Filmmaker Rebecca Schaper’s documentary A Sister’s Call, a project some 14 years in the making, is as engaging as it is difficult to watch. Not for lack of quality, though. On the contrary, it’s the subject matter and the candid nature in which it’s discussed that make it trying. Beginning as a story of how a family reached out to reconnect with one of its own, it swells to encompass ongoing battles against psychosis and past sexual abuse.
Central to the story is Call Richmond, the filmmaker’s older brother, who disappeared in the late 1970s from the family’s home in Greenville, S.C., checking in only infrequently with phone calls but eventually disappearing entirely, unseen and unheard from for years. That is, until he showed up unexpectedly at the home of Schaper’s mother-in-law in 1997.
The film begins in the present with recollections of that return, events Schaper had the foresight to begin filming only months later in 1998. Conversations from what looks like a family dinner shared by Schaper, her husband and two daughters celebrating the anniversary of Richmond’s return are interspersed with past footage, and narration is paired with dialogue recorded at the time to give voice to the events.
And what events they are. The brother who returns to the family is a man somewhat unknown to them. Homeless and unkempt, he exhibits signs of paranoid schizophrenia. Much of the first third of the film’s 76-minute runtime is devoted to painting a portrait of Richmond, following the narrative of his childhood through interviews with family and friends to explore how he came to disappear and become who he is.
It is in turns heartwarming and heartbreaking. Scenes of his childhood are played out via yearbook stills and old family films of vacations on the beach and such. Coming on the heels of interviews with Richmond as he returned in 1997, addled and unfocused, the contrast is so evident as to be visceral.
But the tragedy of the film doesn’t end there. As Call’s case becomes more and more difficult to manage, the stress pushes hard on Schaper and her family, including her two daughters, one of whom begins to exhibit signs of an eating disorder. The filmmaker pulls no punches when she describes the anguish of being pulled in two separate directions, to care for brother and daughter.
Yet, arguably the most poignant moment of the film comes when the two daughters present their point of view on that same struggle. Filmed in the same dinner table setting — perhaps even at the same time — as the anniversary celebration earlier, the camera becomes almost a fly on the wall as feelings are laid bare. The daughters express how they feel they were made second priority, while Schaper defends her dedication to her brother’s recovery. Rarely are conversations on camera so real.
And on that note, the film takes another turn with another difficult topic as, about halfway through, it begins to delve into the family’s darker past, revealing that Schaper was a victim of sexual abuse at the hands of her father — who went unconfronted for years and subsequently abused one of Schaper’s daughters when she was young as well. Again, it’s another emotional, honest conversation in the same family setting.
For all its heavy topics, though, A Sister’s Richmond is ultimately an uplifting film. Clearly it touches on dark events, but the message is very much one of healing. The final moments dwell on the progress of Richmond’s treatment despite all his setbacks, just as the Schaper family grows stronger and closer through its vetting of shared trauma.
It’s not an easy ride to take, and the shifting chronology can be a bit confusing (the revelations of abuse all happened long before Richmond’s return but aren’t addressed until later in the film). However, it’s an honest and worthwhile look at issues that trouble even the most outwardly normal of families. For that alone, it’s well worth a watch.