D IS FOR DISTANCE
D is for Distance
BFI Distribution
words by Cat Wiltshire
Not many documentaries manage to be as intellectually ambitious and emotionally raw as D is for Distance, a deeply personal yet far-reaching work from Christopher Petit and Emma Matthews. At its heart lies the story of their son, Louis Petit, whose life was dramatically altered by a rare and devastating form of epilepsy. What begins as an intimate family chronicle gradually unfolds into something much larger, a meditation on memory, perception, technology, and the structures that shape and sometimes fail human lives.
The film opens with a stark idea: that more is known about the universe than the human brain. This haunting premise becomes painfully real through Louis’ experience. His seizures, some linked to the disorienting distortions of “Alice in Wonderland” syndrome, did more than disrupt his adolescence; they erased much of his childhood memory. What follows is not just an account of illness.
Petit and Matthews draw from an archive of home video footage, some of it deeply difficult to watch, documenting Louis’ seizures with unflinching honesty. These moments are not included for shock value but to ground the film in lived reality. They remind us that behind every abstract discussion of neurological conditions lies a human being navigating fear, confusion, and resilience. Louis emerges not as a passive subject but as a creative force in his own right; his artwork, rich with “visionary” imagery, becomes another language through which his experience is expressed.
D is for Distance, resists being confined to the boundaries of a medical documentary and evolves into an essay-film of remarkable scope. Petit, whose earlier work includes Radio On, brings his signature sensibility to the project, weaving together disparate elements, film clips, literary references and philosophical musings into a textured collage. The result is a film that operates simultaneously on multiple levels, from one family’s struggle to that of a society grappling with systemic failure.
One of the film’s most compelling threads is its critique of Britain’s healthcare system. The family’s encounters with an inflexible and often indifferent bureaucracy are depicted with quiet outrage. The refusal of the NHS to provide medical cannabis despite its proven effectiveness in stopping Louis’ seizures becomes emblematic of a wider institutional failure.
The emotional toll of being told to “grieve for the child he once was” lingers as one of the film’s most devastating moments. Even here, the film avoids slipping into despair. Instead, it channels frustration into a search for alternatives, leading the family across Europe in pursuit of treatment and perhaps, hope.
Interwoven with this narrative is Petit’s film project involving William S. Burroughs and James Jesus Angleton, two figures associated with obsession, paranoia, and altered states of consciousness. At first glance, this might seem like an eccentric detour, but as the film progresses, the connection becomes clear. Burroughs’ notion of a “pre-recorded universe,” in which reality is fragmented and rearranged, resonates uncannily with Louis’ experience of memory loss and reconstruction. Similarly, Angleton’s shadowy world of hidden operations echoes the film’s broader concerns about unseen systems of control, from government agencies to pharmaceutical industries.
What makes D is for Distance so powerful is the way it integrates these intellectual explorations with genuine emotional intimacy. Scenes of father and son travelling together, particularly in the stark, frozen landscapes of Finland, offer moments of quiet reflection and reconnection.
These journeys feel less like conventional road trips and more like acts of healing, attempts to bridge the gaps left by lost memories. The film’s use of voiceover, delivered with calm precision by Jodhi May, adds another layer of distance and contemplation, reinforcing the sense that this is both a personal story and a broader inquiry into the nature of experience itself.
The film is striking, its editing is fluid and associative, moving seamlessly between past and present, personal and political, concrete and abstract. The juxtaposition of archival footage, contemporary video, and Louis’ own artwork creates a rich visual tapestry. Sound design and music further enhance the film’s atmosphere, evoking both the disorientation of seizures and the fragile clarity of recovery.
Despite its often bleak subject matter, D is for Distance ultimately feels hopeful. Not simplistically or sentimentally, but in its insistence on creativity, connection, and perseverance. Louis’ seizures may have taken years of his life, but they have not defined him. Instead, the film shows a young man continuing to create, to explore, and to reclaim his sense of self.
D is for Distance is an act of resistance. Against illness, against institutional indifference, and against the fragmentation of memory itself. It is a film that challenges, moves, and lingers long after it ends, offering not easy answers but a profound sense of human resilience.
D is for Distance opens in cinemas in the UK and Ireland from 3 April. The BFI website has a full list of showings.
Cat Wiltshire
★★★★★
