’s more abstract. What we really want to figure out are the motivations of Teddy (Joe Pantoliano) and Natalie (Carrie-Anne Moss). It becomes obvious they’re both using and manipulating Leonard, taking advantage of his condition the same way the hotel is by charging him for two different rooms, but what are they using him for? What are their ends? Their motivation?

The fabulous, shocking, beautiful part is not their manipulations, though, but Leonard’s. He’s manipulating himself as much as anyone. More so. He’s been manipulating himself and taking advantage of his condition since his wife’s death, actually. It all comes together in one shining, crystallized moment, and it’s amazing. It’s phenomenal. It’s spectacularly brilliant.

So why is Memento a footnote in film history instead of its own chapter? I just can’t understand it.

 

MY MOVIE SHELF: The Count of Monte Cristo

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 298  Days to go: 288

Movie #75: The Count of Monte Cristo

The Count of Monte Cristo isn’t a perfect movie any more than it’s a perfect adaptation of the original novel by Alexandre Dumas. What I really like about it, though, is that it’s a thrilling movie. Even a thin novel can be difficult to adapt it its entirety into a film (look at The Hobbit), and The Count of Monte Cristo is not a thin novel, so it’s impressive how efficient and streamlined the adaptation is to introduce the primary players and sufficiently characterize them all, take us through the betrayal of Edmond Dantes (Jim Caviezel), the years at and subsequent escape from the horrid Chateau d’If, and the full extent of Edmond’s revenge all in just over two hours. The emotional weight of the novel is retained without losing any sense of urgency or suspense.

The movie is exciting from start to finish, from the intriguing meet with Napoleon on Elba to the final showdown against Fernand (Guy Pearce), and while many people might say the crazy escape from prison is their favorite part, mine is actually all the time spent with the priest (Richard Harris) studying science, economics and languages while also learning the sword and other forms of combat. It’s not quite a montage, because there are exchanges and little bits of dialogue as we move from each mini-scene to another, but it’s a great way to show the passage of time, the progress on the tunnel, and also the education of Edmond. When he escapes, it makes sense how hardened, but also how intelligent and cunning he now is.

In true movie fashion, Edmond ends up with Mercedes (Dagmara Dominczyk) and their son Albert (baby Henry Cavill, before he really grew into his Man of Steel looks) because if a woman has loved a man her whole life, he have to end up with her and her son must really be his son as well because she would never have a son with someone else. That is the movie way. And it works here because the characters are so strongly written. Mercedes is heartbroken and desperate all of her years after Edmond’s supposed death, but because of the baby she of course married Fernand. Fernand is cocky, self-righteous and rude, sneering down at everyone he considers beneath him, especially Edmond. And Edmond is a naive and earnest young man who grows into a hardened cynical man, but who, when faced with the love of Mercedes and their child, begs to be given the chance to start over with them. Just as in the book, he learns to never give up hope.

While I’m not a vengeful person by nature (I’m far too lazy to hold a grudge that long), I do understand the impulse when faced with grave injustice and betrayal. So I really like that in this movie Edmond betters himself and exposes his enemies for the cowardly villains they are, but that when faced with a future of hope and love, he takes those instead. It’s the fantasy of getting to show up everyone who picked on you or somehow wronged you as a kid without losing the idea that you’re a good and moral person. It might not be entirely realistic, but it’s a popular fantasy all the same.