Hello, mother; hello, father
Just ask filmmaker Doug Block, whose bewildering discoveries about his parents form the enthralling plot of the upcoming documentary "51 Birch Street" (premieres 7 p.m. Tuesday, May 8 on Cinemax ). Block starts with a concept of family ties and commitment that's similar to most of ours, a mix of idealism, comfort, long-standing and seemingly immutable roles, and an uneasy acceptance of the various personalities involved. He begins filming his parents and chronicling their lives for no real reason, other than to have a record of them. While he admires and adores his mother -- the strength of their rapport comes through in all of his interviews with her -- he professes a notable indifference toward his father. Eventually Block admits that, to him, his father exists in his mother's shadow, a faceless presence taking up space in the room while his mother's big pronouncements and observations and witty asides fill up every second of dead air.
Then life takes an unforeseen turn when Block uncovers some major secrets about both of his parents (I don't want to reveal too much, because the odd discoveries and surprises are part of what make this very personal film so fascinating). Through interviews and intimate footage and photographs and ruminations, we learn how Block and his two sisters are forced to reevaluate their feelings for their parents, and to make peace with a family history that wasn't remotely as it seemed.
As you'd expect with a film this personal, the storytelling is at once fascinating and slightly uneven. Even though Block is at the center of his story, when he shows up on camera, his presence feels oddly unwelcome, in part because he's off-screen most of the time and we actually relate to his experiences more when he's playing the role of protagonist and narrator. Also, Block seems far less comfortable in front of the camera than his parents are. Where his parents are charismatic and honest and alarmingly good storytellers, Block is self-conscious and elusive. Even though he's the one doing the truth-seeking, his own words don't always sound all that honest.
"Is there anything that you've ever wanted to ask me that you've never asked me before?" he asks his dad at the end of the film.
"Are you happy with your life?" his father asks him.
"It's a hard question," Block replies. He eventually tells his dad that he feels very lucky, but he sounds distant, and his words are forming around ideas of what he has to be grateful for, rather than feelings. Perhaps not coincidentally, this was the same way his mother sounded when she spoke about the solidity of her marriage earlier in the film, comments we later learned we couldn't trust.
Fortunately, the central mystery of the film (which I've taken pains not to reveal here because I want you to watch it for yourselves) is compelling and provocative enough to more than make up for the film's shortcomings. As Block discovers, being committed to your family doesn't always mean simply playing along with the same roles that you always have. Real commitment demands the flexibility to make room for loved ones who change and assert themselves in ways that can be both unexpected and frightening.
But rather than cringing in the face of such unexpected developments, you might as well just accept them. Because, as Tony Soprano and Doug Block both recognize, there is no escape. The beauty -- and the nightmare -- of family is how well they know you after so long, and how deeply you belong to each other. There is no easy exit. There are witnesses, and they remember everything.
About the writer
Heather Havrilesky is Salon's TV critic. She also maintains the rabbit blog. You can find more of her columns in the I Like to Watch directory.
Story finder (3 ways to search Salon)
Salon Directory (browse by topic)