Christian de Rezendes and Christian O'Neill deliver a wrenching documentary about a young man whose life was cut short, but who may still be around to let his loved ones know that he is okay.
Nick O'Neill was the 18 year old lead singer of a local Rhode Island band named Shryne. The band opened for Great White at the Station Nightclub in Rhode Island but on February 20, 2003, pyrotechnics set the building on fire, killing one hundred people. Nick was the youngest victim, the concert was open to ages 18 and up. It turns out that Nick's older brother Christian ran a video camera constantly as his sibling was growing up. Nick was outgoing and photogenic, getting parts in local children's theater productions. As a teen, he got a guitar and started writing songs while dealing with some very sad events- one of which was the death of his mother's former husband (he was born in 1941) from cancer when Nick was 15. The number "41" always seemed to be a constant in Nick's life. The film makers find ample footage and photos of the number on things like addresses, important dates, and even telephone poles, making one believe that it couldn't be a coincidence. The number was Nick's lucky number (especially if found with his N.O. initials), and his family believes Nick communicates with them now using the number- except for Nick's older brother, who has a point that if you obsess about looking for that specific number, you'll probably find it. Nick seemed to be going places. His band was having local success, and the teenager even penned a provocative play about religious intolerance that was rediscovered after his death. The pain of Nick's death still weighs on the family when this was shot in 2006, with many subjects breaking down on camera. Watching the footage of Nick, I was struck by how normal he seemed. He went to church, had a cute girlfriend, did lousy in school and eventually dropped out, but kept up a prolific pace with his songwriting, filling many notebooks.
De Rezendes follows Nick's brief life, as well as the aftermath of the fire, and the various memorials and a staging and then the filming of his only original dramatic work. In order to cope, Nick's mother and stepfather frequent mediums, something I don't think I could do, for communication with Nick, and some of their information is uncannily correct. The most chilling footage is the now famous video of the fire starting just as Great White was taking the small stage. Through slow motion, we can see Nick in his final few minutes of life. I know tragedy and loss occur everyday, but the film's focus on this one victim had me overwhelmed with emotion. I'm sure any documentary that focused on any of the other victims would be equally emotional, and I hope this film encourages others to deal with their loss instead of keeping the anger and grief bottled up inside. I haven't been this touched by a documentary since "Dear Zachary." "41" made me mourn a guy I never met, and mourn the words and work we never will get from him. The tone, editing, music, and direction are perfect.
This film simply must find a larger audience, Christian de Rezendes can be proud of this film, and Christian O'Neill can be proud of Nick. (* * * * *) out of five stars.
*Get a physical copy of "41" on Amazon here*
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