Memento (movie)

A couple months ago, @FaultyWiring wrote in another thread:

FaultyWiring wrote:My problem is in dealing with the damage I've already done, and the nagging doubt that I cannot express genuine empathy. I am in a spiral where I cannot trust my mind. I feel like I'm in Memento, where I have a Polaroid of my own face with "don't trust his lies" written on the back of it. So I am constantly unsure of whether I don't have the ability to feel, or I do have the ability to feel and have just cut myself off from it.[2]

I completely understood what he meant even though I haven't seen the movie Memento in years.

Today I referred to the movie twice[1] as examples of the "inner dialogue" (or narrative) as a mission, the pragmatic choice to preserve it. I thought I should watch it again since I only remembered it generally. (I found it free to watch.).

Wow. The ending is like what goes on inside my head. (I'll discuss that below in case you dont' want it spoiled.). I also related to bits and pieces throughout the movie. A lot of sub-themes I could identify with if you take the character as a representation or exaggeration of the coping process:

• Lack of trust; looking to others for identity (when you don't know who to trust).
• Not just lack of trust, but losing trust due to object constancy issues. (repeatedly testing)
• The energy put into keeping notes, hyper vigilance.
• Hyper organized.
• Uses repetition to cope.
• Single-minded goal to beat his affliction.
• Ruminates on the loss which drives him. (Like the "noise" or "presence" which contributes to the "narrative.").
• Exists completely at the whim of others even though he believes he's managing, beating his affliction.
• As @FaultyWiring noted, when you're self-aware and realize how this process works, you want to take a picture of yourself and write "don't believe his lies." You develop these coping mechanisms because you can't trust anyone else. And then you learn you can't trust yourself. It's like the first order of business is to question rationalization that occurs.

(SPOILER ALERT.).

(SPOILER ALERT.).

(SPOILER ALERT.).

The ending nailed it for me. This is where all the reality-fragments come together. E.g. The first scene of the movie is the last scene. That's how fractured the plot is. But, I see it as representative of how the NPD "inner dialog" is maintained. There's a lot of selectively reaching back into history, forgetting certain "scenes." Reality becomes fragmented.

1. Lenny believes he's about to revenge the killing of his wife. In reality it's a drug dealer named James who Teddy (the cop) wants killed. Lenny and the victim talk past each other. The victim proclaiming his innocence. Lenny certain he's lying. (making him fit the narrative. No empathy. Single-mindedly locked into his "narrative.").
   
   To me, this is an analogy to the "narrative." Something happens in the background. I get a mood or critical viewpoint (I call it a narrative). It seems to come from a presence. (Some call it a "noise" or "tension"). Some part of my mind gives action to, or accommodates that narrative and presence. It's like it rises out of the floor. If I'm monitoring myself, I'll interact with people in my normal daily affairs through that kind of "lens." Treating them like they're part of this background thing I have going on (which isn't pleasant). It's like we're talking past each other. I'm confident they're part of it. They're like, "wtf?"
   
2. After Lenny whacks the drug dealer, Teddy (the cop) shows up. Teddy is forced to disclose to Lenny that Lenny whacked the correct person months ago. But, because Lenny has no memory of it, Teddy just kept feeding him more bad people to whack so Lenny could lead a satisfied life. It's what Lenny needed. Otherwise he would live with the memory of his murdered wife, never remembering justice had been served (or, in Lenny's mind, justice couldn't be served because Lenny did it.).
   
   I thought that was powerful. It explains the repeating patterns.
   
3. Lenny gets angry at this news, blames Teddy. (Blame shifting.).
   
4. Teddy reminds Lenny he wanted it. He was eager. Teddy mocks him:
   
   
   1. "The drug dealer was the wrong guy -- but he was the right guy to you. Enjoy your revenge while it lasts." (supply)
      
   2. Teddy forces Lenny to confront himself about the impossible task he's faced with: overcoming his affliction, having peace when he has no memory. Lenny goes into denial, insisting he can make it work, it's not an impossible mission (refusal to accept reality, clinging to the narrative at all costs.)
      
