Reminiscence (movie 2021)...a surprisingly unmemorable production

      The last time Wolverine stood adoringly looking at Rebecca Fergusson belting out a song, it was in The Greatest Showman, an infinitely superior movie in every possible way. But alas, we can’t all enjoy the highly fictionalized account of P.T. Barnum’s life over and over again, we must consume new media.
      Reminiscence is new. It’s a lovechild of a single mother Lisa Joy, famous from Westword, which I still haven’t watched so there will be no comparisons. In a comparison free world, Reminiscence is just ok and nothing more.
       I don’t think anyone’s going to love this movie as much as its creator, who is so onanistically passionate about it, she actually recycles her own dialogue. Over and over again. Entire sections of it. One twice and one three times. Seriously.
       But ok, let’s get back to basics. Reminiscence is a science fiction noir romance. Got this? It’s a lot. Lisa Joy just throws it all in there, sprinkles a heavy amount of climate change narrative on top and hopes it works.
       And it does…to an extent. But there isn’t much here. The plot is fairly thin, the acting is fine considering, but there isn’t much here for anyone to do. Joy seems to be more of a visual director, a halfsunken Miami looks gorgeous. The actors look gorgeous.
      Huge Ackman (this is a surprisingly funny joke from a James Corden skit that somehow stuck with me) cannot stay dressed to save his life and thus ends up taking off his shirt with a delightful regularity. Admittedly, the man is now in his 50s and still looks spectacular with his shirt off, but after a while it just seems kinda fetishistic on Joy’s behalf. I mean, both Ferguson and Thandie Newtown (Jackman’s righthand woman in his memory business) manage to mostly stay dressed.
       And so from the perfectly noir moment Fergusson sashays into Jackman’s place of business and life, he loves her, she seems to reciprocate, but then vanishes and he has to find her, solve some barely interesting mystery and figure out if she meant all her kisses or just used him like a no good dame with legs for days.
       Blah, blah, blah. Glossy, underwhelming. Pretty, but superficial. Heavy on style and light on substance with clunky and overwritten dialogue and not a single song from Mr. Jackman. Whaaa…
        It stands to mention that Fergusson actually does her own singing here, unlike in The Greatest Showman. Turns out the lady got the pipes, but it would have never been enough(pun it, baby) for The Greatest Showman’s showstopper.
        So yeah, pretty as a picture. But a proper picture should strive to offer more. Overall, too forgettable to reminisce about. Oh, the irony.