*** out of ****
The Academy loves to
reward men for playing mentally challenged individuals, but I can't
remember an actress having been nominated for playing a similar
role. Just off the top of my head I remember Oscar nominations for
Sean Penn (I Am Sam), Billy-Bob Thornton (Sling Blade), Tom Hanks
(Forrest Gump), Dustin Hoffman (Rainman), Brad Pitt (12 Monkeys),
Leonardo DiCaprio (What's Eating Gilbert Grape), Robin Williams (The
Fisher King), Geoffrey Rush (Shine) and Russell Crowe (A Beautiful
Mind). Now, finally, a woman has received a nomination for a like
role – Julianne Moore.
Moore is Alice Howland, a professor of Linguistics at Columbia. She is married to a doctor (Alec Baldwin) and has three grown children that are all carving out a life for themselves. She is extremely intelligent, caring, successful and is a real achiever. At the age of 50, her life seems everything she could have hoped it to be.
But then she starts to forget little things – insignificant things at first, that she can eventually find the answers to after wracking her brain. But since this is all new to her she decides to see a neurologist about it, and after a battery of tests is told that she has a severe case of early onset Alzheimers disease. She will inevitably lose all her memories and any knowledge she once possessed. Worse still, it's a hereditary condition and her children may be destined for the same fate.
Moore is absolutely wonderful in this role. She approaches it in such a way that you feel genuine empathy, compassion and heartbreak for Alice. Baldwin is also terrific, though his character is considerably less sympathetic. But credit directors Richard Glatzer and Wash Westmoreland with approaching the subject matter with real compassion. We watch Alice as her condition gets worse and worse, and as she clings to what remains of her memories as hard as she can despite knowing it's a losing battle. She even attempts to set up an “endgame”, leaving enough sleeping pills readily available and instructions for herself to follow for her own suicide when things get too bad.
A few years ago I saw the father of a dear friend of mine go through this very same thing, and I spent much of this film with a lump in my throat. In watching Moore's interpretation of Alice's slow fall into near-mindlessness, the movie is filled with little moments that touch your heart. You really come to love and root for Alice, and your heart aches for her plight.
The musician/songwriter Glen Campbell is now institutionalized with the same disease, and no can no longer remember anyone from his life or his own significance. But before his memory left him forever he wrote a song to his wife about his love for her and his disease called, “I'm Not Gonna Miss You”. Watching Alice slowly lose her battle, I came to know exactly what he meant.
“Still Alice” is a tremendous movie, though I will stop short of calling it a great one. Moore is great in it however, and it is one of a very small handful of this year's films that brought a tear to my eye. I consider it a great achievement for a film if it can make me care enough about a character or characters to shed a tear. “Still Alice” is not as heralded as this year's other films from which the “Best Actress” nominations have come, but her performance is outshone by none of them. A film I will revisit several times, I am sure.
Moore is Alice Howland, a professor of Linguistics at Columbia. She is married to a doctor (Alec Baldwin) and has three grown children that are all carving out a life for themselves. She is extremely intelligent, caring, successful and is a real achiever. At the age of 50, her life seems everything she could have hoped it to be.
But then she starts to forget little things – insignificant things at first, that she can eventually find the answers to after wracking her brain. But since this is all new to her she decides to see a neurologist about it, and after a battery of tests is told that she has a severe case of early onset Alzheimers disease. She will inevitably lose all her memories and any knowledge she once possessed. Worse still, it's a hereditary condition and her children may be destined for the same fate.
Moore is absolutely wonderful in this role. She approaches it in such a way that you feel genuine empathy, compassion and heartbreak for Alice. Baldwin is also terrific, though his character is considerably less sympathetic. But credit directors Richard Glatzer and Wash Westmoreland with approaching the subject matter with real compassion. We watch Alice as her condition gets worse and worse, and as she clings to what remains of her memories as hard as she can despite knowing it's a losing battle. She even attempts to set up an “endgame”, leaving enough sleeping pills readily available and instructions for herself to follow for her own suicide when things get too bad.
A few years ago I saw the father of a dear friend of mine go through this very same thing, and I spent much of this film with a lump in my throat. In watching Moore's interpretation of Alice's slow fall into near-mindlessness, the movie is filled with little moments that touch your heart. You really come to love and root for Alice, and your heart aches for her plight.
The musician/songwriter Glen Campbell is now institutionalized with the same disease, and no can no longer remember anyone from his life or his own significance. But before his memory left him forever he wrote a song to his wife about his love for her and his disease called, “I'm Not Gonna Miss You”. Watching Alice slowly lose her battle, I came to know exactly what he meant.
“Still Alice” is a tremendous movie, though I will stop short of calling it a great one. Moore is great in it however, and it is one of a very small handful of this year's films that brought a tear to my eye. I consider it a great achievement for a film if it can make me care enough about a character or characters to shed a tear. “Still Alice” is not as heralded as this year's other films from which the “Best Actress” nominations have come, but her performance is outshone by none of them. A film I will revisit several times, I am sure.
Just remembered a woman being recognized for playing a woman with mental infirmities - Joanne Woodward in "The Three Faces of Eve" (1957). Anyone have any others?
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