Mental Filmness

I was just getting out of a very intense and loving relationship during my last round of inpatient/outpatient treatment for treatment-resistant depression and suicidal ideation. When I told my program therapist there, he said “Well, the most important thing about relationships is what you learn from them.” I wanted to punch him in the face and scream, “Haven’t you ever been in love before??!!” Of course, most people think their heartbreak is worse than everyone else’s. That’s why country music was invented.

I was thinking of the recent Director’s Club podcast I guested on about the work of Charlie Kaufman (plug!), where we discussed Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (part of which takes place on Valentine’s Day). The bittersweet part of that movie is that you get the feeling star-crossed lovers Joel and Clementine, who have erased the memory of each other from each other’s mind, are going to try their relationship over again, even after listening to what they know are the tapes documenting why it didn’t work out. Is this outcome ultimately hopeful? On the podcast I said I thought it was, largely because we learn and grow from our life experiences, even the painful ones (damn you outpatient therapist, I admit you were right).

Something I forgot to say—inevitable when you are talking live—is that I feel like American culture puts so much pressure on the permanence of relationships in order for them to be meaningful. Not true. As a bipolar cancer (basically a walking bundle of raw nerves) I am very susceptible to emotional flux but some of the relationships that have impacted my life most deeply, didn’t last. Joel and Clementine’s relationship had plenty of bad memories—did the good outweigh the bad? I think my ex-husband once asked me that literal question—we had more good memories than bad, didn’t we? And does it matter?

I’ll end with my one of my favorite quotes from Louise Erdrich:

“Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and being alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You have to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes too near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself that you tasted as many as you could.”

Happy Valentine’s

Jim Laczkowski of 5 Years meditates on the relationship between deep trauma, dreams, and denial in Martin Scorsese’s Shutter Island.
https://5years.beehiiv.com/p/shutter?fbclid=IwAR3VebZBfl96vbP2gfEKocym5KnJ6HNeSClmheaddM9kjJ3vFPW36_6uJaQ

One of the benefits of living in Chicago is the fantastic film programming happening all year round. That is certainly the case with the “Settle In” series happening at the Gene Siskel Film Center right now. The idea of the series is to screen some notoriously long, epic movies with bottomless coffee and intermissions.

Jim Laczkowski and I decided to hop on the opportunity of a rare chance to see Bela Tarr’s seven-and-a-half-hour epic Satantango on the big screen. I remember undertaking a project to watch this on DVD with some dear friends over what is a decade past now, I believe. Of course this is a movie that’s meant for the big screen–not only to “trap” you into exercising the patience to watch it, but because of its beautiful and eerie immersive sounds and visuals. I’m still conflicted about how I feel about Satantango overall, but I do think it’s one of the most beautifully shot films I’ve ever seen, with some of the best sound design and a distinctively melancholy and haunting score.

As a warning, I do have to mention there’s a “cat scene.” I feel that even if you’re not a “cat person” the scene is fairly prolonged and disturbing (to the point where one audience member cried out “what the fuck,” which was actually a bit cathartic because I felt he was voicing all of our feelings at that point). Was the “cat scene” really necessary? I pondered it, and as much as I *hate* to admit it—cause believe me, I’m an *enormous* cat person—the scene’s drawn-out exploitative brutality helped me feel the brutality these characters felt. Up until that point, it was fairly abstract for me—the desolate landscapes, substance use, prostitution. That sequence hit a painful head on a nail for me, like no, *this* what it feels like, this is what it does. The power of that sequence for me is undeniable. It probably could have been done another way, but it would have had to be equally visceral and brutal.

Satantango uses sound and visuals in a strikingly distinct way. Its choices for photography are always interesting and often thwart expectations. (Extremely) long takes, depth of field, and slow pans conjure lived time and atmosphere effectively, with people sometimes moving in and out of the frame or even fading into dots in the distance. Scenes are framed to include or even emphasize squalor or disarray. When key characters are speaking or walking, sometimes the focus is on the backs of their heads or an object in the room instead of on their faces.

Time is used in a different way in this film. When the lens films or focuses on something for a great deal of time, rather than moving the story forward, Satantango is typically focusing on that particular scene’s importance to the story. How important a lonely little girl will become to the narrative of neglect; how important an alcoholic doctor pursuing his drink will become to chasing oblivion and then hunkering down for an impeding apocalypse.

