Memento: Extreme Moments

Part 2 in a series of essays on the films of director Christopher Nolan.

    Christopher Nolan’s Memento comments upon and explores the relationship between films and memory; this is most effectively achieved through the film’s unique editing, both how events unfold in reverse order, and by juxtaposing silent, out of context snippets with the scene at hand.

    Like any experience, watching a film creates memories. Likewise, these memories are unique for each person; what shape they take depends greatly on the individual’s state of mind, previous experiences, world view, and engagement with the film. After you are finished watching a film, you have a new set of memories, and, again, like all memories, they were triggered by intense emotions. Therefore, the parts of a film you remember will be different than those recollected by your neighbor, because you have responded to certain shots or scenes or musical cues based on how they made you feel, and what existing memories they recalled and are now tied to.
    In the case of Memento, for example, if you have ever gotten a tattoo, or you are a tattoo artist or know one, your mind might assign specific emotional significance to Leonard’s tattoos, where as others in the audience who do not share this kind of experience will only treat these inky notes on the body of our protagonist as merely parts of the story. Likewise, if you own the same make and model of the car that Leonard drives, you will more than likely create a memory of the film focusing on this detail, while others will pay it no mind. Technically speaking, you are all watching the same film, but in essence you are not; the film each person remembers will be different, because as it enters the brain it is melted down and blended with a person’s biases, interests, and life experiences to create something completely unique. The filmmakers address this subjectivity directly, when Leonard says, “Memory can change the shape of a room; it can change the color of a car. And memories can be distorted. They're just an interpretation, they're not a record...”

Review: Irreversible

Irreversible (2002) is a remarkable, expertly crafted, beautifully tragic film by writer/director Gaspar Noé. It is the story of lovers Alex (the glorious Monica Bellucci) and Marcus (Vincent Cassel, animalistic and unhinged), and the urchins of society that they encounter one night by happenstance. Unfolding in reverse, it could be considered France's answer to Memento (2000).

One aspect that viewers will notice immediately is the nearly nonstop camera. This may leave the audience feeling nauseous at first, but it becomes more relaxed as the film progresses (or regresses). The first half hour or so may be disorienting and claustrophobic, but as we slip further into the past, things become steadier and more pleasant. 

The wandering camera is indeed a character unto itself, spiraling up, over, and around the actors to create a truly visceral and cinematic experience. The entire film is meant to look like one continuous, fluid shot, and this effect is pulled off wonderfully, without even an ounce of obvious pretension. It is dizzyingly chaotic in the opening scene, but the camera quickly finds a comfortable groove. 

The plot of Irreversible cannot be discussed in detail without spoiling things. Discovering who these people are and how they come to do what they do is a big part of this cinematic experience. 

It should be mentioned that there is a very graphic murder within the film's initial ten minutes (the end of the story). It is so graphic, in fact, that this reviewer (who doesn't flinch when faced with Saving Private Ryan or Schindler's List) was forced to look away. Working backwards from this point, we are gradually shown the incidents that lead up to this crime. Also, be forewarned that nearly halfway through there happens a punishingly protracted scene of rape.

Though you may be disgusted at first, stay with this film to the end. You will be glad you did.