THE STORY – A seasoned detective, recently diagnosed with dementia, is doggedly pursued by both cops and crooks after he unwittingly wanders off with a multimillion-dollar ransom.
THE CAST – Ethan Juan, Hsieh Ying Xuan, Moon Lee, Shinichi Tsutsumi & Reika Kirishima
THE TEAM – Sabu (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 87 Minutes
Certain premises tied to action films seem like they wouldn’t be particularly exciting to watch play out. They are less likely to be riveting adventures and more like a disposable script tailor-made for an aging movie star to stumble around and try to appear tough. A story about some kind of professional in carnage grappling with the debilitating signs of dementia sounds more like a project that would star Liam Neeson, which seems more appropriate in his elder years (which, by the way, is a real movie he starred in). The protagonist of “Arrested Memory” has a similar affliction but doesn’t have the same physical restrictions as other actors might. This dynamic makes the film far more compelling, and it becomes a showcase for both effective drama and impactful humor. All of it adds up to an entertaining spectacle.
At the beginning, a group of police officers is gearing up for a drug bust, with the captain, Lee (Ethan Juan), assembling his crew of loyal soldiers. However, he’s been suffering from headaches, which cause him to be distracted at the pivotal moment. The operation is botched, his team is killed, and an altercation has left him suffering from amnesia. Following the incident, he’s been transferred to a rural precinct, but a new case has just fallen into his lap. The son of an affluent Japanese businessman has been kidnapped, and it’s up to Lee to find the perpetrators. But the plan falls apart after he is sent out with the multimillion-dollar ransom quickly because of his condition, and he sets out in utter confusion. He’s being tailed both by the police and the criminals, unaware of his condition, while being haunted by the past actions that have caused him this lingering pain.
There’s potential for the film to be brimming with style, and director Sabu does implement some nicely crafted flourishes. The cinematography is flushed with vibrant colors, making the scenes pop with deep reds and yellows. It creates a nice texture to the imagery, as do the hazy edges that appear during Lee’s mental episodes. It’s an effective tactic to communicate the disorientation, though the hallucinations he experiences make an even greater impression. A moment of him driving in a car while his deceased friends all climb in and huddle around him becomes a powerful moment, as does any flashback to that fateful moment that integrates any moment he’s currently within. It’s here that the stylization is most engrossing, as the sparring number of sequences with fight choreography are generally stiff in their execution. The filmmaking infuses the atmosphere with an absorbing aura, driven both by the pathos of this tragic figure and by a good amount of humor surrounding his circumstances.
Indeed, the film does not shy away from impressive comedic bits. Much of the storytelling plays out like a comedy of errors, following an absent-minded detective who bumbles around the city while competing groups follow his whereabouts. It’s ripe with situations built for misunderstandings, like a hotel confrontation based purely on assumptions (with a great physical gag in front of automatic sliding doors). Scenes that take place at the Japanese businessman’s house are also delightful, as his team looks incompetent in front of the foreigner, and a flamboyant drug addict who was picked up hours before loiters in his home. In time, this eccentric stranger proves to be more competent than the officers who arrested him. He takes a more inquisitive approach to how the case should be handled, annoying the police but earning the homeowners’ trust. It’s a wonderful counterbalance that keeps the narrative intriguing.
That said, the film isn’t always consistently engaging. The structure often has a start/stop quality, and momentum frequently stalls when the pacing should be moving continuously. It’s mostly an aside featuring a young woman (Moon Lee) who Lee rescues from a suicide attempt. The multiple strands within the story often intersect multiple times, and this thread indulges far more in the dramatic aspects than many other sections. But it is also when the film is at its most tedious, and far less enthralling. Also, for as much as the comedy delivers great moments of pure joy, there are occasions when it underlines a setup a little too forcefully. It’s amusing how, for instance, a misunderstanding involving Lee and the kidnappers he’s supposed to be tracking down keeps running into each other, but the finale starts to repeat its joke a little too much once it reaches the conclusion at the end. The film is riveting but not consistently so.
Ethan Juan’s central performance always manages to be captivating. He embodies the crestfallen nature of this bruised character, conveying the sadness consuming him. The guilt he feels over the deaths of his crew is a heavy burden, and his somber expressions infuse his portrayal with an earnest tragedy. When the moment calls upon him to be a sillier figure and play to the lighter tone, he is capable of that demand as well. He is able to present a full range of emotion for this character, and he’s alluring in every frame. He leads a talented ensemble, of which Lee also gives a fine performance, even if the writing shackles her to a less interesting part of the narrative. But there’s a host of supporting characters who are all enjoyable in their turns, like the aforementioned drug addict or the businessman’s housekeeper and interpreter. It’s gratifying to watch her balance confidence and insecurity in the role; a moment where she imagines having to purchase meth is one of the film’s comedic highlights.
At first glance, it would be easy to assume “Arrested Memory” has more in common with the disposable action fare its premise suggests, and therefore much easier to dismiss. Thankfully, there’s a lot more to appreciate than one would find in those particular efforts. The storytelling is a strong examination of crippling regret that manifests in this disease. It balances potent emotionality, represented in Juan’s performance, with charming humor throughout. Still, a slower pace interrupts the rhythm of the storytelling, causing engagement to wane. But what is crafted here still becomes a wholly inviting experience. It’s a more intellectual exercise when it needs to be, with the right amount of light-hearted goofiness to become endearing. Despite the pacing issues, it becomes a fun ride.
