“A raw, honest portrait of love confronting mortality.”

— Mikel Fair, Dir., Film Festival Circuit

Overview

Synopsis

After 30 years, separated by time and circumstance, Portland poet Alex Behr reunites with her lost love Chris Hartman. Soon after reconnecting, Chris becomes ill with an accelerated, fatal disease. Grief Stick explores the contours of love and death, using photographs, poems, voicemails, and video to show the before/during/after of the illness and how it impacts them both.

Director's Statement

When I heard Alex Behr was looking for an editor for a film project about the illness that destroyed her partner Chris, I immediately offered to help. I didn't know Chris at all and Alex only socially, but the themes of sickness, body betrayal, and the sudden perspective shift due to transformative news resonated with me - I am a brain tumor survivor. I knew I could tune to the right frequency and not be daunted, but working on this film was still challenging for me and many days I had to give myself strict time-limits lest I be overwhelmed by the content. Alex provided me with a ton of material … so the obstacle for me was finding an engaging manner to shape it in a way that was true to the experience and to the poetry of the experience at once. Over the course of the project I came to know Alex better and Chris posthumously. Grief Stick was a very stirring project for me and I hope it will be for you as well.

Thanks

Brian and Alex thank musicians Corrina Repp, The Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, and Christine Shields. Thanks to the Regional Arts and Culture Council for awarding Alex an Arts3C grant to fund the film. Thanks to Marty + Peter Behr and Alexandra Walcott for further funding, and to Chas Nielsen and Ollie Sims for audio recording and editing help. Add’l photography and videos from Lewis Watts, Stephen Perkins, Jennifer Stady, Jason Noone, and Geoff Soule.

Thanks to everyone who helped as Chris got sick and died. Your kindness made us weep.

We made something from nothing. It was totally amazing. I want us to be back to being whole. I’m not completely whole. I’m twisted sideways. I want us to be whole. Complete. Healthy.

— Chris Hartman, about a week before he died in early October 2020.