Sam Now

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.

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.

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?

"When we started this, all Sam wanted was to get his mom back. Did he ever get her back? I don't know. We may try to change things, but we end up in the same place. Replaying our scenes over and over, generation to generation. Sometimes maybe we can catch a glimpse of the cycle we're in and see for a moment how everyone is playing out their own version of a story that came before."

It's a hell of a thing for a mother to leave her teenage kids and disappear without explanation, and to see them try to cope with it had my heart in my throat, and that was just the beginning of an emotional churn in this brilliant film from Reed Harkness. The reactions to the abandonment across the family are varied, from her own mother judging her severely, to the bulk of the family simply not acknowledging what happened and refraining from talking about it, to an extraordinary amount of non-judgment from her boys, Sam especially. His gentle approach as a teenager is inspiring, and when questioned about it, he says:

"Well, I don't think any good can come from me believing she did the wrong thing. Whereas, I think there's a lot to gain from me trusting her still."

However, it's when the film jumps forward to ten years later, and we see the lasting damage she's done to Sam, that the film really takes on soul-shaking dimensions. We hear him describe the effects of not being valued by his own mother, with the loss of self-worth and the closing of emotional channels to people in his life, now saying:

"It's just a scary concept to think like, to just completely open up to a person that like, did that to me, you know? And really damaged the way I value myself."

The film then does an extraordinary thing, which is to ask his mother about her own childhood. Jois is of mixed heritage, born to a Japanese mother and Caucasian father in rural Japan, and then adopted at 18 months by an American family in the Pacific Northwest, given up because her racial identity would not have been accepted by the mother's community. She tells of always growing up at odds with her adoptive mother, and more troubling, that she would regularly get threatened her with being "sent back" to Japan. Without being heavy-handed about it, the film lets us connect the dots from Jois's own emotional damage to what she did to her sons, and it's devastating.

Meanwhile, I felt a lot of Sam's emotional struggle, the judgment towards his mother, yet still wanting a relationship, and also wanting to break the cycle in positive, healthy ways. He was even more inspiring to me speaking as an adult, trying to navigate all this, and then there's his paternal grandmother Doris, who is incredibly empathetic, and a truly enlightened soul - certainly more so than I, who couldn't help but notice the bitter irony of Jois complaining about adult Sam not contacting her even over a couple of holiday seasons.

It's an emotional story, but not one told in a melodramatic way. There are also some very artistic visuals here, evident even in the earliest home movies, as well as a great soundtrack. Definitely one to seek out.