Why we need more films like UNREST
It’s been a while since I’ve seen a documentary that inspired me in this way. Unrest was powerful and honest. The director, Jennifer Brea, artfully told her story of living with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome through personal documentation and interviews with other survivors of the disease. What really stood out in Unrest was the editing. The film wove together smartphone footage with beautiful cinematography and screen-recorded Skype interviews. At no point during the film was I disengaged or put off by a jarring transition. Brea’s direction was subtle, guiding the audience through her experience. The honesty of the film was unparalleled. Although Brea was often speaking into the camera, filming herself, I never felt as though she were performing for the camera. Her presence on screen was simply a means to an end.
The film reminded me of the power of personal documentary. Although much of the film was shot on Brea’s personal low-budget camera, it was beautiful. She struck the perfect balance between personal and metaphorical, between emotions and activism, making Unrest much more than the typical activist film. The real difference? She was unflinchingly honest, unafraid to expose herself to her viewers.
Perhaps the most intriguing part of the film was the portrayal of her relationship with her husband Omar. The complexity of being in a relationship while also living with chronic illness, especially one that is invisible, is tragic and fascinating. Brea tackles this with grace and honesty, showing the audience scenes of fighting, love, and grief between the two. One of the best scenes occurs towards the end of the film when Brea thinks she has discovered that the mold inside her house is making her sick. Brea and Omar erect a tent in their backyard so Brea can live in a “mold free” space. At one point Omar goes into the house to get something and comes back outside in the same clothes. Brea panics, telling him he needs to change and shower before he touches her “new home,” the tent. An argument ensues. Omar’s frustration at a request that is seemingly crazy and Brea’s pure desperation to find a solution pulled at my emotions. There were many times, this scene included, when I reached over to hold my boyfriend’s hand. Seeing the pain this couple went through at the hands of an invisible illness is heartbreaking. It makes me feel lucky for the health that I have.
Brea insightfully relates her experience with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome to that of women diagnosed with “hysteria” throughout history. Women’s health is continuously overlooked and many women find doctor’s visits traumatizing. I know from personal experience that it is incredibly difficult to get an accurate diagnosis as a woman, especially when your illness is invisible. Relating Chronic Fatigue Syndrome to hysteria was one of the smartest decisions by Brea. The archival footage of women in examination rooms, being poked and prodded and told they were lying added an additional urgency and reliability to the film. 85% of the people diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome are women. Comparing Brea’s present-day misdiagnoses to this historical shame provided context. I immediately related it to my own experience with Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder.
As someone who also suffers from an invisible illness, I can confidently say that this film is a much needed revelation in the documentary genre. Most contemporary documentary films tend to focus on the disabled, illnesses that are widely accepted as such and are recognizable to the public. I’ve seen countless films about Muscular Dystrophy, amputations, even Down’s Syndrome. While these films are necessary, it can be invalidating for those of us suffering out of the public eye. The thought comes to mind, how can I really be sick if no one else can see it? Brea’s depiction of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome not only subverts this expectation, but provides a platform for many people suffering from the disease who are unable to speak out. Since Chronic Fatigue Syndrome is isolating by nature, many of the people Brea interviews are bedridden and alone. This film gives them legitimacy in the public sphere.
Unrest easily earns a spot on my favorite films list. It educated me about an unknown disease in a skillful way that wasn’t preaching or overbearing. Instead, it personalized the illness and forced the audience to empathize. The film was more about relationships and strength than the disease itself, making the experience of living with a chronic illness universal.
Unrest is Brea’s first documentary film. She is a filmmaker I will definitely be watching. I can’t wait to see what she does next. View the official trailer for Unrest below.
