Memento: A

Christopher Nolan is not a fan of magic, in interviews he says the twists are to obvious, the trick too weak. The irony of course is that Nolan is one of the most esteemed magicians of his time. Now, he doesn't know the first thing about cutting a woman in half but when he gets behind a camera he can twist your perception around the most amazing things. Take for instance "Memento": the story of a man who can't remember anything for more than a few minutes following the murder of his wife. What could have come off as a tedious one-note movie and even worse as a trite plot isn't because Nolan won't be caged by stereotype, he moves the movie onward by doing the exact opposite: the movie flows backwards. In essence he takes out the suprise twists of the generic thriller by showing you events before they occur, changing the movies into a fiendishly clever puzzle-box revenge thriller. Leonard (Guy Pearce) can remember everything before the muder of his wife, just nothing after. Instead, he leaves himself photos and messages on his body to remind him how to live; he becomes his own blank canvas where at any given time and mood he can imprint various realities for himself to live by. And the only reason he is living is to hunt down the guy who killed his wife. The opening shot of the movie defines it's rhythm: a polaroid photo faiding backwards. At first we see the shot and then we see it being taken and finally we see why the occasion allowed a photo in the first place. There are scenes so ingenious in this movie that you'll want to watch them twice: a man tells Leonard he's been charged for two rooms at a motel because he can't remember what he's paid for, or when Leonard is in a chase but can't remember who it is he's chasing, or when Leonard ruminates on his condition by saying "I can't remember to forget you". By playing everthing backwards Nolan has pulled off the perfect sleight-of-hand: he consumes us in a reality that is only what we make of it and no more. When all Leonard has to rely on are facts what becomes of his instincts? Or is everything he's left himself a twist on reality merely to survive? With almost single-minded efficiency time doubles back on itself with an urgent repetitiveness, becoming a nightmarish puzzle that can never be solved because the central pieces keep changing. By distoring memory and thought, action and reality Nolan has created the perfect character in Leonard: by forgetting everything he doesn't want to know he never learns anything and is purposefully, constantly three steps away from epiphany.