Imagine eating nothing but mustard. Being stuck with mustard all the time.
You can. You can’t. I should. I shouldn’t. It could. It can’t. What if? What now? Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
Turtles All the Way Down is a masterfully crafted story about the ins and outs of OCD—how it manifests every day, every hour, and every minute. It can push through everyday conversations and moments and consume your whole being. It builds its own logic but blurs your concept of actuality. But mostly, it intertwines with all other aspects of your life to the point where you become a spectator.
Having been diagnosed with OCD at a young age, the film resonates with me deeply. Being diagnosed was nearly as painful as spending some of my primitive years not knowing what was happening. Most people would feel relief at knowing what was wrong. All I felt was managed. That was the story of my life. You would learn to manage the situation, as there was no solution.
OCD is hard. It’s not just straightening a pencil and being concerned about “neatness.” It’s an all-consuming thought that pushes through, paired with compulsions to ease the stress, eventually making you question your sanity. It takes no prisoners because it knows you are already a prisoner in your mind. Painting such a picture, with such reality, without rose-colored glasses is an immeasurable accomplishment.
So, thank you to John Green, who created the written work and beautifully sculpted the film in its essence. It’s difficult, with all the gripes about books to films, to create a masterpiece and have it reflect the exact way you pictured when you read it. But again, John’s an artist who manages to nail down every detail. He even manages any creative liberties with grace, and with a story this vulnerable, it’s hard to get that correct twice.
The cinematography in the film was almost like a haze. Reading your pain is one thing, but seeing its delivery and visual composition is another feeling. The way, every intrusive thought is paired with snippets of images and emotions that demand to be acknowledged. The inner running monologue that never ends, and the way every photo cuts together. The blur of her surroundings when she’s in her mind, the microbes in her thoughts, and the snap to when reality wants a second.
It’s precisely the depiction you’d want if you had to explain OCD to someone: running images and thoughts demanding their place while the world cuts in between to steal moments of your attention. How even the best moments can become tainted within seconds. It hurts to feel something so good only to be consumed by the painful demands of the mind shortly after. You almost wish that you could be numb. No pain, no gain, just peace.
But Turtles All the Way Down isn’t just brilliant in the technical aspects, it also does a great show at showing the infiltration of OCD into other facets of life. Isabela Merced is a masterclass of talent and portrays the vulnerability of Aza with incredible reverence. How Aza navigates her relationships resonates deeply with many of us. We worry that our thoughts will always be too much for others at the expense of worrying if they are too much for us.
Being called mustard and pathologically uncurious is just the tip of the iceberg. It’s wrong to be called “a lot” when you don’t feel like enough. It’s certainly not right to call us pathologically uncurious; we happen to be extremely curious about the “wrong” things. Aza’s hospital scenes should be indication enough that we plague our own esteem with words, that you don’t have to do it for us. Her inner monologue during her hospitalization was raw, allowing us all to feel the demanding urge of emotions. I wish I could scream ‘you are not the demon’. We are not the demons.
However, I also understand the impact OCD has on those who don’t understand it and are around those who have it. So, while I will never defend what Daisy says, I understand Aza’s desire to be more invested in others. Eventually, putting your mind in more places can distract you and help you escape the negative intrusive thoughts you feel. It’s kind of like help others, help yourself.
When people are around those with OCD, there is a level of worry that will always be there because, on some level, they do care. But the film does a great job of showing how even the people with the best intentions can be incorrect in execution. How they can, sometimes, completely miss the mark on what the person they are presumably trying to help needs and act in ways that only satisfy their own need for a more straightforward answer.
Ultimately, I sincerely appreciated Daisy’s change from the book to the film. Her remorse for Ayala brought me the closure that no matter how much strife the mind can cause, some best friends can get through all the ups and downs. Her sincerity was much better conveyed in the film, and her monologue at the end about Aza’s promise in life was a good way of compensating, although I still hate the use of the word exhausting.
When it comes to Aza’s other relationships, like with Davis and her Mom, the level of fear is so palpable that it reminds me of some of the worries I’ve expressed verbatim. Romance and family always increase worry because, despite all your love for someone, relationships become strained when you don’t believe you can handle it.
Despite all the beautiful moments, Davis and Aza needed to be apart for their sakes. Despite her Mom’s best intentions, she will always feel the loss of her dad and the lack of trust her Mom conveys (even if it’s not intentional). Family and love can be more complex to introspect because we want to be loved, even if it kills us. So again, Aza focusing on her best friend and being more open with her Mom is a significant step to getting the life she wants.
Ultimately, Turtles All the Way Down is a film (and book) so dear to my heart. It shows struggle and coping. It shows diving head first and having setbacks, and most of all, the ending shows recovery. It’s not an unrealistic amount of recovery, but real recovery. Daisy’s ending monologue shows us that each phase of life is up and down, and there is no point in a plateau. I wish I could scream that you are not the demon. We are not.
The film made me feel intensely. It made me feel the heart-wrenching pain of being misunderstood and being foreign to the body. It brought me back to a time where I struggled severely with germs. Where the slightest thought of anything foreign on my finger would make it like my hand weighed a thousand pounds. Where I felt tainted even if I hadn’t been exposed to anything. Just like the black light in the hospital, and all the exposures around.
It reminds me of the intrusive thoughts and overthinking I struggle with daily. It reminds me that my OCD is always there, and it will ebb and flow in intensity, but that I have to keep going. It reminds me that despite all of it, and every porous place it seeps into, it is part of me but it’s not the only part.
Most importantly, it made me feel so seen. It allowed me to put my feelings into a picture. My head felt received. The balancing act of school, family, friendships, and the future, was brilliantly portrayed. For once, my mind and my body were in agreement. If anything, the most important thing to take away from this film is to feel.
You are right to worry. Life is worrisome.
Turtles All the Way Down is streaming on HBO Max Now.
