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This is my greatest fear: loosing words and, therefore thought.
I can't tell you if this was a profoundly moving piece, as I can't feel it. I expect it's my self protection: I cannot allow myself to be traumatized by this experience, so I dissociate from it.
Not surprisingly, I appreciated more the flashbacks. Wasn't 'til the movie was over I realized the young Iris was Winslet. I'd seen her name in opening credits, but had forgotten by the time the film began. Best thing I've seen her in.
How did Dench drain consciousness from her eyes like that? It was chilling.
I have personal experience, working with people with Alzheimer's. I know what to expect.
I don't suspect I'll have that; I suspect dementia. It's common with brain injuries in later life.
I have been forgetful my entire life; it's hard to tell if it's getting worse.
I do know how to humanely end my life and plan to do so if I see myself becoming too incapacitated. I won't be a ward of the state, if I can help it.
This film didn't really help me learn much about how to take care of myself in event of lost capacity. I think I watched it hoping it would. And I love Dench.
I did get confirmation that a person with behavioral health challenges like me needs to be more vigilante with housework. A disheveled house is just another excuse for whomever to judge and condemn me into helplessness. I have to be very careful not to give them reason. I can't, at my age and with my background, even have a conversation with a sheriff's deputy without the issue of medication being brought up. It's frightening. They assume I'm not competent.
So, no film review here, just my personal stuff around the film.
Ought you see it? Absolutely, if you've the stomach for it.
I need to read Iris Murdoch's stuff now. She sounds like my kind of gal. At least, she did.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iris_%28film%29
