Watched: Stories We Tell
This is one of the first films in a long while where I’ve felt tempted to put an author credit after the title; Stories We Tell contains a multitude of interviews with a number of figures, but the stamp of authorship belongs to Sarah Polley, the woman behind the camera and (often) at the heart of the story.
It’s hard to talk about this film without spoiling it. The titular story is one with gaping differences between perspectives, but can be reduced to this: Polley’s mother, Diane Polley, was a celebrated theater actress who died tragically young, and in that time had an extra-marital affair that led to the birth of the filmmaker - the biological fact of which was only made clear comparatively recently. In that sense, it’s a small family drama, albeit with strong emotional significance for the key players. Each character - and they do feel like characters, despite being real people underneath - is wonderfully fleshed out, and given room to breathe in a way that many fictional constructs aren’t. There is care given to the portrayals in this film. More than you initially suspect.
It’s on that hook that the film lies - as time goes by, it becomes apparent that Polley’s method of presentation is bestowed with a lot more agency than she initially lets on. It’s a thrilling revelation, and brings with it a re-evaluation of the way the film - and the viewer - handles perspectives on our lives and the lives of others. What was a small family drama becomes something altogether more intimate, as the difference in memory reveals small details about the psychological makeup of those recalling it. It’s never fetishistic - there is a pounding emotional core to this film that anchors what could be an eye-rolling meta-textual exercise - but it’s still a fascinating piece of filmmaking, long after you dry your eyes.