OK, it has a trick ending.
And if you’ve already heard about it, then you may not even want to
bother with the whole thing in the first place, thinking that you refuse to
avail yourself of such cheap viewer manipulation.
OK, that’s your privilege. On
the other hand, if you haven’t heard about the ending, or even if you have
had a hint of cinematic trickery but are still willing to try it, here’s
an attempt to describe it with no more foreshadowing than the
Robert Pattinson, of the
“Twilight” series fame, really has a patent on this introspective
brooding bit. What’s ironic
is that his best buddy calls him out on just that, so if we’re self-aware,
does that provide our automatic excuse?
He plays an angry character: furious
at his father (the ever-dapper and always-suave Pierce Brosnan, who actually
loses his cool once), dismissive of his last bed partner, unfocused about
his studies, his work, or his life in general.
His apartment’s a mess, like he is.
The only thing he seems to care about is his relationship with his
younger sister, who’s a little 11-year-old artist enduring the cruel
taunts of jealous schoolgirls, and unable to dismiss their immaturity
lightly. Our prickly
anti-hero then comes across a little street injustice:
a cynical cop (Chris Cooper) breaking up an altercation without
caring who started it, just arrest everybody, and our hero gets involved in
a passionate way that seems out of proportion to his lack of caring about
himself. Or is that air of
indifference a thin disguise for effrontery, a kind of slacker snobbery?
Enter the love interest, not
coincidentally, the bullying cop’s daughter (Emilie de Pavin), who herself
disguises her fragility with a crusty indifference. And we know where this
is headed: they’ll fall for
each other, almost despite themselves.
True romantics will root for the wounded paramours to find a little
redemption in each other; at
the very least, basking in the glow of simply being claimed and wanted.
But naturally, the course of true self-deception is never smooth.
We like the complexity of
self-righteous indignation actually serving a useful purpose.
We appreciate the soft-lensed lovemaking without crass explicitness.
In fact, in general, the lack of scatology is itself a welcome sight
in a relational film involving twenty-somethings.
Sure, “Remember Me” has its huge,
obvious flaws, perhaps even fatal to its wide acceptance.
But there are worse expositions.
And the characters are, at least, people with, well, character.
Dr. Ronald P. Salfen, Pastor, Grace