Tag: English

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Films

Supernova

Supernova is Harry Macqueen’s second movie. It was both written and directed by Macqueen who spent a substantial amount of time researching dementia and visiting dementia support groups. The film is set against the stunning backdrop of the Lake District and features two very established actors and longterm friends playing lovers coming to terms with a young onset dementia diagnosis. Sam (Colin Firth) is a concert pianist. Tusker (Stanley Tucci) is a writer and his partner of twenty years. Tusker’s beginning to develop the symptoms associated with a rare form of dementia which impacts his spatial awareness and balance as well as memory. I felt more could’ve been made of this fact. At times we see Tusker struggling with balance and fine motor skills but I feel Macqueen could’ve made more of the opportunity to inform his audience that not all dementias are predominantly related to memory loss.

Sam and Tusker have loaded up their camper van and taken off on a road trip across England, revisiting some of their favourite places around the area where Tusker grew up. They also stop to visit Sam’s sister, friends and family in his old home and plan to finish the trip with a piano recital, Sam’s first for a number of years. As the trip progresses it becomes increasingly clear that Tusker’s dementia has progressed to the point where both men must make some big decisions about their future. Tusker has planned to take his own life before the symptoms become too much for him to manage. When Sam discovers this plan, he is utterly devastated and raises some important questions about the nature of care and relationships.

There’s a lot to like here. The scenery is beautiful. The soundtrack is gorgeous. The party scene where Tusker gathers all his friends and family for the final time is a very moving piece of writing. It was fantastic to see a gay relationship explored as a dementia narrative and while I’m still not entirely convinced by the casting of two straight men in these roles, Firth does an admirable job and Tucci is a joy to watch. It was also refreshing to see a slightly more nuanced portrayal of dementia with a nod to symptoms beyond memory loss and linguistic confusion though as I said above, I do think more could have been done with this. 

A few of the scenes were a little cloying. Less said the better about the closing scene where Sam plays his recital while somewhere, off screen, Tusker is supposedly taking his life. The film should have ended before this point. There was no need for an extra layer of schmaltz. I felt the movie rushed the conversation around end of life choices. There was so much more to be said and it seemed quite unbelievable that Sam should change his mind on this massive issue so rapidly. I also really hated the inclusion of a persistent extended metaphor about stars and constellations. It felt clunky and very much like it was trying too hard. And finally, my usual rant. Here we have a successful writer and a successful musician with enough money to make decisions about how they wish to live out the last part of their relationship. There is a notable gap in the world of dementia and film when it comes to exploring the working class experience. I’d like to see some characters who aren’t absolutely loaded for a change.

Saying this, Supernova is a pretty good watch. Catch it while it’s still in the cinema.

Supernova was written and directed by Harry Macqueen and released in the UK in June 2021 

Categories
Films

The Father

The Father is playwright, Florian Zeller’s directorial debut. He co-wrote the screenplay with fellow playwright Christopher Hampton based on his own 2012 play, Le Père. I’ve read and written about Le Père on several occasions. It’s an important dementia text in its attempts to allow the audience to see the world through the eyes of someone living with dementia. It is a disorientating, confusing experience but also an incredibly powerful one and none of these sensibilities have been lost in moving the play to the big screen. Though the film still feels reminiscent of a stage play -most of the scenes take place within a handful of rooms- Zeller uses the set to his advantage. The London flat in which the film takes place changes subtly throughout: colour schemes blend, furniture moves and is replaced, and the flat’s layout is almost impossible to comprehend. As in the play, Zeller uses the physical environment of his set to convey a sense of disorientation. It is a very effective technique.

