These are our remainders, our artifacts, the scars, the memories… the lives we lived.
These are our lives, and in exploring the objects we value, we ask ourselves: what do we leave behind?
Is what we hold in our hands equal to what we hold in our hearts?
by director Mark Pellington
I am very proud to present the film Nostalgia to the Landmark family.
I co-wrote the story with Alex Ross Perry, who created the screenplay. We have a top shelf assemblage of actors, with legends like Ellen Burstyn and Bruce Dern joining Jon Hamm, Catherine Keener, Nick Offerman, Amber Tamblyn, John Ortiz and more.
Nostalgia is a mosaic of stories about love and loss. The film explores our relationships to the objects, artifacts, and memories that shape our lives. Perhaps this film speaks directly to you.
I wanted to create a film with a unique point of view and structure. The film’s large cast and unfolding storyline, which flows more like an album than a traditional film, allows the audience to be surprised and to relate in some way to each character. Truly subjective, every viewer’s reaction will be different based on his/her own personal experiences.
The film deals with themes of love, loss, grief, family, technology, memory, and aging—themes and situations that everyone faces at some point in their lives.
The film is inspired by the word “nostalgia,” a longing for something other than the present. Through this series of independent stories, which unfolds like an album or great collection of short stories, Nostalgia is literary, independent, elegant, and still.
Nostalgia. To evoke and perhaps unearth personal feelings in the viewer and to engage them on an authentic emotional plane.
It is meant to be experienced, not just watched. To be felt, to be connected to.
It is not traditional cinema ‘escapism,’ rather it is an active communal experience, a collective reflection, perhaps like going to a concert, a play, or a museum. Heart, soul, mind-engaged, active, and connected to your own life lived.
Perhaps this film is going to speak directly to what you have secretly been feeling since that crazy trip you took to Florida over the summer to clean out the house you grew up in because Mom had to move into assisted living; or a family discussion about a will; or the kid’s questions of the value of objects in your own home.
Like my friend Daniel Waters said when he gave us his feedback: “this film takes anyone back to their grandmother’s attic.”
Small in scale but large in ambition, we all wanted to create a modern film that was psychological, a film fearless in its questioning of this world and of what matters.
I hope you find yourself engaged by the sometimes-uneasy truth of life, of small stories of humans just like yourself, stories of surprising love and tales of our universal need for healing, letting go, and understanding.