‘Turtles All the Way Down’: Thin lines between self-care and self-absorption

This article is a review and includes subjective thoughts, opinions and critiques.

“All you can be is in love,” Aza Holmes (Isabela Merced) explains toward the end of the film adaptation of John Green’s “Turtles All the Way Down.” She is saddened that one cannot be “in hope” or “in friendship” — love is the only emotional state that people inhabit in everyday conversation.

Aza is 16 years old and trying to figure out if she is capable of being the type of person that people can love and want to be around. Her obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) complicates this message.

Green expressed the importance of selecting a production team that would accurately portray themes of mental health in his 2017 novel. Set in Indianapolis, Indiana, the story centers around Aza reconnecting with a childhood friend, Davis (Felix Mallard), and navigating her first romance while managing her mental health. Director Hannah Marks depicts Aza’s struggle with OCD with great care and shows how her condition affects her relationships with her friends and family. 

Aza’s father died during her childhood. Without him, she and her mother Gina (Judy Reyes) orbit each other with slight uncertainty about how to coexist in the same universe. Aza’s best friend, Daisy Ramirez (Cree) is her rock. Daisy is as wild and carefree as Aza is cautious and reserved, but they are each other’s better halves — a fact punctuated by their each donning one half of a matching heart necklace.  

Unlike stereotypical portrayals of OCD, Aza’s intrusive thoughts about being contaminated with germs and repetitive behaviors are depicted on a continuum from background annoyance to debilitating. Although voiceovers and cuts to microscopic photos of pathogens are used to bring the viewer into how she experiences her condition, other characters’ interactions add more insight.

Aza endures constant questions such as “Are you taking your medicine?” and “How are you feeling today?” from Daisy, her mother and her glamorous therapist, Dr. Singh (Poorna Jagannathan). Sometimes individuals are doing okay until they’re reminded of the many reasons they have to be worried.

The details that lead Aza and Davis to connect involve the disappearance of Davis’s wealthy father. Aza may not be good at new things, but she is instantly attracted to her “old-new” friend. It doesn’t hurt that the list of positive attributes Davis possesses is longer than the Indianapolis White River — handsome, thoughtful, kind to his younger brother, a good listener, supportive, rich, generous, et cetera.

Later in the film, when he expresses an emotional need, it throws a wrench into their burgeoning relationship. It’s also much-needed confirmation that he’s a real person.

The film presents situations that appear simple but add much-needed and enjoyable complexity. The central story appears to be about whether Aza can handle romantic relationships because of her mental health. As the narrative unfolds, however, it asks whether everyone’s focus on Aza has made her unable and unwilling to realize that other people have their own struggles. This comes into sharp relief when she and Daisy argue over the expectation that Daisy serves as a tireless cheerleader on Aza’s protagonistic journey. 

Daisy is such a well-rounded and funny character, which makes Aza’s obliviousness even more egregious. Daisy writes Star Wars fanfic and has built up a cabal of 80,000 dedicated and overzealous followers. Her charm and people skills are shaped by navigating devotees and trolls. Cree’s comedic timing is perfect. She has a spot-on lightsaber routine and sells the slightly awkward nickname “Holmesy.”

To get to the good stuff, the viewer must endure a series of “Are you still watching?” attention checks — Aza calling her “mom” when addressing Gina even though we’ve already been introduced to her in a montage; characters that use each other’s names way more than anyone does in real life; and soundtrack cuts that are meant to underscore the takeaway of the scene we just watched.

It’s the equivalent of underlining points that have already been made in capitalized bold text. Maybe creators assume that viewers might be checked out if they’re watching a film via streaming and might check back in at any moment. But it’s also the type of filmmaking that may make viewers want to check out altogether. 

There is also a fair amount of product placement in the film. From Dr. Pepper to Applebees to an absurd use of a Pop-Tarts box, I couldn’t help but wonder if these brands underwrote the costs of the film. These brands are mentioned throughout the book, and I’m familiar with the joys of Applebee’s 2 full-sized entrees and 1 full-sized appetizer for $20. Nevertheless, during a discussion on why people do the things they do, when a character asks, “Is it because advertising works?” I almost audibly booed.

Luckily, there is more to cheer for than jeer. Aza is the quintessential teenager who has stunning moments of insight followed by foolishness. When she sees her idol, Professor Abbott (J. Smith-Cameron) during a college visit, she panics and hides behind a tree. Also, her declaration that love is the only inhabited state? I instantly began making a mental list of alternatives — in shock, in denial and in flagrante delicto. Wisdom comes from experience!

The movie succeeds as a meditation on whether we’re really in control of our thoughts and actions. These are questions everyone struggles with but Aza’s worries are exacerbated by her anxiety and OCD. As far as the title “Turtles All the Way Down” goes, it’s a metaphor that simultaneously explains the futility of ever getting to the bottom of why things are the way they are. Maybe the point of existence is learning new ways of caring for ourselves and the people we love.

The post ‘Turtles All the Way Down’: Thin lines between self-care and self-absorption appeared first on The Stanford Daily.