Stories We Tell
Sarah Polley
Mongrel Media
Have you ever been in a situation where you are telling a story, something from your past that you can recall vividly, as if it happened yesterday, but then someone that lived the same experience stops you and says no, you have it all wrong? That is a pervading thread woven throughout Stories We Tell, Sarah Polley’s new documentary which tells the story of her family — in particular, the late-in-life revelation she received that the man she thought was her father is not, in fact, her biological parent.
Curiously, the film is portrayed in an unclear mixture of home movies, interviews, her non-biological father’s memoir being read by him, and dramatic reenactments. This can be confusing at times (was that an actual home movie, or a reenactment?) but it all ends up fitting together coherently.
I’m getting ahead of myself, though. First, we meet Polley’s mother, Diane. As viewers, we are immediately drawn into Diane’s infectious personality, just as everyone she met must have been. Within the first five minutes we also have “Skinny Love” by Bon Iver playing, so I was obviously hooked.
A sense of mystery is established in regards to Diane — we are told she died from cancer, and we are repeatedly warned that behind her outside appearance are deep secrets. Then, the truth: during a stay in Montreal where Diane was acting in a play, she had an affair, and Polley was conceived by Diane and her lover. This is not a spoiler, because Polley has more to say than that.
Several different perspectives are heard — Polley’s father reading from his memoir, her biological father giving his side (and arguing that it is the only one worth considering) plus interviews with all of Polley’s siblings. As one of these siblings points out early on, this is just one family’s story, so who cares? Fortunately, Polley makes us care with her skilled direction (for further proof of this, see her phenomenal directorial debut, Away From Her) and careful handling of the material. This is obviously an extremely personal film, and we hear more than once about her reservations about releasing this film for public consumption.
In fact, several journalists discovered the truth about Polley’s family years ago, but had promised to not publish anything until Polley had told the story in her own words. In the end, Polley presents the story in a compelling manner, even though the intent isn’t always clear.
The film is something of a mess stylistically, and it isn’t entirely clear what conclusions we are supposed to draw from what we just saw. There are inclinations that the contradicting stories we observe at times throughout the film are meant to be a reflection on how memory is strange and can change our perceptions of the past, but it is also suggested that this is merely a way for Polley to make herself feel okay about making the film. Either way, this deeply personal tale benefits from the interesting people involved and the masterful (yet imperfect) way in which Polley crafts the story. Bon Iver always helps, too.
