'Still Alice' review by Jake Boyle
During the filming of Troy, Brad Pitt tore his Achilles tendon while playing the very character that the tissue was named after. Most instances of life imitating art are mildly amusing anecdotes like that, but occasionally they're a little more painful. While co-writing and co-directing a movie about Alzheimer's with his husband, Richard Glatzer contracted a degenerative disease of his own. His final movie talks deeply about the effects that conditions like this have on the individual and their loved ones, a sadly fitting departure from a man no longer with us.
Out of tragedy, however, comes triumph. Still Alice takes a delicate, understated approach to its subject matter and very rarely (if ever) makes attempts at overtly melancholic moments, and the tenderness of the disease's presentation feels deeply personal. While perhaps skimming over some of the realities of the problem, this does allow for incredible moments of drama from very small touches. At one point, Alice knocks over a stack of papers and its a genuinely nerve-racking moment of tension. The occasional appearance of lines such as "my brain is fucking dying" and "I wish I had cancer" feel like punches to the stomach, and they work fantastically, but drama is mainly created through a very slow-burning process. The worsening of Alice's condition is made very clear without being transparent about it, and Glatzer and Westmoreland use dramatic irony very effectively in the early scenes to make the audience wince. The pacing in general is incredible; Alice becomes practically unreconcilable to her former self but at no step along the way does the transition feel rushed, and neither is too long spent on one phase of her decline.
Of course, this complete transformation of character is only made possible through Julianne Moore's utterly remarkable performance. Her excellence in this role is the most widely known thing about Still Alice, and rightly so - the conveying of so much intensity and emotion whilst outwardly being downplayed and restrained is testament to Moore's impeccable confidence and skill. More subdued commendations are also in order for the supporting cast; Alec Baldwin is entirely convincing and provides strong support, and while Kristen Stewart's gestures occasionally slide into the robotic, unnatural style of body language she's oh so frequently accused of having, for the most part she gives a well-delivered and stirring performance. However, it's Moore's show front and centre, both because of how excellently she acts and because the rest of the characters really only exist to show us things about Alice. The film's tackling of Alzheimer's is nuanced and moving (although much more the latter than the former), but aside from one or two side dalliances about her daughter's acting career, there's no secondary plotlines or asides throughout the film.
Really, the only negative thing there is to say about Still Alice is that it isn't excellent. Overall it's a pretty great film that does everything to a very high standard, but as good as it is, there's nothing here that's exemplary or especially innovative. That's a fairly weak criticism, however, and not changing the entire landscape of film is obviously not a damnation. The praise piled upon Moore is entirely deserved, but what I found more captivating was not the portrayal Alice herself but the portrayal of Alice's disease. It's done intelligently, subtly, realistically yet still creates an optimum sense of regret and trepidation. The underplayed, relatively undramatic conclusion (which comes indirectly after two more climactic, heightened scenes that would be more obvious final scenes, but trite ways to end a narrative) best exemplifies this film's qualities - quiet, simple yet incredibly upsetting.
Out of tragedy, however, comes triumph. Still Alice takes a delicate, understated approach to its subject matter and very rarely (if ever) makes attempts at overtly melancholic moments, and the tenderness of the disease's presentation feels deeply personal. While perhaps skimming over some of the realities of the problem, this does allow for incredible moments of drama from very small touches. At one point, Alice knocks over a stack of papers and its a genuinely nerve-racking moment of tension. The occasional appearance of lines such as "my brain is fucking dying" and "I wish I had cancer" feel like punches to the stomach, and they work fantastically, but drama is mainly created through a very slow-burning process. The worsening of Alice's condition is made very clear without being transparent about it, and Glatzer and Westmoreland use dramatic irony very effectively in the early scenes to make the audience wince. The pacing in general is incredible; Alice becomes practically unreconcilable to her former self but at no step along the way does the transition feel rushed, and neither is too long spent on one phase of her decline.
Of course, this complete transformation of character is only made possible through Julianne Moore's utterly remarkable performance. Her excellence in this role is the most widely known thing about Still Alice, and rightly so - the conveying of so much intensity and emotion whilst outwardly being downplayed and restrained is testament to Moore's impeccable confidence and skill. More subdued commendations are also in order for the supporting cast; Alec Baldwin is entirely convincing and provides strong support, and while Kristen Stewart's gestures occasionally slide into the robotic, unnatural style of body language she's oh so frequently accused of having, for the most part she gives a well-delivered and stirring performance. However, it's Moore's show front and centre, both because of how excellently she acts and because the rest of the characters really only exist to show us things about Alice. The film's tackling of Alzheimer's is nuanced and moving (although much more the latter than the former), but aside from one or two side dalliances about her daughter's acting career, there's no secondary plotlines or asides throughout the film.
Really, the only negative thing there is to say about Still Alice is that it isn't excellent. Overall it's a pretty great film that does everything to a very high standard, but as good as it is, there's nothing here that's exemplary or especially innovative. That's a fairly weak criticism, however, and not changing the entire landscape of film is obviously not a damnation. The praise piled upon Moore is entirely deserved, but what I found more captivating was not the portrayal Alice herself but the portrayal of Alice's disease. It's done intelligently, subtly, realistically yet still creates an optimum sense of regret and trepidation. The underplayed, relatively undramatic conclusion (which comes indirectly after two more climactic, heightened scenes that would be more obvious final scenes, but trite ways to end a narrative) best exemplifies this film's qualities - quiet, simple yet incredibly upsetting.
Finally watched this film & have to say it was the slow burning aspect which made it so poignant & realistic. No happy ending or miracle cure....I think Kristen Stewart character was spot on as a moody & overlooked younger daughter & she didn't try to smooth over the world for her mum or treat her as an invalid. The failure to be recognised by her mum pinpointed the destruction the disease creates. Great review which led to me wanting to see the film.
ReplyDeleteI definitely agree with what you said about slow burn. I appreciated both the accuracy and the confidence it took to portray the disease as originally quite a relatively small part of her life rather than a hugely dramatic and immediate shift. Glad I could be of some help.
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