Welcome back to Rewatching Smallville, my weekly dive into the iconic series that explores Clark Kent’s journey before becoming Superman. Whether you’re a long-time fan or new to the show, you’re invited to join in each Tuesday as I revisit episodes and share my thoughts and observations. Be sure to share your own memories and theories in the comments below!

There’s something deliciously appropriate about an episode called “Memoria” being one of the most memorable in Smallville‘s ten-season run. The 63rd episode of the series, which aired in April 2004, represents everything the show did best: psychological complexity wrapped in superhero mythology, family dysfunction that would make a therapist weep, and enough daddy issues to power a small city. If you’ve ever wondered what happens when you combine experimental memory therapy with kryptonite-infused torture chambers, well, Smallville has you covered.

The Setup: Memory Lane is a Dangerous Place

“Memoria” finds our favorite bald billionaire-in-training, Lex Luthor, literally standing on the edge. Not metaphorically—though that too—but actually teetering on a balcony while hallucinating about his dead baby brother Julian. It’s the kind of opening that immediately signals “buckle up, we’re going deep into trauma territory today.”

The episode’s central conceit revolves around Lex’s decision to undergo experimental memory recovery treatment to regain seven weeks of memories that his dear old dad Lionel had erased. Because nothing says “healthy family dynamics” like having your father lobotomize you and then pretend it never happened. Dr. Lawrence Garner’s Summerholt Institute offers a solution: full-body submersion in glowing green liquid that looks suspiciously like the kind of thing that would make Clark Kent break out in hives.

And wouldn’t you know it, that’s exactly what happens.

The Science of Suffering

What makes “Memoria” particularly brilliant is how it uses the sci-fi premise as a vehicle for genuine psychological horror. The treatment scenes are genuinely unsettling—watching Lex float in that eerie green tank while his repressed memories surface feels like something out of a Black Mirror episode that got lost in 2004. The show’s production team, led by co-creator Miles Millar in his directorial debut, understood that the most effective horror comes from emotional truth, not special effects.

The episode employs a dual narrative structure that would make Christopher Nolan proud. We follow both Lex’s journey through his suppressed memories and Clark’s increasingly desperate attempts to stop the treatment. It’s a race against time with psychological stakes: will Lex recover the truth about his past, or will the process literally kill him? And perhaps more importantly, will Clark’s secret identity survive the process?

The Luthor Family Trauma Olympics

If there’s one thing Smallville excelled at, it was making the Luthor family dysfunction feel both operatic and heartbreakingly real. “Memoria” delivers what might be the show’s most devastating revelation: the truth about baby Julian’s death. Through Lex’s recovered memories, we learn that it wasn’t young Lex who accidentally suffocated his brother, but rather his mother Lillian who deliberately smothered the infant.

Her reasoning? She wanted to spare Julian from growing up under Lionel’s toxic parenting, knowing he would pit the brothers against each other. It’s a moment of such dark maternal love that it reframes everything we thought we knew about the Luthor family dynamic. Lillian’s post-partum depression and her prophetic understanding of Lionel’s nature make her both sympathetic and terrifying.

The performances here are nothing short of extraordinary. Michael Rosenbaum, who spent three seasons perfecting Lex’s blend of vulnerability and growing darkness, delivers career-best work as he processes these revelations. John Glover, as Lionel, manages to make us feel genuine sympathy for a character who has spent seasons being irredeemably awful. When Lex finally confronts his father with the truth, and Lionel attempts to express regret, Lex’s response cuts to the bone: “Yes, Dad. You might have actually loved me.”

Superman Mythology Gets Personal

While the Luthor family drama unfolds, Clark’s storyline provides a fascinating counterpoint. His forced submersion in the kryptonite treatment triggers visions of his own earliest memory: being placed in his escape pod by his birth parents, Jor-El and Lara. In a show that often struggled with its Superman mythology (the AI Jor-El was particularly divisive among fans), “Memoria” finds emotional truth in the alien backstory.

