Like a soaring guitar solo in a mediocre song, Julianne Moore will blow you away in Still Alice, while the rest of the rickety disease movie can barely hold itself together. The movie isn’t a disaster, though; you can’t really divorce Moore’s performance from the rest of the film because the performance intrinsically belongs to the film. But is Moore alone enough to make Still Alice worth watching? The short answer is no, but she does get some help from a young, underrated actress whose effort is just as commendable, but will likely go unnoticed by most. More on that later…

Movies about pressing, important topics like, in this case, Alzheimer’s disease, are fueled by good intentions, though it almost goes without saying that golden statues are always part of the long-term plan as well. Moore’s turn as Alice Howland, a heralded linguistics professor at Colombia who develops a rare case of early-onset Alzheimer’s, is a role every actress in Hollywood would die to play, though few could pull it off as well as Moore does here. But man, is this a dumpy movie. Expect Moore to be showered with praise come Oscar time, and count on Still Alice disappearing into the ether shortly thereafter.

It’s a tragedy of cataclysmic proportions for a woman to have her brain, the very thing she built her long legacy with, deteriorate and slip away at such a young age (50). Moore’s Alice notices small glitches at first: on a routine run around town she suffers a panic attack when, while standing in the middle of the very campus she teaches at, she realizes she has no idea where she is; while giving a lecture she’s given many times before, she loses her place and can’t remember what words come next. She’s got everything to be proud of: a loving family, lots of money, the respect of her colleagues. She’s brilliant, well-liked, and beautiful. But what of that matters when her mind is slipping away by the minute? The irony is just a hair short of ridiculous (writer-director duo Wash Westmoreland and Richard Glatzer’s style is perpetually melodramatic), though the realities of the disease highlighted are sobering to say the least.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, Alice discovers that her condition is hereditary, and there’s a good chance her three children–played by Kristen Stewart, Kate Bosworth, and Hunter Parrish–have inherited the disease themselves. The film focuses on Alice’s relationship with Stewart’s character, Lydia, who’s the least successful of the three kids, as far as Alice is concerned. Lydia wants to be a stage actress, a career choice her mother finds less than ideal, because actresses don’t make a lot of money. (There’s a joke in there somewhere, but it’s not funny.)

Of the three children, Lydia is the one who devotes the most time to caring for her deteriorating mother, despite their contentious relationship. After years of not living up to her mother’s expectations, the tables turn and, as Alice’s need for assistance increases, Lydia’s there to be her rock. Stewart is the young actress I mentioned earlier, and she’s a wonderful screen partner for Moore, much like she is for Juliette Binoche in the upcoming Clouds of Sils Maria. With her signature “bad girl” air and perpetually unimpressed expression, you expect Stewart to be that rebellious child who unleashes years of frustration when Alice’s disappointment becomes too overbearing, but she never becomes that. She remains restrained and wise, and becomes every bit the woman her mother is. When the two meet backstage at one of Lydia’s plays and Alice mistakes her own daughter for a stranger, tears well up in Lydia’s eyes. Instead of breaking down, Stewart conveys the heartbreak in as few moves as possible, never going big. It’s the sign of a great actress.

What makes critiquing this movie so complicated is the disparity between Moore’s performance and her directors’. This movie should be nothing more than a step-by-step, formulaic bore, and in many ways it is, but it’s almost impossible not to be compelled by what Moore does on-screen. She’s a master. Her role is unique in that, while other Oscar-bait-y roles start quiet and build up to a series of loud, bravura scenes at the film’s climax, here Alice’s emotional arc goes up, and then slopes steeply downward: upon being diagnosed her anxiety goes through the roof, but as her mental faculties and memories fade, she becomes more and more emotionally blank.

The key to Moore’s performance lies in her eyes. At the film’s outset, Alice’s eyes look full of big ideas and wit and ambition, but as her mind slips away, her eyes become more confused and vacant. It’s devastating to watch, and the representation of mental decay is beautifully depicted by Moore. The desperation and sorrow is overwhelming as Alice can’t find the bathroom in her own beach house, or introduces herself to her son’s girlfriend twice, or has a breakdown when she can’t find her cell phone. You’re definitely going to cry. There’d be nothing unjust about handing Moore any amount of award statues.

Alice’s biologist husband (a decent Alec Baldwin) is at first in denial about the affliction, but as time marches on and Alice’s condition worsens, his focus shifts to his job. He’s not a louse, or a coward, just a self-absorbed man who isn’t willing to dedicate his life to his ailing wife. Bosworth and Parrish remain mostly in the background, and their characters seem to be there only to provide a stark contrast to Lydia.

Just as it’s hard not to be moved by Moore, it’s hard not to notice how schematic the script is. We’re shoved from moment to moment, each designed specifically to illustrate just how depressing Alice’s condition is without providing much else, dramatically. Despite the title’s message of existential perseverance, Still Alice offers no revelatory perspective on Alice’s condition. Everything that defines her as an individual gets stripped away, and it leaves you feeling empty and sad. Is there anything left of her? That’s a question I wish the filmmakers gave more thought.

Kat Coiro’s tender romantic drama And While We Were Here takes us into the romantic, yet foreign, background of Italy to emphasise a situation that’s all too familiar – a marriage in trouble. The film was originally screened in black and white on the festival circuit, but was converted to color for general release. This was a wise decision for two reasons: firstly, it avoids alienating certain audiences, given the current mindset most people have about black and white films; and secondly, the settings are just too beautiful to take away their color and vibrancy. Though this does lead to more focus on the scenery than the development of the characters, the film is nevertheless a unique tale of a woman discovering herself when it seems too late.

