MEMORY (2023) - Mark Reviews Movies

Memory, Ketchup Entertainment

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Review by Mark Dujsik | December 21, 2023

Writer/director Michel Franco's Memory puts together a man whose memory is failing him and a woman whose traumatic memories have come to define her life. It's a premise that's easy enough to explain in terms of plot and the obvious dichotomy the filmmaker wants to put forth. Despite the intriguing idea and the two compelling performances at the center of it, though, the movie seems a bit too content in believing the concept is clever and potent enough, without actually delving into these characters and the relationship that develops between them.

The course of this relationship is so predictable, in fact, that it would almost seem to be a joke, if not for the seriousness with which Franco approaches the material. There's a lot more potential to these two and their unlikely bond than the obvious, but Franco either doesn't recognize it or doesn't care to explore the connection, except in the simplest terms.

The setup involves looking into the life of Sylvia (Jessica Chastain), a social worker and single mother, who lives in an apartment next to a tire store in New York City with her pre-teen daughter Anna (Brooke Timber). Sylvia keeps tight control over her life and surroundings, whether that be consistently setting the security alarm in her home every time she steps foot in the place or insisting that Anna come home—and stay there—straight after school. The two live sheltered and insulated lives, although the daughter is starting question and rebel against her situation.

The reason for Sylvia's extreme caution about her and her daughter's activities becomes clearer after a strange, potentially frightening incident at her high school reunion. Attending with her younger sister Olivia (Merritt Wever), Sylvia is visibly uncomfortable, ignoring conversation, and keeping an eye out for something or someone.

At one point, a man sits down at the table next to and just stares at her. Sylvia leaves, but the man follows her home. The guy stands outside her building through the night, and in the morning, she confronts him and calls an emergency contact on his cellphone to retrieve him.

This man is Saul (Peter Sarsgaard), and he has early-onset dementia. Living with his brother Isaac (Josh Charles) and niece Sara (Elsie Fisher), Saul is starting to need constant attention, in case he wanders off with no idea where he is or how to get back home—as happened that night at the reunion.

One can probably sense the direction in which this story is heading, but before any of the inevitable, Franco's script throws a strange piece of misdirection at us, in what turns out to be a rather disingenuous way to explain Sylvia's past and behavior. It's almost not worth mentioning, since the notion is shot down almost immediately after it's raised, but that's what makes it so frustrating and distasteful in the first place.

Basically, Sylvia suffered sexual abuse and violence as a pre-teen and possibly before that, and she's convinced that Saul was one of the classmates who sexually violated her. A couple of things strike falsely about this. First, it turns out that Saul wasn't even attending that school at the time, so it really is just a cynical fake-out of some possible plotting on Franco's part. Second, Sylvia agrees to be paid to spend certain days with Saul before she learns that information, and it's difficult to accept that, considering everything we've seen of and learned about her by then.

Ignoring that to extent one can, the rest of the story, thankfully, is a bit more considered, although it still head in an obvious direction. Sylvia and Saul spend more and more time together, as she learns about his life and struggles, while he provides listening ear and sense of security she hasn't known in a long time—if ever.

There's a section here in which Franco simply allows each of these characters to exist in the other's presence—without judgment, without expectations, without any concern for drama or a plot, really. That part becomes a series of compassionate, sometimes quiet moments of bonding, and because Chastain and Sarsgaard are such engaging screen presences (especially in being able to convey so much without speaking a word), it's kind of sweet and lovely to witness two people come to understand how to connect, despite their differences in circumstance.

Obviously, their relationship takes another step, but it doesn't need to be so obvious, because Franco and the actors have already found something considered and somewhat unique in this relationship. Why can't these two simply be complicated individuals with a seemingly contradictory connection? Why add the complications of Isaac trying to stop his brother from what he's doing, and why turn Sylvia's trauma into an excuse for a melodramatic showdown?

The third act here makes many mistakes, and all of them stem from a lack of trust on Franco's part—in his characters, in his premise, in us to accept a bond that doesn't include romance (especially one that's as thorny as this one, considering his medical condition and her psychological issues). There's a better story hiding somewhere within the unnecessary excesses of Memory, and the movie is disappointing because, for a bit there, Franco shows it to us.

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