The disease progression of an Alzheimer’s mom: tracing her memory journey
In the scarlet dress and raven hair of her remembered thirties, she pushes open a crack in the door and dissolves into the uncolored world of her memories, her dress being the only color. Umbrellas unfurl and furl around her, spokes clicking like clocks—for the first time she feels as if trapped in the circle of time. She reaches towards a figure and a crystallized piece of memory emerges. Grasping figure wearing a ring that she recognizes, she enters two world each with only one colored element—the first being her son with the brightest smile ever; and the second being the flower she brought for her husband, soon to be cast aside. The scenes continues and reverses like an old film reel, faintly discernible as conjured by her conflicted heart. Lost in those pieces of memories, she enters the phase of chaos. Walls of doors shuttle back and forth, occluding her path. She struggles to hold one door yet finds herself shuttling between many. She falls, and the chaos declares its triumph. The music swells as disease encroaches on the last phase. She becomes still, passive—hands reach in from every direction, guiding her through mundane acts now laden with urgent fragility. Peacefully, yet confused, she closes her eyes. In the final moments, the same door swings wide, a radiant beam pouring through. She steps forward—her red dress still glowing—until light swallows her. No longer mother or wife, she is crystallized as her most authentic self.
Directed by Yupei Tang and Qianxun Ren (China)