We
met at nine
We met at eight
I
was on time
No,
you were late
Ah,
yes, I remember it well
…
We
dined with friends,
We dined alone
A
tenor sang,
A baritone
Ah,
yes, I remember it well …
That
dazzling April moon
There was none that night
And
the month was June,
That's right, that's right
It
warms my heart to know that you remember still the way you do
Ah, yes, I remember it well
[lyrics by Alan Jay Lerner–
from Gigi (1958)]
I’ve seen Stories
We Tell twice now, and really enjoyed it on both occasions. The film is an exploration of family narratives, truth and myth, among other things. My first viewing was about five or six weeks ago with good friends, and afterward we wound up
discussing the themes, the characters and the construction of the movie for
about an hour. It was that interesting. I watched it again a few days ago by
myself, to refresh my recollection for this review, and found it just as
arresting the second time around, a sign of a very good motion picture, which
this is.
Neuroscientists
will tell you that when we “remember”,
we are not replaying a mental video of what actually happened or even of our
subjective experience of that event; but rather, a facsimile of what we
recalled the last time we thought about it.
Because every time we take down a remembered story from our mental
library, we tend to replace it with an altered version of that story. The alteration may be due to an emotional or
psychological need (shame, ego), embellishment (e.g. to fill in the blanks, or
just create a better story), feedback from others, or simple fatigue. And the
more an old story is told, the more likely it is to be altered, as will be our future
recollection of the story.
So how do we get
to the truth about what happened in the past? (And what do we mean by truth, anyway?) How
can we know who we really are if we can’t even recall our own history and our
family’s history accurately? And, if we can’t tell if the stories our family
members have told us is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth –
or myths, fables, or even outright lies, where does that leave us?
Writer/director
Sarah Polley explores these and other themes in her fascinating, not-quite-documentary
film. Sarah herself is an actress, writer and director (Away From Her [2006]), and thus a teller of
stories. Her father, Michael Polley (Slings and Arrows) is also an
actor, as are several of Sarah’s siblings and half/step-siblings - and as was
her mum, Dianne Polley, who died of cancer when Sarah was eleven years old. The
movie is, on one level, Sarah’s attempt to discover just who Dianne Polley was,
through filmed interviews (interrogations, she calls them) of her family
members, friends and colleagues. On another level it chronicles Sarah’s
investigation into her parents’ relationship and her own parentage, having been
brought up amid good-natured sibling taunts (she was the youngest by a long
shot) that she did not at all resemble her father. 
Dianne emerges,
through the interviews, embellished by home movie footage and other images, as
a vivacious, attractive, passionate woman trapped in a marriage to a rather
taciturn, reserved man; devoted to her family, but feeling stuck with and
restrained by the traditional wifely responsibilities of running the household
and being the primary parent of/for the children. She gave up acting for many
years, but stayed connected to show-biz working as a casting director. Michael emerges
as well, as an old soul new-age man, with remarkable self-understanding,
compassion, and screen presence as the primary narrator (and co-writer) of the
tale that unfolds. 
As the interrogations progress, secrets are revealed, and each of the characters – referred to as storytellers in the credits, adds – by embellishing or reacting - to our and Sarah’s understanding of Dianne, and her effect on everyone else, Sarah included. Although she is behind the camera most of the time, we get to know more about Sarah, too, in ways she may not have anticipated. The story itself resembles the layer-by-layer unpeeling of an onion, getting more complicated and more involving as it moves along.
For this project,
Sarah Polley was blessed in having so many actors and entertainment people in
her extended family: as pretty much everyone participating in her increasingly
interesting investigation seems comfortable in front of a camera. Sometimes
funny, sometimes remarkably touching, these very real people come across as appealing
and sympathetic on screen.
The family story
that evolves from all this about Sarah Polley’s family, and about Sarah herself,
involves the unraveling of a mystery, but the ‘facts’ which finally emerge are
not particularly unusual. The engrossing narrative works because of the way it
is told, how it is edited, and the unusual way in which the past is depicted
through old footage and flashback. Some of this is, intriguingly, not dishonest
exactly, but let’s say not quite what it seems.
To explain further, would spoil it a little for you, if you haven’t seen
it (and if you have, you’ll know what I mean).
Part of the fun of Stories We Tell is observing Polley’s sure
footed storytelling technique, which is self-aware and reflective, and
ultimately, artistic.
Beyond the Polley
family saga, Stories We Tell is about, well, the stories we tell
ourselves and others, about our families, about ourselves, about our relevance in other people’s lives and thus their stories.
It’s also about the difficulties people have in talking openly and honestly
about stuff, especially important, personal stuff, and about the effect such
communicative reticence has on our decisions, our understanding of ourselves
and others, our family relationships, and ultimately our place in the world.
That’s quite a lot for a little, personal documentary, don’t you think. Well,
it’s a pretty remarkable picture.
Highly recommended.
108 minutes.
Available streaming on Amazon Instant Video,
Google Play, Vudu; and on DVD from
Netflix and elsewhere.
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