Courtesy of The New York Times | By CHARLIE TYRELL | Originally Published 01.19.2018 | Posted 01.23.2018
https://static01.nyt.com/video/players/offsite/index.html?videoId=100000005675688
The hidden compartments of household ephemera are seldom discussed among family members. Parents hide the material relics of their individuality, in secret alcoves. And kids know exactly where to find these objects. Collections vary: It can be a hidden stash of pot, a series of love letters from an old boyfriend or in this case of this film, a small collection of VHS pornography.
This is what my dad tucked away, hidden in the air ducts of our unfinished basement. All members of the family knew about this, including my brother and sister.
My dad passed away from cancer in 2008 during my second year of film school. Many of his possessions were donated or discarded. Every time I returned home, I would come across a new item and spare it from the trash. The crown jewel was my dead dad’s porno tapes. I don’t know why I kept them. They’re tacky and dated. The content is not alluring, but in their own perverse way, they have become a small totem of remembrance. Over time, the tapes begged to be utilized in some creative format. I tried different routes, but they never fit. I conceded that their only cinematic purpose was to be in a film about my dad.
I am a fairly reserved person and would generally cringe at the idea of a camera being pointed in my direction. Until recently, my “director’s headshot” was a black-and-white stick drawing of my face. In short, making a film about my relationship with my dad was beyond my comfort zone.
However, making art about yourself allows you to turn rumination into work. The daily practices of a filmmaker can become routine, almost mechanical, if you are not careful. With this film, I was doing something else. I spent a year getting to know my dad in an unusual way. I was learning about his life and the things he did not have time to tell me. I learned to have empathy for a complex man whom I was rather hard on when I was younger.
We hold onto our loved ones when they pass. Objects can become talismans, and memories become mythic. Some objects become sacred for no reason and are just as impenetrable as the people who left them. I came to a conclusion during my process: You can’t take it with you, but you can pass it on.
Charlie Tyrell is an independent filmmaker based in Toronto. “My Dead Dad’s Porno Tapes” premieres today at the 2018 Sundance Film Festival.
Dying & Death Talk 