   3. Teddy makes fun of Lenny: "You killed many times and it never stuck." Teddy even shows him photos of the previous kills. Dismissively tells him to wait a few minutes and this unpleasant dilemma will end. "Why do you think this time will be different?" (keep doing what you always do. It's easier.).
      
   4. Teddy tells Lenny "you make up the truth. The police file was complete when I gave it to you. Do you ever think about who removed those pages? Who blacked out all those lines? You did. Because you have to a puzzle you can't solve." (The active participation in the narrative's adaption. A solution with no end.).
      
   5. Teddy becomes even more insensitive: "All you do is moan. I'm the one who has to live with what you've done. Your living a dream: Playing detective, a dead wife to pine for; No responsibility. Enjoying revenge over and over -- because you get to forget." (The comfort of the narrative compared to reality -- at the expense of empathy.).
      
   6. Teddy suggests something which you sense earlier in the movie. After the accident which took Lenny's memory, he administered a lethal dose of insulin to his wife. There is no "Sammy." Lenny created "Sammy" as a way to deal with something he couldn't. "Sammy's" wife became an abstraction of Lenny's wife. Lenny could take partial blame (He caused "Sammie's" wife to cause "Sammy" to kill her.). But, that was all Lenny could bear.
      
      I see that as an abstraction of the root/nature of the N's traits. Lenny wasn't so fractured that he completely disassociated from it. He didn't create a new personality to hold it. He just created that "story" which he used to foster the "narrative." To me, his "story" reminds me of the "noise" or "tension" we talk about, which is given life by our mind as something like a background thought. It's something that exists like a siren song. It calls to us to use it. If we don't keep an eye on it, we semi-consciously give it existence as a rational or playbook in the background.
   I thought the above interaction was a good pattern of what actually happens each time a person with NPD could choose reality. It's too overwhelming. There's too much investment in the coping mechanisms. But, it's not just a habit. There is a mental process. The investment in avoiding some terrible thing which we became oblivious to long ago. As a result, we live in a limbo. We paint reality with our narrative. It's compulsive. We know something's wrong but can't stop it. Even in our most lucid moments, "might as well give it one more try because I can't face that other thing."
   
5. Lenny finds himself at a crossroads. He could write a note that to himself that it's over. That the rape and the death were two different events, and he was responsible for his wife's death as a result of an injury he sustained during the rape -- which now prevents him from remembering his wife's later death caused by him. (That moment when we know how badly something is wrong.).
   
   Lenny chooses to keep his lie going. He snaps a picture of Teddy. He then says to himself:
   
   
   • "Can I forget what you just told me?" and writes "do not believe his lies." on photo of Teddy.
   • "Can I forget what you made me do?" and burns the photos Teddy took of Lenny's previous acts of "revenge."
   
   Lenny drives away to have Teddy's licence plate # tattooed to his body. (Another note to the narrative.). The next time Lenny sees Teddy, Teddy will be the person to suffer revenge - for a death which Lenny feels guilty for, but wasn't his fault.
   
   That's a lot like the semi-conscious choice I make to continue the narrative without regard to what it does to others. "It will turn out differently next time. It will fix itself. But, for now, I have to keep doing what I know." (And then losing sight of that jerky narrative. Decades elapsing, never seeing how it wasn't fixing itself. No continuity with reality.)
   
6. In the closing scene, Lenny console's himself by thinking: "I have to believe in a world outside my mind. I have to be able to close my eyes and believe it will still be there when I open them again. We all need mirrors to remind ourselves of who we are."
   
   Wow! That explains exactly what goes on in my head. My narrative would become the world outside my mind (avoiding the thing which was too painful to deal with, the thing I thought was my mind. If I faced the thing, there would be no world outside my mind. That's how driven I was to not face it.). Creating an external reality to fit my narrative because that's the only thing I can count on to be there.

