Four stars. Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity and brief profanity
By Derrick Bang
Rare performances transcend
acting; we cease being aware of the celebrity star, or the idiosyncrasies of
craft and talent, and instead unreservedly accept the character being
portrayed.
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| As her mother (Julianne Moore, right) slides ever further into the helplessness of Alzheimer's, Lydia (Kristen Stewart) finds that the minor issues that prompted a partial estrangement no longer matter, and she subsequently becomes her Mom's constant companion and most sympathetic friend. |
Such is the case with Julianne
Moore’s riveting, persuasive and heartbreaking work in Still Alice, directed and scripted by Richard Glatzer and Wash
Westmoreland, from neuroscientist Lisa Genova’s 2009 debut novel of the same
title. Calling the film a vital document of our time seems both pretentious and
insufficient, and yet the label is accurate; thoughtful, gracefully constructed
dramas of this nature do more to enhance the national (perhaps global?)
consciousness than a wealth of news stories or TV documentaries.
And if Moore wins the Academy
Award for Best Actress — which she certainly deserves — then this little indie
film may get the additional exposure that it also deserves.
She stars here as Alice Howland,
a respected university linguistics professor who enjoys a loving and
comfortable life with her husband, John (Alec Baldwin). They’re at the peak of
their respective careers, and have raised three children: Anna (Kate Bosworth),
Tom (Hunter Parrish) and Lydia (Kristen Stewart). Life seems ideal.
And then, gradually, Alice
realizes that she’s misplacing things to a degree that feels somewhere north of
“normal.”
Her mild concern erupts into
full-blown terror when, during a routine morning jog across campus, she
suddenly doesn’t know where she is, and has no idea where she’s going.
She immediately seeks medical
consultation; the eventual diagnosis is Early-Onset Alzheimer’s Disease.
Knowing full well what that involves, Alice faces the certainty of slowly
losing all her memories and perception: everything revolving around her
professional work, and ultimately even the basic recognition of best friends
and family members.
What follows is not easy to
watch, to say the least. Glatzer and Westmoreland carefully (and wisely) eschew
any sort of “movie-making” technique, preferring instead to depict Alice’s
increasing disorientation in a quiet, cinema-verité
manner that is shattering, even as she fights heroically to salvage
ever-smaller pieces of herself.
The title is significant, because
it speaks to this struggle: More than anything else, Alice wants her family,
friends and colleagues to understand that she’s still herself. But there can be
no last-minute reprieves: no deus ex
machina medical miracles that will pull her back from the brink. Although
Glatzer and Westmoreland conclude their film with what could be termed one of
Alice’s “last best days,” we understand what is to come.