Married couple Jane (Kate Bosworth) and Leonard (Iddo Goldberg) are in Naples for two weeks while Leonard is playing the viola in an orchestra, it quickly becomes clear that he has stronger feelings for his instrument than he does for her. There are no disagreements between the two, simply a lackluster attitude toward the other. While this inspires some sympathy, (particularly for Jane, since Leonard seems to be about as interesting as… well, a violist) it isn’t much, since we never knew them when they were happy; this lack of contrast makes it hard for us to feel a sense of loss at the disintegration of their marriage.

On the other hand, it does mean that when Jane meets 19 year old Caleb (Jamie Blackley) we’re as relieved as she is to finally see some sparks. While their chance encounter quickly evolves into a whirlwind affair caught up in the romance of the city around them, the relationship between Jane and Leonard becomes even more strained, despite Leonard’s obliviousness to the entire situation, eventually building up to Jane’s climactic decision – and, refreshingly, it’s not what you’d expect.

This is where the film’s strength lies – in its lack of predictability and its unique take on marriage – because it understands (in a way few romantic films do these days) that it cannot possibly speak for all relationships, and instead chooses to focus on the individuality of one. This individuality is especially clear in Blackley’s character; the carefree teen with a love of beauty isn’t just a stereotype, but is also intelligent, ambitious, and mature. Particularly as he’s mature enough that the age difference seems negligible, it’s not hard for us to be seduced by what he represents just as much as Jane is. Rather, Leonard’s reliability functions as a flaw when shown in such proximity to Caleb’s spontaneity.

The film’s soundtrack is punctuated by Jane listening to tapes of her grandmother’s recollection of living through two world wars as she wanders through the streets of Italy. While this provides an interesting narrative, and is often poignant when it seems her grandmother’s words apply to her own life, it also seems a little too convenient; it often turns moments that could have been subtly intriguing into something of a conspicuous agenda. Kate Bosworth’s reactions to these realisations, however, inject some vital legitimacy to the plot, as she does a fantastic job of building our involvement with Jane’s emotions. In contrast to those instances in which we’re hoping for a character to take a certain course of action, we’re instead as unsure of what we want as she is of her own desires.

And While We Were Here, with its simple premise, predictable conflicts and unexpected resolutions, is both every romantic film you’ve seen and every romantic film you haven’t seen. What originally seems a slightly pointless venture soon shapes into an organic experience that stirs our own thoughts on life, death and love. Indeed, it picks up on tensions present so pervasively through film and society that it’s hard to feel as though it’s not an argument you’re having for the twentieth time. What makes this film worth watching is that for the first time, the argument doesn’t end the same way.

And While We Were Here trailer:

The production of Black Rock is a husband and wife collaboration between Mark Duplass handling the screenwriting duties and Katie Aselton coming up with the story and working as the director for the second time in her career. Making its premiere at the Sundance Film Festival back in 2012, this stalker thriller earns merit through effort only as the film does not achieve what it intends to do. It is bad when the characters are even asking themselves, “Is this it?”, only ten minutes into the film. By the end the viewer has no choice but to wonder the same.

The film starts off with two childhood friends, Sarah (Kate Bosworth) and Lou (Lake Bell), looking to reconnect by retreating to a remote island in Maine for a weekend. But Lou’s excitement hits a speed bump when she realizes that a third friend named Abby (Katie Aselton) was also invited. These two have an unresolved issue with each other that goes way back. Just as the two make up their minds about bailing on the expedition, Sarah convinces them to forget about their disagreements and continue on with exploring the remote island just as they did back when they were kids.

Lou and Abby get into a heated argument not long after they reached the island, but as they are about to finally make amends they are frighteningly interrupted by the sight of three men with guns walking through the woods. It turns out that these men were recently discharged from the Army and came to the island to hunt deer. After the initial shock of not being the only ones on the island wears down, they invite the three men to their campfire. The night quickly grows out of hand after the excessive amount of alcohol is consumed, and the girls soon become the hunted target.

At about the halfway mark, Black Rock is still thrilling and entertaining, but unfortunately the film peaks just as it starts to become interesting. The film ends up playing out just as one would expect it to, offering no real surprises along the way. The real irony here is that a character flat out states, “Sometimes you can’t go by the book. You can’t follow every single rule.” Yet the film does not follow its own advice.

Much of the dialog in the film feels improvised and with Duplass in the credits that should not come as a surprise. The part that is surprising is how poor the dialog works. There are multiple instances where the characters seem to be at a loss of words while trying to extend the scene. Furthermore, the film verbally spells out what is happening rather than letting the scene speak for itself; most noticeable when the man with a gun shouts, “I am going to find you and kill you.” as if his intentions were not made obvious enough.

Black Rock is a bit peculiar as some of the best moments of the film occur while it is still setting up the exposition. When the story actually develops it quickly becomes less interesting and more far-fetched. In its final act things completely fall apart with a downright laughable ending that is completely unimaginative. To put it nicely, Black Rock is a rare misstep for Mark Duplass and a largely disappointing film as a whole.

I was initially intrigued by Black Rock when I heard it was written by Mark Duplass and directed by his wife Katie Aselton, who also stars in the film. A trailer for Black Rock has landed and it looks to be a gripping thriller about three young women who travel to an island but soon discover they are not alone. Though the trailer may reveal a little too much of the plot, as most tend to do these days, it certainly looks like it will be one hell of a ride.

Watch the official trailer for Black Rock: