All the emotions I felt while watching Michael J. Fox's "Still"

I wasn't expecting to be so moved.

If you had to rank the kind of movie I’m most likely to jump on within a week of its release, a Hollywood biopic would typically fall pretty low on that list. But after a hectic couple of weeks that have included travel, work, and planning last-minute details of my upcoming wedding, I was in need of some zoned-out time on the sofa. I’d heard some rumblings about Still, the new Michael J. Fox biopic on Apple TV, and since it’s been way too long since I had read the words “the new movie starring Michael J. Fox”, I decided that watching it was just the right way to spend a Tuesday evening.

I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I definitely wasn’t prepared for the emotional journey it took me on. Here are the feels I felt during its 1-hour, 34-minute run:

Nostalgia.

I was a little kid when Family Ties first aired, and only 8 when Back To The Future came out, but we were big fans of both in my house - and I was a particularly big fan of Michael J. Fox, whose Alex P. Keaton I showed up for religiously every week (Thursdays for most of its run, as I recall.) Still, I’d forgotten just what a huge star Fox was at that moment in time. Watching clips of my fave Fox flicks (Teen Wolf! Secret of My Success! Yes, even Doc Hollywood!) brought me back to that tender, joyful period of my life (and the 80s and early 90s in general) in a way I haven’t experienced in quite some time.

Delight.

Still is unlike any other documentary I’ve ever seen, and it’s a joy to watch. Director Davis Guggenheim and his team pieced together clips from old Fox movies, TV shows, and media appearances and paired them with current-day voiceover narration from Fox himself to essentially “re-enact” scenes from his real life using scenes from his on-screen life. It works really, really well - and it’s so much fun.

Admiration.

Make no mistake: Michael J. Fox does not want you to feel sorry for him. It is evident in every scene where he struggles to walk, speak, or sit still.

And while I occasionally did feel sad in a sort of existential, ‘nothing is permanent, is it?’ kind of way while watching this movie, I felt only admiration for Fox himself - not to mention his warm and funny family, who appeared in several touching scenes in the film, and most of all his wife, Tracy Pollan, who from his account stuck out some crappy behavior during his superstar stage while she was home, mostly alone, doing the thankless work of caring for the couple’s four children.

Through flashbacks to Pollan’s character Ellen in Family Ties, including the unforgettable “At This Moment” dance scene, I was also reminded what a great addition she was to the show and how sad my mom and I both were when they broke up. (In later seasons featuring Alex’s new girlfriend, Lauren, my mom would sometimes say “I wish they’d bring Ellen back.” Sorry, Courteney Cox.)

Also, as a fellow tall-ish lady about to marry a guy about Fox’s height, I love looking at photos of the two of them rocking that differential on the red carpet!

Discomfort.

I’ll admit it: I was frequently uncomfortable watching modern-day Michael J. Fox struggle to walk, get words out, or simply smile - especially at first. But as time went on, I found myself growing used to his jerky movements, unusual speech patterns, and frozen facial expressions. It reminded me that sometimes, things that make us uncomfortable are simply things we don’t spend enough time exposed to - and that’s why representation (of all sorts!) matters, friends.

Of course, the other thing that influences our discomfort around people with health conditions is the feeling that one day, the thing afflicting that person could also afflict us…and it totally could. Which leads me to…

Acceptance.

I spent a good chunk of this movie feeling that bittersweet tinge of nostalgia. Wishing Michael J Fox could go back to the guy we remembered on screen. Wishing I could go back to the girl I was watching him on the screen. But of course I can’t, and more notably, he can’t, and from listening to him talk - even from watching him compose himself on camera - you can tell that Fox has spent a lot of time learning to accept the new reality of his life and make the most of it.

At one point in the movie, watching Fox working with his personal trainer - obviously struggling just to take a few jerky steps across the room, out the door, onto the street without falling (and then wiping out anyway), I felt a flush of frustration. “Why is he putting himself through all that when it won’t make a difference in the end?” a voice in my head asked.

Then, in the next beat, I answered myself. “Well, why do any of us do anything when it won’t make any difference in the end?”

Fox knows he isn’t going to magically jump up and slide across the top of a car again as though it’s 1985; his disease is progressive, degenerative, and incurable. He works with his trainer because it makes this day, and however many days will come after, better.

And while most of us don’t have a condition that puts our inevitable physical deterioration quite so front-and-center, we’re all working within the same reality: nothing is guaranteed and these bodies will, one way or another, eventually wear out.

That reality is sad, yes, but it can also be freeing. It’s a chance to show up in the moment simply because this moment is worth showing up for.

And maybe, just for this moment, we can be still.