It seems like such a depiction of NPD that I thought it deserved its own thread (instead of the "films that remind you" thread). I'm really glad @FaultyWiring mentioned this movie. Watching after becoming self-aware is mind-blowing. There's probably more points to make. I made a few notes, but I'm sure I missed/forgot something.

[1]

Truth too late wrote:it's really hard to compare what we do to what normal people do. There is a basis in truth. It's not completely wrong. But, it knows no boundaries. It has a life of its own. A reality of its own.

That's why it's like that Memento movie I mentioned earlier. I highly advise watching it (you can find it online free). That's exactly what it's like. There is a constant loss of continuity. And yet you feel like you have perfect continuity (the narrative). I lied to myself. The notes were my narrative. Like the subject of the movie, you reach a point where it's too obvious. You have a choice to admit it, or to write another note to keep it going. -- narcissistic-personality/topic163581-40.html#p1693348

Truth too late wrote:Narcissism develops from being unable to trust anyone else. The only person we can trust is ourselves. And then we learn we can't even trust ourselves. It really was like that movie (and still is a little). He only has a 5-minute memory. He has to write notes to himself so he can continue on his crusade to identify his wife's murderer.

The ending is poignant. He finds himself with 5 minutes to choose whether to write a note to himself about who his wife's murder is, or to forget it so he can continue living in his world of notes written to himself, pursuing his single-minded goal which has defined his existence. It's a lot like the choice to face your narcissism or, conveniently continue to do what works. -- narcissistic-personality/topic163647.html#p1693306

Is it just me? I know for certain I didn't watch the Japanese version and imagine a bunch of stuff like last time.

There were a couple other things from earlier in the movie:

1. Lenny said about his condition:

1.1. "You know what you want to do, but don't remember what you did." I thought that described what it's like for me. Losing sight of the repeating patterns, their ineffectiveness. They get subsumed into the focus on doing better next time, or replacing one NS with another.

1.2. "All you can trust your handwriting." That's the basis of NPD.

1.3. "Don't trust your weakness." That's the motivation behind #1 above.

1.4. "My notes are better than memories because memories are unreliable." Trusts himself so much that he doesn't believe he'll lie to himself through his narrative -- which he does at the end of the movie (making the narrative paramount to reality, memories as they stand by themselves).

1.5. "The present is trivia, I scribble on notes." Not living in the present, it only serves to add to the narrative.

2. The "Sammy" delusion continues to interest me. He delegates his guilt to "Sammy." Instead of sympathy, his narrative is about how he can do better than "Sammy" because he's organized, uses ritualized habit and routine. When asked if he has motivation, he recalls his goal (to kill the killer of his wife) and replies "yes."

That's near the beginning of the movie, so you wouldn't get the significance (how he's comparing himself to the delusion to motivate himself to succeed unlike his compartmentalized self ("Sammy") did. Success is killing a non-existent person. He's so driven to live the narrative the quality doesn't matter.

3. Teddy and Natalie almost seem like metaphors for the false self.

Natalie exploitative Lenny selfishly. She doesn't care about his "condition." He murdered her boyfriend(?) and she just uses him as a tool to take care of the guy who comes looking for the missing drugs/money.

Teddy uses Lenny because he realizes Lenny needs it to soothe himself.

Two people who are in control of Lenny. Lenny's oblivious to it (except for the notes he writes).

I saw that movie twice in the past 15 years. Last night was my third viewing. I don't think a lot of this stuff stands out unless you've seen it once already. It's so complicated putting the fragmented plot together that the subtler details are forgotten. I don't want to encourage obsessive viewing. If it's your first time. Watch it a second time.

I plead uselessness for having anything meaningful (or accurate) to say about the plot of Memento specifically, or how it does or doesn't relate to NPD defenses, as it's been over a decade since I've seen it. I just remember immediately knowing it was brilliant, and then I knew I had to watch it again because I missed a few things. I've made a mental note to watch it through again.

