So as you may or may not know, I've been up in Sheffield for the first part of summer. My job hunt has proved to be less fruitful than Chicken Bar and I can't stay inside in my pants 24/7 so some friends and I have started adventuring. With a little help from a certain website, both with my handsome pals and by myself, we've visited various locations all around the city. Here a few pictures I've taken whilst doing so, there are bound to be more in the future. Click on them for a better look.
Forgive the bluntness of the title.
I suppose I have to preface this with another story. I must have been about thirteen the last time I cried from watching something. In the years since then I've watched some of the most emotional films ever made. Schindlers, Pianist, Diving Bell etc etc; but none have had the effect of that first and only film to make me weep. What film was it I hear you eagerly proclaim? 'Deep Impact'. No shame. Not a particularly good film, not a particularly bad one either. The film, from what I remember, is all about a bunch of people basically running away from bloody big meteor. That's the gist of it at least. The one bit I remember, the one bit that sent me, takes place on a beach. The big old meteorite is on it's way to Earth and is on course for crashing in an ocean. Thousands are likely to die, everyone's looting and trying to reach their families and so on and so forth. A father and his daughter, about 50 and 20 respectively, are sat on the beach. They've realised that given their situation, there's no way they can escape the impact. Together they head to the seafront to await their somewhat inevitable fate. In the distance a humongous tidal wave approaches, a result of the meteor reaching it's destination. The daughter takes her dad's hand, looks to him and says something along the lines of "When I was 10 I took thirty dollars from your wallet." He looks to her and replies "Once, when you were a baby, I dropped you on your head". The pair laugh and smile, then look forward as the wave crashes down above them. That was it. I remember leaving the room (I was watching this with my fam; highly embarrassing), and then heading to the bathroom to clean my face up so that I didn't appear to be such a emotional mess. That was the last of it, I haven't cried at a film or programme since then. I'm not saying I've not been affected by anything since then; in fact I'm positive I've seen things that are far superior to 'Deep Impact' and yet none have had the same emotional outcome for me. That is, until the other day.
Terry Pratchett, renowned author and beard-owner, has Alzheimer's disease. If you're not sure what Alzheimer's is, it's a form of dementia; main symptoms including language breakdown and memory loss. Pratchett has been very open with his condition, working closely with the Alzheimer's Research Trust and documenting his illness with hopes for broadening the public's knowledge on the disease. In 2009 Pratchett spoke in this article about his intentions to commit assisted suicide (though that's not a term he likes). Fast forward to today and Pratchett has worked in conjunction with the BBC to create a documentary about assisted suicide; the decisions that go along with it and the laws & regulations behind it. The resulting piece is some of the best television I've seen in a long, long time. With Pratchett's own thoughts and condition at the heart of the doc, his interaction with those with intention for suicide is poignant and insightful. He talks to a number of different people, with a number of different conditions. Assisted suicide is not legal in the UK but is legal in Switzerland. Dignitas, a Swiss organisation dedicated solely to assisted suicide are at the heart of the film; culminating with Pratchett travelling to their base with a motor neurone disease sufferer to document his passing.
At first glance it seems that the documentary is bias, promoting assisted suicide as a basic human right. However, as the piece progresses we see the less pleasant side of things - the legal complications, the costs and perhaps most importantly, the effect of one's death on those left behind. The film concludes with death of Peter Smedley, the motor neurone sufferer; with his death filmed as it happens. It's difficult to watch of course, but with the added factor of his wife being sat next to him it's damn near impossible. For essentially the last fifteen minutes of the film I was full on weeping. And you know when you say to someone "oh yeah I cried about it" I mean I cried about it. Like an audible, visual, snivvelling mess for a quarter of an hour, probably more. But don't let me discourage you. It's difficult to recommend the film in that it's not a pleasant watch; you won't have fun whilst watching it. But, having said that, it's a unique and important piece that brings to attention a serious issue that needs to be discussed and addressed. The film, as to be expected, gave way to mixed opinions - an interesting insight to viewers thoughts can be found here.
The piece was originally aired on the BBC on the 13th June 2011, but due to the BBC's iplayer having an awful 30 day restriction limit it has since been removed. Luckily, after some excessive Google searching I found a copy of the film, watchable below or click here for the option to watch the film in full screen. Let me know what you think.
