Spyral (2024) Film Review

When it comes to documentaries in which a certain subject allows a camera to enter their world and document a story worth telling, you can’t help but feel like someone is indulging in a terrible invasion of privacy. Sure, there’s consent, a considerable factor to consider when a story is put together with edited footage and an undeniably biased view. But still, as viewers, we are accessing a room in which secrets are no longer secret, and someone’s story will become public.

I was under the impression that Spyral, Bill Guttentag’s daunting dive into the mechanics of a family ravaged by mental health issues, was that kind of movie—an edited supercut of the family’s downfall. However, what I ended up experiencing was a raw visitation into the destroyed remains of a concept, a horrific and unadulterated portrait of a family in crisis.

In the film, a promising musician named Randall meets Michelle, and they hit it off. The relationship becomes serious, and they get married, only to become parents soon after. The problem is that underneath the image of the perfect family, a monster lurks, and at some point in their lives, this monster decides to show its face.

Michelle has bipolar disorder, and the condition has always overpowered her. Born in a family where drugs weren’t strictly condemned, Michelle’s idea of a family nucleus isn’t traditional, and though she struggles to be a good mother and husband, her mental issues are stronger than her will. Randall begins recording everything he can, using hidden cameras and his cell phone, and he gets the evidence he needs to prove to himself that he must do something before it’s too late.

It’s through Michelle’s letters (re-enacted in a voice performance by Michelle Trachtenberg) that we find out about her mood swings and eventual episodes of uncontrolled anger. At some point, it becomes too much, and as viewers, we must take notice of a horrendous possibility that’s hard to address early on: Michelle is on a path to self-destruction that will not end well.

What’s pretty different and undoubtedly engaging about Spyral is Randall’s decision to provide the information that will force you to draw your own conclusions about Michelle. It’s not an issue of victimization at all, but considering he was always recording everything, there is some inevitable judgment of the family’s inability to “stop the monster at hand.” This is more notable when Charlotte, Randall and Michelle’s daughter, is at the center of the conflict and bears witness to her mother’s condition and its display. This moment is truly harrowing and will possibly trigger some viewers.

Spyral is a film experience like no other because no film has dared to be as open and honest as Guttentag’s. Randall White is also a brave man who’s not afraid of backlash and would like the world to observe the emotional turmoil of being related to Michelle. If you don’t think he’s brave, you probably will when the film reveals that Michelle had a life of her own, and it involved extra-marital relationships. This, as with many other events you will likely notice, was the turning point for their separation and custody battle.

And yes, Spyral is also a revelatory testimony about suicide. In the case of Michelle, it felt like an inevitable outcome, and sadly, Randall wasn’t able to intervene, submitting him to the horrific position of always waiting for the call that would confirm Michelle had ended her own life.

What’s most important is that judging isn’t admissible in this gripping documentary. This is just another call to action in order to address mental health as a crisis and not as something you hear so much about on social media. When it gets real, as it happens in Spyral, there’s not much to do but think, think, and think, and see if we, as a society, can do something for someone who may be going through an issue of this nature. As the film shows, not everything is as perfect as it seems.

Federico Furzan

Film critic. Lover of all things horror. Member of the OFCS. RT Approved Critic.