Confusing at times but relentlessly thrilling,
the film I'm reviewing, is uh, about me. I think. You
see, my last memory is of my wife getting murdered, and
I can't create any new memories, so I have to write notes
to myself, and I tattoo the really important stuff on
my body. Anyway, I'm writing this review because, umm--it
must be because it will bring me one step closer to finding
my wife's murderer. I know one thing, because it's tattooed
right here on my hamstring: starring Carrie-Anne Moss.
Carrie-Anne Moss. I must be reviewing The
Matrix. Did I see The Matrix? Holy shit, maybe
I'm in the Matrix! No, I'm Keanu fucking Reeves! Oh, wait.
I'm Leonard Shelby, it says so right here on my chest.
And from all these notes, I'm guessing I've got some kind
of memory condition, and I'm trying to figure out who
killed my wife. And wait a minute, what's this? It's some
kind of contract. Someone named Teddy wants me to write
a review about a movie? Is it good? It must be good, I
probably loved it. I'm going to write a note to myself:
Write film review, Teddy, love...
Hi, I'm Roger Ebert, and I'm giving this movie
a big thumbs up. It's about a guy named Leonard Shelby
who's in love with someone named Teddy. Oh, uh, hold on.
Scratch that Ebert bit. I'm Leonard Shelby and I have
a weird type of disorder, and I'm writing a film review
for a guy named Teddy, who I may or may not love. This
note isn't exactly clear, but maybe I love Teddy and he's
the one who killed my wife, out of jealousy. Oh my god,
that's it. Teddy killed my wife because he and I are in
love. Does that mean he's going to jail? Do I want him
in jail if I'm in love with him? Hmm. Jail. Someone's
wife has been killed.
From the looks of things, I'm reviewing Shawshank
Redemption, starring Leonard Shelby, Carrie-Anne Moss,
and Roger Ebert. My lover, Teddy, directed the movie,
and I must be Morgan Freeman. All these notes must be
for my Oscar speech or something. There's some really
great material… and holy shit! Where did all these tattoos
come from and who the hell does this Leonard Shelby guy
think he is, tattooing his name on my chest? What if Teddy
sees this? But wait. I'm not black. Does that make me
Michael Jackson?
I'd like to thank the Academy, and I'd like
to thank my good friend, Elizabeth Taylor, who was always
at my side. I told you all we could make the world a better
place, and didn't we? I'd also like to thank Morgan Freeman,
Carrie-Anne Moss, Roger Ebert, and my director, Leonard
Shelby, whose name I proudly wear on my chest as a sign
of, uh, devotion.
