Memento
By Danny Sarnowski

Before settling into my review of Memento, I find it important to explain to you my movie rating system. Everybody has his or her own way of doing it. Stars. Thumbs. Whatever. My system has three categories. The first is reserved for films that really blow me away; those that excite, inspire, or impress me. That category is called “Films that I wish I could lock up the filmmakers, assume their lives, and steal the credit for.” The second category has room for movies that I had a lot of fun and wouldn’t mind seeing again and movies that were bad, but not awful. This category is simply called “The Middle Category” (hey, they can’t all have funny names). The third category is reserved for truly terrible films. Films that result in a wince or a cringe at the mere thought of them. This category is called “Movies that I would rather have poop ON me than see again—honest to goodness—Poop!” With the rating system firmly in place in your minds, it’s on to Memento.

On the surface, Memento is a simple revenge tale. It is the story of Leonard Shelby (played wonderfully by L. A. Confidential’s Guy Pearce), an insurance claims investigator fervently searching for the man who raped and murdered his wife. Leonard encounters the usual cast of characters you’d be likely to find in any such story. A femme fatale (played by The Matrix’s Carrie-Anne Moss) whose motives are called into question, and a police officer that may or may not be helping Leonard with his investigation (played with smirking scumminess by Joe Pantaliano also of The Matrix). Writer/director Christopher Nolan has taken this simple story arc, this age-old tale of a vengeful lover, and turned it completely inside out.

Leonard Shelby, you see, is not your average investigator. Leonard has what he calls a “condition.” During his wife’s attack, he was hit on the head leaving him unable to make new memories. He starts every conversation quickly, telling the person he’s talking to that they must finish soon or he’ll forget everything. Leonard is like your cute little fish with the three-second memory, only really pissed off. He survives and continues his quest by taking Polaroids, scribbling notes to himself, and by tattooing information about the killer on his body. He is also pitifully dependant on the honesty of those around him, which isn’t exactly a desirable position for someone doing what he’s doing.

In an attempt to structure our interest and keeps us in the dark as much as Leonard, Nolan tells the story backwards. It opens with a Polaroid un-developing and launching itself back into the camera. After that we see the scene which preceded it and so forth. By cutting the film up, Nolan asks the audience to be much more involved with the story unfolding in front of them. Rather than spending the film wondering what happens next, we are forced to wonder why things have happened. The result is a surprisingly tense, satisfying experience.

While structuring the story this way makes for an interesting viewing experience, it calls into question the point of Leonard’s quest. If Leonard can’t remember what happened five minutes ago, how will he remember he’s gotten his vengeance? How pointless is his anger? Leonard simply answers “my deserves justice whether or not I remember.”

Memento is easily one of the best films of the year. It is fast paced, absorbing, and suspenseful. Unfortunately you, like Leonard, will have to take my word for it.

7 February 2002