Bored With Blockbusters? Memory Will Reignite Your Love For Cinema
Not every movie needs explosions to get our attention. If you’re wondering where all the proper grown-up movies went, here’s the new release you need to go see.
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a month ago
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Memory opens in select Australian cinemas on November 14.
WATCH THE TRAILER AND FIND SESSION TIMES
Longtime good.film readers know that part of our mission is to make some noise for the underdog. We love swinging the spotlight onto hidden gems that deserve to be seen – the indie Davids, so to speak, facing off against the cineplex Goliaths. So in the same week that an enormous epic like Gladiator II stomps its bloodied sandals onto thousands of screens, it feels much more "us" to champion a story that’s more nuanced, more intimate, and a lot less blokey (no shade, Paul Mescal, we love you too).
Memory might not fill a colosseum with screaming hordes, but its story - about the lingering echoes of abuse, and the soft steps people make to reconnect and love again - has just as much at stake. It's got pedigree, too: written and directed by 3-time Cannes award recipient Michel Franco, the film stars Oscar-winner Jessica Chastain and Peter Sarsgaard, who collected the prestigious Volpi Cup for Best Actor at Venice for this very film.
In his latest feature, Franco deals subtly with intricate questions about the core relationships in our lives. His gentle approach, coupled with two fantastic performances, will have you leaning in and searching for the next piece of the emotional puzzle. And when it clicks, you'll feel it. We found Memory completely captivating - and all without a single shark or Roman soldier ; )
Content Warning: Memory deals with childhood sexual assault.
What is Memory about?
It’s apt that a film about memories kicks off with the words “I remember…” They’re spoken at an AA recovery group, where we’re introduced to Sylvia (Jessica Chastain). Quickly, we get a sense of her: she’s caring, and grateful. She’s carrying pain, but pushing through.
Sylvia’s an alcoholic that’s committed to her recovery and raising her early teens daughter, Anna (Brooke Timber). Seeing them interact at home – it’s just the two of them – it’s obvious they share a mature, almost sisterly relationship. It’s natural to wonder what prompted that kind of bond. What have they shared together? What have they escaped?
At Sylvia’s high school reunion, she looks bored while her old classmates drink and dance. When a friendly-seeming man (Peter Sarsgaard) approaches, she gets up and leaves the party. She doesn’t seem to have any space in her life, or any patience, for what men might want from her. But he follows her. Down the street, onto the train, and all the way home – where a shaken Sylvia sets her high-tech alarm and tells Anna to get away from the window.
The next morning, the stranger (or is he?) is still outside, sleeping against a stack of tyres. It’s a real Baby Reindeer moment. Is he mentally ill? Sylvia works with intellectually disabled people at an adult day care centre, so her skills kick in – she tries to talk, then calls a number in the man’s wallet, and his rattled brother Isaac (Josh Charles) collects him.
We can see he’s irritated, but grateful to Sylvia – his brother, Saul, has dementia, and his memory is swiftly getting worse. They leave, but there’s still a mystery hanging in the air: why would Saul follow Sylvia home? The story could end right here, but Sylvia makes the choice to arrange to go and visit Saul. There’s something she needs to confront.
How does Memory explore the lasting pain of assault?
Mexico-born filmmaker Michel Franco takes a beautifully restrained approach to this very delicate film. In devising the story, his core premise was essentially, “a man that can’t remember meets a woman that can’t forget”. Dementia explains the first part; on Sylvia’s side, she lives with pain that was seared into her by a series of sexual assaults from her past.
Franco manifests this in various patterns of Sylvia’s behaviour. Some are straightforward, like her refusal to let Anna go on any dates – her daughter’s 13 now, right around the age Sylvia was when she was forced into non-consensual sexual acts by a group of older boys. Her protection instinct is obvious… but so is Anna’s natural desire to see other boys, like all of her friends. Others are more complex, like Sylvia’s need to hold Saul to account.
When Saul apologises for making Sylvia uncomfortable by following her, we believe him. He doesn’t remember doing it, but he’s aware that following a woman at night is a red alert. She actually brushes it off, saying it’s fine, but Saul gently insists: “It’s NOT fine.” It’s the first insight into his moral compass; he’s clearly a kind man, and Sarsgaard plays him with zero red flags.