The storyline is a simple one. Anthony, (played impeccably by Anthony Hopkins who received an Oscar for this role), is an older man living with dementia in his daughter’s flat. The daughter, Anne, also beautifully played by Olivia Colman, (honestly this is the cast of dreams), is her father’s sole carer and increasingly distressed by the progress of his illness. Anthony runs through a series of in-house carers. He struggles to get on with anyone. He confuses time. He mistakes Anne’s flat for his own and most worryingly sometimes does not recognise Anne or her husband, (a rather mean, Rufus Sewell). Zeller uses different actors to show the audience what Anthony is seeing when he adamantly insists that this strange woman is not his daughter and this strange man isn’t married to her. The technique is so effective and unsettling that I began to feel as if The Father might be classified as a horror movie. Several of the tropes were present. The domestic familiar made threatening. The oppressive lighting and use of colour. The constant undermining of reality. The set, in particular, reminded me of the house in the Australian horror film The Relic where walls move and doors disappear, mirroring the confusion of a person living with dementia. 

The Father is a difficult watch. It’s beautifully executed and almost perfectly acted by all involved. As an experiment in empathetical viewing it’s really ground-breaking. The viewer is pitched into Anthony’s shoes and spends the following 90 minutes as confused and disorientated as he is. However, there’s little in the way of character development. Aside from a small backstory about his dead daughter we discover very little about Anthony as a man who has lived a long life. For the purpose of the film, he is simply a man with dementia and at times I found this a little reductive though I don’t think Zeller’s intention is to provoke sympathy or even soft empathy for a fully-developed Anthony. He wants the viewer to see the world through the eyes of present day Anthony where dementia has become his dominant narrative. I also appreciated the inclusion of both the examples of elder abuse, (from Anne’s husband), and professional care staff treating Anthony with exemplary kindness and dignity. This is a nuanced portrayal of caring which shows both the worst and best aspects of the care system. One last small point of critique. The characters in The Father are very posh and capable of spending enormous amounts of money on professional care for Anthony. It would be nice to see more examples of working class characters navigating the care system. As frequently noted, there is a distinct lack of diversity when it comes to portraying characters living with dementia. 

The Father was directed by Florian Zeller and released in the UK in June 2021 

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Book Reviews

“This is Paradise” by Will Eaves

I am a massive Will Eaves fan. I love the way Eaves puts a sentence together. I love the kindness at the heart of his writing, the wit, the lyricality, the gentle humour. All my Will Eaves books are heavily underlined. They are full of sentences and thoughts I want to return to and unpick further. This is Paradise is no exception. Published in 2012 it’s a kind of family saga, following the Alldens who live in suburban Bath. We meet them first when their four children are still living at home. The children flutter round the edges of their parents’ oftentimes complex marriage offering the reader insight into their father, Don and their mother, Emily. The family is noisy and chaotic -easily recognisable- but not without its fair share of problems. Don has a philanderer’s eye. Emily, a tendency towards martyring herself.

The novel is a game in two halves. In the second half the four Allden children are grown up, though troubled Clive, is still struggling to sever the links with home. They return to be with their mother in her final days. Emily is dying in a residential care facility. She has dementia and no longer recognises any of her family members. As they spend a few days around her bedside and come together for the funeral service both the cracks and the bonds in the Allden family begin to make their presence known. It is a very familiar story: a family revealing both their best and worst sides when placed under pressure. Eaves captures each small snapshot of Emily’s death with grace and searing honesty.

There are only a few sections of this novel which specifically focus on dementia. However, those that do are particularly well-written and really begin to interrogate issues around residential care. Much is made of the pressure the care staff are under. They’re understaffed, under-supported and under-trained. And yet, Eaves takes great pains to repeatedly show us how kind and compassionate they are in their dealings with both Emily and her grieving family. His portrait of a British care facility with its smells, its sounds and its ever-changing roster of residents is so accurately written I could picture every detail of Emily’s experience. I also felt Eaves does a wonderful job of recording the nuanced reactions of each family member: they all respond differently to Emily’s illness and subsequent death. From her husband who infantilises her and finds a new girlfriend while she’s still alive, to her brother who continually tries to draw attention back to himself, to Clive whose grief is bottomless and Liz, who brings her own nursing experience to the table and is consequently quite pragmatic in the way she deals with her mother’s condition. These are believable portraits of real people reacting within the spectrum of their own emotional capability. As with all of Eaves’ writing, the characterisation is nuanced, realistic and beautifully developed. I could’ve read another 300 pages quite easily.

