This fascinating documentary that profiles seven New York City psychics is both profoundly sad and surprisingly hopeful.
Before seeing “Look Into My Eyes,” Lana Wilson’s fascinating portrait of seven New York City psychics, I had vague expectations of a humorous overview of human gullibility. Or maybe a useful primer on how to identify the grifters from the gifted. What I did not expect was to emerge with not only a deeper understanding of this strange calling, but far greater empathy for those who seek out its practitioners.
Because, make no mistake, this is a profoundly sad movie, one soaked in loss and the longing for human connection. Yet it is also surprisingly hopeful, as Wilson gently frames the psychic-client relationship as one of mutual benefit. In cramped apartments and spare rental spaces, her subjects listen as intently as any therapist to the troubles of strangers. But later, when we visit the psychics outside the sessions (most provide the service for free and have other jobs), we learn that the healing, when it occurs, goes both ways.
Their candor, as they divulge why they chose to become mediums, is both touching and revelatory. Whether bruised by a devastating loss or a lack of community, they find solace in the metaphysical. One woman, a Christian, explains that attending her first seance “felt like church.” Another channels the resourcefulness learned during a horrific childhood with a drug-addicted parent. Notably, all are involved in some way with the visual and performing arts. This may be simply a consequence of the movie’s location, but Wilson, who knows her way around performers (she has made documentaries about Taylor Swift and Brooke Shields), seizes the moment.
“Is it at all like improv?” she asks brightly, encouraging us to view the readings through a different lens. Throughout, the film’s gaze is tender and its tone respectful as Wilson — who experienced her first psychic reading the morning after Donald Trump became president — interjects rarely and never during a session. Like Orna Guralnik’s troubled clients in Showtime’s “Couples Therapy,” these brave supplicants willingly expose the demons they struggle to exorcise.
Their stories are often poignant and sometimes traumatic, like the E.R. nurse who’s haunted by the memory of a child’s violent death. Yet whether it’s the Chinese adoptee wondering if her birth parents ever think of her, or the young man voicing a similar concern about his re-homed bearded dragon, most appear comforted by their psychic’s responses, be they intuitive or occult. Though it can’t be much fun to learn that your grandmother is still complaining about your husband from beyond the grave.
I was especially moved by the woman who expressed deep distress over her Boston terrier’s refusal to walk on a leash.
“She loves me, right?” she asks her psychic, wistfully. Maybe that’s the only thing any of us needs to know.
Look Into My Eyes
Rated R for heartbreaking stories and heartwarming connections. Running time: 1 hour 44 minutes. In theaters.
Source: Movies - nytimes.com
