1/31/08

Documentary about adult children with disabilities features local man

by Beckye Randall

Wally Meyer’s story is poignant and thought-provoking. Born with cerebral palsy nearly 60 years ago, Wally was cared for by his parents, his only responsibilities tending to the land surrounding the Lake Stevens family homestead. His parents did everything for Wally, and consequently Wally never learned to do anything for himself.

When his caregivers passed away within a year of one another with no provisions for their son’s continued well-being, the burden of Wally’s care fell to his only sister, a married woman with her own family responsibilities.

Wally’s predicament is heartwrenching and, unfortunately, all too common. Novice filmmaker Bob Fink, an Everett psychiatrist, was drawn to the human drama and complex dynamics playing out in the local family.

The result is an award-winning documentary, simply titled “Wally,” that will be screened Sunday, February 10 at 2 p.m. at the Arlington Boys & Girls Club, 135 South French Avenue. Admission is free, sponsored by Village Community Services’ Family Relations Committee. <find out more about Village Community Services>

The event will also include a panel discussion featuring the filmmaker and advocates for people with disabilities, including a disability rights attorney, a financial planner, a parent who has two adult children with developmental disabilities, and the independent living skills program coordinator from the Snohomish County ARC.

“I always wanted to be a filmmaker, even before college,” said the 59-year-old Fink, “but my family insisted that I go to medical school. But I never gave up on that passion.”

Until four years ago, the clinical psychiatrist had never touched a computer. One morning he walked into his office and found a new Apple laptop waiting for him. His office manager had computerized the practice and promised to train Fink on the new technology.

“I just started clicking on things and found iMovie. I was blown away. Right in front of me, at my fingertips, I could make a movie.”

Having discovered the “how,” he started thinking about the “what.”

“When I heard this family’s story I knew it would make an interesting documentary, so I decided to give it a shot.”

He knew Wally’s sister and gained her approval to tell their story. Much to their surprise, Wally also agreed to be filmed. The next step in the process was almost too easy.

Fink had an extra ticket for a Mariners game and he called an old friend to join him for the afternoon. The men had fallen out of touch, and Fink was intrigued to learn that his friend was teaching audio/video production for a Snohomish County school district. School was out for the summer, and suddenly Fink found himself with access to high-quality recording and editing equipment along with a digital expert and a talented student as crew members.

They began filming in a cinéma vérité style. “There was no script, no story boards,” said Fink. “We just captured what happened and let people speak from their hearts.”

The filmmaker continued, “Wally’s parents had always called him retarded, but that wasn’t an accurate description. He does have cerebral palsy which affects his speech and motor control, and he has learning disabilities. But he’s very charismatic and personable, and his neighbors were very protective of him.”

But Wally couldn’t read or write. He didn’t recognize numbers and couldn’t dial a phone. His parents had even brushed their son’s teeth for him.

For three years, Fink worked on the film. On top of his “day job” as a busy psychiatrist, he spent eight hours a day, seven days a week, obsessed with “Wally.”

“Filming was pretty easy – I just pointed the camera at whatever was happening,” said Fink. “I had 60 to 70 hours of film when I started editing, and trying to figure out what to get rid of was painful.”

Fink learned quickly that the amateur software packaged on his Mac wouldn’t handle the rigors of creating a professional film. He invested in Final Cut Pro, sophisticated software used by many independent filmmakers, and painstakingly taught himself the program using the software manual. As the summer wound down and school resumed, he purchased equipment to replace the borrowed cameras. Without a crew, he stepped behind the camera himself to do the filming.

His first cut brought the film down to 2-1/2 hours. “Still much too long for anyone to sit through,” Fink acknowledged.

He was also searching for music to accompany the story. At an Al Green concert, Fink was entranced by the opening act, a young musician from eastern Washington named LeRoy Bell. Following the show Fink approached Bell about providing music for his documentary and, after months of negotiation and a promise by Fink to make a sizable donation to the United Cerebral Association, Bell gave the filmmaker license to use his song.

Gaining the rights to another piece of music was more daunting. To accompany the opening montage, Fink was captivated by Jon Rauhouse’s version of “The White Cliffs of Dover.” He tracked down Rauhouse, finally got through to the artist himself, and after showing him a trailer of the documentary was given permission to use the track.

There was just one problem: the permission was for the performance only, and Fink still had to get approval from the song’s writers. That proved to be a much more difficult task, requiring intercontinental entertainment lawyers and considerable financial costs, but an agreement was finally reached.

Finally, the filmmaker was ready to preview the film for Wally and his family. “When the video started and [the sister] heard that music, ‘White Cliffs of Dover,’ she just started sobbing. Apparently her father had sung that song to her and Wally every night when they were young. I didn’t know that and it turned out to be an amazing coincidence.”

Fine-tuning the documentary, Fink’s film now runs 77 minutes. It has earned honors and praise at film festivals around the world, including being named Best Northwest Documentary at the 2006 Seattle True Independent Film Festival; Best Amateur Feature at the 2006 Montana Cine Film Festival; The Chris Award at the 2006 Columbus Film and Video Festival; and Best Documentary Film at the 2007 San Francisco Frozen Film Festival.

Organizations like Village Community Services (VCS), which provides services for people with disabilities and their families, see the documentary as a teaching and outreach tool. The film has also been applauded by the United Cerebral Palsy Association.

Michelle Dietz-Date, resource development manager for VCS, heard about Fink’s film when it hit the local festival circuit. The topic is personal to her, not only because of her work, but because she has a developmentally disabled family member whose future is also uncertain. She arranged to get a copy of the documentary and showed it to parents of some of her agency’s clients. “It resonated with them,” she said.

The showing on February 10 is a result of Dietz-Date’s advocacy and Fink’s compassion for the growing problem of aging developmentally disabled “children.”

“Wally” tells a story that will be repeated much too often, worries Dietz-Date, unless parents start preparing for the future of their special needs children.

“Wally never thought he’d have to leave,” reads the tagline of the film. For many special-needs adults, the question of care is not an easy one and the film doesn’t promise a happy ending.

“But it will definitely make viewers think,” said Fink. “It doesn’t let them off the hook emotionally. I hope the story will stir people to action.”

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