Marjorie Prime: Reflections on Memory and Loss

Alright folks, so here we are, diving head first into “Marjorie Prime.” Directed by Michael Almereyda, this film had me pondering, you know, in that annoying existential way Swedish flicks often demand. First off, let’s nod to the heavyweight performers: you’ve got Lois Smith, who seems to rip the screen apart with her gaze alone. And Jon Hamm? Well, even as a hologram, he’s impossibly suave. They could sell tickets just on his glare alone!

Now, what I wasn’t expecting was this gut punch of nostalgia. The movie, slippery as an eel in its plot, whizzes us into a near-future era where the past is just another app. Characters chat with these “Primes” — AI recreations of loved ones, like your granddad reimagined as a chatbot. Makes you think, doesn’t it?

I remember once at Skansen, far from Hollywood glitz, my grandmother told me stories of her childhood over a steaming mug of choklad. The scene takes me back there, sipping warm memories, and I think that’s what this movie is about. It prods you to ask, how much of our memory is real and who do we become when they fade?

On the downside, I admit I got restless. At times, the pace slogs like trying to stay awake through the Swedish winters. But then, the simple set — a living room, as cozy as an IKEA showroom tossed my way — makes you feel like you’re eavesdropping on something sacred.

All in all, while Marjorie Prime won’t be everyone’s cup ‘o tea (or kaffe), it’s like a rich Swedish Valrhona chocolate: you savour it slowly, appreciate the nuances, but, wow, sometimes you just wanna devour a good ol’ Marabou instead. sterren i bet stimmen… maybe.

Check the trailer below