| |
|
Reviewed
by Carla Blackmar
David Rosenthal’s
new short film “Witnessing Death” is a powerful, inquisitive
film essay about the death of the filmmaker’s Grandfather,
Kurt Rosenthal from Alzheimer's. In contrast to our habitual, perhaps
even socially mandated tendency to sweep the details of death under
the rug until we must personally confront them in silence, “Witnessing
Death” addresses them with a lucid honesty that does justice
not only to the difficulty of dying, but also to the way the process
defines us as family, community and culture.
The film begins with footage of Rosenthal’s Grandfather about
four years after he has been diagnosed with the disease, at a time
when his more youthful personality is still visible in his quips
and interactions with Rosenthal and his camera. Over the course
of the film, we see his grandfather diminish, thinning physically
and withdrawing cognitively as he grows closer to death. The film
centers on the way the progression of Alzheimer’s confounds
the social conventions associated with “the good death.”
How does one say goodbye during such a prolonged period of departure?
In order
to answer this question, Rosenthal seeks out different perspectives
on the role the living play in the life of the dying. Rosenthal
has a gift for conducting and filming interviews, and his discussions
with doctors, nurses and chaplains are woven into his personal narrative,
re-shaping his understanding as his grandfather moves towards death.
Some of the
most remarkable interviews are those Rosenthal conducts with CNAs
(Certified Nurses Assistants) who attend to the most basic needs
of the dying in nursing home facilities. Following close on the
heels of a comment from a psychotherapist about the way our culture
doesn’t value “caring for the body of the dying,”
the CNAs frankly describe what it is like to do just that on a daily
basis. While the CNAs are open about the difficulty of their work,
they nonetheless assert that there is an element of closeness and
sanctity in serving those who can no longer serve themselves. It
is surprising to hear CNAs suggest that there is something tanscendent
about work so many of us imagine to be repugnant and dismal. It
is remarkable to hear that there can be something redemptive about
dying: a process so many of us would like to ignore, or even to
euthanize our way out of.
The startling
interviews with the CNAs mark a turning point in the film. In contrast
to our familiar way of talking about disease and dying in martial
terms “battle with cancer” or “struggle against
Alzheimers,” the interviewees suggest a different approach,
not fighting or curing, but instead “witnessing” death;
to mark someone’s departure from the world with the same attentions
merited by someone’s entry as an infant.
In the case of Kurt Rosenthal’s passing, this “witnessing”
is accomplished quite beautifully in his Grandson’s film.
As sad as it is to watch Alzheimer’s steady progression, the
care Rosenthal has taken in telling the story of his Grandfather’s
end is a testament to the life he led prior to the stage chronicled
in the film.
Though we are told almost nothing of Kurt Rosenthal’s life
from the film; (there are no old black and white pictures, grainy
8mm footage, or nostalgic reminiscing), we can’t help but
feel as though we know him through the process of watching his son
and grandson witness his death. The love evident in these last attentions
tells us volumes about the man Kurt Rosenthal was in life.
|
|
|
