Letters From Our Lives

Rachel Hurst, a jet-setting Londoner, who is confined to a wheelchair, is the focus of this confusing documentary, which purportedly chronicles Ms. Hurst's trip to Zimbabwe to meet with other physically disabled women, but actually comes across as more of a personal tirade. After pointing out that the disabled are a "forgotten" and "invisible" people (an observation easily negated by a walk through any number of public facilities), Hurst goes on to say that disabled women experience a double discrimination by virtue of being both disabled and women. For herself, she says: "I'm actually very grateful for the lessons I've learnt from these two experiences" (the fact that one of these "experiences"--being a woman--is literally shared by billions somewhat reduces its impact as an "experience"). Hurst travels to Zimbabwe, where she is met by Lizzie Mamvura, who introduces a number of disabled women to Hurst. In Hurst's questioning about the whereabouts of the men in these broken homes, we learn little about the day-to-day lives of these women, but we do get a very clear picture of what Hurst is alluding to: men are jerks. Her overall intention is to collect millions of letters from disabled women around the world and plop them into the collective lap of the United Nations. What this action will achieve is rather uncertain. While I don't doubt for a second that people could use a little more sensitivity in any number of areas--attitudes toward the disabled among them--Letters From Our Lives does not promote that sensitivity: it complains, and its complaints are both too personal and wide of the mark. When Hurst claims that "disabled people are the poorest of the poor in all countries," simple logic not only tells us that this is not so, but I suspect many highly functional disabled people would take offense to Hurst's sweeping definition. Not a necessary purchase. (Available from: Bullfrog Films, Inc., P.O. Box 549, Oley, PA 19547; (800) 543-FROG.)