May — Mental Health Awareness

Poster for the 2018 feature documentary THAT WAY MADNESS LIES… Filmmaker Sandra Luckow (far left) with her brother Duanne, mother Dolores, and father Gerry on Spirit Lak, located on the north side of Mt. St. Helens in 1969.

Available on Amazon

Available on Kanopy.com

​May has always been an explosive month for me — of cataclysmic loss, change and exposure. The first of these events was on May 18, 1980, when the north face of Mt. St. Helens exploded with a force 200 times that of the Hiroshima bomb. At the epicenter of that blast was a cabin my father designed, and each person in my family had a hand in building it with the trees we cleared from the property. Forty-four years later, and, at an elevation 440 feet higher, the area where our cabin stood is just beginning to recover. This sudden, unfathomable disaster is the metaphor for my brother’s late-onset psychotic break in the early months of 2010. The parallels between the mountain’s eruption, the loss of home, and the ever-expanding ripple effects caused by its destruction with that of my bother’s journey, feels prescient. It’s within this context THAT WAY MADNESS LIES… begins.

​Six-and-a-half-year-old me carrying a floor plank to be nailed in. I loved using the hammer.

Our almost finished cabin in the summer of 1973. The steep roof was designed to deal with the 6+ feet of snow every winter. No electricity, and water from an underground spring. An outhouse was built in the back. No palace was more loved.

Forty-Four years later, in 2024, this is the area, circled in red, where our cabin was located. The red half circle is the where the photo of film’s poster was taken — the south shore of Spirit Lake. And the blown out Mt. St. Helens is in the upper right-hand corner.

Official Trailer for THAT WAY MADNESS LIES…

​In May of 2014, with my brother in jail, our father, who had infarction dementia, was hospitalized with an H. Pylori infection. The day before he died, with clarity and profound sadness, he lamented for his son who had been his best friend, “Why is he sick?”

Still photograph from THAT WAY MADNESS LIES… Gerry Luckow the day before he died on May 13, 2024.

​In May of 2017, I premiered THAT WAY MADNESS LIES… at the Portland Art Museum.  It was terrifying to expose to the world our family’s horror story, particularly in our hometown in a cinema filled our classmates, co-workers, friends, neighbors, first-responders, medical professionals, government officials, in addition to strangers who had read about the film.  My biggest fear was that the audience would perceive our story as a fascinating, but bonafide freak-show.  I had already met a barrage of criticism from several relatives who were outraged that I would “exploit” my family tragedy in this way for personal gain! (With hindsight, the idea of “personal gain,”  now makes me laugh-out-loud.  Documentary filmmaking has NEVER been the path to either fame or financial security. ) 

Introducing the film at the Portland Art Museum where it premiered in May of 2017.

The film received a standing ovation, at both the matinee and the evening screening, however, what gobsmacked me was the number of people in the audience (a rough estimate of about 25%) who, during the Q&A, raised their hands when I asked if this  sad and strange story had any resonance. One audience member said, “This story is not unique. We all, to a greater or lessor degree, have lived aspects of this story because of how mental illness is not treated.  It’s our story.  You just happened to have a record of it.”

And in the subsequent years since its release in December of 2018, and then on PBS in May of 2021, I have received a couple hundred letters from people sharing their stories and the obstacles they have faced.  Some have requested counsel (of which I felt wholly unqualified to give) but could empathize in a radically intense manner.  Many, mostly those who have not experienced the ravages of severe mental illness, have asked me if the film provided a catharsis. The answer was always, and still is, an emphatic NO, but rather each time I see it, it’s reminder of the trauma, pain and inadequacy of a broken mental health system.

And yet, the film has become an agent for awareness and change — and I am dedicated to try and connect the disparate aspects of our wholly inadequate health care system; de-stigmatize and reframe our attitudes towards those who suffer; and integrate the idea that mental health is a big part of overall health.  Unequivocally, the  best thing that has happened regarding the film — even better than its great reviews and several awards at film festivals — was for it to become required viewing for those seeking social work licenses in New York State.

Reviews on Website

Conversations w/FF2 Media

The most unsatisfying, yet entirely realistic aspect of THAT WAY MADNESS LIES… is the lack of resolution at the end of the film. As the credits roll, my brother is resigned to be trapped in a destructive system, and, with my legal obligations completed, ravaged by the experience, I seek some distance and respite without totally abandoning him. The film’s end, although authentic, is disconcerting at best. Like the Shakespearean play that’s referenced in the film’s title, the inability to change almost always results in certain tragedy. And although I relegate myself to the bench beside the wild ride my brother is on, there is no sense that anything is going to be okay.

