Taking flight repost: My Dead Dad’s Porno Tapes

I watched “My Dead Dad’s Porno Tapes,” by Charlie Tyrell, an op-doc featured by the New York Times, and many other places. The 13 minute piece uses found footage, old videotapes and present day interviews to set an intimate tone that pays off when the stakes rise midway through the film.

First off, I should mention the importance of a good title. It’s probably a main reason why the documentary has the most recent views on The New York Times website. The filmmaker uses the title — and the porno tapes — to hook into the viewer’s more prurient nature. There is little payoff on that front in the narrative, but by the time we realize that, we are already invested in the outcome of the film. The pornography is not just a red herring, however. It, along with the father’s other “stuff,” help show he was a strange and complicated man. The details help show his unique character in a more cinematic and literary way, instead of just “telling” that he was strange and complicated.

The film has a cinema vérité feel for much of the first half, with found footage providing much of the foundation. But it also relies heavily on interviews with family members, and a more journalistic approach to uncovering new information helps to push the plot forward. Late in the film, many of the voices do turn reflexive, as well, reacting to new information.

The editing techniques are also unique. The cuts and transitions are quick but also soft, and they jump in time from remembrance to present day without jolting the viewer. When remembering the past, the film footage is often grainy and dated. (The first 2 minutes, mostly.) It communicates an era. When Tyrell films the present, everything is clear, crisp, almost immaculate. (4:38, for instance). That visual difference is a cue to the viewer that life has changed, and it helps make the absence of Tyrell’s father more pronounced. The quick cuts, both from found video and animated photographs, help tell a big story in a short period of time. Some of those scenes are composed (like at 7:22) both with materials and old photographs, which helps connect the main character’s childhood and adulthood.

It’s near this time when the film takes a tonal shift. To this point, the film had felt like a son lamenting his father’s death and almost humorously probing his leftover stuff to find clues of who that man was. But when he stumbles on something actually meaningful — a devastatingly sad yet crucial audio recording  — the film takes on a more serious tone. The reflexive outlook also emerges as the cuts slow down and the viewer gets a long, uncomfortable glimpse into one specific moment in time (7:41). Everything screeches to an uncomfortable halt, and the weight of that information feels heavier because of that decision by the filmmaker, who also quiets all the background noise. It makes you feel like you are listening through a peephole to something you’re not supposed to hear.

In addition, I think using the young photographs of the filmmaker’s siblings to animate their particular audio was a smart idea. (3:53, for instance). It imparted the idea of family, and because they are remembering their father from their perspective as children, it put the audience into that frame of mind.

Overall, I’d say the short film does an effective job of eliciting deep sympathy and understanding from the viewer, while also asking and answering big questions — but in a quick and airy way that keeps the audience from being overburdened. It’s a worthwhile piece that reflects well on the filmmaker and his capabilities.

-Tim Trainor