Kirsten Johnson ponders life and death in the… | Little White Lies

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Kirsten John­son pon­ders life and death in the Dick John­son is Dead trailer

15 Sep 2020

Words by Charles Bramesco

A man carrying a large air conditioning unit, with more units on the floor around him.
A man carrying a large air conditioning unit, with more units on the floor around him.
The filmmaker’s new doc­u­men­tary sim­u­lates her father’s demise, over and over.

Kirsten John­son has no use for the com­mon lan­guage of doc­u­men­tary cin­e­ma, with its talk­ing-head inter­views and estab­lish­ing drone shots and pre­ten­sions of an unat­tain­able objec­tiv­i­ty. She’s risen to the top of the non­fic­tion heap by embrac­ing sub­jec­tiv­i­ty, first assem­bling her auto­bi­og­ra­phy Cam­er­ap­er­son through a swirl of free-asso­cia­tive footage, and now upping the ante of con­struc­tive artifice.

Today brings the first trail­er for Dick John­son is Dead, an auda­cious cin­e­mat­ic exper­i­ment unlike any­thing that’s come before. Through the trans­portive pow­er of sound and image, John­son hopes to tran­scend the divide sep­a­rat­ing our plane from the great beyond, and she may have just done it.

The film’s square one is her anx­i­ety about the prospect of part­ing ways with her father, who has begun to lose his men­tal fac­ul­ties as he approach­es his eighty-sixth birth­day. She comes up with an unortho­dox idea to pre­pare them both for the chal­lenges of grief: sim­u­late his death over and over again in elab­o­rate sce­nar­ios, and demys­ti­fy the whole thing enough for the real deal to land with a slight­ly soft­er blow.

The trail­er cap­tures the emo­tion­al­i­ty and black humor inher­ent to this odd con­cept, show­ing us as John­son directs her own dad through slip-and-fall acci­dents, block­buster-style stunts, and one sur­re­al song-and-dance num­ber com­plete with con­fet­ti and giant card­board cut-outs of his face as a young man. Even in trail­er form, these pas­sages have a stun­ning, strange beau­ty to them, ren­der­ing the unspeak­able thing we tend to fear a grand celebration.

Our own Han­nah Wood­head was quite tak­en with the film at its Sun­dance debut ear­li­er this year, writ­ing, Love, laugh­ter and death are not mutu­al­ly exclu­sive: after all, to mourn some­one is to have loved them and to have known them, which is a beau­ti­ful thing – some­thing the film illus­trates quite ele­gant­ly.” By all accounts, this seems like the most joy­ous explo­ration of death’s nat­ur­al inevitabil­i­ty since Coco. Which was only a few years ago, but still, a high bar nonetheless.

Dick John­son is Dead comes to Net­flix in the UK and US on 2 October. 

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