Gleason

One of the most moving and flat-out heartbreaking documentaries ever made, Gleason follows former footballer Steve Gleason as he and his wife, Michel, are forced to radically adjust their lives after he’s diagnosed with ALS – with the movie, which spans several years, detailing the neurological disease’s progression and its increasingly immobilizing impact on Steve. It’s inherently compelling material that is, for the most part, employed to exceedingly engrossing effect by filmmaker Clay Tweel, and it’s rather impressive to note that Gleason manages to tug at the viewer’s heartstrings right from the word go. (Tweel opens the proceedings with an excerpt from the video diary Gleason begins keeping for his unborn child.) Tweel immediately segues into a primer on Gleason’s accomplishments as a professional athlete, with the emphasis, even during this stretch, generally kept on Gleason’s relationship with (and eventual marriage to) Michel – which ultimately does ensure that the viewer has a great deal invested in the pair’s bond. The poignant subject matter paves the way for a midsection that’s dripping with palpably stirring images and interludes, and it’s certainly not surprising to discover that Tweel has jam-packed the picture with segments designed to elicit sobs from even the hardiest of viewers. (It’s difficult, for example, not to feel a lump in one’s throat as Michel tearfully reacts to her husband’s frailty at an athletic event.) Gleason is likewise packed with absolutely captivating sequences that illustrate the rigors and obstacles involved in battling such an illness, although it’s ultimately difficult not to wish that Tweel had devoted some screentime to the intimacy issues undoubtedly faced by Steve and Michel. Minor deficiencies like that, as well as an ongoing audio problem (ie poor sound quality makes it often difficult to discern just what’s being said, especially by Steve as his condition worsens), are easy to overlook in the face of a movie that’s predominantly riveting and absorbing, and it is, in the end, impossible to label Gleason as anything other than an admittedly grim yet completely mesmerizing look at ALS and its nightmarish effects.

**** out of ****