Memento

Christopher Nolan’s first major picture (after 1998’s Following, which is interesting but a tad too confusing, and really for completists only) is at first glance nothing but a gimmick, using a reverse-narrative to tell the detective noir of Guy Pearce’s Leonard Shelby as he hunts for the man who raped and killed his wife whilst suffering with a rare condition that prevents him from making new memories. However it turns out that telling the story backwards, scene by scene and with an expositionary telephone conversation spliced in between, is the only way to give the story justice.
Famously, there is an easter egg on the Memento DVD that plays the film in chronological order, and I’ve discovered that in that orientation the film just doesn’t work. It’s not just because the last few seconds of every scene are replayed again moments later at the start of the next one (surely that wouldn’t have taken much to edit out?) but it’s also because the film is completely lacking in tension or pacing when that way round. Which just goes to show that Nolan was able to use a plot technique to it’s fullest advantage, which in the hands of a lesser director could have proved disastrous.
Pearce is excellent in an unforgiving role, especially given that Leonard has no character arc longer than a scene. He’s always been a brilliant actor, and often hides his Brad Pitt-esque looks behind obscuring facial furniture or heavy make-up – see Ed Exley’s glasses in L.A. Confidential, or large amounts of Play-doh in Prometheus – and here is no exception, with Shelby’s body plastered with tattoos and a shock of peroxide blonde hair to distract from those razor-sharp cheekbones. Pearce is ably supported by Carrie-Anne Moss and Joe Pantoliano as Natalie and Teddy, people who may or may not be out to help Leonard on his quest.We discover elements of the story as Leonard does, and the true meaning of almost every scene is altered by the one that immediately precedes/follows it. Surprisingly, a scene can hold just as many surprises, and just as much tension, if you know how it ends but not how it begins. You can’t help but feel sorry for Leonard, in a situation that would drive most of us insane – as long as we could remember the insanity long enough – and his life would be hard enough without everyone screwing with him. Even the clerk at his motel (Batman Begins‘ Mark Boone Junior) charges him for two different rooms, and doesn’t even hide it from Leonard, as there’s no chance he’ll remember.

There’s more comedic moments than you might remember, and some darkly so, for example the conversation where Leonard reveals to Natalie that the last thing he remembers is his wife. She says that’s sweet, before Leonard concludes “…dying.” I probably shouldn’t have, but this got a start of laughter from me.

I remember that my first viewing of this movie was ruined when I borrowed it from a housemate some years ago. He basically told me the ending, and that the film was crap, but I watched it anyway and remained intrigued and fascinated by how the plot would tie together – which it does nicely. Rest assured I never took that housemates movie advice again.

If Stephen Tobolowsky is in a film, then I’m legally obliged to mention him in a review, and here he crops up in grainy, black and white flashback as Sammy Jankis, a case Leonard looked into as an insurance claims investigator before his memory loss. Jankis suffered from a similar condition as Leonard, and Tobolowsky’s wonderfully big blank face is perfect for the look of someone not recognising anything new in the world around him, and his bursts of anger at annoyance – at an elctro-shock test and not understanding TV shows – is also great.

The story, written by Christopher Nolan’s brother Jonathan, is well thought out and takes into account the minutiae of Leonard’s predicament. Such a high concept (though scientifically possible) film could have left many annoyances at skipped over details, loose plot strands or inconsistencies, but by the end/beginning no such problems are left.

Choose film 9/10

Unlisted: Chocolat

That’s right, some weeks I don’t go to the cinema or watch a new DVD release, I’ve got a fairly large and ever-increasing stack of non-List DVDs I either haven’t seen before or haven’t really watched properly (I have films on in the background a lot, especially when I was at university) and this regular feature gives me some motivation to get through them.
Just in time for Easter, and after a messy, sticky but god damn delicious bout of chocolate egg making, we sat down to watch Chocolat, a film that’s been on my radar ever since it was discussed with much vigour in the disappointing Paul Rudd vehicle I Love You, Man, as his character’s favourite film. Just like when I rushed out to watch Point Break on Danny Butterman’s recommendation (I’ve been known to enjoy Bad Boys 2) I was more than a little disappointed, as I went in with higher hopes than I probably should.
Chocolat sees Juliette Binoche’s master chocolatier opening up a cocoa boutique in a sleepy little French village, just at the start of lent. The villagers initially shun her temptations, before gradually growing to accept them and their delicious ways, assisted by her worldly knowledge, kind soul and the fact that some of her products act as an extreme aphrodisiac, an aspect that was severely underused, and could have led to a much more light hearted and entertaining piece, as at one point it seemed to be heading towards.
Overall, the tone was far too unbalanced; whimsical at times and overly serious at others, and the myriad of diversions – Alfred Molina’s stern mayor attempting to My Fair Lady Peter Stormare’s abusive barman, Binoche’s unfulfilling fling with sailing drifter Johnny Depp – leave the palate tempted but wanting for more depth. The outer shell is sweet and smooth, but alas where a rich praline centre should be there is nought but a hollow cavity. Everything looks delicious though, and I picked up a few tips for my own chocolate making.
Choose life 5/10