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Review

joanna hogg’s new movie the memento is refrigerated and mysterious: uncompromising, uningratiating: an artefact in the highest auteur register, but a film that creeps up on you – from at the back of. there’s a hard absence of apparent readability, in particular with reference to the critical problem of tone. in a few approaches, it’s like a psychological drama without the drama or an ironic satire without the irony – or now not a whole lot irony anyway. (perhaps the closest factor to playfulness is the deadpan assertion over the closing credit that the souvenir ii is on its manner — the manner they used to path the imminent james bond.)

as with other hogg movies, there is an austere, unemphasised plainness. closeups are uncommon. hogg conducts her dramatic enterprise in a sort of indoor available light, with characters often pretty absolutely going into semi-darkness in the event that they walk far from home windows: a glance hogg has contrived in her other movies, no matter what cinematographer she is running with. maximum distinctively, it is a film approximately the higher instructions, however not within the downton abbey fashion: it's miles about the upper instructions as they genuinely are, in the dull daily, a social realist film approximately posh people. it’s as though hogg has discovered a modern-day english response to the rhetoric of antonioni or visconti.

the placing is the early 80s, and a candy-natured younger movie student referred to as julie – keen on her documentary idea approximately operating-class communities in sunderland – lives in a smart flat in london’s knightsbridge, just throughout from the cupola of harrods department save. this is evidently a pied-à-terre saved by using her extremely grand parents who've a rustic vicinity in north norfolk. her mom occasionally pops in after shopping expeditions, and is constantly having to “lend” julie cash for her film tasks.

julie is residing right here with bohemian flatmates, and at boozy, smoky events the communique on occasion strays to the difficulty of julie’s privilege, though in a tolerant vein. however then these buddies head off on their travels, leaving her by myself in the flat. it's miles at this level that the vampirish figure of anthony makes his look: a supercilious, opinionated young man with a chalkstripe in shape and a junior function at the overseas office. he has an insidious knack of gambling on julie’s insecurities, by means of asking pointedly sceptical, quizzical questions about her work and airily claiming to respect powell and pressburger. his seduction technique involves taking her to the wallace collection to see fragonard’s painting the memento. it isn’t long earlier than this sinister, parasitical parent has moved in, buying julie erotic undies, taking her to venice, disrupting her movie-planning and upending her existence.

in some other type of movie, this would be a black comedy, and it feels just like the plot for something by way of nancy mitford, or an early an wilson novel which includes sensible virgin or the chocolates of pimlico. but comedy isn’t what’s happening. but what's going on?

the casting is a project: anthony is performed with underplayed vanity with the aid of tom burke, and newcomer honor swinton byrne gives a alternatively graceful and insouciant overall performance as julie. she is the daughter of tilda swinton (and in fact we closing saw swinton byrne in tilda swinton’s quick film approximately her non-public buddy john berger, a part of a set of four pieces about the late creator and critic, entitled the seasons in quincy, in which berger turned into shown giving honor a hair-raising motorbike lesson). and julie’s mother is duly played by tilda swinton, unobtrusively elderly up as a patrician mamma. is the movie-making some form of pre-emptive shaggy dog story approximately entitlement inside the movie enterprise? actually not. it’s more a coolly disconcerting overlapping of fact and fiction. and this underlines the weirdness of what unfolds, which has the weightlessness of a dream, a style which reaches its excessive point when julie is alone inside the flat and it's miles in short shaken, to the sound of a detonation – the sound, in fact, of the 1983 ira harrods bombing. and then things are eerily returned to everyday.

hogg shakes the movie out of its trance while anthony and julie host a night meal, attended through anthony’s insufferable movie-maker buddy: a hilarious cameo for richard ayoade, who brayingly pronounces that it's far appalling that britain, the home of the stones, the kinks and the small faces, nevertheless doesn’t do film musicals. (he doesn’t mention the who, so is maybe now not partial to tommy.) it's miles this character who is to make a further declaration about anthony that reveals the poison cloud accumulating over the pinnacle of negative, innocent julie.

finally, julie is to be proven operating on a exceptional, greater jarmanesque-looking project, in a more tough-and-equipped collaboration with other students. yet the message is not anything so simplistic as simply the need to get over her very own nicely-heeled background. her family are sympathetically portrayed. positions of disapproval are not taken. it's miles a reverie, a daze, a bizarre spell of numbness – and it lingers within the thoughts.