Does Satantango deserve its reputation, among some artistic circles, as a cinematic masterpiece? Well, I think that is wholly subjective. One of the patrons in our theater hilariously felt compelled to yell “Pretentious bullshit!” on his way out. I have to admit, he’s not wrong. If you’re pretentious though, why not go all in? Bela Tarr did everything pretentiously: the weird, unusual framing and cinematography; the creepy ambient sounds of the wind and bells that continue to haunt me; the chapter titles and narration that played with literary form and even a chapter that went a little “meta” as to everything else. I have to admire that. For me, though, the greatest trick the film pulled was to immerse a captive audience for a substantial length of time in the experience of a culture and people that so many would readily ignore- people living in some of the most desolate and forgotten places on earth, doing some of the most desperate things people do. You could continue to resist seeing this world, or you could surrender and endure its harsh beauty.

What a delightful way to ring in the New Year! I was honored to be a guest on Directors’ Club, the long-running, well-respected, and entertaining podcast hosted by Jim Laczkowski discussing the work of filmmaker Charlie Kaufman, both as a writer and director. I would argue that Kaufman’s films depict mental health in a realistic and empathetic way, even if it’s often in a surreal style. His characters struggle with depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideation in a way that is relatable and often humorous, and I love that he never offers easy answers and that their journeys reflect the complexity of life. He explores the human psyche in a way that is insightful, inventive, and often absurdly and darkly comic, with an eye for bizarre visual detail and an ear for wordplay that makes his films eminently re-watchable.

Our shared love of Charlie Kaufman and especially the mysterious and multi-layered Synecdoche NY was one of the first things that bonded me and Jim and his support has proven invaluable. He’s attended every Mental Filmness screening except for one I think, taken beautiful photographs at all of them, written about them in his blog (check out the link in the show notes), and helped connect me with some talented and beloved Chicago films and filmmakers.

As usual, too, he gave me some significant air time in the beginning of the show to discuss Mental Filmness (and even reminded me of a few highlights I forgot to mention).

Take a listen, and I hope you have as much fun as we did delving deep into the mind of someone who delves deep into others’ minds.

https://www.directorsclubpodcast.com/episodes/charliekaufman?fbclid=IwAR0SYppamSSZgmjE6Zk5PBk3BADfX-bTmrJ0p73DXgOelo0KQy0HKTgX0Vw

Happy New Year to any Mental Filmness followers, old or new. I surely appreciate each and every one of you.

This was the fifth year of Mental Filmness, the Chicago-based film festival about mental health. I took it seriously as a landmark year and poured more effort and funds into it than ever before. I thought maybe if it didn’t gain traction or get much of an audience this year it might be my swan song, and I wanted it to go out with a bang trying everything. Five years is a good festival run.

Well, I think the effort did pay off. We had a decent audience for each screening, and they were all highly engaged and eager to ask questions of the guest filmmakers—which I’ve found from the very beginning. People are passionate about this topic.

I gained a couple of things I’ve been wanting for awhile—an incredibly devoted jury and mental health partners from the community. The amazing jury, among them watching every film and leaving detailed commentary, I’m quite certain made the selection process and programming stronger and more diverse than it has ever been. They often challenged my own perspective which is a very good thing and gave me new insights on films I might have overlooked.

At our holiday showcase Step Up For Mental Health’s Adrienne McCue delivered an incredible speech about her personal history with mental health and her organization’s mission that exceeded any expectations I might have had, and presented a beautiful table with some free takeaways and information. Dr. Cheryl Taliaferro from the counseling center at UIC helped set the tone for a respectful discussion of Any Given Day and shared valuable community resources. These are all assets I’d been hoping for for the festival that I just hadn’t really pulled together yet. The films have always been impressive, but connecting with the community and other perspectives helped them shine.

Sometimes people ask me about the origins of Mental Filmness. It all started five years ago after a severe, months-long manic episode and a diagnosis of bipolar disorder, followed by years of depression and suicidal ideation which never seemed to lift regardless of doctors, medication, therapy, even ECT. Though things are easier now, I won’t lie, I still consider myself to be in recovery and probably always will be. I was moved by how the filmmaker Margaret Byrne, who wove the story of her own depression into Any Given Day, said that she figures things out by making movies. I think Mental Filmness was my attempt to figure my life out by starting a film festival.

In a way, Mental Filmness has always been a bit of a selfish endeavor. It’s been a way of making sense of what happened to me and feeling less alone in watching these films, which has always been one of my favorite things to do anyway. I hope it helps others, too–I’ve had some feedback that indicates it does. I’ve also had people challenge whether or not it’s a good idea, which is fair. The main critique is whether or not it’s too depressing a theme. I’ll admit sometimes it’s hard to garner an audience because it doesn’t necessarily sound like a fun theme or a good time. However, I’ve been surprised by how many takes there are on mental illness and mental health—like in the film Year Between we screened this year, where the writer-director-actress Alex Heller used her own tragicomic experiences coming of age with bipolar disorder to draw awkward laughs from the audience. And even the films that are a dark, difficult watch often have a lot of hope and resilience to impart about living with mental illness and the obstacles in our lives.

