Michael Almereyda
Marjorie Prime

I recently expressed myself in an editorial that seems to have been much discussed (I'm not mentioning it to rehash the issue specifically, this is not the place) regarding the so-called 'healing' importance of words, defining them as a true glue in the various social and relational structures at all levels, in contrast to the domineering power of silence, which can instead be something destructive.

It should also be noted that silence, like aggressive reactions (specifically referencing what, in the case of Asia Argento, could be considered a sexist media lynching), constitutes a form of violence that we can inflict on others as well as on ourselves. So much so that in some cases, I believe we can even speak of what I call 'shared violence.'

There can be many cases of this type: the simplest example I would cite is that of a relationship in which one of the two regularly betrays the other person who, aware of what's happening and suffering because of this situation, chooses silence because they don't know what to do or because they think things will fix themselves over time, etc., etc.

In this case, we often have a typical experience of shared suffering: neither person is comfortable in this relationship, one because they are clearly seeking 'alternative solutions,' the other because they suffer from this, and they mutually nurture a shared discomfort without ever addressing the situation.

This is, in my opinion, a key situation where a whole series of psychological processes are at play from both sides (anger, frustration, insecurity, emotional fragility, shame, clearly guilt and fear of not being reciprocated or forgiven...) which, however, are characteristics of many other situations that can be applied to media cases like those involving Asia Argento and Harvey Weinstein, where those involved are not just the directly concerned individuals but an entire community; as much to private and personal situations as the one represented.

Tragically, I believe that the best model, the most typical one where this type of process is recurring and often methodically applied and then shared and transmitted hereditarily from generation to generation, is the family.

This is as true as it is tragic: families do not talk. There is very often no dialogue between parents and children or even between husband and wife. In many cases, exchanges between brothers and sisters are also absent, and even within a family that could be defined as very united and seemingly serene, for various reasons, some things are left unsaid.

I want to emphasize how this situation often transcends the cultural and social level of the family in question and how this occurs in practice at all levels and how, in the same way, this silence tragically and inevitably generates situations that can be particularly painful and can drag on for years remaining unresolved until, at some point (almost always), it becomes too late, and then the regret of never having attempted to overcome this invisible barrier can become even greater and something that can no longer be remedied.

Consequently, a new type of problem arises that joins the previous one, and at this point, in many cases, it becomes part of the individual's structure who, in turn, is presumed to have a partner and perhaps children, bringing with them a past of regrets and unresolved issues and in many cases automatically reproducing situations that can be similar, or the same, thus carrying out a kind of ritual that is transmitted like a kind of disease or genetic defect from generation to generation.

In this beautiful film by director Michael Almereyda, based on a novel by writer Jordan Harrison, a Pulitzer Prize nominee and premiered at this year's Sundance Film Festival, sci-fi is all there, but we could say that, in a certain sense, it cannot be touched.

This primarily means that although the film is a sci-fi film through and through, its contents are primarily of a dramatic and sociological nature rather than purely scientific or sci-fi.

Secondly, it should be noted that the sci-fi element, which gives the film its title, the so-called 'Prime', is indeed something immaterial and cannot be touched.

What is a Prime.

A Prime is a particularly realistic three-dimensional holographic projection connected to a sentient AI and whose wealth of knowledge, beyond those inherently available at its base, is formed and grows based on the information it acquires from others about the reality and people around it and about itself, until it acquires a certain personality of its own. This actually constitutes the replica of that personality which others have somehow wanted to reconstruct.

Yes. Because the Prime, as grotesque as it may appear (but after all, we are talking about a science fiction work...), is created and used for a specific purpose, that is, to be employed to constitute the holographic reproduction of a deceased person.

Its purpose is essentially to provide relief and companionship, an emotional boost to elderly people who are left alone after the passing of their partner, or in any case for those who cannot part from some deceased person and choose this system to somehow keep alive those who are dear to them.

'Marjorie Prime' tells the story of a family through three generations and the relationships and interactions that each of them establishes from time to time with a Prime.

The principal subject, according to the title, would be the elderly Marjorie (Lois Smith), a former violinist who is now old and completely 'absent-minded' and whose son-in-law Jon (Tim Robbins) and daughter Tess (Geena Davis) decide to accompany with the Prime of her late husband Walter (Jon Hamm) to keep her somehow 'conscious' and give her an incentive to move forward in life.

But the real protagonists of the story can be said to be all the family representatives, a family unit that appears to be as united and serene as it seems at the same time to be overshadowed by something that evidently all parties involved refuse to confront. Until the end. When it will evidently be up to the Primes to share the truth in a hall of mirrors and where the Primes desire to acquire that 'humanity' which they evidently do not possess and which perhaps they can never have, and where instead humans have abdicated it or at least have tried to do everything to renounce it to be able to move forward.

But can we really call 'life' an existence where we leave behind our humanity and our feelings? Perhaps this is the main question posed by this film whose tones are deliberately slow, as if wanting to leave space and time for the viewer to look into the eyes of all the characters involved, whether they are more or less human, more or less artificial, and where the passage of time constitutes something that instead of healing wounds, probably only keeps them covered, like when you sweep the dust under the carpet.

'Marjorie Prime' is a film that rarely excites, but whose contents are undoubtedly particularly profound, and it is certainly an unusual and unique film in its genre for how it is conceived and shot: a long great conversation, often a true face-to-face between two subjects (a human and a Prime, though the combinations can also differ) where the puzzle is only solved at the end when all the pieces are put back together.