But I just wanted to add that I get what FaultyWiring was saying, and I understand his fear about if he just didn't have empathy or if he had cut it off. Given what we know about NPD defenses (empathy fluctuates in this defense mechanism, and its access is contingent on our willingness), it's more the latter.

What I keep coming back to is the linear path to empathy for people using NPD defenses is metaphorically cut off by obstacles and uphill terrain. So trying to 'force empathy' without some work is like trying to leapfrog all of the prerequisites moves. This is a process, and I'm a believer in at least some psychoanalytic approach with these defenses. It really does take getting in touch with that inner abused child (I include pampering/pedestaling right along with physical abuse), or whatever stage of your life triggered shame. Building a bridge to that person we left behind takes time. But just getting communication open is a start. With the help of others we can learn to forgive and love that person which gives us access to and increasingly richer vein of empathy for others.

It's true I may be lower on the Inventory spectrum than full blown malignant, and that I've usually felt guilt and have some empathy when I engage it, but I also know what the current definitions for NPD lists empathy as a fluctuating resource and willingness to access it was usually the problem with people using NPD defenses. Willingness can be drummed into our automatic nervous system mechanically (with against-the-grain practice), and it can be encouraged by psychoanalytic bonding, and empathy exercises like mindfulness and its cousin Loving-Kindness meditation. Empathy can be looked at like an Emotional IQ problem, but unlike many traditional IQ scores, the Emotional IQ can be improved.

I also don't believe that there's this complete schism between a true and false self in NPD as I've seen a few people suggest. Not only is that view not supported by the DSM, but we know NPD isn't split/multiple personality disorder. Our "inner children" are neglected aspects, integral 'parts' of an essential whole, not separate. NPD defenses are simply a hyper-vigilant defensive response. It's true there are features of our persona that could be considered hawkish, the product of contingency plans, and don't serve our best interests, but the practical wisdom we've accrued in life is viable, worthy of consolidation in our less plastic selves. This profile building isn't unique. Everyone builds personas based on input and cues, projecting to varying degrees. Those who use NPD defenses just have a more robust and perfectionistic persona which can cause problems. Fortunately we have a cornucopia of tools for the disassembly and reassembly of our personalities.

Truth too late wrote:I thought the above interaction was a good pattern of what actually happens each time a person with NPD could choose reality. It's too overwhelming. There's too much investment in the coping mechanisms. But, it's not just a habit. There is a mental process. The investment in avoiding some terrible thing which we became oblivious to long ago. As a result, we live in a limbo. We paint reality with our narrative. It's compulsive. We know something's wrong but can't stop it. Even in our most lucid moments, "might as well give it one more try because I can't face that other thing."

I wanted to add that I recognize this as well. Encouraged by some reading, clumsily without my shrink, I recently went wandering the dark expanses of repressed memory to find the source of some of my anxieties. What came back was a child, raw and unprotected for the dark carnival of complexities my life is now. I lived in that moment with him again and in his voice I asked my mother "why?", and it was devastating, if at least cathartic.

Fortunately, I was able to manage an intervention from my governing intellect in order to give some rationality back that memory without further injuring the connection. For all of its difficulty, I knew it was a step in the right direction because I had managed at least an attempt to connect with and reparent that memory.

I appreciate all of the easy parallels you're finding with this movie. I wonder how deliberate it is.

CBDMeditator wrote:I appreciate all of the easy parallels you're finding with this movie. I wonder how deliberate it is.

I estimate 50% of what I documented came at me like a flood. After that, I was actively thinking about what certain themes could mean.

I didn't watch the movie only because of @faulty's reference to not trusting ourselves when we become self aware. That brought the movie to mind. Later, replying to someone else I thought about the ending, the conscious choice to revise the narrative to perpetuate it.

