Gleason | Little White Lies

Glea­son

01 Aug 2016

Words by Spencer Moleda

Directed by Clay Tweel

Starring Mike Gleason, Scott Fujita, and Steve Gleason

Person in wheelchair with family members on football field
Person in wheelchair with family members on football field
3

Anticipation.

A portrait of an NFL star with ALS? Could go either way.

4

Enjoyment.

Watching the decay of one man’s physical well-being is tough, but it’s livened by humour and genuine soul.

4

In Retrospect.

As inspiring as it is devastating.

This por­trait of a for­mer NFL star suf­fer­ing from a rare neu­ro­log­i­cal dis­ease is as life-affirm­ing as it is heartbreaking.

Watch­ing Glea­son, a doc­u­men­tary depict­ing for­mer NFL super­star Steve Gleason’s bat­tle with ALS, you’re con­stant­ly duck­ing and cov­er­ing, brac­ing for the dev­as­tat­ing gut-punch that feels inevitable. But it nev­er comes. The film cuts to black, the cred­its roll. To our relief no tragedy is shown because it hasn’t hap­pened yet. To this day, against all odds, Glea­son is still alive and fighting.

The film opens with Steve sat in his room, his thoughts spilling out for the cam­era. He explains that he’s been diag­nosed with amy­otroph­ic lat­er­al scle­ro­sis, also named Lou Gehrig’s dis­ease (aka ALS), and that it will rav­age his body, strip him of his abil­i­ty to speak, and even­tu­al­ly kill him. As if that wasn’t enough, just weeks after his diag­no­sis, he dis­cov­ers that his wife, Michel, is pregnant.

But in between these two bomb­shells, Steve spies an oppor­tu­ni­ty. He realis­es that even if the dis­ease doesn’t kill him before his son, Rivers, is old enough to remem­ber him, his symp­toms will be so advanced that his son will grow up with no knowl­edge of the spir­it­ed char­ac­ter he once was. He realis­es that, be it through death or the loss of his speech, he’ll nev­er be able to have an hon­est con­ver­sa­tion with his son. So he com­mits to record­ing reg­u­lar video jour­nals and even­tu­al­ly a doc­u­men­tary to say every­thing he pos­si­bly can with the time he has left. The way he sees it, even if he doesn’t make it through his son’s for­ma­tive years, he’ll have left enough of him­self behind for Rivers to get to know his dad even in his absence.

And boy, is Rivers in for one hell of a por­trait. Glea­son doesn’t just explore his father as a stun­ning ath­lete and as a vibrant, intel­li­gent soul. It paints a pic­ture of an entire fam­i­ly strug­gling to main­tain hope as the light is slow­ly smoth­ered out of their lives. As Steve’s dis­ease crip­ples him, he relies more and more on Michel to pro­vide around the clock care, and through her strug­gle to main­tain ener­gy, she begins to sac­ri­fice parts of her­self to main­tain what’s left of her hus­band, express­ing her shame at how that makes her feel. Steve’s father appears unable to cope with the sit­u­a­tion, although he tries to help in his own mis­guid­ed ways. At one point he takes Steve to church to par­tic­i­pate in a faith heal­ing. The result­ing images are almost sickening.

Glea­son is an incred­i­ble film, just as full of humour as it is hard­ship. But even more than that, it is a potent state­ment about the will to live. Through­out the film, we watch Steve shrink and fade as he is slow­ly robbed of the free­doms as small and pre­cious as unas­sist­ed breath­ing. But he con­tin­ues to sur­vive in spite of his fail­ing body. Steve is going to die even­tu­al­ly, and he knows this, but in the end, death is inevitable; life, how­ev­er, is a choice, and as long as that choice is still in his hands, he remains a free man.

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