How does one make peace when the only way of living that made you seem invincible is suddenly taken away? That’s the core dilemma in Mari Sander’s directorial debut, Stand Up, a riveting and contemplative coming-of-age Dutch drama about rediscovering self-worth through a life-altering accident.
The genre of abled-bodied characters going through a disabling incident and experiencing an emotional arc is rife with tropes and conventions that result in more saccharine-sweet, if not slightly non-genuine, storytelling. What makes Stand Up so different is that Sanders uses a wheelchair, and, quite often, Stand Up’s grounded approach strips away the Hollywood gloss that’s dominated films centered on a disabled narrative.
For Sanders, a disability is part of a chapter in a person’s life, and so often, the social stigma and taboo nature of how to interact with individuals who use a wheelchair or how to make someone feel better about their disability negates their humanity and independence. Stand Up is more than just the acceptance of a disability; it is the process of acceptance. How does one come to terms with the fact that something as horrific as the loss of a body part can open the door to a perspective you couldn’t access?
Vera (Lucia Zemene) is a 23-year-old carefree young adult who spends her time with her girlfriends clubbing, partying, and figuring out what she wants to do with her life. All of that is thrown off as she’s walking obliviously in the night, a car collision leaves her injured with the loss of her left leg. It’s an abrupt and jarring sequence, one that happens so early that it conveys the dazed confusion and sudden realization Vera has as soon as she wakes up.
From then on, Vera’s life has transformed; she begins her rehabilitation with the right amount of melancholy and closed-offness as she recognizes that her life plans are being upended. Between her stubborn deflection of the hard work empowerment of her physical therapist, Jonathan (Kendrick Etmon), and her sad yearning for the free-spirited life of her best friend, Inaya (Hana Hussein), Vera is clinging onto a life that’s past her. “Maybe you should just accept it,” Inaya remarks one quiet, intimate night. How does one accept a new way of living?
It’s only when she meets another member, Xander (Daan Burlinga), a young, boisterous person who also uses a wheelchair, that Vera starts to come out of her self-made shell and invigorates the spirit she had before the accident, becoming part of a community of other outcasts society pretends don’t exist. The relationship between Vera and Xaander is the crux of Stand Up, and part of Vera’s growth and maturation into the same confident, carefree woman we see in the beginning.
The intelligent and layered writing from Sanders isn’t set out to encompass or contain Vera in a neatly-packaged box; she’s messy. She has low self-worth, with little support from her friends, who don’t make the effort to visit or acknowledge her personhood. By herself, she dwells on a past that she’s trapped in. It’s a reckoning for Vera to either reclaim her life or allow her wheelchair to define her capabilities. Between the methodical, patient editing by Yorgos Mavropsaridis and Sal Kroonenberg’s gorgeous cinematography, Stand Up operates in a docudrama mode that doesn’t call attention to itself yet conveys a deeply felt pathos that can only come from a lived perspective often not afforded in dramas without sacrificing forms of representation.
Stand Up would be ineffective without Sanders’ direction for his actors, and part of that is casting actors with disabilities. Zemene is as extraordinary a talent as Vera, often unlikable and cold, yet immensely heartfelt and compelling. The most evocative moments are of Vera being wordless, as she feels her body and looks at her stump, or listening to Xaander speechify about his own pride, often jokingly in a self-deprecating manner. Zemene gives Vera the chance to be dynamic and occupy a wide range of emotions.
Burlinga’s Xaander is the perfect complement to Vera’s emotional complexity, often acting as a sounding board whenever Vera has self-doubt about her identity or tries to veer from the journey to self-healing. Brulinga brings a hefty amount of disarming charisma and quiet intimacy, especially as his relationship with Vera deepened to intimate moments.
The narrative isn’t aiming for reinvention or radical takes — Stand Up is born from Sanders’ desire to portray individuals with disabilities as nothing more than everyone else with their own wants, desires, and even faults. Vera spirals into emotional tailspins, even to Xaander’s dismay, yet it’s part of a natural process as she grapples with her reluctance to live and finds pride in her personhood. “Your body needs time to heal,” Jonathan emphasizes. The more time Vera spends in her body, the more she learns how to enjoy it and accept her personhood.
Review Courtesy of Amritpal Rai
Feature Image Credit to Loco Films via Tribeca Film