It’s startling, then, when Sylvia accuses Saul of a much more abusive act from their past. Her fear on the journey home suddenly takes on a new meaning. Naturally, he doesn’t recall it – but while he appears fully honest, we naturally wonder if a part of him does remember. If he’s the kind of man to follow a woman home, then…
It’s our perception of Saul that Franco plays with brilliantly here. For the audience, it sets up all kinds of conflicts in our mind. In a very real sense, Saul ISN’T the same person he was 20 years ago. But… is Memory asking us to forgive abusers if they can’t recall their crimes? Sylvia pushes back on that, with anger, as she snaps: “Did you follow me home because you liked doing that to me? Or do you only remember when it's convenient?”
Again, the story could end here, but the reveal that comes next changes Sylvia’s viewpoint entirely – she realises her memory was wrong. Saul wasn’t one of her abusers. We see her kindness and strength when she returns to Saul, to take back her accusation and apologise. Franco also shows us how for Sylvia, a survivor of sexual assault, she needs to correct her mistake. The truth is important. And as Sylvia and Saul grow gradually closer, they begin to provide each other with a kind of healing that’s important too.
What does Memory have to say about the effects of trauma on family?
Memory is a multi-layered story. It shows how abuse and trauma permeates every facet of Sylvia’s life, and those closest to her. It affects her trust and her sense of safety, something Chastain plays with a palpable frustration, like she’s always just holding on to an inner wail.
In an era where “Believe Women” is the prevailing moral highground, it’s brave of Franco to swing our questioning lens from Saul onto Sylvia herself. Her mistake lends Memory a vital narrative force, planting a powerful seed of doubt that drives the rest of the story. Is Sylvia remembering other details incorrectly? Was her abuse exaggerated – or even imagined?
Franco makes sure to water that seed, including plenty of context that shows the underlying tensions in Sylvia’s family. She’s estranged from her mother, and her younger sister Olivia (Merritt Wever) is reluctant to engage with Sylvia’s accusations. It puts an obvious strain on their relationship, which extends to Sylvia’s interactions with her sister’s husband and children.
It also creates an unwinnable tug-of-war for Anna. Barely a teen, she’s caught between a mother who depends on her as an emotional equal, and an aunt who tiptoes around her own version of the truth (or can’t find the language to explain it). That’s the knock-on effects of abuse.
Another really interesting dynamic you might miss is Sylvia’s brother-in-law. He’s well-spoken and sophisticated, but keep an eye on how he continually acts as a device to disempower Sylvia, by sternly shutting down any conversation in his home that pokes at the truth. On top of that, his daughters are naturally curious why their aunt never drinks – compared to their own father, who has a drink in hand in every scene. It's an arrogant reminder that he’s casually enjoying the alcohol Sylvia has cut from her life.
When Memory’s climax arrives, involving Sylvia’s entire family, it’s an amazing and powerful scene. With a delicate hand, Franco’s built Sylvia into a real person for us, with real complexity. We feel her pain, and for 100 minutes, we wear her long lasting scars.
“Good drama should be when every character in the room is right, and nobody’s wrong, so the conflict is massive because of the points of view. We all have our share of drama in our lives - it should mirror those moments. It shouldn’t feel like a TV series. It should be real.”
~ Filmmaker Michel Franco, speaking to Filmhounds
How does Memory show the experience of dementia?
This isn’t a medical drama, and Franco isn’t interested in giving us white labcoats and solemn diagnoses. Instead, he wants to explore the emotions that come from memory loss, and how Sylvia is drawn to Saul because of his nature, not despite his condition. There’s a duality to their relationship: she’s haunted by her past, and he’s haunted by his future.
Take the simple activity of watching a movie together – Sylvia realises that Saul can't recall what happened in the previous scene. It's an enlightenment moment for her. Saul's not retaining anything, but he's still happy to sit beside her, enjoy it with her in the moment, and be content that she's enjoying it – and that's enough.
After other experiences with men, we can feel Sylvia being drawn to Saul’s caring nature, but she’s naturally guarded. There’s things to consider: protecting herself and her daughter comes first, but Sylvia also has first-hand experience with adult care. By blurring the lines between carer and lover, is she potentially confusing a man who’s experiencing a profound state change? What happens if you fall in love with someone who's disappearing?
Like Sylvia’s trauma – the effects of which ripple out like a stone thrown into a lake – Saul’s dementia affects his family, too. When Isaac is angry that Saul keeps sneaking out from the home they share, we see the issue from both sides. Sure, Isaac’s frightened at how quickly his brother is changing, and wants to know he’s safe. But where’s the line? Is it fair to have total control over where Saul spends his days? To freeze his bank cards, telling him “You're not able to make rational decisions right now”?
