Unrest is a documentary that is aging beautifully and may be perfect pandemic viewing. Jennifer Brea, the filmmaker and subject of the documentary, is an incredibly empathic filmmaker. She seems as if she is a filmmaker who watches television and movies. She does not fall for the self-indulgent traps that other filmmakers make by being too close to the subject, but makes a movie with the approach of making a film that people will watch, understand and feel what she is trying to convey as opposed to only what she wants to show them. Those two descriptions may sound synonymous, but they are not. The latter could leave gaps in understanding that are in the filmmaker’s blindspot. For instance, she immediately addresses what every viewer watching a reality show or a found footage movie asks the unresponsive screen, “If things were really bad, wouldn’t you put down the camera?” If she had just documented her sickness, people could dismiss her as just trying to get famous or sympathy. Instead she immediately gets the viewer on her side by explicitly answering our silent question.
Brea’s primary concern and reason for making Unrest is so that she will not disappear as a result of this mysterious disease, which has put her and others like her in a literal sunken place where they are divorced from themselves and society. If she has a counterpart, it is Whitney Davis, whose family reported that before permanently descending into the pit of this illness lovingly parted from his camera in a type of unfortunate farewell in recognition that he no longer would have the capacity to shoot photos anymore. This film is the embodiment of Brea fighting for her life, not just raising awareness about chronic fatigue syndrome and gaining respect and support for those burdened with the disease. She frequently juxtaposes images of her healthy, active past with her present day self, and it is obvious that no one would choose to live this life.
Unrest took me on an unexpected, counter intuitive journey that profoundly affected me. I was really invested in learning about Brea from the outset. I cannot definitively recall how I became interested in this documentary, but I suspect there is a Baconesque connection because she went to Harvard. I found her personally relatable as a black woman Harvard alum. Her life feels familiar. Initially I found it unexpected, jarring and not altogether welcome when she began to shift focus from herself onto others that the media would probably find more palatable, but Brea also dismisses that notion by highlighting how little funding the disease gets and explaining how she knows them, through online communication. She makes her filmmaking and decisionmaking process seem transparent. She is giving them a broader platform thus strengthening her own. Since they have been on this journey longer and represent a broader relatable demographic, they can offer perspectives on the disease that Shea cannot: coping mechanisms, balancing family and survival and the worst case scenarios of institutional and personal oblivion.
I would challenge you to watch Unrest and consider how similar her life is to yours because of the pandemic in the way that we are physically confined and in the way that we now must communicate and live full lives while simultaneously taking into account the realities of health restricting our activities. Instead of watching the film and thinking that what she is doing is normal because it feels similar to your current daily life, remember how it was unusual to for instance regularly communicate and travel with the assistance of technology. A lot of disabled advocates are livid at how quickly society accommodated health needs for the broader public. The only way that I sympathize with people who do not believe in Covid is that it does feel insane to take all these safety measures against the invisible. Her husband, Omar Wasow, has one human moment when she asks him to shower and change his clothes before he enters an experimental space that she set up to see if it would alleviate symptoms. Wasow explains, “There are moments when I see us through other people’s eyes and somehow that is much sadder than when I’m just kind of living our life together;” thus why I dread reunions or group settings. At a wedding, someone actually said to me, “That sounds fucking awful,” which was simultaneously affirming and depressing. It took me completely out of the celebratory mood.
Brea explicitly uses Unrest to address sexism in health care. Because mostly women have myalgic encephalomyelitis (ME), it is under researched and misdiagnosed. Brea theorizes, “The problem of psychosomatic diagnoses is that they can never be proven. They are names we give to illnesses when we can’t find a biological cause, but that does not mean there isn’t one. This is the story we tell until doctors can see our illness from the outside.” Health care providers suffer from literal and metaphorical blindness because of what they can literally see and not recognizing how what they do see influences their confidence in the scope of their knowledge and experience. They doubt the patient, not themselves. The most hilarious moment in the film is when a doctor claims on television that he rarely sees anger then is greeted with a whole ass protest as he arrives somewhere, presumably work.
If I had to criticize Unrest, I would critique the fact that Brea never examined the role that race plays in health care. I do not know if it was an oversight or a deliberate decision. If it was the latter, I would be curious the reason for the omission-it would expand the scope of the documentary and not serve the purpose of gaining more attention and support, but alienate viewers whereas Brea is trying to make it a more universal, visible concern whereas highlighting race would have the opposite effect. I really do not believe that it is the prior because if her husband was the co-founder of BlackPlanet, they cannot be accused of not thinking about race. Brea probably strategized and chose not to do so. Still I would watch that sequel. I felt as if there could be a documentary about her hair and health alone.
I do not consider Unrest an easy documentary to watch, especially during the first half hour. It does not matter that Brea wants us to see her at her most private, difficult moments, it is still an initially uncomfortable, unpleasant and awkward experience. Like her husband trying to navigate caring for her and respecting her wishes, I found myself considering it an obtrusive invasion. I would encourage you to push through your discomfort because it really is worth it, especially the theme of finding the middle ground between triumph and tragedy, which is where we all are at most points in our lives whether we know it or not.
On a tertiary note, Unrest is so good that reknown composer of film and television scores, Bear McCreary, delivered his first soundtrack for a documentary for Brea! I love his Battlestar Galactica soundtrack and wished that I paid more attention to the music when I was watching this film. Don’t be me and keep your ears open!
