Memory is a fickle concept – these moments that we have consolidated into our subconscious, ready to be extracted whenever they are required, have amazed and bewildered biologists and psychologists alike for about as long as we have been studying human existence. Yet, it’s often those memories that tend to fade that have the most interesting stories, which is why there has been such a major focus on preserving as much of human history as we can. However, we are all responsible for our personal archives, which is the starting point for Joana Hadjithomas and Khalil Joreige in Memory Box, their striking and heartbreakingly earnest exploration of the nature of memory and how we tend to run away from the past, only to have it reappear at inopportune moments. The premise is extremely simple – Maia left Lebanon and moved to Canada in the aftermath of the civil war in the 1980s, and settled down with her mother and daughter. The former is still steadfast in her passion for her homeland, whereas the latter has been raised entirely divorced from her culture. This all changes with the arrival of a mysterious package – the sender isn’t quite clear, but it seems to have come from Beirut, being addressed to Maia, who is struck by the arrival of what she realises is actually a box of memories, which documented her early years in Lebanon. She rejects the chance to revisit the past, but her daughter is very eager to see where he mother came from, and begins the process of looking through the photographs, articles and variety of mementos, each one carrying immense significance and helping the young woman piece together not only her mother’s personal history, but also connecting her with the culture that she has been told is important, but has never quite been able to understand as a result of her mother’s decision to conceal their origins as far as possible. A fascinating, subtle examination of themes that are certainly extremely relevant but also quite specific in terms of the cultural nuances, Memory Box is an immensely compelling achievement, albeit one that does occasionally struggle to effectively connect its bold execution with its more intricate, character-based details.

While it may be a slight overestimation to refer to Memory Box as autobiographical, it is a film that was inspired heavily by the directors and their own personal histories. They were both born and raised in Lebanon, before leaving the country as a result of the war, finding sanctuary (and eventually each other) in other parts of the world, which inspired them to begin collaborating. This served as the impetus for much of their work, with this film in particular being notable as one that sees the filmmakers carefully piecing together their own personal memories in collaboration with one another, creating a more diverse and well-defined exploration of subjects such as the culture of Lebanon, the civil war that changed the country entirely and, perhaps most importantly, the importance of holding onto the past, even if it is uncomfortable. There have been many films about the immigrant experience, but none of them seems to be as fervent in their dedication to capturing the spirit of a time and place, both in terms of where the characters come from and where they have chosen to make their home, as this one, a heartwrenchingly honest depiction of the uncomfortable process of revisiting the past. Memories tend to be very different for each of us, and while some may look at the events depicted in this film as a source of pride and evidence of their resilience, for others it’s a stark reminder of the brutality and bloodshed that tore families apart, ended lives, and essentially redefined an entire culture into something quite difficult to comprehend. This is where Memory Box proves to be most effective, with the directors ensuring that absolutely everything they do throughout this film reflects their inner values and personal connection with these themes. This is not a one-dimensional depiction of the Lebanese civil unrest, but rather a firsthand account of the experiences of these two filmmakers, who use this film as a way to filter through their personal quandaries and memories, a fascinating and very intimate approach to a challenging subject, the enormity of which none of us can ever comprehend.

The best way to describe Memory Box would be as a multimodal collage of collective memory and personal recollections, which is the primary method of delivering the themes that drive this film. This is the primary allure of this film, with the filmmakers making use of their own personal archives to create this film – they curate footage, photographs and written correspondence that they had collected over the years, the majority of which were their own, and use them to assemble this film, combining existing, real-world elements with new footage shot exclusively for this film, and therefore creating quite a bold and exhilarating new approach to exploring the past. While it could be said that a more pragmatic use of these pieces of media would be to form them into a documentary, particularly since this could allow for a more thorough approach to exploring the subject matter, it would come at the expense of the more exciting and provocative elements that emerge through telling a semi-fictional story, giving the directors a degree of flexibility that would otherwise be lost with a more directly factual approach. The editing is what makes Memory Box so extraordinarily memorable – the story is simple enough, but its how the directors assemble the footage into these brilliant, engaging montages that are truly spectacular, making this one of the most uniquely-edited works of the 21st century so far, and proof that this process is not simply the act of cutting scenes, but rather a vital narrative tool that is as important to the filmmaking process as anything else, and in this case actually acts as the impetus for some of the most exciting and unique ideas, provoking conversation while consistently reminding us of the themes situated right at the core of the film. It’s exceptionally well-crafted, and the combination of the underlying themes with these striking images makes for a film that is consistently engaging, drawing us into its depths and allowing all of its themes to become quite clear.

However, beyond the very impressive editing, we do find that Memory Box does slightly falter in other areas, making it seem as if the directors were focused on the montages of memory more than they were on the surrounding scenes. The film consists of a series of discussions between characters, which tend to come across more as punctuation to certain scenes than they are fully-formed moments of their own, and as a result, there is a slight deficiency in the emotions present in specific moments. It’s not vapid or hollow by any means, but rather misses the opportunity to create more cohesion between the spellbinding montages and the more dramatic scenes, especially since they both offer context that the other requires. This isn’t too much of a shortcoming, but rather means that the directors show that there is a slightly impoverished sense of emotion, particularly when it comes to evoking the underlying concepts that drive this film and make it so incredibly moving. The performances are generally strong, but they are also elements that exist in service of the montages, solely being there to contextualise the message contained in those sequences, rather than standing on their own. Nonetheless, the trio of Clémence Sabbagh, Rim Turki and Paloma Vauthier do well in representing these women who all have very different perspectives on their identity and the country of their origins, each of them perceiving the challenges in their own way, and ultimately proving to be the foundation for a film that understands the importance of developing strong, self-assured characters. The highlight of the three is probably Vauthier, whose quiet but resilient performance as the youngest of the women is incredibly delicate and sensitive, and has a sense of quiet resilience that makes it far more complex, which we can contrast with the performance delivered by Manal Issa, playing the younger version of Maia – both are women seeking a sense of belonging and trying to come to terms with their identity, but who find themselves buckling under the pressure of societal expectations.

Memory Box is a fascinating film – subtle and low-key, but also consistent in exploring the themes relating to identity, individuality and the oscillation between tradition and modernity. It’s a remarkable piece of filmmaking – at its core, we find that the directors are incredibly committed to examining the conversations surrounding the different experiences of these three women, using simple but evocative language to demonstrate the depths of their individual challenges, and how they deviate in their different approaches to dealing with the past. It’s exceptional work across the board, and the actors are very strong. However, the reason Memory Box holds such a fascinating place in the culture is not anything narrative, but rather the striking editing, which is some of the very best of the past decade, and proof of the incredible artistry that goes into the creation of these works. It oscillates between fact and fiction with such seamlessness, and the montages are some of the best in recent memory. The collision of history and emotions is stunning, and lays the foundation for a film that redefines many common ideas, proving that it is entirely possible to explore some hefty, complex themes without needing to purport to being definitive or daring in any way. Instead, it’s more than enough to simply investigate the past through engaging with the pieces of media that are initially viewed as inconsequential, but become vitally important when piecing together the past, particularly in how they evoke memories. It’s a wonderfully engaging, enthralling film that is never weighed down by its ambition, and instead proves to be an elegant, simple affair that leaves us pondering the past in ways that we may not have imagined possible.