Still Alice

“I wish I had cancer,” Julianne Moore’s Alice Howland states in Still Alice, soon after receiving a diagnosis of early onset Alzheimer’s disease. She’s rapidly forgetting simple words and getting lost in places she once knew so well. Not only is she terrified of losing the memories that made her who she is, she’s ashamed of the seeming lack of weight to her newfound disease. With a disease like cancer, Alice says, people have things they feel like they can do to help, with fundraisers and wristbands, but with Alzheimer’s, people don’t know what to do as they watch the ones they love fall apart. Alice almost wishes there was more, and in a similar way, Still Alice feels like it needs more weight to it, especially considering the lengths gone to by recent heart-wrenching films of similar subject matter like Michael Haneke’s Amour and Sarah Polley’s Away From Her.
Alice Howland is a well-respected professor at Columbia University, having literally written the book on linguistics. Soon after her fiftieth birthday, Alice starts have bouts of disorientation, which quickly increase in frequency. It starts off as simply forgetting a word here and there, then her usual jog becomes frightening as she gets lost on her own campus. After a visit to a neurologist, she is given a diagnosis of a rare type of familial Alzheimer’s disease, one that has a 50/50 change of being passed on genetically to her children.
As her disease becomes more pronounced, the core relationships in her life change drastically. Her oldest daughter, Anna (Kate Bosworth), who tried her best to be her mother’s favorite, grows distant at the thought of the possibility she might inherit. Her husband, John (Alec Baldwin), attempts to continue his life as a successful doctor, while trying to deal with his wife quickly deteriorating. Her youngest daughter, Lydia (Kristen Stewart), has had problems with her mother’s insistence on college in the past, despite loving her current attempts to become an actress, yet stands up for her mother in this time where she desperately needs the understanding.
Still Alice lives or dies by Moore’s performance and as is usual with the talented actress, she imbues the character and the script with life in a way that few other actors could. Moore is incredible as we watch parts of her memory wither away as she grabs after them with a doomed fervor. Alice is in a losing battle, yet she’s going to fight all the way to the end. As the film progresses, Moore’s face expresses her pain and distress more plainly than any dialogue could. Alice says this disease is hell, and Moore’s performance makes you believe it.