“Art that disturbs the comforted and comforts the disturbed.” This is the first thought that popped up as I stood up from my movie theater seat, waking up from my trance following this 2-hour movie. If you’ve ever struggled with depression, psychosis, and madness, this is the movie for you. If you haven’t, the movie will be confusing.
This movie was a trippy one. People who haven’t experienced darkness-turned-madness don’t get it— evidenced by the theater front desk guy who said, “That’s a deep movie. I didn’t really get it.” Well I, for one, GOT IT. On a profound level. Not the part about postpartum depression, since I’ve never had a baby. And after watching this movie and seeing the devastating effects of pregnancy on a mother’s psyche, I definitely don’t want to get pregnant and bear my own children. I feel like that’s not talked about often enough— fear of motherhood due to mental illness. It’s a very real fear of mine— palpable, when I think of it. I am three times more likely to get PPD because of my bipolar. I won’t jeopardize my stability for anything because I’ve worked so hard to attain it. A kid… that is the most destabilizing thing in the world. Also one of the most fulfilling, primal experiences one can have. And yet. Unlike men, I cannot choose not to be in this kid’s life. If I become a mother, I will see it through to the end. In the movie, Grace is struggling with her sanity and grip on reality, but she never showed signs of attachment difficulties to her baby. She was mentally ill and needed help, and didn’t get it from her absent husband who was a cheating liar. It is easy for men to be like, “Oh, I’m going to work,” and then fuck another woman, and come home pretending like it didn’t happen. This is coming from me, perpetually The Other Woman in men’s narrative.
Grace needed a team of support to help her through her crisis— she needed a therapist, a doctor, friends who actually cared and didn’t say stupid insensitive callous remarks to her, a husband who needed to do more than just give her space— and by the way, Grace’s madness really affected Jackson too, mentally, which made me feel for Jackson as well.
Grace was a writer. And because of her illness, she lost the ability to write. I get that, truly. Writing, and art in general, is one of those things that depend so much on your mental state— your art reflects your inner landscape. When you’re suffocating in darkness, how can you be expected to do anything beyond surviving, let alone write or create?
Yeah, this movie did a superb job letting us inside the mind of a psychotic woman. It was painful for me to watch, especially the end, when she died by fire, at her own hands.
“Enough.” is what she said to Jackson before she walked into the woods, burned her writing, her life narrative, and set herself aflame. I love how Jackson only puts up a fight when something is seriously wrong, and she’s on the brink. He chooses to ignore all the warning signs. He, who claims to love her. That is not how to love someone, especially when that person is sick and at their most vulnerable. Jackson was a shitty partner. Grace was the victim in this… Pam, Jackson’s mom, was well-meaning, but self-care advice alone (yoga, hot tea with lemon) could not save Grace. I was mad at the people around her who needed to do better, especially because Grace was so loving and supportive for all of them.
- Tying Harold’s shoelaces, cajoling him back to bed when he was sleepwalking
- Visiting Pam when she was struggling to grieve her dead husband, walking all the way to Pam’s house with the baby
- Being there for Jackson when he broke down after his dad’s funeral
- Calming Jackson down during his panic attack
- Tending to her baby at all hours even when she didn’t want to, while her sad excuse of a husband slept (and wouldn’t have sex with her for 2.5 months while he slept with other women)
We need to do better for people like Grace. And people like me. I am supported by many, which is why I am here today. I want to be that beacon of light, that brick wall, that unshakable diamond pillar, rays of my soul bouncing off its walls. I want to be that for other people.
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