Spoken-word poet Andrea Gibson died on July 14 of this year, at the age of 49, of ovarian cancer, leaving behind their partner—fellow poet Megan Falley—a number of pets, and a formidable body of work. In Ryan White’s latest documentary, Come See Me in the Good Light, we follow Gibson’s pre- and post-diagnosis journey, learning details of their life and anticipating their eventual demise. It’s sad but also profoundly uplifting, celebrating the beauty of our time on this world and the power of love.
Born and raised in Maine, Gibson didn’t discover their love for poetry until moving to Colorado at the turn of the millennium. Soon, they were immersed in the artform’s competitions, quickly becoming a popular champion. Eventually, Andrea established themself as a star.
One of the great joys of the movie, for someone like me, who knew nothing of this universe nor of Gibson’s poems at the start, is in the careful presentation of biography and œuvre. Cinematographer Brandon Somerhalder (The Lionheart) photographs each scene in gorgeous colors and compositions, heightening our time in Andrea and Megan’s company. It’s 104 minutes well spent.
Films about illness have a built-in unfortunate trajectory, a challenge for White (Good Night Oppy) to overcome. Fortunately, one way to do that is to simply let Andrea speak. Another is to lean into the tragedy. There’s no one who has not wrestled with affliction either personal or vicarious, so the narrative is both relatable and universal. Come See Me in the Good Light may be about Andrea Gibson, but it’s also about all of us.
The title comes from one of Andrea’s poems (about their love for Megan), “The Good Light,” a phrase hung in neon above the couple’s bed. It speaks to memory and growth, two key themes within the documentary. These later find echoes in the end-credit song, “Salt Then Sour Then Sweet,” a collaboration between Gibson, Sara Bareilles and Brandi Carlile.
Beyond the domestic sequences (featuring a trio of dogs whose presence provide endless comfort to their humans), White showcases a slam-poetry event in Denver for which Gibson must prepare even as they undergo treatment. What used to come easy now requires significant physical effort. The joyful crowds in attendance prove invigorating.
Cinematically, the story is fairly traditional, without flair or unusual tricks of the trade. This serves the subject, even if the arrangement of images feels sometimes overly familiar. There’s nothing ordinary about Andrea Gibson, however, and White’s tribute ensures that their legacy will last.
Christopher Llewellyn Reed
Chris Reed is the editor of Film Festival Today. A member of both the Online Film Critics Society (OFCS) and the Washington DC Area Film Critics Association (WAFCA), and a Rotten Tomatoes-approved film critic, Chris is, in addition, lead film critic at Hammer to Nail and the author of Film Editing: Theory and Practice.