I reviewed Lynne Ramsay’s latest, Die My Love, starring Jennifer Lawrence and Robert Pattinson. Here’s what I wrote on Instagram:
It hits a niche (perhaps) sweet spot of yours truly: people blather on and on (AND ON) about destigmatizing mental illness – but they only mean when it presents in socially acceptable ways. I see this over and over (and over) and I can’t STAND it. Not sure what people think a mental breakdown looks like. Adorable? Sympathetic? Crying and writing in your journal? When the “real thing” actually shows up, people recoil from the bad behavior, the public embarrassment, etc. Message received. You still want SOME kinds of expression stigmatized. Got it. Like I said: this is somewhat niche and so close to me I might lack objectivity but *I don’t care*. I’ve watched endless cycles of what happens when a famous person cracks up publicly. I always want to say “the person is SICK. I’m not sure what you THINK that looks like.” I’ve often thought that if I were famous in 2009 I would have been mocked and criticized and judged – by people who consider themselves tolerant. I was raging through Manhattan, making public spectacles of myself, and I know I was difficult and sometimes scary but I was * fucking sick*. And had no help. So there’s my shpeel. If you feel defensive reading this, then this is for you specifically! Consider yourself named. And so I thought of all this watching DIE MY LOVE. It’s relentless and unpleasant but … it’s so close first person it actually comes close to being a pure distillation of what it actually feels like to lose it. It doesn’t present the experience. It expresses it.
Again, here’s my review, where I go into all of this.
Amazing review over at Ebert, then came here and saw this. Cannot believe the amount of anger you must feel. Very very close friend (70s, 80s) was bipolar (or whatever the fuck they are calling it now). He was an early patient of Dr. Ari Kiev (sp?) and on lithium till he died. Loved him, but admit to feeling embarrassed, pained, strained by his behavior sometimes. Not all the time. He could be “wonderful” too. But so much anger and pain and frustration. It is where I learned to tolerate loving another human being. Worth it a hundred times over. Miss him every day. Not sure I can see the movie, but will try. Take care, Sheila.