I was so green to the world of film festivals that I only learned after starting Mental Filmness that it wasn’t a novel idea. There are actually many film festivals devoted to the theme of mental health, including big names like Reel Recovery and Rendezvous With Madness which have been running for over a decade. I like to call Mental Filmness the Chicago-based one. It was a difficult time to start in 2019, with two all-virtual years following the first. I felt it was difficult to market and especially difficult to build any kind of Chicago identity or audience. I truly feel energized after this year that maybe it can.

I think whatever modest success we’ve had this year was a confluence of many factors. It could be that I spent a little more money on things, including promotion and social media—we attracted some more attention this way. It could be perseverance over time—one of our jury members was a selected filmmaker from the very first year. It could be finally having some ideas gel together through learned experience and finding what works—using the library as a partner, working with local student filmmakers, trying to tap more into the Chicago mental health community.

I will say one thing that has been a constant from the very beginning is the quality of the films, the humane spirit of the filmmakers, and the quality of the audience. Every single guest filmmaker has been so gracious and giving of their time, and willing to share their most vulnerable stories whether over a Zoom interview or before an audience. Some have traveled here on their own dime, and been present to speak to an audience even when we couldn’t pay them. They’ve been grateful and excited even when the audience is small, if it’s still engaged—which it usually is. It might be a niche thing and in a way I almost hope it doesn’t get too huge (I doubt it will) so there is still time for filmmakers to interact meaningfully with the audience. There is a cathartic feel to a lot of these screenings and I think people like telling their stories.

I also plan to continue to highlight low-budget, indie, sometimes imperfect films that are realistic and empathetic portrayals of mental health (including student shorts–please submit!). That is the other huge goal, to have people share their authentic stories since Hollywood so often stereotypes mental illness and just doesn’t get it right. I love how our dear festival friend Kagan Goh, who had the world premiere of his short The Day My Cat Saved My Life in our virtual festival, said it—we’re the ones that give the underdog a chance.

Thank you to each and every one of you who took the time to read this, to follow us, to watch any of the virtual fest or attend our screenings or spread the word about us. I am truly moved every year if we can touch or reach a few people other than myself, and I feel that is happening more and more. One of the ways I like to think of Mental Filmness to make it less of a selfish endeavor is that when it’s operating how it should, with enough good people involved, I am mainly just an organizer, a curator and conduit for these important stories to be told.

~~Happy NYE from Sharon Gissy, Organizer, Mental Filmness

In January 2019 I was belatedly lugging some Christmas baggage up from the car that I’d left there for weeks due to depression and indifference. I had one of those classic Chicago winter moments where I slipped on the ice in a pratfall, my feet flew out from under me, and I landed fully on my back. I just remember lying there on that icy sidewalk, breathing slowly and staring at the stars blinking in the sky. I was exhausted and I couldn’t summon the energy to get up.

While I was not actively suicidal at the time, I was still open to the idea of some outside force of nature taking my life away. I felt so lonely and small and tired. I had sabotaged so many relationships, including the one with my domestic partner, through my treatment-resistant bipolar depression. I was still worried about living on my own and about money and about paying off my medical bills. I was as heavy as I’d ever been, partially because of taking sedentary drugs like lithium but also because I couldn’t find much motivation to care for myself, resulting in poor lifestyle habits like lethargy and junk food and excessive alcohol use.

I prayed to God to end my life. I told him I’d done all the good I could possibly do in this world, and now I was just suffering and hurting myself and other people, and it would be merciful to just let me die. I thought about how peaceful it would be if I could expire on the sidewalk in that starry, snowy night, without any guilt or shame. I closed my eyes and felt like if I willed it hard enough my body would just atomize and float into the ether.

Sadly, I never developed that zest and appreciation for life, that euphoria that some people describe after they’ve decided not to end their life, or after they have tried to end their life without succeeding and become motivational speakers and writers instead. I’ve always been deeply jealous of those people. I still walk around with a latent desire for an accident to happen to me or for the world to end. I continue to live, but somewhat recklessly and I never feel any particular desire to protect or prolong my life.

I don’t know why I eventually got up that night. There was no guardian angel or intervention, no epiphany on my part about how wonderful life was. I never stopped wanting to die. The reality of that moment is probably that I was just cold and the ground was hard and it was almost bedtime. It was time to get up. The magic had passed and instead of being absorbed back into the earth, I was going to take some baggage up the stairs. I have miles to go before I sleep.

