The Sundance Film Festival documentary Life After begins with a simple yet controversial question. Should a disabled individual or someone who is suffering have the right to die? Regarding the disability experience, finding stories about people who share my worldview is a priority. And to be honest, the question posed caused me unease. Discovering that documentarian Reid Davenport shared the same unease was a relief. Life After is not a pro-stance take on “assistive suicide.” Instead, the documentary places a magnifying glass on the systems that exploit “assistive suicide” laws for nefarious reasons.
The best documentaries involve the filmmaker discovering the story as it goes along. Davenport begins his sights on one subject, involving the controversial case of Elizabeth Bouvia, a woman with Cerebral Palsy who feels her quality of life has fallen so far she feels compelled to end everything legally. By the end, the documentary is less concerned with “her right to choose” and more about how Bouvia arrived at a breaking point. The result is one of the most haunting examinations of the current state of long-term care systems one might ever watch.
Reid Davenport searches for Elizabeth Bouvia
At the forefront of the documentary is Davenport, who lives with cerebral palsy. From the outset, it is clear Davenport has a dry and sometimes dark sense of humor, referring to his shelf of books as “disabled propaganda.” It’s at this moment that he begins discussing Bouvia, and we see a string of archive clips of Bouvia herself talking to the media and advocating for her own death. Davenport explains that since the 1983 court battle, there was no record of the whereabouts of Bouvia or whether she passed away.
With the mystery in place, Davenport begins searching for what happened to the activist. Along the way, he converses with various other disabled individuals about their living situations. For instance, Michal Kaliszan, an individual who uses a wheelchair and lost his mother, fears being forced into a long-term care facility due to a lack of support and resources by the government. Out of fear of being a ward of the state, Kaliszan seeks guidance from a government-established program called MAID.
MAID is the villain of Davenport’s documentary, and the more he uncovers about the Canadian program, the more it will feel rightfully justified. The documentary explains that MAID began as a means for those living with intense pain or terminally ill conditions to choose to end their life in 90 days peacefully. However, since its inception, the guidelines of who can depart have become frighteningly flexible. To make things more disturbing, the institutions pull resources from the most vulnerable because sending individuals like Kaliszan to MAID is cheaper than offering resources to improve their quality of life.
Life After is a warning to those with disabled loved ones
We are often told history repeats itself, but I am of the belief it rhymes. Most situations tend to recycle, but not in the same format. Recently, there are concerns about the incoming leadership and how resources might be managed by said leadership.
One of the individuals in charge of the budget recently made a questionable salute. Historically, the inventors of “the salute” made it a point to hurt those with limitations during the Holocaust. During the reign of Hitler, the dictator had most of the population with disabilities euthanized because they were not deemed “perfect” and were a financial burden on Germany.
While it is doubtful that the incoming power will push for a mass genocide of the disability population, Davenport‘s documentary showcases how a program like MAID can serve as a Trojan Horse for a similar yet subtle result. The Canadian program began with an innocent message, offering a choice for the earnestly suffering to end it all, but the longer it existed, the more relaxed the criteria became.
In one part of the documentary, an older woman explains how she tried to get resources to improve her life, but instead, she was told that if her situation was so terrible, they could assist in giving access to the MAID program.
It’s within these discussions that Davenport’s documentary becomes somewhat terrifying. It shows how bureaucrats can slowly take away everything that can give someone a quality of life, to the point they might feel suicidal. As a writer with a disability living in the United States, it seems like a likely solution that might be adopted to save a few pennies. And if so, the notion is haunting.
Elizabeth Bouvia and the importance of quality of life
As a documentarian, Davenport skillfully examines both the MAID program and the complex court battle involving Bouvia. By seeking out friends and relatives of this disability rights activist, the stories reveal a woman who felt abandoned by the systems around her.
The revelation leads to an important question: Would she still want to die if there were adequate resources available to provide individuals with extensive disabilities a quality life? Perhaps even more concerning is whether we might revert to a mindset that views people with disabilities as a financial burden.
Overall, Life After is an impactful dissection of the institutions that keep persons with disabilities out of harm’s way and how harmful they can become in the wrong hands. In the age of economic uncertainty and a society looking to find anyone to blame for their financial fatigue, Life After is an alarm bell to those with highly vulnerable loved ones.
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