Memento is a 2001 movie that plays with how we remember things. The main character, Leonard Shelby, has a brain injury from an attack that killed his wife. He cannot form new memories. Anything after the accident slips away in minutes. To cope, he uses Polaroid photos. He snaps pictures of people, places, and clues. On each photo, he writes notes or facts. Some say “Do not trust his smile.” Others warn “Find him and kill him.” These Polaroids act like his external brain. They help him track his hunt for the man who raped and murdered his wife.
The movie’s big trick is its structure. It tells the story backward. The color scenes run in reverse order. We start at the end and move to the start. Short black-and-white scenes play forward in between. They show Leonard talking on the phone about Sammy Jankis, a man with the same memory problem. The Polaroids tie it all together. They show what Leonard sees right then. But since he forgets, the notes on them guide his actions. A photo might have blood on it with writing that says “She is dead.” He looks at it fresh each time, piecing together his life like a puzzle.
This Polaroid logic mirrors real memory loss. Leonard tattoos key facts on his body too. Things like “John G. raped and murdered my wife.” The photos and tattoos form his logic system. Without them, he loops in confusion. He might talk to someone friendly one minute, then see a Polaroid calling them a liar the next. It forces him to question everything. Who is friend? Who is foe? The backward flow makes us feel his disorientation. We know more than he does, but not the full truth.
Viewers piece it together like Leonard with his snapshots. The Polaroids explain his drive for revenge. They store facts his mind cannot hold. One key photo shows a man’s license plate. Notes lead him to chase leads. But twists reveal how he might trick himself. Sammy Jankis had a wife who tested his memory by asking for insulin shots over and over. Leonard insists his story differs. The black-and-white scenes hint at overlaps. Polaroids capture moments he relives without knowing.
The film’s genius is this simple tool. Polaroids were everyday cameras then. Instant prints with space for writing. In Memento, they become logic itself. Leonard’s condition is called anterograde amnesia. He remembers the past fine but not the present. Photos bridge that gap. They make the movie a riddle. Watch it once, and notes help. Watch again, and you spot lies in his own handwriting.
Director Christopher Nolan drew from a short story by his brother Jonathan. It won praise as one of 2001’s best films. The Polaroid method stands out for showing memory as fragile. Leonard says, “We all lie to ourselves to be happy.” His photos try to cut through that. But even they can be manipulated.
Sources
https://www.avclub.com/the-best-movies-of-2001-1848148057