Thanks to all who came to our final screening of the year, 5000 Blankets with special guest film producer Doug Shaffer! This is a heartwarming story for the holidays based on the real-life Bunch family. The Bunch family’s father and husband suffered a schizophrenic episode which caused him to escape to the streets. While taking to the streets to find him, the family encountered the homeless population in Fort Worth and formed bonds with that community. They decided to start a charity called Phillip’s Wish to try to deliver a blanket to every person in the city experiencing homelessness and out on the street during a winter with record cold.

There is a very similar charity in Chicago with the same mission called Chi-Town Blankets and I mentioned I would collect blankets for them if anyone wanted to bring one to donate. I didn’t really plan that out practically and was bowled over with these beautiful bundles of blankets we received—most of them, I believe, handmade. People offered me rides as I struggled with them to the door!

The lovely Independence Branch of the Chicago Public Library hosted us. They have a nice A/V setup and comfy, colorful furniture. The crowd wasn’t huge but they were very engaged in the film and, as is typical of our audiences, had some very thoughtful questions and commentary afterward.

Doug Shaffer, the producer of 5000 Blankets Movie, was there to talk about the film. He is an incredibly kind man, and was very open about his own mental health struggles with his depression and struggles with his autistic son. He is very passionate about the film’s message about mental health and very excited to speak about it, which has been typical of our filmmaker guests.

Thanks Doug for agreeing to be a part of this holiday screening! My favorite thing about this one was the generous spirit of the film’s message, the donations when I did not expect that many to come through, and the fact that I saw a few “regulars”—people who have come to other Mental Filmness screenings and are coming back! Those are the most valuable audience members to have. One introduced himself to me and we realized we had connected at a mental health event previously years and years ago! It’s starting to feel more and more like a community.

Our first-ever Holiday Showcase probably ranks among our top-rated screenings.

Adrienne McCue from Step Up For Mental Health spoke so passionately & eloquently about their founding and their mission, I was blown away. I hope everyone looks into all the good things they are doing for the community.

Both of our guest filmmakers, Brandon Jones and Alyssa Thordarson, also spoke from the heart and so movingly about their passion project films. It was very clear that they openly put themselves out there in their short films and cared deeply about realistically and empathetically portraying themes of mental health.

There was a great turnout and even more importantly, a great and engaged discussion surrounding mental health—that’s what it’s ultimately all about! Huge thanks again as well to the Edgewater Branch of the Chicago Public Library for hosting (and providing cookies!) and to the Chicago Public Library’s Diversability Committee for sponsoring and supporting us once again!

If you missed it, you can catch both films streaming for free online. Paper Planes: https://vimeo.com/894671130

Side B: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kQr58vM3Lpk

Support awesome Chicago indie filmmakers addressing mental health and throw some love their way!!!

Our upcoming screenings in December are co-sponsored by the Chicago Public Library’s Diversability Advocacy Committee. We have been working with them since 2021 and are incredibly grateful for their support.

The library’s Diversability Advocacy Committee works tirelessly all year round now to host programs and events that highlight the challenges and accomplishments of people living with disabilities. This includes less visible disabilities such as mental illness.

I have to admit, when the committee first reached out to me as an artist with bipolar disorder, I hadn’t really thought of myself as someone with a disability. The thought was not unwelcome, though. Kind of like how some people describe getting a diagnosis as a relief, it actually gave me some power to think of myself as overcoming barriers despite having a disability. I worked full-time, I made art, I supported myself and I eventually started a film festival. I’m well aware that my privilege, including a support system as well as a good job and health insurance, helped make this possible.

I later learned that depression is one of the leading causes of disability payments. I think it’s sometimes difficult for people to understand this, because you can’t really see it and it’s not tangible. Why can’t that person just snap out of it, act differently, and do the thing that they need to get better?

Believe me, the invisibility of this illness can be just as frustrating for the person experiencing the mental illness disability themselves. From my experience and others I’ve heard, that person does not want to be confined to bed, does not want to feel too exhausted to cook, clean, or shower, or too scared to answer the phone or go outside to the point where physical symptoms like a racing heart or shallow breathing kicks in. Sometimes I hated that I appeared lazy when I really felt mentally and physically incapable of doing anything, and I myself hated that I couldn’t pinpoint a tangible thing that was wrong, or find the right treatment for it. The fact that you can’t see or clarify it can actually be one of the most challenging things about it.

I’m almost embarrassed to admit that I, myself, not too long ago never fully considered the disabilities that are harder to see.