It’s important to stress that Memory doesn’t sugarcoat things. Realism is the key to really investing in these characters, and Franco isn’t driving us towards any magic “fix”. There’s a simple but powerful scene in Sylvia’s apartment when, during the night, Saul can’t remember which bedroom door to open. With no scene partner and no dialogue, Sarsgaard brilliantly conveys Saul’s thoughts. He seems to realise that his worsening dementia would make a domestic life with Sylvia and Anna impossible for him, and unfair for them.
Memory also acknowledges the dignity of dementia sufferers, and how it’s easily stripped away by uninformed strangers or frustrated family members. In one scene, Saul's trying to have a private conversation, and barks to a male nurse looking on, “You just gonna stand there!?” – it’s the only time we see him lose his cool. Earlier, his brother “asks” if he’d like to go to an appointment with him, the way you would ask a child who has no choice. Saul’s sharp reply is “No, I'll stay here, instead of tagging along like a pet.” It’s one quick line that instantly helps us imagine what Saul’s evaporating life must be like for him.
“I think the fear of losing one’s own mind is a massive one for me. In the case of Saul, he is trying to keep living in the meantime. Even if Saul isn’t mentally a hundred percent there, emotionally he is. He doesn’t have to know or remember that Sylvia is a victim of abuse… he senses it, and he would know it just by how she deals with the world.”
~ Filmmaker Michel Franco, speaking to Filmmaker Magazine
How does the filmmaking of Memory deepen the story?
Michel Franco is an economical filmmaker and this is definitely a film that relies on subtle implications to tell its story. Rather than tug heartstrings or scream meanings at us we might’ve missed, Memory is a drama that almost plays like a mystery, allowing us to fill in the blanks – it’s very satisfying.
Pay attention to the camera giving us an “in” to the characters’ state of mind. When Sylvia sits alone at the class reunion, the shot holds on Sylvia as people party behind her – she's literally isolated, until Saul pierces her bubble. Later at the train platform, Franco uses focus to convey the tension, riveted to Sylvia’s face as Saul looks at her, then looks away, then looks back. Watch for the very subtle changes in Jessica Chastain’s expression that hint at her entire backstory. We’re not certain what abuse she suffered, but we know that her trepidation is real.
Franco also injects subtle context clues to help us build the past, like after Sylvia’s fridge breaks down: she hesitates when a male repairman buzzes at her double-locked door, telling him, “I asked for a repairwoman.” Compare that to a later scene, when Sylvia punches in her alarm code with Saul standing right beside her – a perfect way to show that she trusts him more than any man in a long time, and without a single word.
“While I was writing the outline, it kind of showed up on the page. I just found it interesting that she can’t forget and he can’t remember. It sounds so simple, but the way it works on screen I think is rewarding for audiences.”
~ Filmmaker Michel Franco, speaking to Tempus Magazine
What are critics saying about Memory?
“A surprisingly tender love story between two damaged people re-learning how to move through a world that’s unable to adequately support them.”
- Mark Hanson, Slant Magazine
“Memory’s two leads are so good together, so weirdly right together, that everything slips away and you just watch them.”
- Bilge Ebiri, Vulture
“Jessica Chastain and Peter Sarsgaard [are] two riveting leads who hold nothing back.”
- David Rooney, The Hollywood Reporter
So what’s the takeaway from Memory?
As we hinted at the beginning, Memory is a quiet film that runs the risk of being trampled by flashier fare at the box office. That’d be a damn shame, because this story really matters. It’s meaningful and real, and it’s brought to life by a pair of excellent performances that really don’t feel like performances.
Sylvia’s walk home, being tailed by Saul, feels like a scene cut straight from a thriller, but you won’t hear any shrieking violins or pounding bass – there’s no musical score in the entire film. Franco is saying to us, this is real life, not a popcorn slasher. This moment doesn’t need to be artificially heightened. Men follow women home every day.
In that sense, Memory puts us in the mindset of a survivor. Without seeing a second of Sylvia’s assault, her world-weariness and caution tells us she’s seen the full breadth of behaviour from men – from the kindness of Saul on one end, to her abusers’ on the other. And it’s a film that acknowledges that not being believed after sexual assault is a dark trauma all of its own.
But most of all, Memory is a beautifully human story. Despite the dark themes, there’s a light Sylvia & Saul create together that’s warm and funny and real (with a bathtub scene that’s as romantic as any you’ll see this year). There’s no neat resolution. It’s a slice of life, and these lives will keep going – we don’t know what happens next. Like Saul, we just get to enjoy it in the moment.
Memory opens in select Australian cinemas on November 14.
WATCH THE TRAILER AND FIND SESSION TIMES
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