craschworks

Namely, a guy with FTD (frontotemporal dementia). When you meet Mr. B, he seems normal. He's in his early 60's, with a round face, neatly trimmed gray hair, and a twinkle in his eye. When he sees you, he smiles, shakes your hand, and says “My names B.” As you shake his hand, he asks “Where were you born?”. “Pocatello, Idaho.” “My wife and I were born in Kansas City.” “Oh really. When did you move here?”

“What?”

“When did you move here?”

“What?”

“When did you move here?”

“My wife and I were born in Kansas City.”

At this point, you know somethings not quite right. Then you feel a hand on your back.

“Does this feel good?”

He's rubbing your back. His wife cringes, “It's okay, it's just his way of saying he likes you.”

“Is this okay?”

“Yes, it's okay.”

He rubs your back for a minute or so. Then he bunches his fists straight out in front of him, and squees like a 6 year old girl on Christmas morning.

Thus was my first introduction to FTD, and to documentary filmmaking. My friend S. works as a researcher in a Bay Area lab that specializes in treating patients with FTD. She got a grant to make a documentary about the disease, and Mr. B. was her first subject. S. and I spent December 23 – 26 staying at Mr. and Mrs. B's house, interviewing her, and their two daughters about the effects the disease has had on their lives.

Mr. B had worked for many years as a dairy consultant for Safeway. About 10 years ago, he started having trouble understanding words. For example, while reading to his grandchildren, he would not be able to remember words like “alligator”.

Ten years later, he can still do some complex tasks. For example, he can play solitaire on the computer (though not with physical cards). And he can rapidly solve difficult 1000 piece jigsaw puzzles. He can play pinball. Yet he can't drive, can't recall the names of his parents, or his own middle name. If permitted, he will walk into other people's houses in search of soda cans for recycling (and he will drink soda out of cans retrieved from the neighbor's garbage).

Most of our time was spent filming the families of Mr. B's two daughters as they opened presents, while Mr. B. snored on the couch in the background. Good lord, those families don't stint on Christmas. We filmed them opening presents from 7:00 a.m. – 6:00 p.m. S., the documentarian, got 10 gifts alone.

The highlight was when Mrs. B. took him to church. As soon as the car stopped, he opened the door and ran into the church as fast as he could. He then proceeded to give the girl in the pew in front of him a backrub. As she gave him a “WTF?!?” look, his wife explained that he had FTD, and that he didn't know what he as doing.

S. isn't sure how she's going to tell the story. After all, how often do people at Blockbuster's say “Hey, let's watch a documentary about a woman's futile effort to keep her demented husband out of nursing home?” However, I'm learning a lot about what I don't know. I learned that documentaries mostly involve a lot of standing around, that cameras are really hard to hold steady for any length of time, and the basics of three-point lighting. I also have more of an inkling for why movies cost so much. The shot has to be perfect to be usable, and there is infinite number of ways a shot can go wrong. So you have to have backups (of tapes, batteries, cameras, etc.) and do lots of planning.