Morgan Dews’ documentary “Must Read After My Death” is so unique that I can't compare it to anything else I've seen. The subject matter in and of itself is far from unique; it’s essentially a portrait of a troubled marriage and a family on the verge of emotional collapse. Compelling and heart wrenching, but hardly unheard of. The way the film is edited, however, is another matter entirely; Dews constructs a narration track from a comprehensive series of Dictaphone letters, phonograph messages, and reel-to-reel diaries, most recorded by his grandmother, Allis, throughout the 1960s. There are no interviews with family members, friends, or associates, nor are there instances of people in the present day looking back on their lives; in spite of the fact that the audio recordings are spliced together, Allis is essentially allowed to tell her own story, and she does so in the moment.

The film begins with phonograph messages, which were recorded as a way for Allis and her husband, Charley, to communicate during his extended business trips to Australia. What they say to each other is surprisingly candid, more so, I suspect, than many married couples could tolerate. Both are unflinchingly honest about their extramarital affairs; “You probably don’t really quite agree with my philosophy on love and sex,” Charley says early on, not seeming to care one way or the other about how his wife feels. Allis, meanwhile, is stuck in her Hartford, Connecticut home with four children. She loves them, certainly, but by her own admission, she was never the domestic type. It makes you wonder, then, why she wanted to get married and have children in the first place.

Not long after Charley comes home, he and Allis begin attending therapy sessions, privately and within a group. What’s maddening is that, by all accounts, their situation doesn’t improve; if anything, it gets much worse. Charley, now an alcoholic, continuously criticizes his children for not keeping things neat and tidy, and he blames Allis for setting a very poor example. “We cuddle up to each other at night,” she says into her Dictaphone, “we like to be close to each other, and we can’t open our mouths to each other. We just seem to be bristling at each other all the time.” The constant fighting is affecting the children in very serious ways. The only daughter, Anna (the director’s mother), begins dating at a very young age. One of the sons, Chuck, exhibits the telltale signs of a learning disorder. Another son, Bruce, slowly sinks deeper into an emotionally unbalanced state of mind. He would ultimately spend years going in and out of mental institutions.

Allis obsessively records these painful events at the request of her psychiatrist, Dr. Lenn. While doing research for this documentary, Dews came across a psychological concept known as the Designated Patient, the one person that gets blamed for everyone’s problems; Dr. Lenn, in what can only be described as clinical misogyny, assigns that role to Allis, believing that the mother is solely responsible for the well-being of her family. The fact that such troubled lives were so unashamedly intruded on invariably led Allis to record one of her most chilling entries: “God,” she sobs, “I can understand people who kill their children rather than have them live like this! I just don’t have the courage to do it, just end it all!” She vents her frustrations with three simple, direct words: “I want out!”

Who exactly was to blame for this family’s turmoil? There’s the sense that Dews tried to figure that out through the process of making this documentary, only to discover that there’s no way to know for sure. What makes “Must Read After My Death” so great is that the audience is allowed to join Dews on his journey, one that reveals secrets but doesn’t necessarily tell us how we should feel about them. One of his more clever cinematic touches was the juxtaposition of overwrought audio material with sterile footage from Allis’ Super 8 home movie collection, which serves as the film’s visuals. What we see doesn’t reflect what we hear--the home movies, much like the image of domestic life in the 1950s and ‘60s, represent nothing more than a façade, a performance, a whitewashed projection of typical Happy Family Moments, like birthdays and holidays and social gatherings.

What I find the most fascinating is that Dews had no knowledge of this material until after Allis’ death in 2001. Some time afterwards, a friend told him about a file of tape transcripts and notes she sealed in an envelope (for what she wrote on it, I refer you to the film’s title). Through these notes, a largely forgotten chapter of his family’s history was finally retold. Dews claims to have been very close with his grandmother, although she kept that turbulent period of her life hidden from him. Her husband, who Dews never got to know, died under mysterious circumstances, which may explain why she refused to talk about him in her later years. Who can say why? Maybe it was far too painful to remember. Or maybe she didn’t want to burden her grandson with unpleasant details. Whatever the case, her story is just as engrossing as it is heartbreaking, and this is despite the fact that it sends a message most of us have already heard. As both a visual and aural achievement, “Must Read After My Death” is a striking documentary that should be experienced.

Chris Pandolfi

 

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