Sam Now

Sam Now is a joy and wonder to watch, and stirs up endless fodder for conversation and reflection. It is impossible not to love Sam from the start, who we meet as a charming and goofy boy whose mother has inexplicably abandoned him and his brother, Jared. While we watch Sam grow up and grapple with this over the next 20 years, we also witness the making of the brilliant filmmaker, Reed Harkness, who started filming this movies when he was a teen himself. Watch Sam Now with your family and friends, with fans of Super 8 film, or with anyone who you love to talk with about the unanswerable questions of human psychology.

What a tremendous gift to your brother, this film! My favorite kind of documentary, one that keeps you pondering it for days afterward. At first we are playfully invited into a world of boys making silly superhero home movies, and along the way and over the years we see the huge impact of how their world was upended by the disappearance of one of their parents. Watch this film and you will see glimpses of your own family, and hopefully also gain some insight into how trauma is passed down with each generation. What kind of wounds are left, and what do we demand of the person who has caused harm? Do they escape unscathed?

A multi-decade spanning, wonderfully told story of generational trauma, told through a loving lens. Like actual family trauma, the story goes deep, and a happy ending is not guaranteed. The stories main character, Sam, is a familiar persona to anyone who has suffered abandonment and loss. In truth, the whole family, including the director, Randy, Sam's older half brother, are all players in the tale, each exhibiting their own classic responses to abandonment. It's fascinating to watch, more so by a multi-decade spanning purview. I only wish the filmmaker had dug a little deeper, and shared a little more about his own story, as he seem deeply effected by the disappearance of his stepmother perhaps by way of his own biological mothers absence which is barely touched on/talked about in the film.

A recommendation from Andrew Draper led me to "Sam Now" (2022), a documentary that unveils the profound narratives hidden within the lives of ordinary people.

Every day, we consume films and stories about the lives of others - their personal growth, struggles for existence, joys, and sorrows. These stories often revolve around individuals known to society, but as this documentary poignantly reveals, it's the tales of "ordinary people" that hold the true power to move us, to sadden us, to shake us to our core. It's the empathy we feel, the realization that "this could happen to me," that makes these stories so impactful.

There are 8 billion people living in the world today, and according to research, over a hundred billion have come and gone. Right now, somewhere, someone is experiencing indescribable pain, immeasurable joy, heartbreaking sorrow, or maddening laughter. Yet, we remain oblivious because our "cameras" are not focused on them.

"Sam Now" is, first and foremost, a technical marvel. The editing, cinematography, color grading, and sound design are all executed with exceptional skill. It's baffling how such a film, despite being screened at numerous festivals, remains so underrated.

(Incidentally, the films made by Sam and his brother reminded me of "Me and Earl and the Dying Girl" (2015), further deepening my sense of melancholy.)

This documentary is a must-watch.

This is one of the most boring, ridiculously conceived documentaries I have ever seen. It deals with a subject matter that is completely inconsequential, and tries desperately to make us care, but in the final stage, misses the mark. The concept is to somehow present Sam's mission to find his missing mother a universal statement of something, but no one who is interviewed in the film has any reason to believe that there is something of a significance to the entire experience. We wait patiently, wading through endless inane footage of a teenager creating lame tributes to his favorite sci-fi type movies, with idiotic plots and acting that is embarrassing to the filmmaker, and then reaches a climax midway through the film -- and then it's all downhill. The ending is utterly pointless. Nothing happens in this film, and so I am baffled as to why it is being presented as part of the Independent Lens series, which seems to be sinking to a new low. After a pointless 90 minutes, I couldn't wait to get out of the screening. I honestly cannot understand what in the world the other reviewers see in this piece of trash.