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The film that brought Julianne Moore her fifth Oscar nomination, culminating in a win for Best Actress, does not disappoint. Still Alice is a bitter, poignant tale of the devastating effect and terrifying implications of memory impairment, and one that vividly stays in our thoughts long after leaving the theatre.

Dr. Alice Howland (Moore), professor of linguistics at Columbia University, is diagnosed with the onset of early Alzheimer’s. The disease changes almost every aspect of her life over the course of the 100-minute film, to the point that we can clearly distinguish the originally pro-active and ambitious character from the suffering soul she has been reduced to.

It’s not an especially nuanced plot but Moore’s fantastic depiction of Alice allows us to appreciate the pain the character feels as she undergoes this torment. Furthermore, the terror Alice experiences at the prospect of losing her life’s work in academia is completely believable. Each scene shows a little bit more of the character being eaten away before our eyes as Alice becomes a mere shadow of her former self by the conclusion of the film.

It is in the depiction of the supporting characters that the film falters. The subplot involving her family is engaging but not nearly as hard-hitting as Alice’s deterioration. The film touches on the impact on her husband and children, but fails to delve much deeper into how they cope. We learn that Alice’s form of Alzheimer’s is genetic but, other than five minutes’ worth of panic, nothing comes of it in the long-run. Her husband (Alec Baldwin) appears callous in some scenes, while grief-stricken and compassionate in others. Shots of the couple embracing are juxtaposed with said husband announcing that they have to move to a different state during the height of her illness. It’s difficult to see the motivations behind any character other than the lead.

The cinematography, meanwhile, is excellent. The concrete buildings of Columbia University come to be replaced with serene naturalistic scenes, yet retain the atmosphere of grittiness and despair. The camera usually is focused directly on Howland, implying much more is happening on the sidelines that we fail to comprehend with her. The harsh click-clack of touch screens and keyboards suddenly interrupts the quiet music and background noise, showing the jarring reality of Howland’s illness and her slackening grip on reality. The increasing usage of internet communication reminds us of Howland slowly drawing away mentally from the rest of society and the sharp sound of an ending Skype call resonates in our ears.

Still Alice is a tour de force depiction of its tragic protagonist. However, by leaving the supporting characters underdeveloped and unexplored, there is a sense that, like Alice, we are always waiting for something that never becomes quite clear.