Memento (2000)

Memento was Christopher Nolan's first big picture (a smaller film called Following preceded it), but it's indicative of the caliber of filmmaker Nolan is that Memento displays none of the unpolished nascence that many "early films" possess. Instead, it's a smart film, engaging in many of the same ways that Nolan's other films are.

The protagonist of Memento is Leonard Shelby (Guy Pearce), a former insurance salesman who, following the murder of his wife, is no longer able to form new memories; since he has only a weak short-term memory, Leonard must write down or photograph anything he needs to remember. Leonard is aided by Natalie (Carrie-Anne Moss, in her pre-Matrix days), who has also lost someone, and Teddy (Joe Pantoliano), a cop who apparently was one of Leonard's wife's attackers. Take note - that's not a spoiler. The entire film is told backwards, with Leonard killing Teddy at the beginning of the film. Consequently, the film unwinds in reverse, putting the audience in Leonard's shoes as we try to connect scenes and uncover motivations.

The hallmark of any Christopher Nolan movie is its intellect, and Memento is as sharp as anything else Nolan's done thus far - perhaps even smarter than its successors (though Inception is pretty darned brainy). What's particularly brilliant about Memento is the way that it creates and sustains audience interest by forcing us to feel the psychological plight of Leonard; just as he cannot remember where he has been, so too are we left in the dark, fumbling for answers about backstory. When Leonard asks himself (as he does repeatedly), "Where am I?" the audience is asking right along. But the added level of ingenuity comes from the fact that the film doesn't simply feel like it was written forward and then put backward; the screenplay instead makes perfect sense in its own nonlinear format, spiraling backward to answer one mystery while asking yet another. It's like Lost at its most addictive, with a plot twist every five minutes - only here, the mysteries matter, and most of them are answered at the ending.

No, Memento doesn't tie everything in a neat little bow; like a crazy straw, it forces the viewer to work hard and only then follow the path that the film has taken. If you're coming to a Christopher Nolan movie without moral noir in your bloodstream, you're in the wrong theater. Memento, like everything else Nolan has done, is marked by brutally murky shades of moral ambiguity, especially once the film reveals who's lying to whom (hint: the lies we tell ourselves, the film suggests, may be the deadliest of all). Consequently, the film hits what might be a slip-up for some; Memento appears on first glance (and even on second) to fail to explain the significance of the story of Sammy Jankis, here heartbreakingly played by the criminally underrated Cinema King-favorite Stephen Tobolowsky. Sammy Jankis suffers from the same disorder Leonard does, and Leonard tells the story of Sammy Jankis throughout the film; he even has "Remember Sammy Jankis" tattooed on his hand. But remember him why? The lies told by characters throughout the film call into question the integrity of the Sammy Jankis narrative, to the point where you'll ask the question that almost every Nolan film inevitably invites - is any of this even real? If the ambiguity weren't intentional, I'd be complaining, but I think I've got it cracked, anyway. (Hint: it's all about lying.)

But there are other things going on in the film other than cerebral interrogations of morality and the art of knowing things. There are some very good performances, chief among them Pearce's; though Pearce has been a favorite of mine since his turn as the villainous Mondego in 2002's The Count of Monte Cristo, Memento is probably his strongest role, equal parts mysterious and mystified and perfectly plausible as a man with all the answers but who has forgotten where he has put them. Moss is solid and a little shady as Natalie, making me mourn the fact that The Matrix series seems to have put an otherwise promising career on hold, and as Teddy "Joey Pants" reminds me how delightfully seedy he always is (particularly in his top role, as the scummy Ralphie on The Sopranos). And I've already praised Tobolowsky, with whom readers should know I'm cinematically in love.

Memento is certainly not for everyone. It's intelligent unlike a lot of what Hollywood's churning out, but its downer note on the human condition's tragic attraction to self-destructive moral uncertainty. But for anyone acquainting themselves with Nolan's oeuvre, Memento is a fine place to continue your sojourn. Just try to keep up.

Memento is rated R "for violence, language and some drug content." The violence gets a little on the bloody side in a few fight scenes, and the film isn't shy about F-bombs (about 75). There's some brief discussion about rape, an implied romantic interlude, and fleeting rear nudity during a fight scene that seems like a precursor to Eastern Promises.