So, I suppose I was in a mode to see something. But, when 4-5 things hit me all at once, I really wasn't looking for it. I wasn't deeply analyzing it. I was expecting to get something at the end when Lenny makes the conscious choice. The stuff that hit me all at once was early in the movie. (Although: "early in the movie" is the end of the movie. It's really hard to explain. ).

I saw the movie twice between 2000 and 2005. I may have seen it in 2011 with my ex. I don't recall. But, my point is: due to the disconnected nature of the plot, I don't think things would jump out to someone unless they've seen it 2-4 times. If someone did that intentionally, they probably would be functioning obsessively and things wouldn't jump out like they did to me. It would feel more strained?

My situation may have been unique that way.

One thing which seems interesting to me is that I didn't identify with that movie at all when I watched it before being self-aware. Nothing had an eery resemblance to me. I might have identified with Lenny being socially handicapped, having to try harder. That's about it.

That might be indicative of how blind I was to my problem. I always knew something was wrong. I thought I just needed to work harder to make that go away. But, I had no idea how fake or contrived my coping techniques were. How existential it was. I just thought I was doing what everyone else does. I just had bad luck for some reason, had to try harder, etc.

Truth too late wrote:One thing which seems interesting to me is that I didn't identify with that movie at all when I watched it before being self-aware. Nothing had an eery resemblance to me. I might have identified with Lenny being socially handicapped, having to try harder.

I remember there was something else I really did identify with when I watched the movie 10-15 years ago: I document the living crap out of things. Topics I study, projects I work on, things I consider buying. The documentation is like a resource which might help me someday. Something I can build upon. (I rarely refer to it again. But, it seems like a shame to lose such greatness of insight and understanding.).

After seeing the movie years ago, whenever I was documenting stuff I often thought of the movie, like I have a memory problem. I thought of the notes as being to "future me." I would even include a witty comment, or speak in terms of "we should consider if this applies to..."

This reminds me: I've always identified with Ted Nelson, an early computer hacker-culture guru. I used to follow his writings, the "Lib," like it was a roadmap to my destiny. He was so "out there." He'd leave pages blank as an admission that there's more than he knows. He'd have two Chapter 5s just to tick off the "regularity chauvinists" (when he, himself is a colossally rigid person). It was like he was projecting who he couldn't be.

Wired Magazine published a very interesting documentary of his still-to-be-abandoned Project Xanadu. I've read that a few times since it was published in 1995. Not only because Ted was my guru in the late '70s, but because I saw myself in his stubbornness; expectation (objectification) of others; "out there" vision which seemed to be more about impressing myself than actually producing something useful. His suffering from what he calls "the hypos" (which I see as dysphoria when he can't reach more supply. Hypomania?).

When I was thinking about my compulsive documentation this morning, it reminded me of Ted. His existence (and his Xanadu project) centered around his compulsive note-taking. That's something I realized when I first read the Wired article. But, I hadn't realized how he probably is narcissistic to the point of being disordered. He's living the genius life, refusing to yield to reality. His narrative is more important than reality (fitting in, contributing in a realistic manner). His life centers on preserving every thought he has because of it's potential value (yet to be realized).

I should probably put this in the "narcissism in film and literature" thread. But, I thought I'd put it here because it ties into why I identified with Lenny's dependence upon notes in the movie (as a metaphor for something disordered).

If we just had Ted's Xanadu document system I wouldn't have to put it somewhere twice. It would just happen automatically. Interwingularity. Some kind of quantum hyperlink.

i get my tattoos for similar reasons. remembering is difficult. i know the type i fall for. but i never learn. i know there are good people out there. but i never learn. i get bad ones to stay clear of the bad. good ones to keep my hopes up. trying to stitch together an identity i never had. but mostly to remember what things felt like. and even then i say f*** it and keep on going like i used to. knowing full well that it will happen again. and again.

Truth too late wrote:Wired Magazine published a very interesting documentary of his still-to-be-abandoned Project Xanadu.

