Memento

“Look, memory can change the shape of a room. It can change the colour of a car and memories can be distorted. They're just an interpretation. They're not a record. They're irrelevant if you have the facts.“ Walking into this, I had absolutely no idea what this movie was about. All I knew was it typically was at the mid to bottom of fan rankings of Nolan’s filmography. I see why. This film is capital-e experimental with a zig-zag backwards structure that slowly unravels a mystery that is solved for us in the beginning, essentially making the audience have a prolonged wait to the true opening scene. Through this we truly get to feel the weight of Leonard’s Anterograde Amnesia as he tries to solve the mystery of who killed & raped his wife; only to find out he killed his wife all along. Then coming the clear depiction of dissociative trauma. Leonard could not cope with what he done, or rather what his wife made him do; so his mind convinces him that it wasn’t him, it was just someone he knew. As someone who struggles with a dissociative trauma disorder myself, seeing a film explore the power of memories, sense of identity, & how distorted memories can create a false sense of direction hit my ass like a truck at the same time I had to pick up my jaw after realizing the criticism of fan interpretation, literally breaking the fourth wall to address me as I created my own interpretation of this film in my head as I was watching. ‘Cause that’s what we do. We watch movies, learn their themes, plot, characters — but then decide to warp it into what we want it to be. It’s gotten to the point that today people go in with a full mapped out interpretation of how a film should be months before the film even releases a trailer, creating an overwhelming dissociation from the fact it wasn’t the film didn’t kill their enjoyment; but rather it was them that killed it. Even stretching beyond the narrative end: the 90’s photographic grain & drifty pace leaves you trying to dissect then, while being simultaneously overwhelmed with now; like sorting through Polaroid’s in a house fire. Which is a strange feeling to have, granted how diled back Christopher Nolan’s cinematography is in this one. Being less about constantly spinning sets, slow-no explosions & warped camera angles; being more focused on just slow pans, with an emphasis on mid-to-close ups almost giving the impression that the small details on their face are important, making the audience virtually want to remember every word articulating from their lips. By doing so little with this film: Nolan overstimulates the audience by forcing them to overthink about something that is right under their nose. Allowing me to attribute the opening de-development of a Polaroid to not just the character’s gradual loss of memory in a place he’s trying to remember; but the audiences. A Memento is something you want to remember, this is one I can’t forget. P.S. Happy Birthday Nolan !