“I wish I had cancer,” complains early Alzheimer’s victim Alice (Julianne Moore). Yikes. At what point is your life so low that cancer is a step up? And it is a step up. No question. At least with cancer, nobody talks to you like you’re an idiot. That’s a long fall from grace for a doctor of linguistics.
At times, Still Alice is an unnervingly spooky film. I mean, I’m approaching a certain age and there are certainly times when I can’t find the … the … hmmm? What was that again? … not “noun.” Huh. I’m stumped. … wait! I have it … no, that’s not it … no, yes? Yes, there it is, the “word!” Sometimes I can’t find the word for something. Does that make me a candidate for early onset Alzheimer’s? All joking aside, that’s creepy. Just flat-out creepy. It’s in your memory, then it isn’t, like a brain disc has been wiped. There must be a period before you no longer have the memory to be upset about it when you feel the intense frustration of everything that matters to you slipping away and there’s nothing to be done about it.
This is a performance film. Not much happens in Still Alice. The cynic in me would say this type of film is made so that people get invited to fancy award shows. It certainly wasn’t made as an escape or a thrill. For 100 minutes, we watch the slow decline of Alice from a professor at the top of her game to somebody who couldn’t beat a pre-schooler at “Words with Friends.” None of the moments are sharp – it’s a lost word here, a personal fog there, and before you know it, she can’t find the bathroom at the family summer house.
Julianne Moore is excellent here. So much so that semi-defiant daughter Kristen Stewart comes off as human. Mom 
wants Lydia (Stewart) to give up the starving actress routine in favor of a real calling, like her sibs. How strong is Alzheimer’s-laden guilt, anyway?
Still Alice isn’t a funny film; there’s no reason to believe it should be. The lighter side of Alzheimer’s (forgetting every awful moment from your life, for instance) almost never outweighs losing one’s memory and having the ability to function. So, hey, glad you didn’t side-step the issue, or make the film godawful boring, like Amour. Now if you want to be weepy for your own mortality instead of watching something meaningful or uplifting or silly, hey, by all means, do check this downer out.
Now what was I saying again?
Of linguistics this professor, grand
Has a downfall than nobody planned
Memories lost
Great personal cost
Congrats, Alice, you’ve found “wonder”-land
Rated PG-13, 101 Minutes
D: Richard Glatzer, Wash Westmoreland
W: Richard Glatzer, Wash Westmoreland
Genre: Sucks to be you
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: AARP
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: Teens
