Synopsis: A London man who loses his memory when he's struck by a falling object develops a way to reconstruct his past.
Genre: Drama
Director(s): Omer Fast
  2 nominations.
Rotten Tomatoes:
103 min

Shit! Did you see that?

- Don't touch him.

- Call an ambulance. An ambulance!

- What was it?

- They're on their way.

Don't touch him.

Oh, my God. What happened to him?

'Look, we appreciate the sentiment

but, frankly, our client is not dead.'

Yes, clinically speaking, but still...


No, no, my dear Charlie,

we'd rather not litigate either.

I'm so fucking bored of beating you.

There's the court of public opinion.

If your clients want to play games,

I'll reach out to "The Sun",

"The Star" and "The Mirror".

Well, you know our terms.

No, he won't go on talk shows.

No book tour. No media.

Come on, Charlie, my client's a vegetable.

Sorry, Charlie.

Could I ring you back in five minutes?

- All right?

- Yeah.

- So what's his story?

- He got hit by something big.

- He's awake, but not answering.

- Sounds like my wife.

Ready? One, two, three, go.

'About the accident I can say very little.

'Something fell down from the sky.

'Technology, parts, bits

squashing me on to the pavement

'and then nothing, a blank.

'The hospital, the coma,

vague images of corridors and lifts

'wires and catheters,

trip feeds and tubes.

'Ghostly figures drifting in and out,

'fighting to keep my damaged brain

from swelling like a balloon.

'Surgery. Drugs. Pain, of course. Lots.

'But also tedium.

'Endless stretches of time.

'Bedridden, then upright, then rehab.

'Learning to grasp

at colourful things like a baby.

'Over and over.

'Spearing food with a fork.

'Swallowing. Tying shoe laces, buttons.


'A never-ending dream

of repetitive jerky movements.

'Until one day they let me out

and it stopped.'

'Your call cannot be taken at the moment,

'so please leave your message

after the tone.'


'Finally! You're very hard to reach.

How are you feeling?'

Who is this?

'Mark Daubenay, your lawyer.

Your friend, Greg, works for me.'

We met at the hospital. How are you doing?

'Look, I've got wonderful news.

They've capitulated.'

Can... can I please call you back?

Listen, they've approached us with a deal

whose terms are unprecedented,

financially speaking.

'First, their conditions.

'You must drop all legal action

'and you can't discuss the accident

in public or in any recordable format.

'Essentially, you've got to forget

it ever happened,

'legally speaking.'

There's nothing to forget.

I don't remember any of it.

Even better!

You want to know how much you get?

8.5 million.

'8.5 million.'

- Why the half?

- Sorry?

Why not just eight or nine?

In actual fact, the total payment

will come out to quite

a bit more than that over time.

Look, why don't you drop by and...?


Nah, mate.

Listen, I'm at the phone box, innit?

- Yo! Hurry up, snowflake.

- Sorry.

Yo, come on, man. Time is money, bruv.

One minute.

'How may I direct your call?'

- Mark Daubenay. I was just cut off.

- 'Could you hold the line, please?'

'Hello? What happened there?

I called you back, but...'

My phone died.

Open up.

'Hello? Are you still there?'

- Open the door.

- 'Hello?'

Put the phone down and come on out.

- 'Still there?'

- I've got to go.

- Hey, yo!

- Open the door!

What the fuck are you doing?

Filming, yeah?

Fuck you!

Back off, dickheads.

Let's leave it.

Forget it. We'll do it later.

Yeah, put the fucking gun down

before I put you on YouTube, bumbaclot!

Yeah, I'll see you later.

Fuck you!

You done yet, chi-chi man?

Like that.

- Christopher.

- What?

Hey, how do you know my name, bruv?

Yo, only my mum calls me that shit, bruv.

Do you know what? Come out, come out.

Come out, bruv.

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"Remainder" STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 22 Jul 2019. <>.

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