Still Alice

Still Alice, a drama that’s now available in DVD, is about a woman walking toward the inevitable gallows of early-onset Alzheimer’s.

Alice (Julianne Moore) is an esteemed linguistics professor at Columbia University who has that kind of twinkly, near-perfect life that draws the jealous desire to stick spinach between those pearly-whites. She clearly never needs to worry about money, looks a decade younger than her 50 years, has a faithful husband (Alec Baldwin) who’s a research physician, and three beautiful grown children. Well, she does have one apparent blemish: Her youngest daughter Lydia (Kristen Stewart) ditched college to become an actress in Los Angeles. But otherwise, Alice is content with no reason to be seriously unhappy, no room for fear, anxiety, or self-doubt—until the day she goes for a routine jog around her campus, and suddenly doesn’t remember where she is.

Alice prides herself not just on her intellect, but her expertise in language and her ability to communicate well. As Alzheimer’s strips those integral layers off her, Alice starts wondering: Who is “Alice” now? What is success without her career, what is family when she doesn’t recognize them, why is life worth living without everything that makes her “still Alice”? Her journey through those realizations is emotionally complex and wrecking.

When Still Alice (rated PG-13 for mature theme, brief language including a sexual reference) first hit limited theaters in January, even reviewers who criticized the movie’s obvious cinematic tricks raved about Moore’s performance—all completely deserved. Moore wrings out every measure of fear, pain, and despair with a certain dignity. Her crinkling eyes, her subtle frowns and forced smiles, her brave resolution to prepare herself for all future symptoms—they all make Alzheimer’s disease real.

It’s tragic, but not pitiful; terrifying, but not without its moments of humor and beauty. There’s deep authenticity in Still Alice that reflects the core dignity and grace of humanity.