Memoria (2021)
dir. Apichatpong Weerasethakul
Rated: PG
image: ©2021 Neon
Whenever possible, I like to practice guided meditation. I don’t do it nearly as often as I’d like. Either the busyness of the day gets me, or I’m too tired by the time I realize I haven’t done it yet, or often it’s because I’m too lazy. I was reminded how much I miss meditation after experiencing Memoria, the latest movie from Thai filmmaker and visual artist Apichatpong Weerasethakul.
Watching the film – if you’re able to fall into its languid rhythm – is like meditation or even like succumbing to a trancelike state. Weerasethakul – who playfully answers to “Joe” for westerners who might have trouble with his name – is a sui generis storyteller, and Memoria is like nothing you’ve seen before. Love it or hate it, you’ll never forget it, if you’re lucky enough to get a chance to see it.
That last caveat is necessary because of the release strategy of the film’s North American distributor, Neon. Because Memoria is more akin to art installation than mainstream movie, Neon announced that Weerasethakul’s film would never be made available either for home streaming or on physical media, like Blu-ray. Instead, their plan was to engage Memoria in a “never-ending” theatrical release. The film would play exclusive one-week engagements in only one theater at a time, moving from city to city across America in perpetuity.
Even if you admire the idea, and don’t see it as a ridiculous publicity stunt – I’m willing to give Neon the benefit of the doubt – Memoria has, as of this writing, only played two cities, New York and Chicago. It hasn’t played anywhere else in over a month. So much for “never-ending.” What’s even more frustrating is that the company handling distribution outside of the U.S. is doing a traditional release, with plans for a streaming release at some point. I’m betting that Neon will come around, especially since their grand design for an art-installation style roadshow release fell apart after only two weeks.
I’m willing to give Neon a pass on the flawed strategy because I saw Memoria in my own home theater; it was indeed an impoverished experience compared to what I imagine it must be like to have the movie wash over you in a proper theatrical setting. I was able to see it at home because Neon included Memoria as one of the films in their 2021 screener box, provided so that critics could consider it for year-end best-of lists and awards.
On the screener, before the movie starts, there is a brief introduction from Weerasethakul and the star of his movie, Tilda Swinton. In this introduction, they exhort us to remember that watching Memoria on a TV isn’t the preferred environment and that the experience will be lacking.
Still, lacking is better than no experience at all.
Memoria tells the story of Jessica, a Scottish expatriate living in Colombia. Within the first few minutes of the film, we hear a strange sound that only Jessica can hear. It’s a sort of deep thud with a slightly metallic sound; it’s like a massive cement ball being dropped into one of those commercial waste containers. The rest of the picture involves Jessica trying to understand what the sound is, and why only she hears it.
If you’ve seen any other work from Weerasethakul – who achieved the most mainstream hit a filmmaker in his vein could ever hope for with 2010’s Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives – you know that the director won’t be supplying any answers over the course of Memoria’s 136-minute run time.
What makes the director’s brand of film art so exciting is that you can let your mind wander wherever it pleases as his slow cinema approach envelops you. If you allow yourself to take the journey, your mind will take you to some fascinating places.
Early in the film, Jessica meets with an audio engineer in an attempt to describe what she’s hearing, so he can search his audio library for a similar sound. When Jessica says, “it probably sounds different in my head,” I began to ponder the idea that we can never truly expect any other person to perceive the world in the exact same way we do. This sound is an experience that Jessica has had, and it’s unique to her perception of the world.
As I mentioned earlier, Weerasethakul’s languid, open-ended style works like meditation – his long takes leave in many of the things other filmmakers would take out, like Jessica, and by extension, us, waiting for the audio engineer to finish working on something before he can talk to her. The few snippets of dialog – there might be something like 100 lines of spoken dialog throughout the movie’s 2+ hours – act as precious morsels to chew on while you’re looking at gorgeous static shots of the Columbian countryside.
At one point, Jessica visits the lab of archeologists who are studying millennia-old human remains found on a recent dig. An archeologist tells Jessica that a hole was drilled in one girl’s head, possibly as part of a ritual to release bad spirits. Is Jessica also suffering from bad spirits? Is that why she’s hearing this mysterious sound? Memoria offers no answers; it – along with Weerasethakul – delights in creating an environment where the awe of the natural world, and the mysteries that abound within it, work as a blank canvas for your mind.
Iconic cult actor Tilda Swinton gives an impossibly still, quiet performance as Jessica. Anyone worried that Swinton has started to fall into self-parody with increasingly more baroque performances in movies like The French Dispatch and Snowpiercer will be happy to see a no-frills performance from her in Memoria. Her screen presence overcomes Weerasethakul’s almost exclusive use of medium and long shots, a technique that surely leaves a bolder impression when seeing the movie on a giant screen. Swinton is able to convey, often with only looks or gestures, both a subdued melancholy and a deep wonder within Weerasethakul’s opaque world.
Weerasethakul also provides moments of pure joy within this ponderous, near impenetrable tale. In one extended sequence, Jessica finds herself standing in the doorway of a music rehearsal room with a dozen or so others listening to a raucous jazz ensemble making music together. This magical moment, sandwiched between silence and brooding, showcases human creativity and collaboration.
The mystical climax to the film, in which Jessica discovers the source of the mysterious sound in her head – but which brings about dozens of questions for the audience that Weerasethakul never intends to answer – is hypnotic. It’s impossible to spoil Memoria – this is the ultimate it’s-the-journey-not-the-destination movie. So, I don’t feel apprehensive in describing that before Jessica discovers the source of the sound, she meets an alien who looks like a man. This man seemingly dies whenever he falls asleep. “I just stopped,” he says to Jessica after he wakes.
Memoria gives us a chance to just stop, too. A few minutes later, near the end of the film, Jessica sits and processes what she’s learned about this haunting thud and the implications of how she’s able to hear it. As she does so, we can see the Columbian jungle and sky through the big windows she’s seated in front of. It begins to rain. The sound of the gentle rain washes over us as we reflect on the journey we’ve taken. Apichatpong Weerasethakul, in his inimitable way, exhorts us to marvel at both the mundane and inexplicable wonders of our existence in the universe.
Why it got 4 stars:
- Memoria is a truly unique cinematic experience. It won’t be for everyone, but if you can fall into the film’s rhythm, it’s a transfixing work of art.
Things I forgot to mention in my review, because, well, I'm the Forgetful Film Critic:
- I mentioned the impromptu jazz concert midway through the film. It’s juxtaposed with a smash-cut into complete silence, with Jessica contemplating an art exhibit that is made to look like an empty field enclosed in glass in an art museum. (The image at the top of my review is from this scene.) It’s these kind of jarring transitions that make Memoria – and Weerasethakul’s work as a whole – so interesting.
Close encounters with people in movie theaters:
- As mentioned in the review, I was fortunate to see this on a screener disc in my home theater. Good luck being able to see it here in the States. From Wikipedia: “In November 2019, NEON acquired US distribution rights. Neon announced a "never-ending" release in the United States, in which it will play exclusive weeklong engagements, city by city, that began 26 December 2021 at New York's IFC Center. The "never-ending release" made it to two North American cities, and then stopped. No other dates, cities, or theaters have been announced since the film opened in Chicago in December 2021.”