As a lifelong cinema enthusiast with a soft spot for stories of resilience and triumph against all odds, I must say “Joy” left me with a mix of emotions that only a well-crafted film can evoke. The film’s portrayal of the struggle to develop in-vitro fertilization treatment is both heartbreaking and uplifting, much like my own journey through life.
In recent times, “Joy” has been a frequently employed title, and it’s fitting for a new movie chronicling the struggle to develop in-vitro fertilization treatment. This is because “Joy” was the middle name of Louise Brown, the world’s first ‘test-tube baby’, marking the successful culmination of over a decade of challenging, contentious medical research. However, this film, Ben Taylor’s debut feature from British TV comedy direction (known for shows like “Sex Education” and “Catastrophe”), is all about joy as its main theme, despite the fact that it grapples with creating an inspiring crowd-pleaser from a narrative where moments of joy are overshadowed by many instances of profound sadness.
To this very moment, it’s a fact that the chances of women undergoing IVF are often unfavorable due to its relatively low success rate (still significantly less than 50%) and expensive nature which can sometimes be out of reach for many: Despite over 12 million babies having been born through this method over the past 45 years, countless more dreams of parenthood remain unfulfilled.
In “Joy,” Jack Thorne’s script delicately handles the narrative’s complex tone by centering around a woman who is deeply involved in the treatment, yet not undergoing it herself: Jean Purdy, a British nurse who joined a predominantly male fertility research team in 1969 as an assistant and later became an embryologist. As the story unfolds towards Brown’s groundbreaking birth in 1978, she becomes increasingly vital to the team. Thomasin McKenzie portrays Jean with determination, sincerity, and resilience. In the movie, she functions as both a hidden heroine and a stand-in for the audience, skillfully piercing through the sexist rhetoric of the 1970s scientific community with straightforward wisdom and empathy.
It’s interesting that Joy, a working-class woman with religious beliefs, suppressed her own maternal desires for a while in the story. The film doesn’t delve deeply into this aspect of her character, and it seems she wasn’t officially recognized for her significant role in the pioneering IVF project until after her death from cancer at only 39 years old. Initially, Joy is portrayed as a fresh-faced, meticulous applicant seeking an assistant position at Dr. Bob Edwards’ Cambridge laboratory, where his initial IVF experiments were being conducted using hamsters.
A respected obstetrician named Patrick Steptoe, portrayed by Bill Nighy with his usual wit, is required. Located at a rundown hospital in Oldham, he’s not one to back down when faced with skepticism from the medical establishment. His boldness is crucial during a period when the concept of artificial insemination is seen as akin to a crime against nature by many British citizens, influenced by both religious and sensationalist media outlets, who would soon label him “Dr. Frankenstein” after news of his research broke.
As I uncovered my daughter’s true project, my traditionally-minded mother, Gladys (played by Joanna Scanlan), was so taken aback that she refused to let her step foot in our family home. A hint of a romantic connection with the adorable, nerdy junior doctor Arun (Rish Shah) stirred hopes of a peaceful domestic life, but I couldn’t help feeling that such a traditional setup wasn’t for me, despite my team’s progress toward a groundbreaking medical achievement.
In its initial scenes, “Joy” leans towards a sense of comfort with a touch of gentle humor, exploring the character clashes between naive Purdy, awkwardly kind Edwards, and jaded Steptoe as they establish their working relationship. The soundtrack is filled with cheerful pop-soul tunes from that era. Jamie Cairney’s cinematography is warm and sunlit, although it occasionally reflects the gloom of Greater Manchester. Sinead Kidao’s period costumes are also cozy and inviting.
The initial optimism fades as the project encounters numerous discouraging obstacles such as funding rejections and unsuccessful trials. However, “Joy” continues to provide a measure of comfort amidst the tragic human circumstances. The narrative only briefly touches on the inner struggles of the childless women, who identify themselves as “The Ovum Club,” as they undergo this experimental treatment. They are told that their chances of having children are slim and they may be paving the way for others instead. Initially, Purdy is criticized by one of these women for treating them harshly, to which she responds by improving her bedside manner. Similarly, Edwards receives a warning from a colleague about referring to women as experimental subjects, but later demonstrates his genuine concern when he recites the names of all the women in the study.
The movie “Joy” may face the same criticism for being superficial in its portrayal of these sensitive lives, such as one character who experienced domestic abuse and was not further explored, another who reacted briefly to news of an ectopic pregnancy, but it seeks collective emotional release through a heartwarming montage where all characters celebrate together on the beach. Even Lesley Brown (played by Ella Bruccoleri), the first mother through IVF in history, appears to be underrepresented in the film, with no significant screen time after an intense and tear-jerking birth scene, leaving one to ponder if a female director or screenwriter might have made some alternative decisions.
Nevertheless, it’s challenging not to be deeply affected by the film “Joy,” which delves into a broadly shared pool of emotions surrounding the decisions we make or are prevented from making in the families we construct. It’s bound to break many hearts when it streams on Netflix, having had its grand debut at the London Film Festival. The audience is likely to insert their own experiences into its storyline. Despite McKenzie’s sincere and authentic portrayal, Purdy seems just as much a representation of her patients’ pain and longing as a character in her own right. When she confesses to Gladys that she’s been having unprotected sex for a decade, hoping to conceive, we’re just as taken aback as her mother is.
A bookending voiceover by Norton’s Edwards lobbies for the addition of Purdy’s name to the memorial plaque marking the first IVF birth at Oldham Hospital, stressing the valid point that medical history isn’t made by doctors alone. “Joy” echoes the good work of the plaque in elevating a woman’s name to the status of her male colleagues and contemporaries. The lost life behind that name remains a little harder to read.
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2024-10-15 23:47