Lisa Genova’s Still Alice is the definition of a successful book. Translated into 20 languages and sold in over 30 countries, it was later made into a film starring Julianne Moore. Detailing early-onset Alzheimer’s faced by Alice Howland, successful Harvard professor, it struck a sombre, surprising tone as I read it about the deuteriation of one’s memory and identity. Adapted by Christine Mary Dunford for the stage, I recently went to the Cambridge Arts Theatre to visually witness the disease’s effects.
Structurally, this play differs from many I’ve seen over the years. There was no interval, instead one 90-minute performance, the only indications of time moving forward the projection of months and years above the stage. Immediately, this symbolised that Alzheimer’s, sadly, never ends. While drugs and different trials far beyond my capacity of understanding can delay the effects, it never goes away. It is ongoing, those with it, and others affected, having to live with the condition. The show began with a large, detailed set: a kitchen sink, fridge, tables, chairs, laptop, scenery displaying the busyness of the family’s life. Alice, played by Sharon Small, has a successful, dominating career lecturing, researching and writing, her husband John (Martin Marquez) the same. There is little time to remain still, rather, they are eternally progressing in knowledge and understanding to further humanity. By the end of the play, when Alice’s condition is at its living worst, there are just a couple of holiday chairs left; her life totally transformed into visual and mental nothingness. What remains is her inner mind, Eva Pope revealing Alice’s true thoughts, far harder to reveal on the stage than in prose. Despite the evident decline of Alice’s mental knowledge and stability, the fact it is represented so gradually, occurring over many months, makes the whole experience far more frightening. The different scenes show incidents, awkward situations where her Alzheimer’s causes confusion. From smaller incidents, saying the same thing twice, failing to remember how many ‘a dozen’ is, initially forgetting to take luggage, to far deeper incidents like getting lost while running, attending her office in the middle of the night, struggling to find the toilet resulting in inner humiliation, the severity and wide domination of the condition is told to us bit by bit. The full tragedy of Alice’s decline is only explored towards the end, congratulating an actress for a play, not recognising that actress is her own daughter. The implications of Alice’s condition on other family members is evident and clear. Her daughter Lydia (Ruth Ollman) trying to further her acting career in Los Angeles, feels the need to return home and care for her mother. Similarly, son Tom (Mark Armstrong), about to become a father, struggles between his needs and those of his parents. John, the most understanding of them all, tries to hold everyone together, feeling guilty about wishing to further his own career. They all desire the best for Alice, without doubt a splendid mother and wife. Such a condition fails to bring agreement among them, arguments, frustration, and eventually tears, commonplace. It is impossible to deny the play is moving, characters we wish to live happy, enjoyable lives struck by sadness of their mother – only 50 years of age – a changed person. The discussion about Alzheimer’s doesn’t often take place, the image that brings to mind just immediate transference to an old people’s home. Even when there is a conversation, it is always linked to older people, where the condition, despite its horrors, is expected. Such a young person suffering from memory loss, disorientation (initially believing it to be the menopause) is not on the public radar, nor is the lifelong suffering and effort of families and friends. The Howlands almost had the ideal life. Successful careers, a social circle, frequent travelling, healthy children and much love. Dunford presents them as the archetype of the upper middle class, their initial main concern first world problems. From Alzheimer’s, every day can become a struggle, Small presented Alice as a character of variation: some days are fine, other days, just from the look on someone’s face, she knows she has made an error. Yet love for one another stays constant throughout the play. Marquez superbly plays John as a husband that is supportive no matter the situation, there for Alice when she gives a speech about her condition, available for his children and at almost all health meetings. Despite life hardly staying still, instead a permanent transformation, Dunford excellently showed that some characteristics: love, companionship and hope, never change, no matter the issue.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Author:Noah enjoys writing a blog and drinking tea Archives
September 2022
Categories
All
|