During my final year of college, I endured the deepest period of depression I had ever felt in my entire life. I am grateful that I have not experienced anything that psychologically painful since. I am lucky, getting the support and care I have needed. It’s hard to think about that period even now, and writing about it makes me feel as if I’m desperately grasping for the right words.
At that point in my life, there were two works of art that moved me in such profound ways, that lifted my soul for the duration of my time with them. They were necessary respites from my anguish, and they reminded me about the beauty mixed with the pain of being alive, of how the human spirit can endure, of how our most selfless and loving capacities make life worthwhile. They were there for me when I needed them.
The first work of art is the film Blade Runner 2049. I will definitely feature this masterpiece in a future discussion. The second work is the novel Turtles All the Way Down by John Green. The novel tells the story of a high school student named Aza Holmes, who joins in a quest with her best friend Daisy to find a missing billionaire on the run from the law in order to win the reward of one hundred thousand dollars for his whereabouts. Their efforts lead Aza to reunite with an old friend from earlier in her childhood, Davis, with whom she comes to develop a budding romance. However, Aza suffers from intrusive thoughts and thought spirals, and her struggles against her own mind interfere with her life and relationships.
Depression isn’t the only psychological condition I have lived with. I also have obsessive-compulsive disorder, along with its related anxieties. I’ve struggled with thought spirals and intrusive thoughts since around age seven. The reason I adore Green’s novel so deeply is that it is such a profound, moving, and authentic exploration of life with OCD, in my view. So much of Aza’s hardships have resonated with my own experiences. Her fears about living a normal, full life, with loving friendships, enriching romance, and a meaningful career are fears I have had. The way she is struck by intrusive thoughts that derail her attention from the present moment is something I have experienced. The way her repetitive, compulsive behaviors eat away at her time and threaten her health echo with what I’ve gone through. Both her and I have wondered, how can we live meaningful and full lives, if our brains cause us so much misery and interfere with what we hope to do?
Author John Green lives with OCD, and he has spoken and written about it outside of his fictional novel. I don’t mean to suggest that fiction is thinly-veiled autobiography; what I want to do is applaud his courage in speaking about his condition in nonfictional contexts and his fortitude in diving into the specificity of Aza’s experiences in the novel.
I have learned in writing classes that specificity is what makes art so relatable; art that is vague feels hollow or distant. Ultimately, I was able to relate to Aza thanks to the novel’s specificity, and I believe many readers with similar real-life experiences have been and would be able to relate to her. The book is also a life-affirming story, and through Aza’s growth, I felt hopeful about my own life. This is why, in the depths of my depression, the novel lifted me up.
I wrote a glowing review of the novel for an undergraduate arts and culture magazine when the book came out in 2017, and I recommend it to all my friends who like books. I hold it close to my heart, and I think I always will.
I want to emphasize the importance of the novel in my life before discussing the film adaptation of Turtles All the Way Down, which was released on Max a couple of months ago. I was curious about how the adaptation would work with the source material. So much of the book is powered by Aza’s first-person point-of-view. I am happy to say that the movie lives up to the novel, serves as an excellent adaptation to a new medium, and preserves my favorite elements of the book.
The film Turtles All the Way Down, directed by Hannah Marks, written for the screen by Elizabeth Berger & Isaac Aptaker, uses a brilliant technique to convey the sharpness of Aza’s (played masterfully by Isabela Merced) intrusive thoughts. In the middle of a scene, without warning, the film score turns to static, and the screen flashes with microscopic footage of disease-causing organisms while Aza narrates her intrusive fears of contamination in voiceover. Her voice is pained and tired; these are thoughts she has had again, and again, and again.
There are moments in the film when Aza is with her friends Daisy (Cree) and Mychal (Maliq Johnson), or with Davis (Felix Mallard), while is afflicted by her thoughts; I winced in pain and in empathy as I watched these scenes in the film, as the voice of the people around her faded away and her inner thoughts took over.