This is Paradise was published by Picador in 2012 

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Book Reviews

“The Wilderness” by Samantha Harvey

I’m going to be honest from the get go, The Wilderness was one of the first fictional dementia narratives I read and it remains one of my favourites. This was my third re-read and Samantha Harvey’s precise and evocative prose actually improves with each subsequent read. There’s a lot going on in this novel. It centres around Jake. Jake has Alzheimer’s. Jake is piecing his life together to make a timeline for his memory doctor. As he tries to order the events of the last seventy odd years his ability to maintain the facades he’s built up begins to slip. Jake is a man who’s constructed his sense of self out of evasions and deceptions. As the novel progresses and his dementia develops he finds it harder and harder to recall the truth of who he is, what he’s done and how his life has played out. Jake’s sense of self gradually unravels as Harvey deftly paints a picture of an old man who is more easy to empathise with in his vulnerability and confusion than he has been at any other point in his life. 

A cast of women hover around the edges of Jake’s story. His wife, Helen. Joy, the woman he slept with in the early days of his marriage. Eleanor, who has always loved him and now finds herself Jake’s carer, at the end of his life, when he can no longer remember who she is. His mother, Sarah whose presence overshadows his entire existence, colouring his perception of everything. And his young daughter, Alice who died as a child yet reappears to him in adult form as the dementia begins to take hold. All their stories swirl around the novel, repeating, intertwining and fracturing. The reader is offered multiple perspectives and interpretations of the same events and incidents. It’s confusing and at times frustrating. It’s exactly as I imagine an experience of dementia might be and this is why I continually return to The Wilderness as an example of what a dementia narrative could and should be. It’s all consuming. It’s experiential. It drew me in and felt almost like a journey through an actual wilderness and yet it’s also shot through with moments of precise clarity, of incredible beauty and profound pathos. It is, in short, a marvellous book.

The Wilderness was published by Vintage in 2009 

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Book Reviews

“The Built Moment” by Lavinia Greenlaw

Lavinia Greenlaw’s most recent poetry collection, The Built Moment is split into two sections, the first of which explores her father’s journey with dementia. The poems included are, in my opinion, some of the finest and most memorable writing about dementia I’ve come across whilst reading extensively on the subject. I’ve repeatedly found that poetry, with its use of white space, metaphor and resonant language provides a good vehicle through which to express some of the more difficult to quantify aspects of dementia. Greenlaw’s writing blew me away. 

There’s a warmth to these poems which reveals the relationship between the poet and her father and this often translates into a kind of desperation where the poet admits her own inability to help or arrest the progress of the illness, “I tell him I am saving him as quickly as I can.” There are even moments of genuine humour. I particularly enjoyed “The Finishing Line” where the poet’s brother, sitting at his father’s bedside, shares an anecdote about running a race dressed as a gorilla. It reminded me of the muddle and mixed emotions of tending to a much-loved family member’s illness where all the feelings sit close to the surface: sorrow, grief, and also joy. 

However, the thing I found most moving about The Built Moment was Greenlaw’s ability to pin down in words, the experiential side of dementia both from her own and her father’s perspective. It’s notoriously difficult -I know, I’ve tried- to write about an experience as strange as dementia when it isn’t something you’ve been through yourself in your own mind and body. Greenlaw uses evasive, slippery, meandering phrases and words to effectively convey how it must feel to be present and also becoming absent at the same time. “My father has lost his way out of the present./ Something is stopping him leaving, nothing becomes/ the immediate past.” One poem is called “My father has no shadow” and another, “While he can still speak,” in which he talks to his hands and legs as he gets dressed, suggesting he now sits at some distance from his own self. 

