Examining the violent death of the filmmaker's brother and the judicial system that allowed his killer to go free, this documentary interrogates murderous fear and racialized perception, and re-imagines the wreckage in catastrophe's wake, challenging us to change.
Slyly edited in a way that plays with timelines and repetitions, while also allowing her interview subjects to occasionally veer on tangents, Ford's film is something much more intimate than just mere memoir of cinematic vigil.
Truly special, especially as it moves towards its final act, in which Yance begins to wonder about his own actions before William Jr.'s death, and how they might have contributed to the situation.
Ford is more than a witness-he is a crucial participant in the events of the film, and its elements of pain and guilt are reflected in his grief-stricken, self-interrogating aesthetic.
Ford's intent as a filmmaker isn't just to expose and protest the injustice of his brother's murder. It's to say: Behold what was lost. A life. A human being. A complex soul. A family's equilibrium. Feel what was lost.
The film builds, out of an outlet for discussing the tragedy of one family, into an emotionally, intellectually, and aesthetically complex work of essay and memoir.
This potent film gives equal weight to complex emotions as well as bare facts. In the same way, it's not just the story of a man's death, but also a study of the aftermath.
