Lucy: Movie Review

I’ve read quite a few reviews of this movie, and most of them are negative. I don’t understand it. Perhaps, those naysayers are simply too pretentious and caught up in their own ideals of what makes good entertainment to give anything which doesn’t fall into their concrete guidelines a chance…or maybe they’re just angry that a woman got so much screen time? Eh, who knows. 

Frankly, I don’t care. 

I loved the movie, and here’s why: It offers a unique perspective. There have been several “explore the possibilities of the mind” movies, in the past decade or so, and most of them are, predictably, entertaining. People are utterly fascinated by, and completely ignorant of, the human mind. Why do we think? Why do we dream? How are memories stored? These are all questions that nobody really has an answer to. (Except one: 42) There are several theories, though.

I watched Inception when it came out, and I rolled my eyes at the end. It’s meant to make you think, I guess, and my significant other thought. I didn’t. The ending was predicable, as most Hollywood “blockbusters” are. Limit was an ok movie, in the same genre, and it entertained. I didn’t walk out of the theater thinking that my mind had just been blown, however. 

(Spoilers after the break. This is a movie review, so there is going to be discussion about plot-lines and characters.)

Lucy blew my damn mind. Not because of the method in which Scar-Jo’s character attained her “100%” because that’s been done, but with the way she handled it. There was no lust for power, no desire for riches or fame, no drive to explore the world. No. The almost first thing she did was call her mother…

She was lost, and she needed answers, so she sought those answers from a leading Neuro-Scientist, “Professor Norman” (played by freaking Morgan Freeman, everybody! Woo!). She contacts him and asks what she should do. He tells her, “Share your knowledge.”

So, she does. The entire movie is a race against the clock: Lucy’s ultimate demise, the Drug Lord and his goons who are chasing her, Time itself. Her goal is to meet Professor Norman, and share what she knows. She gets there, and picks up a “reminder” along the way.

There’s action, and death, and drug use. The brief kiss could have been left out, but I believe it was put there for a reason, all the same…not sure it’s a good reason, but hey. I’m not the writer, here; Luc Besson is. And that guy! He can tell as story. The Fifth Element, Transporter, Leon: The Professional, From Paris with Love, Colombiana… 

So much awesome under Mr. Besson’s belt. He is genuinely one of my favorite story-tellers, so perhaps I went in to this movie with an already biased idea of how good it was going to be…or maybe it’s just a freaking awesome movie!

This isn’t what I would call an edge-of-your-seat thriller, but it’s still thrilling. All-in-all, I have to give it 8/10 stars, or whichever method of measurement you’d like. It’s a good movie. It’s worth the ticket price. It’s worth the 89 minutes of screen-time. The ending is …ugh! But, it’s still worth it!

Go see it. If you like Science Fiction…real, true, unrealistic, Science Fiction…you’ll love this movie! If you’re looking for spaceships and explosions and half-naked women, and gratuitous romance, you won’t. 

Seeker

I've read and heard so many people in the medical field refer to those who are in pain as "seekers". There's a profile that goes along with the title: someone who visits emergency rooms for minor injuries, including toothaches...or those who visit the emergency room often. Of course, the latter has a different title: Frequent Flyer. Medical staff look down upon these people, the seekers and frequent flyers, with disdain; cursing them for taking the doctors away from "real" illnesses.

Yeah...if that doesn't speak to the failure of the American medical "system" I don't know what does.

Where to begin? I suppose the beginning will do, eh?

I was 14, when I first noticed the ineptitude of the medical professionals in my area. I had never been to a doctor before, save for getting vaccines. This time, my mother decided that what ailed me was out of her territory, and took me in to see the professionals. I was having severe abdominal cramping. The nurse looked at me, looked at the word "endometriosis" that I had written on my hand, in health class, decided that I was faking it, and sent me home.

My mother was furious. The pain kept up for another week, getting so bad that I collapsed in the living room, and my mother took me back to the ER. They poked and prodded, and asked questions, but they never took blood tests...they never gave me an ultrasound, or did any real diagnostics. They treated me with a prescription for Tylenol and cold/warm compresses.

I wasn't insured. So, instead of taking every possible precaution, the doctors did the bare minimum to keep costs down. I didn't understand it, then, but I do now.

The pain was caused by ovarian cysts. Cysts that, had they been diagnosed 14 years ago, would have been taken care of with little-to-no side effects. Now, I am all but infertile. It took nearly 10 years before I had decent medical coverage of my own, so I avoided hospitals and doctors like the plague. I collapsed, again, at my boyfriend's house, and he took me in, despite my protests. They did an ultrasound, immediately, and gave me excellent pain killers...and I got a diagnosis: Ovarian Cysts. And a treatment. I'm cyst-free, as of 4 years later...I'm also uninsured, again.

I can't go to a regular doctor's office, because nobody takes uninsured patients. I am forced, when I need even minor care, to seek Emergency medical attention. I've been to the ER a dozen times in the last 2 years, and I'm starting to notice the looks I get when I walk in. Disdain. Irritation. Annoyance.

Most recently, I broke a tooth. It's been about 6 months of managing the pain, with over-the-counter meds, and trying to keep the hole clear of debris to minimize the risk of infection. I'm at a breaking point, however, in that I can no longer manage the pain. I reach my daily limit of pain meds, everyday, before bedtime, and have to suffer as I'm trying to fall asleep. I can't eat. I can barely speak, but there's nothing I can do, because I'm unemployed, and uninsured, and with the way the medical system in this country is set up, I would have to fork out nearly $1,000 to get the tooth pulled. I can go to the ER and maybe get narcotic pain killers, but they can't pull the tooth. Dentists won't take payments so, short of pulling the thing myself, there's really nothing I can do.

America cares more about money than it does the health of its citizens.

Maybe I'm just biased, but that doesn't seem right.

So, despite being in pain, and despite having a legitimate medical complaint, I am looked down upon when I enter the Emergency Department, looking for pain management. I'm thought of as a Seeker, a drug addict, a pill-popper, because I have done all that I can, and have gotten nowhere...because I need help. I avoid going to the ER, more than once every 3 months, because I don't want to be labeled as a Frequent Flyer...I avoid medical care, because I don't want to be looked down upon, or thought less of....

Due to the unprofessional acts of nurses and techs, I'd rather suffer than be labeled.

All because I don't have insurance.

All because I'm unemployed.

It's bullshit.