My Missing Screw

In November 2015, a friend introduced me to Raffael, an artist looking for someone to document an art project with refugee children in Uganda. At the end of our first phone conversation, I was curious and enthusiastic about the project, but I also felt uncomfortable. In his excitement, Raffael reminded me of my father when he was going into a manic episode.
I called the friend who introduced us and voiced my concern. He replied that Raffael indeed has a history of mood disorder, but I shouldn’t worry about it; he always completes his grandiose ideas.
The project in Uganda turned into my first feature doc, 8000 Paperclips. While working on it, I learned of Raffael’s journey with the giant screw. I was captivated, and sorry I wasn’t there to film it. One day, after Raffael and I developed more trust, he asked if I would like to make a film about his “screw journey.” I replied that it sounded like a great story, but making a film about events from 20 years ago required recreations, and… Raffael interrupted me. It turned out he had filmed throughout the journey and had dozens of hours on VHS cassettes.
At first, I was drawn to the story simply because it’s so unique. Raffael, carrying the screw sculpture on his shoulders in Dachau, reminded me of Charlie Chaplin in Modern Times, a small man crushed by the burden of life. His nonsensical interactions with Lance in the studio evoked images of Roberto Bennini in Down by Law.
Then, gradually, the themes shifted. Talking to Raffael, his family, and friends, I discovered another story: the tale of a child and his parents dealing with a heart-rending situation. For me, this cut close to the bone.
My father struggled with Bipolar Disorder. Although they were no longer together, my mom made every effort to keep me in touch with him and allow him to be a father. Only as an adult did I realize how unusual it was. Often, parents who live with mental illness are pushed out of their families and away from their children, leaving both child and parent bereft.
From a story about a mad art project that helped a depressed person deal with his illness, the film shifted and made room for a story about fatherhood, family and community. Then it widened yet again to show how trauma descends through the generations, and how central family and friends are to healing and support.
Through working on the film, I came to understand much more about what my own father went through. My dad never talked in detail about what his mental illness felt like. But in our conversations, Raffael helped me imagine what my father experienced and what might have been possible for him. Sadly, my dad never found a way to live well with his mood disorder, like Raffael.
Ultimately, what impressed me most about Raffael’s journey was how he dealt with his mood disorder. Instead of fighting it, he used it as a source of creativity. With this film, I would like to plead with families and society as a whole: Don’t be afraid of people living with mental illness; don’t force them into molds they don’t fit, and don’t lock them away or over-medicate them unless it’s for their own well-being. Let them express themselves, love them as they are, and we will all benefit.