Here. Is. Better. opens with U.S. Veteran and Politician Jason Kander revisiting a baseball field where he once played as a kid. The imagery is a curiosity, until Kander admits that he used the memory of his time there as a child to sleep better before coming to terms with his diagnosis. The imagery never returns throughout the duration of the film. After some thought, one could surmise that the connection is a veiled call upon the affirmation of the film’s subject, the hardships faced by U.S. war veterans confronting PTSD, being as prevalent in America as the beloved institution of baseball. Although the film opens with Kander’s high profile story, documenting his stepping down from the 2020 Kansas City mayoral Race, Here. Is. Better rightfully expands its focus on a small group of men and women (including Kander) as they showcase extraordinary bravery and vulnerability, allowing the camera into their treatment sessions during their stay at various VA residential programs aimed at helping them better understand and handle their PTSD diagnosis. The film shares that veterans are three times more likely to experience PTSD. The film’s participants share their trauma from combat scenarios, horrendous mistreatment from personnel, hardships with adjusting to civilian life and more as they try to navigate their way to wellness. The viewer is allowed to sit in on these sessions and experience the treatment real time. Director Jack Youngelson succeeds in allowing the documentary to focus on the hope in treatment and not the exploitation of the trauma. Youngelson keeps the camera at the right distance, allowing the film to simultaneously educate, illuminate and bridge an empathetic wavelength with the viewer.
The film follows four men and women who have decided to participate in psychotherapy to overcome the debilitating effects of PTSD. The film touts unprecedented access to the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs PTSD treatment programs. Here. Is. Better. doesn’t spend much time with the clinical staff, opting to focus the majority of the well spent runtime with the veterans, allowing them (and in some cases, their families) the opportunity to share their experiences with PTSD and their truthful reactions to the treatment. This decision delivers an earnest approach, humanizing the diagnosis and allowing the audience to truly connect and care about the film’s subjects. Youngelson’s direction removes the barriers between the spectators and the films’ subjects. So much so, that when there is a breakthrough or poignant moment, you are invested. This enables the audience to begin to fully comprehend the expansiveness of post-traumatic stress and how the disorder sends emotionally traumatic ripples hurting family and friends. There are many raw moments throughout, and an extremely triggering confession that makes you question why we don’t have a system that better protects the physical and mental well being of our nation’s front line. These moments prove truly thought provoking and allow enough fodder for introspective conversation long after the film is over.
According to the film, over 13 million Americans suffer from PTSD. In light of that information shared early on, the film can only focus on a small splinter of the vast majority of diverse people who suffer from the disorder. There could be many factors on how different races and ethnicities respond to and process trauma. Although Here. Is. Better. isn’t allowed to dig that deep into the vastness of the affected, it succeeds in unifying the film’s subjects through their commonality to service and openness to treatment. In the end, Youngelson’s direction doesn’t ostracize the viewer or particular participants, allowing an older Vietnam veteran (John) the same empathetic relatability as a family-centric mother and veteran (Teresa) or a embattled single mother veteran (Tabitha). There is enough presence of each participant that you actively ingest the film, positively participating in the hope of their path to wellness.
There are two scenes, one involving Teresa having an episode at a public event and the other where Tabitha revisits a heart-breaking traumatic experience, that expel any notion that the suffering of PTSD is not a quantifiable human issue. There would be absolutely no reason for this film to not be utilized as a learning and awareness tool for soldiers, medical professionals or friends and family of veterans. Here. Is. Better. truly realizes its purpose. The film also does well to end on a high note, showcasing Kander’s work with the Veterans Community Project and readjusting his calling due to the positive response of publicly coming to terms with his PTSD diagnosis. We are left with the positive progress of John, Tabitha and Teresa, which (in a film more about the journey than the on-going conclusion) isn’t a potential spoiler, but more reason to commit to a film that requires heavy emotional lifting. Here. Is. Better, is a heartfelt, focused and responsible look at the struggles of PTSD. It’s a film that proves a good starting point for explaining, understanding and facing a deep-rooted and often underestimated diagnosis.
Photo courtesy of Greenwich Entertainment
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