"Still Alice" is deceptively simple; it even seems to descend into a public service announcement on Alzheimer's Disease at times, including the Oscar-winning Julianne Moore as the eponymous Alice delivering a lecture on the effects of dementia on the character. It's, of course, a tearjerker by the end, too. Yet, mainly two interesting things are done with the narrative that reflect the crises of identity and loss of memory characteristic of the disease. Two characters are essential in this; besides Alice, the other is her daughter Lydia (played by Kristen Stewart, who should've also received an Oscar nomination).
Lydia is an actor and, thus, transforms identities as the characters demand. We see one such performance in a play-within-the-play, and she reads a telling script at the end to her mother. Not surprisingly, then, she's the one who inquires what the disease is like for her mother and who suggests she lecture on the disease's personal impact on her, while others may treat her merely as a victim, patient or burden. Indeed, at some point, everyone else does and drops away from Alice's story. Alice and Lydia, on the other hand, hold no secrets from each other. This reflexivity of actor-playing-actor, of character and identity transformations is furthered by remembrances in the form of home videos--seemingly taken by the beach house Alice now occupies along with her fading memories. The importance of these characters is supported by the camera's focus. From the beginning, of the birthday dinner from which Lydia is absent, the view is mostly on Moore. Gradually, we also see more of Stewart, too, until by the end, the camera also lingers on her.
The other interesting thing here is the indirect allusion to Lewis Carroll's "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland." To begin, it's in the title and protagonist's name, "Alice," while her last name includes "land." How-land, in this case, instead of Wonder-land. Carroll was revered for his clever wordplay, as well the games of logic deriving from his profession in mathematics, and this Alice is a linguistics professor. This Alice's descent into dementia also fits well in the metaphorical sense of falling down the rabbit hole, to a subjectively alternate world where, like Carroll's Alice, she goes through changes that lead her to question her own identity. In the children's book, this could be read as a parable for kids growing up; here, it's Alzheimer's Disease. To top it off, possibly my favorite sly reference to Wonderland is the butterfly necklace, which the Alice here received as a child (from her mother according to a story she tells her own daughter, to boot). Ostensibly, Alice suggests the symbolism of the butterfly is that they have short, but beautiful, lives. Yet, butterflies also represent change--the metamorphosis from caterpillars. Alice's meeting the Caterpillar in Carroll's book is the most pivotal scene of Alice confronting her identity crisis, with her transformations being considered unremarkable by and certainly nothing to fret over by the calm, hookah-smoking larva. A lovely allusion.
Lydia is an actor and, thus, transforms identities as the characters demand. We see one such performance in a play-within-the-play, and she reads a telling script at the end to her mother. Not surprisingly, then, she's the one who inquires what the disease is like for her mother and who suggests she lecture on the disease's personal impact on her, while others may treat her merely as a victim, patient or burden. Indeed, at some point, everyone else does and drops away from Alice's story. Alice and Lydia, on the other hand, hold no secrets from each other. This reflexivity of actor-playing-actor, of character and identity transformations is furthered by remembrances in the form of home videos--seemingly taken by the beach house Alice now occupies along with her fading memories. The importance of these characters is supported by the camera's focus. From the beginning, of the birthday dinner from which Lydia is absent, the view is mostly on Moore. Gradually, we also see more of Stewart, too, until by the end, the camera also lingers on her.
The other interesting thing here is the indirect allusion to Lewis Carroll's "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland." To begin, it's in the title and protagonist's name, "Alice," while her last name includes "land." How-land, in this case, instead of Wonder-land. Carroll was revered for his clever wordplay, as well the games of logic deriving from his profession in mathematics, and this Alice is a linguistics professor. This Alice's descent into dementia also fits well in the metaphorical sense of falling down the rabbit hole, to a subjectively alternate world where, like Carroll's Alice, she goes through changes that lead her to question her own identity. In the children's book, this could be read as a parable for kids growing up; here, it's Alzheimer's Disease. To top it off, possibly my favorite sly reference to Wonderland is the butterfly necklace, which the Alice here received as a child (from her mother according to a story she tells her own daughter, to boot). Ostensibly, Alice suggests the symbolism of the butterfly is that they have short, but beautiful, lives. Yet, butterflies also represent change--the metamorphosis from caterpillars. Alice's meeting the Caterpillar in Carroll's book is the most pivotal scene of Alice confronting her identity crisis, with her transformations being considered unremarkable by and certainly nothing to fret over by the calm, hookah-smoking larva. A lovely allusion.