THE STORY – Filmmaker Ross McElwee turns his lens on the passage of time and the uneasy space between documenting life and understanding it. The film traces McElwee’s relationship with his son Adrian, and the fragile bond the camera created between them while Adrian was alive, and now that he’s gone.
THE CAST – N/A
THE TEAM – Ross McElwee (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 114 Minutes
There are numerous great lines in the classic film “The Lion in Winter.” One of my favorites is from Katharine Hepburn after witnessing one of the many verbal sparrings between her husband and children. She sighs and laments, “What family doesn’t have its ups and downs?” Family is always that complicated web that binds us through the most joyful and tragic moments in our lives. There’s no selection to determine which ones we receive. We hope for more good days than bad, but it’s never guaranteed. For those interested in storytelling, especially those who have a draw to depictions of reality, the most personal experiences can be a source of inspiration. This can be both a blessing and a curse. You feel every ounce of pain that it took to bring “Remake” to its conclusion. But it resulted in a tender and heart-wrenching portrait of grief that deeply touches the soul.
For Ross McElwee, documenting his friends and family has been the primary basis of his career. He has received acclaim for projects like “Sherman’s March” and “Photographic Memory,” documentaries that have looked into his personal life and analyzed the significant impact these connections have made on him. Now, McElwee seems determined for this project to be an all-encompassing perspective that reflects on the life and death of his son Adrian, who passed away in 2016 after a lengthy battle with drug and alcohol addiction. The fullest context is being presented here: the journey that Adrian took from an innocent little boy beaming with ambition to the dark and tortured young man battling demons plays out against his father’s own struggles with relationships and intimacy. McElwee is on a mission to not only comprehend what went wrong in his son’s life but also provide his own reflexive exploration of those important bonds made throughout that time, and what they mean in his own artistic expression.
Capturing these moments of intimacy may have been the foundation for McElwee’s entire career, but an obvious tension exists whenever he sets out to craft these stories. His partners resist entering the frame, his children become disinterested in contributing as they grow older, and his friends constantly deride his decisions to film everything, unable to understand his drive to continue. There is often a combative quality to seize these moments and preserve them. That’s what makes their presentation all the more compelling. In a sense, these sequences play like home movies and should only be of interest to those with the most direct connection to the individuals. But it’s impossible to watch his friend Charleen, who has appeared in several of his past works, and not be taken in by her no-nonsense delivery. It’s a stark contrast against her modern-day representation, suffering from dementia but still allowing a spark of that old personality to show itself occasionally. Regardless, she’s a force of nature that provides her own insightful commentary about what in a person’s life has true meaning and value.
That notion is a concept that McElwee wrestles with as he seeks answers to the difficult times that have befallen him. The film’s namesake comes from an attempt to remake his film “Sherman’s March,” which was a quaint piece that looked into his old Southern community, but had no real story that could be properly adapted into a traditional narrative. The project would get restructured into new formats, never quite finding a way to properly re-tell this project in a different setting. His own life proves to be on a venture of remaking itself, too. There’s a cyclical nature to the interactions he garners, history repeating itself with conversations that transpire.
At one point, Adrian begins to become interested in filmmaking, which, of course, brings his father joy and pride. Clips of Adrian’s work present a creative mind at play, gliding the camera with precision as he and his friends ride bikes or ski on snowy mountaintops. It mirrors his father’s trade, and we see two people in tandem who use this outlet to mask personal failings. Ross even begins to wonder if this indulgence actually contributed to his son’s struggles, chasing a glamorous life that would never come, so it had to be supplanted with substance abuse. It’s a gutting realization that the film has the tenacity to face, revealing a troubling fault this father has to look inward to resolve. Still, it’s a captivating dialogue to watch unfold.
It’s not easy to watch Adrian slowly disintegrate as this disease takes hold of him. As a viewer, you feel the same sort of helpless remove as a parent who can only stand by the sidelines despite the many attempts at intervening. The closest we come to understanding the inner life of Adrian is when we see footage of his time in Colorado, after a stint in rehab, but still drowning in his own issues. For his father, combing through this footage is one of the few times an opportunity is provided to get his son’s perspective as unfiltered as possible. Yes, there’s disturbing footage of him and his friends taking illicit substances.
However, there is also a window into the personality that made up his son. His decision to take a ski path off the known trail shows us the individuality he always strived for, which was an asset to cherish but also consumed him entirely. These are heartbreaking moments, as you see the full personality of a man who had vitality that was snuffed out, and how much harder it is to imagine a parent witnessing this from afar. It’s shattering but also incredibly enlightening just to receive this glance.
For as riveting as the film is, it does eventually fall into an inevitable trap. Since it is meant to explore the subject of repurposed events and mirroring thematic commentaries, eventually, some of the storytelling gets repetitive. These are fleeting moments of tedium, but they’re notable when they settle in. Also, while it is understandable that some of the viewpoints from certain family members are absent, it still means this examination is incomplete without those voices. His first wife, for instance, makes no appearance at all, and given the divorce, plays such an important aspect into the transformational outlook he obtained regarding his family; not having her comment on these moments feels like a huge piece of the puzzle that’s missing to showcase even greater depth. His second wife refuses to show her face, but she does occasionally share her own opinions. And yet, it’s another outside voice that’s removed from the inner dialogue being given, which could have shed more light on how these events are being interpreted.
There’s another quote that is evocative of the themes of “Remake,” but this one is delivered within the actual film. At one point, a younger Charlene chastises McElwee for continuing to film all his interactions, including a potential date she is trying to set him up with. In an effort to put the camera down, she exclaims, “This is not art, this is life!” For those obsessed with cinema, it’s an odd statement to make when we believe the two are intertwined. McElwee certainly does, which explains nearly all his filmography. But there is a question about how life can be captured by artistry, sometimes for deep thematic revelation and sometimes for personal conquest against the unrelenting despair that haunts us.
McElwee talks about a piano that has been in his family for generations, which he was tempted to sell during a period when he felt keeping it was no longer necessary. Adrian persuaded him otherwise, insisting the tradition would continue and it would be handed down to his own children one day. Now it has become an ode to his memory; the music being played has transformed into a reminder of the wants and desires of a person who has now departed. It’s hard to describe how unrelentingly sad yet transcendently beautiful that sentiment can be. In that sense, art is life, and life has value even when it’s hard to see or seemingly thrown away by those we hold dear. It’s not easy for McElwee to deliver that message, but it is powerfully represented in this film. It’s a touching and moving homage that reminds us of the precious spirit that directs us towards remembering the deep love we have for family, through all its ups and downs.
