So says the proud hubbie. But I'd be recommending this film even if she weren't its co-writer, co-director, and co-producer. She's Miri Navasky. Her longtime collaborator is Karen O'Connor. The film is The Released, which explores what happens to the severely mentally ill when they leave prison.
The Released is a follow-up to their 2005 film, The New Asylums, which examined the efforts of Ohio's prison system to care for and cope with severely mentally ill inmates. Last year, Navasky and O'Connor touched base with people featured in The New Asylums and discovered that virtually all of them had since been released, then rearrested. So they went back to Ohio to make a film about the experiences of mentally ill ex-offenders as they struggle to remain free. Here's the promo:
As the PBS press release points out, the issue "has never been more pressing," because more people than ever are leaving prison:
This year alone, over 700,000 people will leave prison, more than half of them mentally ill. Typically, these offenders leave prison with a bus ticket, $75 in cash, and two weeks’ worth of medication. Studies show that within 18 months, nearly two-thirds of mentally ill offenders—often poor and cut off from friends and family—are re-arrested.
You probably won't be surprised to learn that we don't do a lot for the mentally ill when they leave prison, but you might be surprised to learn just how not-a-lot we do. These are, remember, some of society's most vulnerable people. Some are also dangerous. Our abandonment of mentally ill offenders is both a humanitarian disaster and a public safety problem. As the Globe and Mail says "Prepare to be Appalled."
Witness the sad case of Lynn Moore, a paranoid schizophrenic with a long history of drug and alcohol abuse. Two years ago Moore was sent to prison for the fourth time - he broke into a neighbour's house, searching for Osama bin Laden - and was released after eight months.
Moore's re-entry into society is fitful. He first moves into a halfway house, but is kicked out after failing a breathalyzer test. Shortly after, he is re-arrested for hurling rocks at a trailer home; once again he claims to be hunting bin Laden. While medicated, Moore spends a relatively peaceful month in jail, and is then released. Within one week, he is arrested again.
The film interviews several psychiatrists and health-care professionals, who reach the general consensus that the U.S. prison system is ill-prepared to deal with mentally ill offenders. As one psychiatrist sadly observes, "These are the people who fall through the cracks. ... It's practically inevitable they end up back in criminal activity." A startling look at a health crisis waiting to happen.
Like most mentally ill offenders, Moore gets little support on the outside. There's no systematic effort to help him stay on his medication, get a job, or navigate the social service system--tasks that are daunting for even healthy ex-inmates. Failure is all but guaranteed. There are no easy answers, of course, but as this film shows, those who get support stand a chance. Unfortunately, it's hard to imagine that cash-starved states will allocate resources for this population; our stupid, self-destructive approach will likely continue.
You need not be especially interested in this issue to be captivated by the film, which paints a bleak but beautiful portrait of life in the margins in the Midwest (where, with the decline of manufacturing and public disinvestment, the margins grow wider every day.) The film isn't easy to watch -- Navasky and O'Connor cast an unblinking eye on human suffering -- but their ability to convey the dignity of subjects makes it moving and even life-affirming. You can watch excepts HERE.
You can watch The New AsylumsHERE.
You can watch Navasky's and O'Connor previous film, the Emmy-award winning The Undertaking, HERE.