Ross McElwee on Life vs Art Remake & Sherman’s March

Ross McElwee stands as one of the most original and consistently excellent nonfiction filmmakers of the last fifty years. Based near Harvard, where he has taught filmmaking since 1986, his work masterfully navigates the complex intersections of history, personal grief, and the human condition.

His powerful new film, Remake—a meditation on the passing of his son Adrian—is currently playing exclusively at New York’s Film Forum through July 16th, following months of festival screenings. While a definitive release date remains pending, the film promises to explore themes that sit deep at the heart of McElwee’s life and art.

The cinematic journey of McElwee is deeply rooted in history. Forty years have passed since he made his debut feature, Sherman’s March (1986). This documentary, which traced Union General William Tecumseh Sherman’s campaign through the South, is a powerful example of McElwee leaning into behind-the-scenes disaster to create profound art. The process began when he received a grant to document the Civil War experience, a project that was unexpectedly interrupted by a personal upheaval: his relationship with his girlfriend dissolved, challenging his focus on the historical narrative.

Yet, in McElwee’s characteristic digressive style, the film about Sherman is interwoven with deeper musings on the cultural aftershocks of the Civil War, the threat of nuclear extinction, and candid interviews with women. These conversations often touch upon personal relationships, offering perspectives that reflect his own journey.

His filmography demonstrates a consistent thematic thread. Earlier works like Time Indefinite (1993) revisited the tragic loss of family, while Photographic Memory (2011) explored McElwee’s uneasy relationship with his son Adrian during his adolescence, detailing the struggle with mental illness and addiction.

McElwee’s artistic explorations often lead him to profound philosophical questions. In discussing the experience of grieving Adrian, he reflected on the difficulty of translating immense personal loss into images and words. He noted that for many, memories are simply the things we no longer wish to cherish or need because they are too painful.

He shared an anecdote about the tragic ballad El Erlkönig (The Elf King), a story of a father racing through the woods with his son as the mythical monster pursues them. This tale, which culminates in a heartbreaking realization, illustrates how grief can manifest in unexpected ways, prompting deep introspection about what we choose to remember.

As he moved into adulthood and faced multiple losses, McElwee grappled with the concept of the lens through which he viewed the world. He pondered whether the family life that once served as his guiding perspective had dissolved, asking if one could still creatively reckon with images of those who are gone. This reflection touches on the broader human struggle to find meaning amidst unimaginable sorrow.

His experience navigating loss provided him with a unique vantage point when observing societal issues. When considering Adrian’s passing, he reflected on how death notices—particularly those referencing mental illness and addiction—have evolved over time, noting that today’s notices are more forthcoming than in the past. This perspective underscores a growing societal recognition of these complex struggles.

Ultimately, McElwee’s work offers a sense of solace. He suggests that while pain cannot be eliminated, films like Remake provide a vital space for people to realize they are not alone in their suffering, offering a shared experience for those navigating the profound landscape of loss.

Credit: Roger Ebert