There are many, many films about older people with dementia or Alzheimer’s. In Away from Her, we get the impression that the disease is harder on the spouse, who essentially has to mourn their loved one twice: for their death, and earlier for the loss of the person they once were. Meanwhile, another film like The Father keeps us in the point of view of the afflicted, using a clever filmmaking conceit to suggest how the loss of memory might frighten or disorient us. The Almond and the Seahorse, the new cumbersomely named drama from directors Celyn Jones and Tom Stern, complicates those stories because it is not about familiar kinds of mental trauma. By focusing on people who suffer from traumatic brain injuries, Stern and Jones’ adaptation of a play by Kaite O’Reilly allows them to consider ordinary folks who are younger than those who experience this kind of loss.
The central focus is on two couples who visit the same clinic for traumatic brain injuries. Sarah (Rebel Wilson, in a rare dramatic role) is married Joe (Jones), who is quickly losing his memory after complications from the removal of a tumor. In one memorable scene, we see Joe struggle at his London flat by himself, effectively erasing his memory every few minutes, and how that provokes extreme anxiety. On top of that, his memory loss means he reverts to a childlike mental state. Meanwhile, Toni (Charlotte Gainsbourg) realizes she cannot live with her partner, Gwen (Trine Dyrholm), leaving her at the clinic. Tired and exasperated, Sarah and Toni find comfort in each other, embarking on a brief affair while their spouses find some normalcy away from home.
The directors take their time getting Toni and Sarah into each other’s arms, instead focusing on their feelings of loss and abject loneliness. They suggest that Toni and Sarah are in a unique position to help one another, as few others are in position to understand their situation fully. Meera Syal plays Dr. Falmer, who runs the clinic, and understands what everyone feels more than they can admit, but her firm explanations can only provide so much of what the spouses need to hear. Indeed, the scenes respectively involving Gwen and Tom are harrowing, a more realistic portrayal of what it might be like to have the memory loss we know from Memento. In particular, Gwen has to relearn every day that she lost her unborn child when the memory loss occurred, and that her mother also passed years ago. Dyrholm is a marvelous actor, capable of great range, and her scenes alone are well-observed depictions of pain, and finally gentleness.
In adapting the play, Jones and Stern must realize the source material is not quite approaching the length of a feature-film. They pad out The Almond the Seahorse with many languid, tiresome shots of nature or close-ups, robbing their story of narrative inertia. By making the relationship between Toni and Sarah more tasteful than erotic, they lose the chance to consider physical intimacy as a form of solace. The film ultimately becomes tasteful to a fault, opting to resolve in a poignant way that robs these stories of recognition or accuracy. While it is likely common for husbands and wives to remain loyal to their afflicted partners, perhaps the film would benefit by showing a spouse who chooses separation over loyalty, depicting the difficulty of this outcome with empathy and without judgment. This film does not choose that path because it would be more difficult, leading to a resolution that it studiously should have avoided: something false.
Photo courtesy of IFC Films
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