Sarah Polley, the director of the new documentary Stories We Tell, tells Terry Gross about including footage of retakes in the film:
I think that, for me, it was really important to not leave the construction of the film out because it’s a film about storytelling and how we tell stories and why we tell stories. I thought it was really important to include the process of making this film itself in the film and some of that involves some rather unflattering and ruthless moments for me like directing my dad when he’s … pouring his heart out, basically. And, you know, you do get into this mode, I think, when you’re telling a story — or certainly when you’re making a film — where you can kind of lose your sense or your barometer for what’s human or humane and certainly I think there are a few moments in the film where I’m directing my dad where I don’t come off that well, but I certainly come off as somebody who’s trying to tell a story above all else.
Image courtesy of Roadside Attractions Publicity
"…require healthcare staff to give pregnant women information about adoption on an equal basis with all other courses of action."
By Stephen Dunn
That time I thought I was in love
and calmly said so
was not much different from the time
I was truly in love
and slept poorly and spoke out loud
to the wall
and discovered the hidden genius
of my hands
And the times I felt less in love,
less than someone
were, to be honest, not so different
Each was ridiculous in its own way
and each was tender, yes,
sometimes even the false is tender.
I am astounded
by the various kisses we’re capable of.
Each from different heights
diminished, which is simply the law.
And the big bruise
from the longer fall looked perfectly white
in a few years.
That astounded me most of all.
We’re at the one year anniversary of the events of this video, which a lot of people said some shockingly nice things about—nice things that I still think about, from time to time. I was terrified to post it.
There is no good and evil there is only power
But in this world, where something is always listening, even
murmuring has meaning, as in the next room you moan
in your sleep, turning into late morning. My love, this might be
all we know of forgiveness, this small time when you can forget
what you are. There will come a day when the meadow will think
suddenly, water, root, blossom, through no fault of its own,
and the horses will lie down in daisies and clover. Bedeviled,
human, your plight, in waking, is to choose from the words
that even now sleep on your tongue, and to know that tangled
among them and terribly new is the sentence that could change your life.