It’s the use of language which has had me returning to this collection repeatedly over the last year or so. Greenlaw more than most writers I’ve come across is using words to say the unsayable. She does so with a masterful lightness of touch.

The Built Moment was published by Faber & Faber in 2019

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Book Reviews

“When the Music Stops” by Joe Heap

When the Music Stops is a perfectly pleasant if somewhat predictable wee novel. We meet Ella at seven different points in her life, from a childhood in working class Glasgow, through WW2 to the heyday of rock ‘n’ roll in 60s era London and a, (slightly baffling), late career move to nursing. Throughout her turbulent life three things about Ella remain constant: her love of music, particularly the guitar, her complicated love affair with Robert and the fact that people seem to die around her with worrying frequency. I’m not going to say too much about the premise of this novel. It’s not the kind of book I would usually read. I found it quite contrived and a little thin, but I can also see why readers might enjoy it as a piece of escapism. 

Each of the seven chapters from Ella’s life are framed by short sections from her final days as an elderly women. Ella is living with dementia. We know this because on several occasions she tells us she’s living with dementia. She is eighty seven years old and trapped on a boat lost at sea with her infant grandson. The incidents which led up to this scenario are never quite explained but an elderly woman with dementia, adrift at sea acts as a handy plot device through which the author draws all the various themes at play in Ella’s life together. One by one seven dead people join Ella on the boat offering her advice and practical assistance in helping her to get the baby to safety. It’s made quite clear that these people are all figments of her imagination and yet the reality is she is still able to hoist a main sail, lower lifeboats, find and fire flare guns and all sorts of things which I found completely implausible given the fact that great pains are taken to remind us just how much her memory and capability have been diminished.

I’ve raised the question of dementia as a plot device a number of times in these book reviews. I completely understand that the nature of fiction means that characters often exist primarily to serve the story’s plot. However, I do think that when it comes to using a character with dementia to advance a plot or create dramatic tension, the writer should endeavour to ensure the depiction is well-researched, fully-formed and accurate. I didn’t find the character of Ella as depicted in the “dementia” sections of this novel at all believable. She is confused, forgetful and frail when it suits the plot and at other times uncharacteristically competent. When the Music Stops is a light, fun read and as such is quite enjoyable but I don’t think it stands up as a dementia narrative.

When the Music Stops was published by Harper Collins in 2020 

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Book Reviews

“Happiness” by Aminatta Forna

Happiness is definitely a London novel. The city is as much a character in the book as the two main protagonists around whom the plot resolves. Attila is a recently widowed, Ghanaian psychiatrist, visiting London to present a paper about trauma at an academic conference. Jean is a recently divorced American who is spending some time in London whilst conducting an extended study into urban foxes. The two, quite literally, bump into each other whilst crossing Waterloo Bridge and strike up a friendship which eventually becomes a relationship. As the novel progresses Jean helps Atilla search for his niece’s missing son, mobilising the network of volunteer fox-spotters she’s developed across inner city London. The people who populate this novel, like the foxes Jean tracks and the traumatised individuals Atilla has worked with in the wake of various conflicts, exist on the margins of society and yet are very much interdependent and reliant upon each other for survival. Forna is asking her readers to consider questions around co-existence and community.

Whilst in London Atilla also takes every opportunity to visit his former lover and lifelong research partner, Rosie who is living in a residential care facility. Rosie has developed early onset dementia and is increasingly incapable of recognising Atilla when he visits though she retains some motor memory of their physicality. Atilla is determined to find better care arrangements for Rosie. He’s concerned that the nursing home staff aren’t being as vigilant with her care as they could be. In Atilla’s absence, Emmanuel -the carer whom Rosie had been particularly close to- has been fired and she’s been unable to bond with anyone else. Atilla’s particularly concerned about Rosie’s loss of appetite and disinterest. She isn’t receiving much stimuli or attention in the home. He conspires to set her up in her own apartment where he will pay Emmanuel to be a live-in carer. This plan never comes to fruition as Rosie’s condition deteriorates quickly and she eventually dies. Forna’s depiction of dementia only takes up a small amount of the novel but it’s significant for its portrayal of how care staff are treated and the pressures they face within a residential care setting. On the whole it’s an accurate depiction of dementia : Rosie exhibits ongoing confusion, an inability to tend to her own physical needs and, by the novel’s conclusion has become occasionally violent. Forna intersperses these darker snapshots of the dementia experience with moments of genuine fondness and even levity between Atilla, Rosie and Emmanuel.

