Erin Kelly examines how the similarities between Eddie Redmayne and Felicity Jones’ portrayal of Stephen and Jane Hawking in The Theory of Everything collide with her own life.
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“I know what you all think, that I don’t look like a terribly strong person…”
Some may say that these words are condescending—that they create negative vibes. Some might even say they generate assumptions that aren’t altogether true. When such words are spoken by someone who’s faced the unknown with unrelenting hope, however, they become the identity of a warrior.
Jane Hawking, the first wife of world-renowned physicist Stephen Hawking, was a warrior in the wake of her husband’s unexpected diagnosis of ALS in his early 20’s. Stephen was on a mission to “wind back the clock” and prove that time itself had a beginning, but his pursuit led to something much bigger than science. Something that admittedly filled my bones with a beautiful kind of fear as it relates to my own diagnosis of cerebral palsy—and most recently, Graves’ disease.
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I’d never heard of the Hawking’s story prior to watching The Theory of Everything a few months after its release in theaters. I particularly wasn’t aware of Stephen’s diagnosis—nor how his struggles shaped the movie, as well as his and Jane’s outlook on life. I was not only fearful of being so unaware, but I also kept asking myself, ‘What if that were me?’
‘What if I suddenly got to the point where my muscles became so ridged and frail that I couldn’t move or function?’
That in itself changed the way I watched the rest of the movie. My fear was real in the sense that I wasn’t asking those questions just for the sake of being my deep, intellectual self. In my mind, was halfway to where Stephen is today—in a wheelchair with limited physical movement. It was the first time any film I’d watched even came close to capturing real frustration in my life. However, I couldn’t help but to feel utterly selfish.
Here I was sitting on my couch, watching arguably one of the most intelligent human beings to ever live slowly lose his ability to move, speak and function properly. I was struck by his will to be more than his diagnosis and the fact that he didn’t see it as a crutch. That scared me as well, because I always try to be that way, but I know I fall short sometimes. All the while, I was taking bites out of a granola bar—knowing full well that my cerebral palsy has granted me enough freedom to do so.
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Eddie Redmayne opened a window for me as someone who carries the similar weight of not only having physical “limitations”, but also having to figure out how to overcome them. There were moments when I wasn’t sure if I was shaking because I was so in awe, or if it was due to my tremors caused by Graves’ disease. I imagine that experiencing the onset and progressive symptoms of ALS is similar to that of Graves’. I at least didn’t exactly know what I was feeling—or why I felt the way I did at first.
Eddie didn’t just play Stephen Hawking. He became Stephen Hawking. His Academy Award-winning portrayal of Stephen literally made me shake until my arms and legs were numb. I particularly felt overwhelmed when he got to the point where he could no longer speak and had to use a wheelchair.
I don’t think it was the actual image of the wheelchair that made me emotional. It was more about the physical decline that led to the wheelchair, as well as the use of a speech output device.
I had to use something similar to express myself when I was younger. My cerebral palsy affected my speech to the extent where no one could understand me. It still does, but now it’s a matter of slowing down and listening.
I could relate to the level of frustration in typing out every letter, word or phrase of what Stephen wanted to say. I think there’s a distinct feeling of displacement—and underlying embarrassment that comes with that. The “voice” speaking your words is not your own, and the very concept of having an identity changes.
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Not only did I have an immediate appreciation for how deeply Eddie invested himself in this role, but part of me understood why he was so tenacious and meticulous. When you have a disability or something that might be considered strange or abnormal, you have to be tenacious and persistent because people often think something completely different about you based on what they see. You have to not only prove yourself, but also do so in a respectful yet powerful way.
In an interview with The LA Times last October, Eddie explained why there needed to be a certain degree of tenacity in playing Stephen.
“Because [ALS] and the decline of it is so specific, there needed to be a rigor, a technical rigor in the preparation that we could do.”
When asked specifically about his preparation, Redmayne added,
“I wrote out a sort of chart with all the muscles as they were declining, and where [Stephen] was vocally, and whether he was on one stick [crutch] or two.”
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I also found myself relating to Jane—played by Felicity Jones—and the amount of patience and willpower she had to have. Not only did she make the courageous decision to stay by Stephen’s side, but she had to raise their three children essentially by herself. I don’t have children—nor am I married—but I have the heaviness of my disability. That’s something I’ll always have. I often feel a sense of urgency and quiet confidence because of that heaviness, much like Felicity’s portrayal of Jane does in the movie.
There were a multitude of scenes that were reminiscent of my past and present, but the one that truly embodies my journey as a whole involves a conversation between Jane and Frank Hawking. The two are discussing what to expect as ALS progresses in Stephen’s body, when he looks Jane square in the eye and says,
“This is not going to be a fight, Jane. This is going to be a very heavy defeat.”
Jane looks at him with equal intensity and fires back with the all-too important line, “I know what you all think…”
Felicity delivered that line with such confidence, poise and conviction. There was a very distinct kind of beauty to it—partly because I’ve said those words myself in some way, form or fashion. I’m constantly aware of my physical appearance through the eyes of the outside world. I feel I have my reasons and my rights for saying those words, as does Jane. As does anyone who’s ever faced insurmountable odds.
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I admire the fact that neither Jane nor Stephen ever asked for sympathy. ALS is one of the most deadly, unforgiving diseases known to the human race. Yet, this couple faced it with dignity, grace—and most importantly, love. Jane never let it cloud her vision of hope, and Stephen never let it deter his will to live a full life. In fact, I truly believe his undying determination has not only kept him alive decades after his diagnosis, but motivates him to strive and survive today.
If you peel back the layers of this story—this movie—you’ll find an incredible tale of an incredible man. If you tear those layers completely off, however, you’ll find a true love story. That’s what I found—and it made me stop, breathe and ask myself, ‘If the Hawking’s didn’t let ALS try to dictate their lives, who am I to let some disability and disease try to dictate mine?’
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Photo Credit: Liam Daniel/AP
Wow! Gorgeous!!! Thanks for writing this!
Great, great description of this movie’s effect on you, Erin.