This filmmaker went through years of family videos looking for clues why his father would take his own life

Cutaways is a personal essay series where Canadian filmmakers tell the story of how their film was made. This Hot Docs 2024 edition by Rob Viscardis and Kurtis Watson focuses on their film My Dad's Tapes.

For 15 years, from the day my oldest sister was born, my dad filmed hundreds of hours of home videos. He captured our entire childhoods: birthdays, Christmas, swimming lessons, bike rides, apple picking, even us brushing our teeth. You name it, he filmed it. So when my mom handed me a USB drive that contained a trove of the digitized footage for me to see for the first time, it triggered something in me. 

Almost 18 years ago, when I was eight, my dad died by suicide. We were shocked: he was such a happy guy, and no one had any idea he was struggling with mental health issues. It was, obviously, a traumatic moment in our lives, but we didn't ever talk about it as a family. 

It had been a long time since his death, and these tapes were all I had left of him. As I started looking through them, I tried to draw a line from the kid I was in the videos to the person I am now, and it was hard to make the connection. There are no tapes of us from the time after my dad died, and that's when my sense of self becomes hazy.

My mom gave me the videos just as I was graduating from film school, so of course I had the idea of using them to make a film about my dad. I thought it would be a good way to get to know him again, but I thought I might also see some evidence of his struggle. At the time, I didn't know the significance this could have for me and my family. 

After initial conversations with my mom and two sisters about the film, they were supportive. However, none of us really knew what direction it would take and what could result. I mentioned the idea in passing to filmmaker (and later, the writer, producer and editor of My Dad's Tapes) Rob Viscardis while on the set of one of his productions, and he was intrigued enough to want to develop it with me.

We thought the search for clues of my dad's mental illness within the tapes would be compelling. But we also felt there was a larger theme worth exploring: that people can struggle very deeply with mental illness, yet show no outward sign of it. 

Beyond the tapes, we talked about conducting an "investigation" of my past, doing research and interviewing people to find out why my dad took his own life. In the first proposal Rob drafted, he wrote that in the film, I would find a new understanding of who my father was — and of myself too. At the time, it was just one line in a much longer synopsis, but it would end up being the crux of the film.

Early on, before we were ready to begin principal photography, Rob told me to start documenting myself. It's second nature to me to record things — I'm like my dad in that way. Making films is my outlet and way of expressing myself. But when I started filming myself, I hit a wall. It unleashed a huge wave of anxiety. I had been struggling with depression at the time, and the thought of recording myself pushed me deeper into it. So that idea was mostly abandoned. 

As we made plans to film with my mom and sisters, Rob reminded me that making the film would likely be therapeutic for me and my family. I knew that fact would also make it a better film — which was an odd feeling — but it encouraged me as we moved forward. 

Though my family and I were nervous, I had everyone on board, and we were all ready. Things got emotional very quickly. It was clear this was going to have a big impact on us. 

During the first interview we shot, which was with my mom, we had raw conversations about things we had never talked about before. Initially, we had two cameras pointed at my mom, but sensing the intense dynamic happening, Rob turned a camera on me — and this is something he repeated for all of our subsequent interviews. Because of this, we were able to capture many of my discoveries about my dad and myself in real time. 

While filming, I began to feel guilty for asking my family to be so vulnerable. As mentioned, I had been struggling with depression and had become closed off emotionally, especially during the pandemic. We hadn't been connecting much as a family. The process of filming helped, but there was something I was still holding back. 

I had met my current boyfriend in college, and we moved in together — you might say that makes it pretty serious. But not only did my sisters not know I had a boyfriend, they also didn't even know I'm bisexual. The idea of coming out to them gave me anxiety and felt impossible given the state I was in, even though I knew they would be supportive. But while making this film and putting so much out in the open about our dad, I felt I owed it to them, and I finally felt I was in a good place to fully open up. 

It's exciting that what started out as a desire to learn more about my dad and his death has led to two things: my family's healing and a film that could entertain and inspire others. Sometimes I wonder, Did I make the film to help myself or did I help myself in order to make the film? As I discovered, our most burning questions may forever be unanswered.

My Dad's Tapes screens at Hot Docs 2024 on May 2 and 3. More information is available by clicking here.