Recently I’ve been recovering from surgery, which means all I do is sit home, watch movies, and gulp down percocet (which is a big deal to me, but probably just another day in the pill-addicted life of our film editor, Erik Henriksen). This weekend, during a blaze through the dregs of the Roku catalog, I came across Dear Zachary
Originally I was drawn to the film solely by its poster art—from Portland artist Evan B. Harris—but I had already watched the 1980 World Champion Phillies DVD boxset and West Side Story (I am not kidding, these painkillers do strange and wonderful things), so I assumed it was time for a serious film that did not involve Jets, Sharks, or Tug McGraw.
Well, for those who have not yet seen Dear Zachary (our review is right here), here’s a little non-spoiler warning: It’s very sad. In fact, you’ll be hard pressed to find a film that is more soul-crushingly depressing (yes, this includes any movie about the Holocaust, or that stars Dane Cook) than this tragic documentary centering around the death of Dr. Andrew Bagby, and the drawn-out legal battle for his son, Zachary. I cried during the first three minutes, and from there it only got worse. And while I’d like to blame the Oxycodone pumping through my veins—or the fact that I am a total pussy—this film reached a new level of pure sadness that I have never witnessed before. In fact, it physically hurt to watch, yet was far too mesmerizing to turn off. I can’t recommend it to everyone, but if you can stomach it (and have spare tissues), Dear Zachary will be a film you never forget.
I had surgery last week. The best part was definately the Percocet. The part where they tell you not to mix it with alcohol? They’re lying to you.
I remember being pretty heartbroken over the preview last winter. But then I forgot to see it. Thanks for the reminder!
I watched this movie last night. I am still a mess today. It’s true, this is the most heart breaking story I have ever seen.