I have been working as a film journalist since 2010, dividing the first four years between radio broadcasting and entertainment writing in the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex. In 2014, I entered Fresh Fiction (FreshFiction.tv) as the features editor. The following year, I stepped into the film critic position at the Denton Record-Chronicle, a daily North Texas print publication. My time is dedicated to writing theatrical film reviews, at-home entertainment columns, and conducting interviews with on-screen talent and filmmakers, as well as hosting a podcast devoted to genre filmmaking (called My Bloody Podcast). I've been married for seven happy years, and I have one son who is all about dinosaurs just like his dad.
Jared McMillan // Film Critic
Not rated, 98 minutes.
Director: Michael Almereyda
Cast: Jon Hamm, Geena Davis, Tim Robbins, Lois Smith, Stephanie Andujar and Azumi Tsutsui
Now playing at the Angelika Film Center in Dallas and Plano.
The question of “what happens when we die?” is often looked at from a singular perspective. Whether it be becoming a ghost or reaching Heaven or Hell, the proposed thought is one regarding the self as our own mortality reaches its end. However, it is rare to have a film look at your eternity by way of those that knew you.
It’s not new knowledge that we pass down our ancestry and the memory of others through our generations. We, as a society, regard those that have come before us to relate to those close to us; we use the past to establish our present relationships, which helps others establish us in the future. This is one of the many concepts revolving around MARJORIE PRIME, a film so thoughtfully intelligent in its intention about the memory and remembrance itself that it becomes beautiful and sometimes heartbreaking.
Marjorie (Lois Smith) is dying, and her illness has led to blurred memory, senility, forgetfulness, whatever the case may be. As the film begins, we see her begin a new conversation with Walter (Jon Hamm), who is an AI program meant to react to Marjorie’s conversation as her husband, who has long been deceased. This AI, known as a Prime, is meant to give comfort to those in distress or grief or illness, etc.
As a Prime is installed, it needs to be given input to maintain its credibility as whomever it is meant to be, in this case Walter. How he was as a person, as a husband, as a father, as well as various memories to help build his “memory.” Walter Prime also has conversations with John (Tim Robbins), who is married to Marjorie’s daughter, Tess (Geena Davis); he embraces the idea of the Prime, while she is apprehensive and creeped out by it.
The plot to MARJORIE PRIME is fluid at best, revolving around its dialogue to piece together the background of each character, as well as their emotions. But it is driven by keying in on remembrance and creating an intimacy for the viewer as we pick up on cues, questions, and repetitions. After all, remembering is a communication we have with ourselves, going over moments to help give breadth to current or future situations.
Within the world of the film, exchanging memories is helping keep Marjorie intact, making sure these thoughts are helping her keep the images of herself with her loved ones. Conversely, forgetting how certain memories existed are creating conflicts in her personality, which is giving way to tension with the other characters, specifically Tess, as this Prime program is more accepted by her mother than she ever was.
MARJORIE PRIME is, by all accounts, built within a sci-fi construct. Set in the not-too-distant future, revolving around plausible AI concepts. However, director Michael Almereyda (who co-wrote the film with Jordan Harrison, based on Harrison’s play) means to subvert those genre tropes to make the delivery more universal. Keeping the setting within Marjorie’s house gives an intimate feel as the interaction moves between characters. Furthermore, characters repeat movements and phrases to help increase their depth and meaning.
While the dialogue flows, there are key moments to help give weight to their words. For example, as John and Tess recall a memory of the last time they were at a country club, and it becomes a discussion about William James’ definition of memory. This leads one to believe that Jamesian concepts are at work within the film’s constructs. There are touches of Mica Levi’s ethereal score to pinpoint a certain emotion or transition, building on everything we absorb in these moments.
There are other elements to MARJORIE PRIME that won’t be considered as it would spoil the film. Suffice to say, it turns into something much more about the characters and gives a solid exclamation point to memory and the ones responsible for advancing a family’s history. Any misstep would have created something overly sentimental or use Marjorie as something to manipulate the viewer’s emotions. It’s a damn near perfect film.