How to Disappear Completely

He may have a reputation for being something of a storyteller among his friends, but Itai Erdal is far from a natural performer. In his hands, even an anecdote about being sexually assaulted by a dugong (it's a bit like a manitee) is one of grating tedium. However, in this multimedia treatise on his mother's death, Erdal is able to overcome his oratory shortcomings and reduce half the audience to bawling wrecks by the end. That's partly becase of the fact that cancer is an inherently tragic disease; and partly due to the award-winning lighting designer’s ability to manipulate emotions through visuals.

Erdal paints himself as a man who's always asserted control over his life and surroundings. It's this trait that enabled him to rise to the top of his industry, yet continues to sabotage his relationships. His decision to chronicle his mother's deterioration at the hands of lung cancer can be considered an attempt to take ownership of a personal crisis. That he found himself so helpless despite his best efforts is what makes his tale so deeply moving and human.

Despite promising us a work of moral complexity, Erdal barely touches on his eventual agreement to assist his mother's suicide. What he does is allow us to put ourselves in his position and imagine the lengths we'd go to in order to alleviate a loved one's suffering. When we're shown video footage of the moment in which he offered to end his parent's misery, the scene is all the more powerful for its low-key ambiguity.