Tears of rage

Above: Kurt Kuenne

Author’s note: I have every intention of writing a longer (and hopefully more coherent) review of the new film, Dear Zachary. The following is an abbreviated rough draft of that forthcoming piece. —Ray

Writing about films from an emotional standpoint or a gut reaction can be tricky. Nine times out of ten, you’re bound to alienate someone—everyone?—with those kinds of gushing superlatives best shared secretly to friends and loved ones who’ll overlook our digressions. After all, emotions are subjective and quite often frivolous, right?

    Dear Zachary (2008) is nearly impossible to write about at any length without giving too much away. A documentary that’s a combination souvenir-scrapbook-indictment, it was made by independent filmmaker Kurt Kuenne. His goal was to say goodbye to a close friend, Dr. Andrew Bagby, who died tragically young, and provide a forum for Dr. Bagby’s surviving relatives, friends and colleagues to speak out on a variety of hot button topics.

    They’ve got a lot to say—which is where it gets tricky writing about Dear Zachary. I’d never heard of Dr. Bagby before, and knew nothing of the circumstances following his death. But seeing the film blind as I did is recommended, because Kuenne has managed something truly extraordinary here, best experienced without preconceptions or expectations. Critics who give away details in their reviews do it a grave disservice.

    Presently making the festival rounds, Dear Zachary has yet to reach the audience it deserves. After being reduced to a teary-eyed raw nerve, I’m hard pressed to say how it works or anything else. Mr. Kuenne has captured something far too rare: pure, unadulterated feeling on film…for a human drama beyond imagination. There’s not one frame of nonsense, no moment when we doubt anyone’s sincerity. I don’t use the term ‘masterpiece’ lightly, but I think it applies here. Even if it’s from the heart.

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