I'm a little sick of critics jumping on the "indie film of the moment" "Memento" bandwagon. What this film boils down to, for me, is a clever gimmick; the narrative structure may be impressive, but only as a trick. Like most summer blockbusters and most indie films, it has a lot of style and not a lot of substance. Just because a film has a hard time being distributed doesn't mean it's brilliant. I wish more critics would call attention to the elegant, refined, formal and intelligent structure of "In the Mood for Love," for example. While it may not be as slick or entertaining a film as "Memento," its achievements in marrying structure and meaning are dizzyingly effective and smart.
Give me smart over clever any time.
"Memento" is still a film for MTV: Its difficulty is engrained in its deliberately confusing plotline, not in its philosophical profundity. The intense intricacy of "In the Mood for Love" makes "Memento" look like a video: nice to look at, quickly forgotten.
-- Jocelyn Szczepaniak-Gillece
Jocelyn: Most of the critics I know -- myself included -- ranted and raved over "In the Mood for Love." I think there's room for both.
I appreciate Andy Klein's analysis of "Memento" -- a great movie that I enjoyed enough to see twice -- but I think that he missed the boat in his final conclusions. And interestingly enough, he asked all the questions he needed to come to a more likely conclusion.
Toward the end of the article, he asks about the thematic purpose of the Sammy Jankis story. He says, "Is it a hint that Leonard's condition may not be real? As Leonard tells the tale, the crucial point is whether Sammy had suffered physical brain damage or if his affliction was somehow psychological." And later he accuses Nolan of "dirty pool" in leaving holes in Leonard's condition for the sake of the plot, "without giving us some hints."
The hint is there. Sammy Jenkis is how Leonard has adapted information about himself, minus the guilt of acknowledging that it was really he who killed his wife. The Sammy story tells us, though perhaps not directly, that Leonard's condition is psychological rather than physical; his brain is not really damaged. He has the capacity to make memories, but some part of him doesn't want to. The guilt of killing his own wife could very well be the kind of force it takes to create a memory in Leonard; but his coping mechanism forced him to turn that memory into the Sammy Jankis story (just as it forced him to remove those pages from the police report). The flashes of memory, of Leonard giving his wife the insulin shot, were adapted by his mind into something innocent (pinching her leg).
The fact that Leonard is somehow able to describe his condition in detail throughout the movie is another clue to the same thing: Leonard remembers a little more than he wants to; he is always trying to forget.
-- Eric Musall
I enjoyed Andy Klein's article on "Memento." I too have seen the film several times, and I believe I can answer a few of Klein's questions, enriching our understanding of the film and allowing us to find Nolan not guilty of having "cheated like a two-bit grifter."
Once you accept that Leonard's condition is at least partially psychological, the most compelling question is whether he killed his wife. I propose that he did and that his condition, consciously or (more likely) subconsciously, gave him an excuse to do so -- because on some level he wanted to.
One assumption Nolan allows us to nurture without justification is that Leonard loved his wife. But nowhere in the film is there any evidence for this, aside from the fact that he is obsessed with finding her killer. In fact, the main thing he recalls about her (to Natalie, at the diner) is the extreme moments in a relationship that one doesn't want to remember, and the main scene we see between the married couple (in flashback) ends with her telling him, with some irritation, "Don't be a dick." This is not to suggest that Leonard was out to murder his wife, but all we see of his feelings for her are colored by hostility (illustrated also in his later portrayal of Sammy Jankis' fictional wife) and he is a violent person (punching Natalie, regardless of the provocation, is not the act of an especially decent fellow -- nor is revenge, for that matter). His condition gives him a license to do just about anything, to indulge his baser instincts -- as we may! -- in dreams.
"Memento" is a terrifying film about responsibility, identity and guilt.
-- Alexander Rubens
Andy Klein, in his excellent article on "Memento," doesn't mention my favorite thing about the movie: It's a perfect metaphor for the filmgoing experience itself. Every two hours or so, Leonard Selby finds himself in an entirely new situation. He has two hours to decide who the good guys are, who the bad guys are and who he should act against or kill. Does he get it right? Well, it doesn't really matter because in two hours the slate will be wiped clean and he will be able to start fresh -- to assign new heroes and villains and be someone else. No conscience and no consequences. The moral vacuum in which Leonard lives is the moral vacuum of cinema itself. Nolan reminds us of the danger in it.
-- Matt Bird
Matt: Great point. Unfortunately, there are many more such ideas that come up in discussion that couldn't fit into an already rather long article.
"Memento" is a gimmick movie that has no soul. When you understand the general story and backward plot device the film becomes tedious. And then you reach the unsatisfying ending. As in the movie, "Memento" is forgettable five minutes later.
-- Scott Dobson
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