I thoroughly enjoyed Happiness. The metaphor of the fox community which runs throughout the novel exists as a perfectly drawn exploration of interdependence between all the living beings who call London home. These complex ideas of community, connection and dependence also exist in the care setting which Forna gives us a glimpse into

Happiness was published by Bloomsbury in 2018 

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Book Reviews

“The Imposter” by Anna Wharton

I was lucky enough to get my hands on a pre-publication proof copy of Anna Wharton’s first novel, The Imposter which is due for release in early 2021. Anna has been a journalist, writer and ghost writer for many, many years and most notably worked alongside Wendy Mitchell on her bestselling memoir about her life with early onset Alzheimer’s, Somebody I Used to Know. It’s easy to see how the time spent working on this amazing non-fiction book impacted Wharton’s first novel. Dementia is a key theme running through The Imposter and the description of both the illness and Grace, who is living with Alzheimer’s are both incredibly accurate and deftly written.

I want to be careful not to give away too many spoilers when describing The Imposter. Suffice to say if you enjoy a well-written thriller with twists and turns and surprises along the way. You’re going to really enjoy this novel. The main protagonist Chloe is an almost reclusive young woman who works as an archivist in a local newspaper by day and spends all her spare time caring for her Nan who has recently been diagnosed with Dementia. Chloe’s life changes really quickly when her Nan’s condition begins to decline so rapidly she’s forced to move the older lady into a residential care facility. As Chloe faces this huge life change she also becomes obsessed with a decades old, missing child case she discovers in the archives at work. Chloe begins to lose touch with her Nan as she becomes more and more entangled in the lives of the missing child’s parents who have never given up hope that their daughter might someday come home.

I’m not going to say too much about the missing child storyline in The Imposter except to say it had me hooked from the start and still on tenterhooks four hundred pages later. Wharton is a brilliant storyteller with a gift for building up tension and introducing believable twists in her plotlines. As a Dementia narrative I also found The Imposter very convincing. It includes so many familiar tropes I’ve come to associate with Alzheimer’s: wandering, confusing times and not recognising family members, forgetting when and what is appropriate to eat. Anyone who’s spent time with a family member or loved one living with Alzheimer’s will recognise both Grace’s behaviour patterns and the ways in which Chloe attempts to protect and reassure her Nan. There’s a scene near the start where Chloe is forced to buy yet another identical electric kettle to replace the ones her Nan has melted on the hob, which I’ve experienced personally with family members who have Dementia. Wharton’s depiction of Chloe is also spot on. Chloe both resents and relies upon the support of the care facility and social worker and Wharton does a wonderful job of capturing her frustration. It’s abundantly clear that Wharton has done a huge amount of research into Dementia and as a result Grace is one of the more believable and accurate of the characters I’ve encountered in my reading so far.

I was also incredibly relieved to find that Dementia has not been reduced now to a plot device in The Imposter. The storyline which explores Grace and Chloe’s relationship runs parallel to the more thriller-like storyline in the novel and exists as a wonderful piece of character development, allowing us to get an insight into who Chloe is and how her relationship with her Nan has developed. I really enjoyed this novel. It was great to see a character with Dementia included in such a well-developed way in a novel which is not primarily about Dementia. I’m looking forward to reading more of Anna Wharton’s work.