But real life is not a movie, not even a documentary, and the continuing story takes us on the most unexpected journey.

Oregon’s mental and behavioral health system is on brink of collapse…

A 2021 Oregon Public Broadcast article by Allison Freed illustrates that the mental health crisis in Oregon has been bourgeoning at an alarming rate, exacerbated by  crippling methamphetamine and homelessness issues (all part of a vicious cycle of NOT dealing with underlying mental health issues.)  Interestingly, even though Oregon spends more money per capita on mental health $234.87 in 2021 compared to $113.27 per capita in Massachusetts, Oregon’s treatment effectiveness is ranked 46th while Massachusetts is consistently in the top 5.

So here is the big twist in the story that did not have a satisfactory resolution in the film THAT WAY MADNESS LIES… And truth be told, who knows if it is a sustainable “resolution,” but my brother Duanne has stabilized. Despite having lost everything, including his home, he is now living a quiet life in which he is content and we enjoy a warm and cordial relationship.  How is it possible that his well-being and quality of life improved in the midst of a rapidly and continuously decaying town that had twice been voted the most-livable in country?

Siblings Sandra Luckow and Duanne Luckow enjoying a steak at Ringside in Portland, Oregon in July 2022.

​How did this happen?  As I say in the film, “the only thing I am certain of, is that I know nothing for certain.” But I can say that Duanne would not have had a chance if he had remained within the vicious cycle of lack of insight, incarceration, living on the street, hospitalization, forced medication, and competency hearings. Duanne’s superpower was that he had friends who did not give up on him and provided for his basic needs of secure food and shelter without which no one can improve. And it seems that by removing himself (with the help of his friends) from this dysfunctional system, refusing all antipsychotic medications which only seemed to emotionally flat-line him, cause weight gain, and make him more compliant to push him through the system, he was able to regain his foothold somewhat. (I say this with the caveat, that I am not “anti-medication,” but in the specific case of my brother, this was my observation.)

People often ask me, is he “back to normal?” I don’t have a clue how to answer this question. What is normal? Whatever it might be, normal seems an unlikely pursuit for someone who existed under extraordinary pressure, like Mt. St. Helens itself, to be extraordinary. The scars of this eruptive and disruptive period are visible and ragged for both my brother and me, but like the mountain itself, the gapping hole that exists seems to have released the pressure for the time being: the new normal.

Mt. St. Helens, its top completely blown off, from the plane as I flew to Portland to celebrate Duanne’s 60th birthday in October 2023

KABOO Radio Interview

On Halloween 2023, my brother turned 60. Duanne was born on the day, in 1963, that President Kennedy signed the Community Health Act bill into law in hopes of transforming the way in which people with mental illness are treated and cared for in the United States. The vision of this bill was to build mental health centers accessible to all Americans so that those with mental illnesses could be treated while working and living at home, rather than being kept in neglectful and often abusive state institutions, sometimes for years on end. the idea was to successfully and quickly treat patients in their own communities and then return them to "a useful place in society."

But within weeks of signing the bill, Kennedy was assassinated and no one had the vision, funding or an appetite for follow-thru of the bill. The legislation did help to usher in a few positive life-altering changes for some people with serious illnesses such as schizophrenia, many of whom now live normal, productive lives with jobs and families. In 1963, the average stay in a state institution for someone with schizophrenia was 11 years. But only half of the proposed centers were ever built, and those were never fully funded.

On his birthday, I wanted to celebrate my brother in a big, but appropriate way that had little to do with his illness. I had the ability to have the films he had made in his late teens and early twenties restored. I rented out the 100 year old Moreland theater and we had a free screening of his 8mm adventure shorts and James Bond spoofs for family, friends and the community. It’s an old style theater with a huge single screen that has $5 dollar tickets on Tuesday nights. When my brother thanked people for coming, he said that this event “blew his mind.” Oh the irony.

Watch or Rewatch “Madness” in May

Watch or rewatch THAT WAY MADNESS LIES… during May’s Mental Health Awareness Month and think about where we have been and where we are going with mental health care in our country, in our community, and in our families. Use the film to start a conversation with someone about mental health. When you see someone living on the street and obviously in distress, try to remember that this person is somebody’s child and sibling. What is our obligation to the most vulnerable when their behavior can be explosive and devastating? Let’s continue the authentic conversation. It’s the only way forward.

My current project: Vanishing: A Love Story

​Currently, I am in post-production of Vanishing: A Love Story, a feature-length documentary narrated posthumously by Cai Emmons as she guides us on her open-hearted journey to her death. I will be posting an update soon. Please consider a tax-deductible donation.

Donate