I just re-read that article because I've been re-evaluating things which I connected with before being self-aware. Now I'm having the same experience I had when I watched the movie Memento.

Not only is Nelson a classic N, Gregory's role fits that of an "invert." But, the entire story documents the futility and delusion of narcissism. I could identify with the tragedy of the story: the pure ambition (Ns are good-natured. We eat our own dog food.), the underlying doubt, the excuses, ignoring reality.

The article closes with a final question to Gregory:

Finally, we made it to the end of the tale. There was only one remaining question, and it seemed both obvious and cruel. His project had promised an end to forgetting, but in the end, only Gregory had been unable to forget. The deluge of information had arrived. The other programmers had drifted away. Only Gregory remained with his fingers on the broken Xanadu machine.
"Why?" I asked.
"Total insanity," Gregory answered, both hands squeezing his face. -- Pg. 27

I didn't expect that obvious tie-in back to the movie Memento.

However, this seems like another of the weird ironies I've said I've been experiencing for a year. Someone mentions Memento in a specific way (after being self-aware you feel like writing "Don't believe his lies" on your own picture). I immediately thought, "wow, that's absolutely true." I felt betrayed by myself when I became self-aware.

And then I watch the movie I see 20 more things. That surprises me because I didn't relate to any of that stuff when I watched it before being self-aware.

As additional context I mentioned what I did relate to in that movie before being self-aware. (Writing notes to "future me" which I would never read. I had to obsessively preserve my thoughts because of my intrinsic value).

Thinking out loud I observed how that also reminded me of the Wired magazine story of someone whom, "now that I'm self-aware," I realize is N. I thought, funny how we both overcompensated for forgetting. In order to forget one thing (which we couldn't deal with as a child), we spent our lives solving an unsolvable puzzle. We tried to remember everything to forget one thing.

I guess that's why I read it a dozen times over 20 years. Somehow I could identify with that trait(?). That pursuit which is genuine and passionate. I tipped my hat to him.

After I posted that reference to Wired I thought: I should re-read that because I seem to get a new insight when I revisit things which struck a chord in my old self.

So, I re-read it, and like the Memento movie, it was a metaphor for my traits -- a mirror of how I lived and worked (I got into some passionate projects, obsessive, sleeping at work.).

And then it ends on a note which goes back to Memento: the core problem: forgetting to forget.

That really describes the the root of narcissism, the narrative, the delusion, the subtle choice we make repeatedly to continue because it's easier than facing that sense there's something wrong with us. It's like an obsession: We can't forget (whatever it is we can't face). The narrative and traits are acting out "not forgetting." For me, I overcompensated by trying not to forget anything. That's how I could live with one thing I couldn't forget.

This is the kind of stuff that makes it feel like a song playing backwards. I'm seeing things differently. Things that used to make sense to me (resonate with me in an impressionable way) do so in a different way. It has the same magnitude. But, it's stuff I already knew in a way.

The "oh yeah" moments aren't like something was off just a little. But, like it was totally backwards. Hence the song playing backwards. At the end it all makes perfect sense, but getting there it's gobbledy goop. Pieces put together here and there. Which gets back to how I connected to the fractured plot of the movie Memento.

The frequency of these experiences the past year has been so much that it stands out to me as unique. But, that's an understatement. It's like a "losing your mind" feeling. It's not entirely pleasant. But, it's not bad because it's insight. It's unwinding (hopefully not "losing" ha!) my mind.

But, it's bizarre because stuff like this feels sort of beyond myself. That feeling of "I'm not saying it was aliens, but it was aliens!" It's weird. But, in a good way.

Those racist streaming services wont let me watch it because im from Naziland .
I will grab it by some other shady means. I'm in movie mood anyways.

A question though - what do you mean by narrative? Youve used that word several times but I havent seen how you define it.

Akuma wrote:A question though - what do you mean by narrative? You've used that word several times but I haven't seen how you define it.

See: narcissistic-personality/topic163581-20.html#p1689736