One trick moviemakers are pulling more and more frequently is the surprise ending, where the paradigm shifts that the characters experience also manages to pull the rug out from under the viewer's eyes, leaving them to second guess everything that came before. These particular films (The Usual Suspects, Fight Club or The Sixth Sense as a few examples) can inspire repeat viewings in order to catch all the subtleties and nuances that went into their construction. The only problem is, once gimmick conclusions become common place, they can also become predictable. And while I salute Memento's undeniable originality, I saw the ending coming a mile away. For me, this marred an otherwise solid picture.
It stars Guy Pearce as Lenny Shelby, a man who says he is unable to form new memories ever since the death of his beloved wife. Lenny tattoos himself with key information surrounding his wife's death, leaves Polaroids and notes with scribblings of who he really knows and who he can trust. "Memories can be distorted," he mumbles. "They're just an interpretation, they're not a record, and they're irrelevant if you have the facts." The statement is especially ironic given the subjectivity of the notes he leaves for himself which he treats as undisputed facts. Another problem with Lenny's condition is the basic unfeasibility of the whole situation. In reality, anyone who suffered some kind of short-term memory loss every 10 minutes wouldn't even be allowed to wander the streets and certainly wouldn't remember after every ten minutes that he even has short-term memory loss. Yet every time he forgets and has to start over, he manages to remember that he has no memory? Chicken or the egg, anyone? In addition, the actual length of time that Lenny's memory comes and goes is catered specifically to the machinations of the plot, making it hard to compare 8 hours to 10 minutes and back again. While the short scenes drag us into the thriller, we already know the outcome so we don't feel as much like sleuths at the end of the picture as we do pawns in director Christopher Nolan's game.
There is no doubting the appeal of this project though. The performances may be relatively contrived across the board, but the innovative device of allowing the sequence of events to occur in reverse order is mentally challenging and suspenseful as all heck. This technique, however, works better in a movie such as Exotica, where several character threads (not just one) are clarified when the Big Moment comes. Even Groundhog Day seemed fresher to me in comparison. Incidentally, the best subplot is shown through a series of black and white flashbacks featuring Stephen Tobolowsky as a former acquaintance of Lenny's who also suffered from short-term memory loss. These at least pack a little bit of emotional punch amidst all of the film noir aspirations.
When I was in university, a friend of mine wrote a wonderful play called Anterograde, about the effects of amnesia on the human brain. I couldn't predict the ending, and my friend certainly didn't relay the sequence of events in reverse order. Still, there are a few uncanny similarities between Memento and this play that was written five years ago. I'm trying to think if my friend and Christopher Nolan ever actually knew each other. Oh well, I forget.