The episode’s handling of Clark’s Kryptonian heritage is particularly clever given the production constraints. Warner Bros. was simultaneously developing a Superman movie, which meant explicit Krypton scenes were off-limits. Director Miles Millar worked around this by showing only the hands of Jor-El and Lara placing baby Kal-El into his ship—a technique borrowed from Jeph Loeb’s comics that actually enhances the emotional impact.

The real masterstroke comes in the episode’s final scene, when Martha reveals that Clark’s first word was “Lara.” It’s a moment that reframes Clark’s entire relationship with his birth mother and provides a beautiful counterpoint to the toxic family dynamics we’ve witnessed. Where Lionel’s parenting created trauma and division, both Martha and Lara’s love transcends death and memory loss.

The Art of Parallel Storytelling

What elevates “Memoria” beyond typical superhero fare is its sophisticated use of parallel narratives. Both Clark and Lex are literally submerged in green liquid, both are forced to confront suppressed memories, and both emerge with new understanding of their origins. But where Clark’s journey leads to healing and connection, Lex’s path deepens his isolation and pain.

The episode’s structure mirrors its themes perfectly. Memory, we learn, isn’t just about what we remember—it’s about how we choose to interpret and carry those memories forward. Clark’s recovered memory of Lara strengthens his connection to both his alien heritage and his human family. Lex’s recovered memories of Julian, while freeing him from false guilt, also reveal the depth of his father’s manipulation and the impossibility of their relationship.

Technical Brilliance and Emotional Payoff

From a production standpoint, “Memoria” showcases Smallville at its technical peak. The flashback sequences are beautifully shot, with Millar employing dramatic lighting and silhouette-heavy scenes that blur the line between past and present. The treatment room scenes generate genuine claustrophobia, and the kryptonite tank sequences are genuinely disturbing to watch.

The episode’s sound design deserves particular praise. The way young Lex’s voice echoes through the memory sequences, the unsettling bubble sounds from the treatment tanks, and the strategic use of silence all contribute to the episode’s psychological impact. Even the musical choices—including Evanescence’s “My Immortal”—feel organic rather than forced.

Reception and Legacy

The response to “Memoria” was immediate and overwhelming. Critics and fans alike recognized it as something special. ScreenRant named it the best episode of Season 3, while Fandom Factory called it “the most dramatically satisfying episode of the show yet. Absolutely perfect. 10/10.” Reddit discussions still light up with praise for the episode, with fans particularly highlighting the performances of Rosenbaum and Glover.

The episode’s impact extends beyond Smallville itself. It represents a high-water mark for superhero television’s ability to blend genre elements with genuine psychological depth. In an era when superhero content often feels manufactured, “Memoria” stands as a reminder that the best comic book adaptations use their fantastical elements to explore fundamental human truths.

Why “Memoria” Endures

Twenty years later, “Memoria” remains compulsively rewatchable because it understands something fundamental about trauma and family: the stories we tell ourselves about our past shape who we become. Lex’s journey from victim to villain is accelerated by his recovered memories, not because they reveal new horrors, but because they confirm his worst fears about his father’s nature.

Clark’s parallel journey shows the opposite path—how understanding our origins can be healing rather than destructive. The episode suggests that it’s not our memories themselves that define us, but our capacity for love and forgiveness in response to those memories.

In the end, “Memoria” works because it takes its characters seriously. It doesn’t shy away from the genuine darkness of child abuse, mental illness, and family dysfunction. Instead, it uses the superhero framework to explore these themes with the gravity they deserve. The result is an episode that feels both fantastical and deeply human—a combination that Smallville achieved all too rarely, but never more perfectly than here.

The episode’s Latin title means “memory,” but the episode itself is about something deeper: the difference between remembering and truly understanding. In a series often criticized for its monster-of-the-week tendencies, “Memoria” proved that Smallville could tackle complex psychological themes without losing its sense of wonder. It’s the kind of episode that makes you believe superhero television can be art—and occasionally, it actually is.