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.
Viable Option 