Alan Zweig (left) and John Lennard (right) in Cambodia in a still from the film, Love, Harold.National Film Board of Canada; 52 Media Inc./Supplied
The first story in Alan Zweig’s new documentary about suicide concerns a brewery worker who believed he shamed his family by clumsily losing his job. “Darling, please forgive me,” he wrote his wife in the suicide letter. “I can’t bear the consequences for what I’ve done.” The note was signed, “Love, Harold.”
Zweig’s film, Love, Harold, is about consequences. Not the consequences that led to Harold killing himself, but the devastating aftereffects of his suicide and others on friends and family.
The documentary screens Oct. 24 at Rendezvous With Madness, a Toronto film festival focused on mental illness and addiction. The theme of this year’s Rendezvous is “Disrupt the Focus,” which has to do with narratives − the ones emphasized, and the ones suppressed. The topic of suicide is decidedly of the latter, spoken about in hushed tones if discussed at all.
Zweig spoke to The Globe and Mail about the resistance he faced in making Love, Harold.
Your film is impressionistic rather than scientific, with no talking heads and with a non-traditional montage style. I found the style compelling. Can you explain the choice?
It was barely a choice actually. The whole thing is that suicide is a mystery, a mystery that will haunt your days. The idea of me trying to solve that mystery for the viewer, when the person most deeply affected is deep inside that mystery, just seemed incredibly presumptuous. But I understand why you bring it up, and that has something to do with how people think about documentaries as almost a public information delivery system.
The effect of generations of Canadians raised on W5 and The Fifth Estate, possibly?
I can tell you that the first rejection this film received was from a programmer I knew. He basically told me he found the film frustrating. As soon as he found out what the film was about, clearly a template for what it would be immediately enters his head. Well, get that assumption out of your head. He said he was frustrated, but there is nothing to frustrate anyone. It’s interesting that you lead off this interview by saying you’re glad I didn’t do the thing that somebody else wanted me to do.
The poster for this film used a quote about you being Toronto’s most fearless non-fiction moviemaker. Is that adjective, fearless, accurate?
It’s one of my favourite quotes about me. But if I’m afraid of something, I don’t do it. It’s not like I’m simply fearless. But, with this film, people are definitely backing away from it because of the subject matter. The facial expressions I get. I didn’t expect that.
Surely you know suicide is a taboo subject.
I was aware of that. But you tell me, which would get more of a cringe reaction, making a film about children who die in a war in Syria or making a film about suicide? I would think children dying is a heavier topic. But that hasn’t been my experience with this film.
Isn’t it that we’re desensitized to children dying but not to suicide?
Yes. And the direct effect of that on this film is that it made it much harder to find people’s stories. One of the subjects puts it very well. He explains that when somebody asks, ‘How did your father die?’ you look at them and decide whether it’s worth it to tell the truth or just say, ‘He had a heart attack.’ If you say he killed himself, you’re sucking the air out of the room.
One of the most moving subjects was the mother whose son died by suicide. You were concerned your interview would leave her in an upset state.
Lynn. She affected me deeply. She told me she paints pictures of her deceased son from photographs. I thought that was amazing, and, as filmmaker, I asked whether we could film that. I thought that might be one degree more intrusive than it otherwise would have been.
Was it a tough choice for you to push forward?
You have to be a little bit relentless. When I hear that other filmmakers are reluctant to be relentless, I feel like, well, you’re abdicating your job. I don’t want to be ruthless to the point of immorality. But I wanted to see her paint.
Have you considered that describing you as fearless is a nicer way of saying you’re relentless or intrusive?
I think the person who called me fearless meant I was not afraid of the subject. But maybe you’re right.
Looking at your body of work, it’s clear to me that relentlessness has worked well for you.
All I can say is that over the years, I’ve heard other filmmakers say they didn’t want to ask the next question because they thought the audience knew where it was going. I can’t do that. If I don’t ask that next question, then I’ll just go home and kick myself later. That’s all I can say. It’s an interview. I’m there for two hours, and I’m there to get everything I can.
Rendezvous With Madness runs Oct. 23 to Nov. 2 at various Toronto venues including CAMH Auditorium.
This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.
If you or someone you know is thinking about suicide, support is available 24-7 by calling or texting 988, Canada’s national suicide prevention helpline.