A social worker is followed home from her high school reunion by an
enigmatic man suffering from memory loss.
Review by
Benjamin Poole
Directed by: Michel Franco
Starring: Jessica Chastain, Peter Sarsgaard, Merritt Wever, Brooke Timber, Elsie Fisher, Jessica Harper, Josh
Charles
Within narrative cinema, it is a truth universally bandied about that by
a film's third act the main character should have learned something, or,
at least, somehow spiritually developed over the course of the preceding
action. The dynamic is what makes cinematic storytelling, with all its
associated structures and fulfilments, such a balm to real life, which
is more akin to the cyclic situations of Groundhog Day: a mediocre, routine equivalence of same journey to work, same people
in work, same grievances rattling about in the old brain box. Not so in
films, where the chief denizens of a screenplay are shifting inexorably
towards an escapist consummation of their best selves. In narrative
cinema we are moved from one state of equilibrium to another, a
structure so recognised that this year's Best Director Oscar winner
built a whole USP upon the disruption of this narrative organisation in
his earlier Memento, within which Guy Pearce had to recall where he was from before he
could get where he was going (fond memories of people who owned the DVD
excited they could "play the story in order"-!).
In Michel Franco's Memory (the bluntness of that
title, though) Peter Sarsgaard's Saul is located within a similar
stasis. Affected by early onset of dementia, Saul forgets where he is,
what he is supposed to be doing and even who he is/was. In the wake of a
thematically congruous high school reunion, Saul follows an ex-classmate
home unsolicited. Not knowing what else to do, when he is refused entry
he stays outside her house all night. The classmate is Sylvia and is
played by Jessica Chastain, who is juxtaposed with Saul via her
own issues with the past: Sylvia is an alcoholic in recovery who is
coming to terms with repressed childhood abuse. A hoped for third act
reveal which never materialises is that Saul fixates on our Jess, a camp
icon, as he is simply following his gay instincts which have been
hitherto obscured due to his condition and heteronormative societal
expectations. But no, he trails because Sylvia looks like Jessica
Chastain, and therefore he fancies her. Thus, the central romance of
this sweet, involving story begins...
It isn't smooth sailing though. At first, Sylvia confuses Saul with a
perpetrator of a horrific sexual attack which happened to her when she
was a pre-teen. As grim as this plot mystery is, it makes for an
intriguing moral situation. The recall of both characters, and regarding
such an emotively resonant episode, is unreliable, yet the stakes are
absolute. The resonant guilt of such an act would be ongoing punishment
itself: if Saul is guilty, then maybe he would rather forget. The
problem is that this plotline is quickly tied off when it transpires
(spoiler) that Saul arrived at the high school a year after the alleged
attack (spoiler ends). This early denouement characterises
Memory, which throughout pursues and then passes on potential plotlines with
a similar lack of focus as confounds its beleaguered lead.
As Sylvia and Saul's relationship tentatively develops there is conflict
created by the families of both parties, but which fails to fully
persuade (Sylvia's mother is played by Jessica Harper, though,
with her ethereal looks put to menacing effect here via her
self-interested safeguarding of what really happened to her daughter).
And which, to be honest, the film doesn't seem that interested in
engaging with anyway, instead revelling in its two excellent
performances (from, yes, two very handsome actors) negotiating an
impugned relationship, and largely succeeding. It's absolutely
convincing and utterly lovely. I am a sucker for this sort of thing (I'm
writing this on Valentine's week, after all), but
Memory is undeniably perspicuous in how the attendant
challenges of Sylvia and Saul's coupling are woven into the more
quotidian trials of rediscovering love and courting a new partner in
middle age - there is a gentle sex scene which was so sweetly awkward
and intimate I had to look away. Transient, urgent, with no real idea
how long it will stick around for: love is captured within the shifting
boundaries of Memory's narrative implications.
Memory is on UK/ROI VOD now