The translation of Aza’s experiences into the film medium is excellent, and on top of that, the film maintains the introspection and reflective elements of the book. Aza, as someone who is at war with her own mind, ponders questions of identity and self; she asks, how can she be her thoughts, if she cannot control them? If she is not her thoughts, then who is she? Living with a psychological condition truly can be the source of existential dread, and I admire that the film dives into these questions through Aza’s conversations with her psychiatrist Dr. Singh (Poorna Jagannathan) and with Davis as the young lovers begin to open up to each other. The film also introduces a new character not present in the book to emphasize the story’s themes of existentialism, identity, and self in an organic way: Professor Abbott (J. Smith-Cameron), a hero of Aza’s, with whom the high schooler hopes to study at university after high school. The fact that Professor Abbott is tied to Aza’s future aspirations allows the film to further explore Aza’s worries about her future.
This story is, at its heart, a character portrait, and Isabela Merced is incredible as Aza. When she is trapped in a thought spiral, she doesn’t speak her thoughts; her pain and strife are conveyed through her face. She also has incredible range, at times resistant and clashing with her therapist, at times openly howling her fears and agony at her mother Gina (Judy Reyes). This isn’t to say that Aza’s emotions are entirely anguish or suffering. Merced conveys pain and sorrow in ways that feel real, and she also authentically conveys the joy and excitement Aza experiences. She smiles widely when singing with Daisy to the CD stuck in her car’s speakers. She is full of excitement and nervous energy when she walks nervously next to Davis during a date at his house. Merced brings the character from the page to soulful life in a performance so incredible, I cannot imagine any way in which she could have done better. She was near perfect.
The supporting cast are also amazing in bringing the people around Aza to life. Cree portrays Daisy’s deep love for Aza, but also her understandable frustration. It’s of course not Aza’s fault that she’s often not completely present, but still, it’s hard being close with someone who isn’t always there. Cree portrays the complexity of Daisy’s friendship and its associated conflicted feelings very well, conveying great range and depth. I smiled when they shared happiness, and I gritted my teeth when they fought, bringing up ways in which they’ve hurt each other. Similarly, Felix Mallard portrays Davis with both warmth and patience for Aza, but understandable concerns about how her fears of contamination impact their intimacy. I was also moved by Judy Reyes’s performance as Aza’s mother Gina, whose concern for her daughter’s present well-being mixes with fears about Aza’s future. It’s a rough thing to think, that her daughter might not live a full life. It’s also an understandably real worry. Furthermore, I was touched by a scene in which she conveyed her fears that she is an insufficient mother to Aza, that she is failing as a parent. Again, like the major relationships that the film explores, the mother-daughter relationship is full of joy and beauty, as well as difficulty.
The film, like the book, has such a deep wisdom in its refusal to offer shallow triumph or cheap victory. The film, like the book, is aware of the fact that living with conditions like Aza’s and similar psychological conditions means exactly that: living with them. Many people don’t get over or move on from these things. Instead, we just manage them as best we can. We have easier spans of time and more difficult spans. The film could’ve taken the shallow, superficially feel-good route of having Aza totally overcome her condition, but this would’ve been dishonest.
Still, even though many of us don’t get over the things that plague us, we are still capable of living full, rich lives. I am so grateful for how much beauty I have experienced ever since that lowest depth of my depression. If you were to tell my younger self what the future held for him, he wouldn’t have believed it. Of course, there has been pain and suffering, too. The beauty and joy has made life worth it.
This film knows that poignant truth about life: it is full of beauty and pain. The film also knows that people with psychological conditions aren’t doomed by what they must deal with. The final moment of the film is slightly different from the final moments of the book, but it made me feel the same pang in my heart I felt when I read the final page years ago.
I applaud the cast and crew for this beautiful, moving, soulful adaptation. There is so much that happens in this story, so much that will linger with audiences. I barely touched the surface of what this film has in store. The one thing I will suggest to anyone interested in the movie and the book is to read the book first, not because it is superior, but because it isn’t bound by the same time constraints as the film is. The book allows Aza’s relationships to develop and deepen more gradually, and the supporting characters have more time to shine in the book. Still, though, the movie stands on its own as a complete story and as a powerful meditation on the human heart.
I cannot recommend it enough.
This analysis moved me to tears. Thanks for sharing your story and struggle with mental health. It gives hope to others with similar conditions
Bravo!!
I like how you related the film to your personal experiences