Still Alice

Alice Howland is 50 years old and a prestigious university professor of linguistics. Her life takes a turn when she is diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's. The film, Still Alice, follows her struggle to maintain her identity as the disease erases her memories, language, and even her ability to recognize her loved ones.

Julianne Moore delivers a heartbreaking performance that earned her the Oscar for Best Actress. It's not an easy role: Alice goes from being a brilliant and confident woman to relying on sticky notes to remember her own address. The camera doesn't revel in the drama, but it doesn't shy away from it either. Each scene hurts because Moore makes it real, without melodrama.

Director Richard Glatzer and Wash Westmoreland sign a script that avoids cheap sentimentality. There are no villains or magic solutions, just the cruelty of a disease that advances without mercy. The film doesn't try to move you with low blows, but to show how Alzheimer's dismantles a life piece by piece. And it succeeds.

The supporting cast —Kristen Stewart, Alec Baldwin, Kate Bosworth— adds nuances without stealing the spotlight. Stewart, in particular, surprises with an unusual sobriety. But the weight falls on Moore, and she bears it with a dignity that takes your breath away.

Still Alice is not a film about death, but about what's left when memory goes. It's not perfect —some dialogues sound too explanatory—, but its honesty saves it. If you're looking for a drama that doesn't treat you like a child, this is the one. That said: bring tissues.

Moore embodies loss with a dignity that hurts; the film is an intimate and dazzling study of forgetfulness.