Dick Johnson Is Dead
31 October, 2024
Dick Johnson Is Dead is such a wild and heartfelt ride. Kirsten Johnson, the filmmaker, doesn’t just deal with the fear of losing her father, she grabs it by the horns and makes something weirdly beautiful out of it. The whole premise is pretty bold: she stages elaborate, sometimes absurd, death scenarios for her father, Dick, as a way to process his dementia and inevitable passing. It’s heavy, for sure, but it’s also funny, creative, and oddly life-affirming.
The relationship between Kirsten and her dad is the heart of the film. Dick is the kind of guy you instantly like, sweet, funny, and a little bewildered by all the crazy things his daughter is making him do. The staged deaths, like getting crushed by a falling air conditioner or falling down a flight of stairs, are so over-the-top they almost feel like sketches from a comedy show. But they’re also deeply symbolic. They make you laugh, then suddenly you’re hit with the weight of what’s really happening: Kirsten is bracing herself for the day her dad is no longer there.
What really got me were the quieter moments in between all the surreal stuff. Dick laughing at the absurdity of it all, Kirsten’s quiet panic as her dad forgets something simple, it’s these small, intimate moments that sneak up on you. One minute you’re laughing at the ridiculousness of an imagined "heaven," and the next, you’re crying because it’s all so real and relatable.
The film also made me think about how we deal with grief and memory. Kirsten’s approach is so creative and fearless, and it made me wonder why more of us don’t confront the tough stuff like this. She doesn’t try to avoid or sugarcoat anything; instead, she leans into the pain and turns it into something meaningful. It’s not about finding closure, it’s about celebrating life, even as it fades.
By the end, I was a total emotional mess. It’s sad, of course, because no one wants to think about losing a loved one. But it’s also hopeful and comforting. Kirsten reminds us that even in the face of something as inevitable as death, there’s room for love, laughter, and a little bit of absurdity. If you’re up for something raw, unique, and deeply personal, this is one you shouldn’t miss. It’s not just a documentary, it’s an experience that sticks with you.
The relationship between Kirsten and her dad is the heart of the film. Dick is the kind of guy you instantly like, sweet, funny, and a little bewildered by all the crazy things his daughter is making him do. The staged deaths, like getting crushed by a falling air conditioner or falling down a flight of stairs, are so over-the-top they almost feel like sketches from a comedy show. But they’re also deeply symbolic. They make you laugh, then suddenly you’re hit with the weight of what’s really happening: Kirsten is bracing herself for the day her dad is no longer there.
What really got me were the quieter moments in between all the surreal stuff. Dick laughing at the absurdity of it all, Kirsten’s quiet panic as her dad forgets something simple, it’s these small, intimate moments that sneak up on you. One minute you’re laughing at the ridiculousness of an imagined "heaven," and the next, you’re crying because it’s all so real and relatable.
The film also made me think about how we deal with grief and memory. Kirsten’s approach is so creative and fearless, and it made me wonder why more of us don’t confront the tough stuff like this. She doesn’t try to avoid or sugarcoat anything; instead, she leans into the pain and turns it into something meaningful. It’s not about finding closure, it’s about celebrating life, even as it fades.
By the end, I was a total emotional mess. It’s sad, of course, because no one wants to think about losing a loved one. But it’s also hopeful and comforting. Kirsten reminds us that even in the face of something as inevitable as death, there’s room for love, laughter, and a little bit of absurdity. If you’re up for something raw, unique, and deeply personal, this is one you shouldn’t miss. It’s not just a documentary, it’s an experience that sticks with you.
