Text from a review of "Pop,"
written by Ira Glass for the Boston Film Festival in the spring of 1999.
© This American Life 2000.

There's what we want from our parents, and there's what we get. How many of us spend our lives trying to bridge that gulf? When his father Hy was 87 and afflicted with Alzheimers, Joel Meyerowitz set out with him on "our last chance to have an adventure together." A road trip. They'd drive from Hy's home in Florida up to New York City where the family had lived. In the car filming: Joel, then 57, and his son Sasha, age 27.

Seeing a pretty bird at a roadside attraction, Joel asks his father if the bird reminds him of Melvin, the parakeet they'd owned on Morrison Avenue in the Bronx. Melvin used to announce "I'm Melvin Meyerowitz. I'm a Jewish bird." Hy doesn't remember. He doesn't remember the names of his own sons, or his years as "the mayor of Morrison Avenue," the person everyone came to, to settle disputes. Several days into the trip Joel asks Hy, "Do you remember anything from our trip so far?" "Don't ask me about anything we did," Hy says. "That's gone, man."

But still Joel tries to make him remember. As filmmaking it's riveting. What could be more moving to watch, than a child trying to connect with his father? A child trying to remind his father of who he was, back in the day? Especially since Joel isn't just trying to resurrect the image of his vigorous and funny father as a balm for himself; it's done as an act of generosity, as a gift to his dad. Look at what an amazing man you've been, Joel seems to be constantly saying to his dad, look at all you've done.

It's striking also, that even if they can't share the past very well, they share the present beautifully. It's rare to see parents and their grown children get along so comfortably, take such sheer pleasure in each other's company.
There's an adage that you can't make a movie about people just loving each other; there's no conflict in that, no story. What Joel Meyerowitz's film demonstrates is that even when people are treating each other with more affection than I can remember watching in any film I've ever seen, there's plenty of drama to go around. And heartbreak. Hy doesn't remember much of the past, but what he does remember is mostly unfulfilled longing, moments of unrequited love. Even this sweet, beloved man, this is what he's left with, after Alzheimers. It takes his son to remind him of all the people who loved him, who knew him well, who saw him for who he was.

And then Joel and Sasha show us scene after scene of Hy talking and joking around, with them and with strangers they meet, charming everyone he chances upon, scene after scene that make it hard for us not to love him too. Another act of generosity. It's such a heroic act of love, this film, such a heartfelt attempt to connect. When it was over all I wanted was to call my parents.