Film Review & Reflection: Much Ado About Dying

A heartwarming yet heartbreaking documentary.

On Monday, May 6, I went to the local independent cinema Glasgow Film Theatre to watch the documentary, Much Ado About Dying. Told from the perspective of Simon Chambers about David, his aging uncle, the film goes through the light-hearted yet intense aspects of aging, caregiving, grief, death, and dying. I’d only heard about the film because I was curious about what was on at Glasgow Film Theatre and only happened upon the single screening, with a Q&A with Simon directly afterward, by chance. I debated seeing the film because I wasn’t sure whether I’d be able to handle it emotionally. In the end, I decided to go on a solo movie trip and see the documentary.

I’m glad that I did.

I hadn’t expected how visceral the film would be. The film opens with Simon in India. He was working on a documentary about cars and we’re in a fast-paced busy street when we see Simon instructing the person who is talking to lower the microphone so it’s not caught on film. It is when Simon is in the midst of his reflections on life and shoots from the documentary-that-will-never-be when his uncle calls and says that he’s dying. In essence, it was a call, both literal and metaphorical, for David to come home.  

David wasn’t really dying—not really. However, the home David lived in told a different story: piles of books and records everywhere and toothpaste on the electrical outlets because David thought mint deterred mice. The backdrop of peeling wallpaper and portable heaters making the skin of David’s legs look pink and raw was jarring. The apartment eventually caught fire and everything inside of it was burned and unsalvageable. After all of that, David was still positive, still believed in miracles (as he’d often sing “I believe in miracles! You sexy thing,” by Hot Chocolate). At this point in the documentary, the tone shifts. While cleaning out the scorched apartment and figuring out a location for his uncle to live, Simon thinks something to the tune of: Would it be better if David had died in the fire? At some point, he does wish that David had died then and there in the apartment. 

David waving from his flat. Photo credit: Much Ado About Dying.

Caregiving is hard. Being a caregiver to a loved one, especially as an adult child to a parental figure, is difficult. The emotions of the pre-existing relationship are laid bare, and then the emotions of having to parent an elderly parent or person in the same age range is emotionally intense. Tears poured out of my eyes as I continued to watch this film dredge up my deepest emotions and shakes I kept hidden in the deepest crevices of my soul. When caring for Mom, I wondered what it would be like if she died. Would it be easier, afterward? (No.) I wondered what life would have been like had I not been her caregiver. Would she have been better off in a date home? (We won’t know but probably not.) 

Could I have done more? Yes. I still think I could have, but I don’t know how much more. 

At a later point in the documentary, David develops a UTI but he doesn’t want to go to the hospital for treatment. Simon leaves, wondering if this is the last time he’s going to see his uncle alive. 

I don’t talk about this that often, to the point where friends tell me, “You don’t really talk about your dad.” No, I don’t. We’ve had a complicated relationship growing up and as an adult. He’s had multiple strokes and has advanced dementia. He also suffered from a UTI and didn’t want to go to the hospital, and my sister and the staff had to gently explain that no one wants to go to the hospital,  but sometimes people need to go to the hospital. My dad went and got the treatment he needed. He’s still alive.

Simon found out that David has gone to the hospital, got the treatment he needed, and was alive. The documentary continues filming David at his most joyous, conducting half naked in his chair to the music playing, talking about death and dying, and insisting that Simon continues to film the documentary. The sheer joy in David’s eyes was, at times, too much. I think there is such wisdom in people who are literally at the end of their lives. Trivial things stop mattering. David continued to keep smiling, to keep laughing. He was an elderly man, single, gay, and was eventually placed in a care home for retired actors. 

“Death...its like going on the most wonderful holiday, without any of the bother of having to pack.” — David Chambers

The documentary is devastating. For those who don’t have caregiving experience, it could be a simple documentary experience, one to see and then move on from afterward. For those who do have caregiving experience, like me, the film settled deep into my heart and stayed there. Why was this movie so emotional for me? I haven’t cried this much during a film since watching The Whale starring Brandon Fraser. Perhaps it was because I was watching the progression of the story right before my eyes: plucked from everyday reality and moved to caregiver. 

I felt so alone as a caregiver, yet I wasn’t alone. Not really. 

There are caregivers all over the world caring for aging and/or ill loved ones, people who are desperately trying to cling to this reality while acknowledging the very real fear of approaching the future without their loved one in it. Seeing the way the medical world treats geriatric and the sick is astonishing. One time Simon revealed that a social worker had come to David’s place but by the time he got there, slowly, the social worker had already left. 

It makes me unravel at the core. I feel these emotions twist through me, wringing me out until water emerges in the form of tears from my eyes. 

What are we doing for our elderly? It shouldn’t have to be up to family and loved ones of the elderly to demand change and to raise awareness—but it is. There is so much this film exposes, probably without meaning to. It is also a commentary on ageism that people face when getting older, and the sexism women face when feared with being statistically more likely to take on caregiving roles. 

For the first time in a long time, I can point to it and say: This is what it’s like. Not always. But sometimes. How can caregiving for a loved one be so gratifying and heart-warming and loving yet also terrifying and isolating and heart-wrenching? 

In the Q&A, people were sharing their own experiences about caregiving for loved ones. If I wasn’t consumed in tears, maybe I would have tried to talk to them. Ask them questions. Share experiences.  But being in that room and knowing I was around caregivers, was enough. It’s enough to know I’m not alone in caregiving, even when it feels like the most lonely, isolating thing in the world. Caregiving is an experience I can never and will never forget. When I was watching the documentary, I wasn’t alone. I didn’t feel alone. Instead, I felt seen.

Madeline Wahl is a recent graduate with an MLitt in Fantasy Literature from the University of Glasgow in Scotland. She is a writer, solo traveler, and millennial caregiver to her mom, who recently passed from terminal cancer. Her writing has appeared on Reader's Digest, HuffPost, Red Magazine, and McSweeney's, among others. She is working on her first novel in YA Fantasy and her first nonfiction book proposal on millennial caregiving.