"Coma" doesn´t pride itself on the technical aspects of the medical condition; it shows the struggle patients and their families go through in order to overcome vegetative and minimally conscious states. The documentary follows four families over the course of one year as daughters, sons and fiancées struggle to regain some aspect of their previous lives in fits and starts, small progress and groundbreaking revelations. It tugs at the heartstrings, perhaps a cliché, but never tells us how to feel with sentimental music or a narrator. In essence, we learn about Roxy, Sean, Tom and Al´Khan through their families and their own individual determination to get back to some sense of normalcy.
Running for 102-minutes, none of the patients are able to tell their own stories, as is expected. We are introduced to each with a title card or two explaining their injury and their current medical condition. From there, the journey of each person is tracked from beginning to end. It´s not so much a spoiler to know some endings are better than others; indeed, there is a death, two miraculous recoveries and an instance of family never letting go by the time the end credits roll. The most fascinating narrative aspect of "Coma" is how the documentary is about each of the patients, yet none are able to articulate their thoughts. Each story relies on the family to shed light on their loved one in the middle of their own grief.
They are all compelling characters, with the possible exception of Al´Khan-simply because he has the least screen time of the group, owing to his status. There is a moment late in the production where Tom´s family (including his fiancé) are devastated to learn his hearing is all but gone, leading him to become frustrated with the doctors. However, coupled with that diagnosis, is the fact all of his higher brain functions are intact. He can read, understand, process information and answer questions posed to him with elaborate vocabulary. For instance, he is asked, via a white board, to point to the source of the artificial illumination in this enclosure. Instantly, Tom´s finger goes toward the ceiling. As the staff around him begins to understand his limitations and disability, we silently rejoice at a hearing loss diagnosis. Not because being deaf is a positive, but because he can now get proper care.
It is these positive moments which make up for the lack of progress from Sean and Al´Khan, not to mention Roxy´s relapse after she goes home. A year of therapy for four people is condensed into under two hours of film time, highlighting the successes and failures in exponentially shorter time periods than they originally occurred. Imagine how increasingly frustrating and heartbreaking it is to see someone you love unable to speak, write or move by themselves. The person they were is gone, for all intents and purposes. That´s one of the few aspects of the film we don´t get to see: the outright grief. It is a marvel, though, the camera has as much access to the patients as they do and any other personal moments that are left unshared turn out to be acceptable. We even see a camera person-possibly director Liz Garbus-ask Sean´s parents if the camera can go with them. His mother politely says no…and the camera crew stay exactly where they are. I have to believe it is that sense of compassion which opened nearly every door for the production.
The sped up year I mentioned tends to betray the struggle each family and patient goes through in the recovery process. Three hundred sixty five days condensed to 102 minutes-roughly 25 minutes per patient-to chronicle success and failure, dejection and elation. What parts do you leave out? When is a mouth movement or a grunting noise a spontaneous reaction and not a harbinger of things to come? Those must be the most maddening times for a loved one: seeing some progress in one moment and then nothing else for weeks or months. We´re not afforded that experience; indeed, no film could ever replicate a year of hell.
One other place the film succeeds-or fails, depending on your perspective-is the lack of real medical information. This isn´t a Discovery Health program in which the specifics of each case are examined. "Coma" relies on feeling and emotion more than facts. It never makes any bones about it, never tries to be anything more than it is. There is no advocacy for patients or an agenda. Only to show the progress that can be made. Therefore, it is probably for the best the minutia of minimally conscious states is left out.
The Terry Schiavo case bookends the film for an undisclosed reason. Yes, the court case regarding removing her feeding tube made national headlines and she is the most recognizable face of vegetative state patients. Yet "Coma" isn´t about her. We know the connection between Schiavo and the four people we will be following, but it seems a tad sensationalistic, almost like a hook to make each story relevant. In reality, no hook is needed because everyone we see on screen are flesh and blood human beings, not actors. It´s a puzzling way to begin and end the production.
VIDEO:
Remarkably, "Coma" looks pretty good for a documentary film relegated largely to the interior of a hospital with no script to work from. In a full screen aspect ratio, there´s nothing to really hold against the transfer. Because of the fluid nature of the story, the camera loses focus every once in a while before it can zoom back in on the subject. The overarching color palette is white and they are rendered as good as can be expected, again considering the limitations of hand held cameras (at least I presume). The archival footage found mainly at the beginning and end of the film is grainy and "used" looking-again, as to be expected. Aside from the dubious choice to shoot full screen, this is a rather solid transfer.
AUDIO:
Two basic tracks here, English and Spanish 2.0. Again, as with the video portion of the disc, there´s no reason to expect anything else besides what we end up having. With no soundtrack to mention, the mix is full of ambient noises from the hospital, replicating-partially-the auditory experience each patient and visitor would have. From the sound of ventilation units to the soft planting of a foot to propel a wheelchair, this is as authentic a track as we´re ever likely to hear. One note, though: the dialogue is at times hollow sounding due to the real time nature of the piece.
EXTRAS:
The only extra here is an apparently excised fifth story, "The Case of Willie Hicks." Running just over 18 minutes, Junior, as he is called, turns out to be the raging success story the main feature needed. From the minute he is wheeled into the hospital without identification to the minute he walks out under his own power, his is an awe-inspiring journey, a heartwarming victory of the human spirit.
PARTING THOUGHTS:
As clichéd as it might be, "Coma" is a film which reminds us of the complexity of the human body, the connections our internal organs make with each other to allow us to carry out normal functions. When one aspect of that system goes down, we´re as useless as a log. And while the body is a remarkable machine, we don´t know nearly enough about how it works to help people recover completely. In its own way, Garbus has directed a film to remind us of the fragility of life without beating the audience over the head with the message. This is a wonderfully effecting, uplifting and hopeful production