|
|
|
|
|
Alzheimer’s disease isn’t exactly uncommon in books and film. Elderly characters often deal with the effects of increasing memory loss, which can be played with either dramatic or comical results. But directors Richard Glatzer and Wash Westmoreland offer a completely different perspective on the disease in Still Alice.
Based on the novel by Lisa Genova, Still Alice stars Julianne Moore as Alice Howland, a respected professor of linguistics at Columbia University. After years of writing and speaking and studying the acquisition of language, Alice finds it troubling when, at 50, she begins forgetting words. And after she gets lost while running across campus, she visits a neurologist, concerned that she may have a brain tumor. Instead, she’s diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s disease. And while her family’s lives go on around her, Alice is forced to deal with the effects of her mind’s rapid deterioration.
Alzheimer’s disease is a devastating illness—a condition that slowly strips its victims of their memories, their communication, and even their identity. And never has this been more obvious—and more horrifying—than it is in Still Alice. Alice isn’t the stereotypical Alzheimer’s patient. She isn’t a batty old grandmother with wrinkled skin, thick glasses, and pink-tinted hair. She’s young and vibrant and healthy—a brilliant academic who’s widely known for her intellect and her linguistic expertise. And suddenly—so alarmingly suddenly—she finds herself struggling to recall words and names and other things that once were second nature. No matter how young or vibrant she may be—no matter how hard she may fight to maintain control—there’s simply no stopping the progression.
Of course, Alice isn’t alone in her fight; she has three grown children and a loving husband by her side. But, as anyone who loves an Alzheimer’s patient can tell you, it’s a difficult journey for everyone involved. And while the film doesn’t go into much detail about the family’s experiences, instead choosing to keep them on the outskirts of the story, it does hint at the challenges they face in balancing their own lives—their thriving careers and their growing families—with the reality of Alice’s illness.
Really, though, this is Alice’s story—and it’s Julianne Moore’s film. She’s nothing short of extraordinary in the role, skillfully depicting each agonizing step in the character’s decline. The transformation is gut-wrenching—and heartbreaking. And, in the process of giving a remarkable performance, she also manages to put a new face on an old disease.
Still Alice is an eye-opening drama—one that shows a familiar illness in a completely new light. For anyone who’s seen the disease up close, it’s often painful to watch, but it’s also guaranteed to give viewers a new understanding of Alzheimer’s, its patients, and their suffering.
|
|
|
|