The Imposter was published by Mantle Books in 2021 

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Book Reviews

“Three Things About Elsie” by Joanna Cannon

Joanna Cannon’s second novel Three Things About Elsie is set in a home for the elderly. The book takes place across a single evening just after 84 year old Florence has taken a tumble. For the duration of the novel, she’s lying on the floor of her flat waiting to see if anyone’s going to come and offer her help. As her mind skips backwards and forwards between her early life and the more recent events which have brought her to this place, the reader goes on a journey with Florence, piecing together a very old mystery. Florence is clearly living with dementia. She’s frequently confused and often forgetful. There’s a wonderful scene where a cleaner opens her kitchen cupboard to reveal she’s been inadvertently stockpiling Battenberg cake.

Florence is troubled by the sudden appearance of a new resident in the old people’s home. Though this man claims to be someone else, she’s absolutely convinced he’s a man she knew when she was a girl. A man she’s incredibly afraid of. A man whom she thought died fifty years ago. Florence begins her own investigation though it’s increasingly hard for her to keep track of what’s true and what’s not. She’s ably assisted by her friends Jack and Elsie though by the novel’s conclusion we realise Elsie is not exactly what she seems. None of the staff in the older people’s home take Florence’s concerns seriously. She’s frequently dismissed, often ignored and lives in constant fear of being sent to live in a specialist dementia care facility. 

Three Things About Elsie is very similar to Elizabeth is Missing in tone, theme and approach. It’s part of the increasingly large canon of fiction using dementia as a trope within crime fiction and thrillers. It’s a pleasant enough read if somewhat unsurprising. You’ll spot the big twist coming from quite early on. At times it feels like the symptoms of Florence’s dementia fit all too neatly around the plot. She’s confused when the plot requires a little ambiguity and at other times crystal clear and more insightful than many of the other characters. Without giving away too many spoilers I think Cannon effectively handles the conceit of having Florence imagine people who aren’t really there. The reader gets to see both sides of the conversation. The other characters only hear what Florence says. I also enjoyed the aspects dealing with how the care staff perceived their roles and felt the ongoing issue of older people being dismissed and infantilised was handled very well in this novel. It’s not the best dementia narrative I’ve ever read but it is an enjoyable read and you’ll not regret spending time with the characters.

Three Things About Elsie was published by Borough Press in 2018 

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Book Reviews

“May” by Naomi Kruger

Naomi Kruger’s beautifully written debut novel May is a story about how we remember the past, what we choose to hold on to and what must be let go. It centres around May, an elderly women living with dementia in a residential care facility. The novel is structured around a single day in May’s life. May’s own voice is the leitmotif running throughout the novel. After each chapter we hear fragmented snippets of her thoughts which allow us an insight into the confusion and cacophony of different memories and ideas all competing for May’s attention.

The chapters of the novel are narrated by a handful of different people who’ve had an impact on May. We hear from her daughter, Karen, her grandson, Alex, May’s husband, Arthur and Sana, the young female carer who’s grown close to her in the nursing home. Each of them gives us a little more understanding of May’s story and helps us piece together both who she was and who she now is. Kruger also slowly reveals a decades old mystery which May has become more and more obsessed with since her move into the nursing home. The multiple narrative voices work well here. They’re each strong and developed enough to feel like complete stories in their own right. Though they patch together May’s personal story, they also show how each of the characters has been influenced and impacted by their relationship with her. I particularly appreciated this. Often in dementia narratives, it falls to secondary characters to shape and establish the character living with dementia. Here the secondary characters have been just as impacted by encountering May as she is shaped by their testimonies.

May is an exquisitely written novel. The prose is clean but warm. It doesn’t sentimentalize the family’s relationship with May or approach her illness too emotionally. However, the fondness is apparent, particularly in her grandson’s and Sana’s narratives. I loved the humour Kruger brought to the scenes which showcase interactions with the residents of the nursing home. May is also notable for its exploration of the fractured thought processes of someone living with advanced dementia. We are given multiple opportunities to see how May’s thoughts have become confused and distorted. Kruger does a stellar job in translating this confusion into words. 

May was published by Seren Books in 2018