About midway through his new documentary “Life After,” director Reid Davenport announces, “This film is not about suicide.” It’s a statement that runs counter to the easiest a logline for the Sundance premiere, which would say that the project is an exploration of assisted suicide in the disabled community.
At the center of that study is the story of Elizabeth Bouvia, whose case became a national sensation in the ’80s. But as Davenport articulates both in his statement referenced above and throughout his passionate and persuasive film, the question of whether disabled people deserve the right to die is also a question of whether they are afforded the ability to live.
Davenport himself speaks from a place of experience, which makes him uniquely positioned to tell this story. He himself has cerebral palsy, and won the Independent Spirit Truer than Fiction Award for his first feature, 2022’s “I Didn’t See You There,” which digs into the traditions of freak shows to spin a deeply personal narrative. In “Life After,” Davenport both challenges an able-bodied audience’s preconceptions about the lives of disabled people, as well as upends the expectations of how documentaries are supposed to unfold.
The film opens with archival footage of Elizabeth Bouvia appearing in court. You can see why Bouvia’s saga was immediately appealing to the media. As one headline noted at the time: She was young, beautiful and wanted to die. (Mike Wallace followed her for years; Davenport calls him “creepy.”) Born with cerebral palsy, Bouvia, with high cheekbones and shaped eyebrows, argued in front of a court in Riverside, California that she should be able to starve herself to death at a local hospital. She lost the case.
What first intrigued Davenport about Bouvia’s story is that when he researched her, he could not find any evidence that she had, in fact, died all those years later. But “Life After” is no simple investigation into finding this woman, although Davenport does operate with the philosophy that knowing what happened to her in the years following the public frenzy would be key to understanding her. More importantly, however, it’s an expansive look at what it means when disabled people are told they have a right to die.
Bouvia is just one character in this story. Another is Michal Kaliszan, a man in Canada who lost his mother, his primary caretaker, and considered dying through the country’s MAiD (Medical Assistance in Dying) program. Though he works, the cost of full time care would be too much, and the only other option would be going to a facility that feels like an incarceration.
But while the film begins with an empathy for why people might want to die, it slowly begins to uncover the systematic failures that make those with disabilities believe it is their only option. By structuring the narrative in this way, Davenport slyly challenges the supposedly good liberal decision about assisted suicide as an act of compassion. What begins as a slow prodding of assumptions ultimately ends up a full throated condemnation of systems that would rather have disabled people die than invest in the healthcare required to enhance their lives.
Canada’s embrace of MAiD is at the center of Davenport’s case, with the statistics that the government’s hearty embrace of the program has resulted in a form of eugenics. He also weaves in the story of Michael Hickson, a man paralyzed with a brain injury who wasn’t treated for COVID at an Austin hospital. His wife, Melissa, heartbroken and angry at his loss, provides some of the most moving testimony.
Davenport is solely focused on the topic of assisted suicide as it relates to disability. He is not interested in diving into how it applies to terminal illness at all. For anyone who argues that makes “Life After” one-sided, Davenport’s own voice provides a furious counterpart to that. Davenport is considered in how he inserts himself on screen. His pull toward Elizabeth’s tale is that he sees himself in her, but he also lets his subjects tell their stories without interruption. Occasionally during the interviews, you see his curly hair bobbing on the side of the screen, a reminder of his vested interest. That framing is at times cinematically awkward, but it is thematically potent.
At the same time, Davenport wants to remind his viewers that if he hadn’t had the opportunities afforded to him, he might choose to die too. It’s a sentiment that is crystalized when he fills out the MAiD application. That he is able to direct “Life After” supports his theory that when people are given the proper healthcare they can thrive.
And he does always bring his story back to Bouvia, who looms over everything. Because the film begins with this question of what happened to her, it seems like a spoiler to reveal what Davenport uncovers. It’s safe to say, however, that what Davenport finds is surprising and complicated.
What Davenport says is true: This movie is not about suicide, which would mean it would be about death. Rather, it’s about life, life that is far more complex than the soundbite clips from the past can give.
Grade: A-
“Life After” premiered at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival. It is currently seeking U.S. distribution.
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