Familiar Touch

Friedland’s film, as sharp as it is soft, conveys both the terror of losing the life you recognize, and the intermittent, fragmented joy of finding it again.

There is great emotional heft to a relatively simple film, and a dignity and empathy afforded to dementia patients that feels astonishingly rare on-screen, where sensationalism tends to bring the house down.

Familiar Touch can be sad, without question, but it’s also salty and boundlessly tender.

What Friedland keenly understands is the power of what’s unsaid, how memories can tie themselves to sound, smell, and touch too, and how sometimes those are the last to go.

Like any good coming-of-age movie, Familiar Touch never condescends. It takes its protagonist’s experience with dislocation, unrequited love and the desire to be understood quite seriously.

Friedland, who also wrote the film‘s script, is not given over to histrionics or blaring displays of emotion, instead asking us to follow Ruth and experience the world through her eyes. The impact is profound.

By treating Ruth's experience with compassion, Friedland has crafted a tender, observational film that illuminates the dignity in vulnerability and the persistence of selfhood even as memory fades. This is empathic filmmaking and one of the year's best.

Inspired by Friedland’s work as a memory care worker and older adult teaching artist, the film owes a lot to Chalfant who delivers an understated, nuanced turn.

It's also absolutely not depressing, but nor does it offer any false uplift. No one ever recovers from Alzheimer's, but writer/director Sarah Friedland, in concert with Kathleen Chalfant and the supporting cast, finds moments of humor and tenderness.

Even if Familiar Touch is not a perfect film, I still very much enjoyed it. Its narrative makes it feel unique, with its spotlight on the residents and staff of the care community, in more ways than one.