THE HYMN “I Sing a Song of the Saints of God” is one of my favorites in the Episcopal tradition, usually sung on All Saints Day. It concludes with the line, “For the saints of God are just folk like me / And I mean to be one, too.” It’s a reminder of the people in our lives—living and otherwise—who are everyday saints, not canonized but important in our formation.
In Dick Johnson Is Dead, filmmaker Kirsten Johnson celebrates her father, one such everyday saint. Dick isn’t actually dead, but he has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. How much of his life remains isn’t certain, but Johnson is determined to show him just how well he’s loved by trying to rid him of some of his fear of death.
Johnson does this in a darkly funny way that’s true to her dad’s mischievous streak: She collaborates with him on a series of staged scenes depicting his death from a variety of accidents. Dick is crushed by an air conditioner, falls down stairs, is hit by a construction worker’s nail-filled board, and more. “Everyone dies,” Johnson reminds us, even the people we love the most.
At the same time, Johnson and her father deal with not just the concept of his death but also the reality of his decline. Between each staging we see Dick retire, sell his home, and move in with Johnson. His sharp attitude and sense of humor fade. Johnson comments on her dad’s state of mind and how her love for him is challenged by the disruption his growing needs create in her life.
That’s why it’s important that death isn’t the only scenario Johnson depicts for her dad: She also shows him enjoying the afterlife. In Philippians 3:20-21, Paul describes the transformational nature of life in heaven, where Christ “will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body.” In Johnson’s heaven, Dick’s mind is restored. His feet, malformed since his infancy, are fixed. He can finally enjoy all the chocolate cake he wants without having to worry about his heart.
Dick Johnson Is Dead is partly about Johnson preparing for the loss of her father, but it’s also about imagining a fitting reward for a beloved parent, grandparent, and friend. Johnson is able to give her dad the sendoff many of us would love to have and does so while he’s still alive to appreciate it. It’s a reminder, to all of us with everyday saints in our lives, of the simple power that presence and gratitude carry.
Abby Olcese is a freelance film critic and writer based in Missouri. You can find her on Twitter @abbyolcese.
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