Beyond the candy fluff of ‘Women’s Day’, Unrest raises the bar for feminists, disability rights activists and their allies.
Early on in the documentary film Unrest (2017), Jennifer Brea, the filmmaker and protagonist, preempts a question to the camera, recording her struggling to manoeuvre herself on her bed.
“I know you might be saying to yourself, if I really couldn’t stand up, why would I be filming it? Well… I kind of think someone should see this.” Unrest is a revelation of gaze and filmmaking at the intersection of disability and gender, more particularly gender roles. The film is the experience of myalgic encephalomyelitis (ME), more commonly referred to as “chronic fatigue syndrome”, narrated by someone experiencing the condition. That narration is stark and pulls no punches. There are parts of the film that follow Brea and her husband, through their various attempts to understand, cure and manage her condition over the years, that are overwhelming by virtue of how deeply personal they are.
After a good streak of health, capped by a triumphant afternoon celebration with the alumni and faculty members at Princeton University, she is curled up in a foetal position. Brea has relapsed. She is sobbing and wailing, still in her orange Princeton t-shirt, with her husband crouching next to her looking despondent. As a viewer celebrating her success, the transition evokes a visceral reaction from the viewer. The helplessness the couple shares is real, honest and contagious.