‘Sr.’ Netflix documentary review: A deeply personal eulogy from Robert Downey Jr.

In the Netflix doc, actor Robert Downey Jr. races against time to document his father, at the same time presenting insights about the Downey duo’s relationship with cinema

In 1970, Robert Downey Jr. made his onscreen debut at the age of five in his father’s film called Pound. Now, nearly more than five decades later, the father-son duo embark on a final cinematic venture in Netflix’s latest documentary, Sr.

Filmed over the last three years of his father’s life, Sr. is titled the way it is because Robert Downey Jr. shares the same name as his father. Through the course of the documentary, Jr. presents a personal race against time as he attempts to capture as much as possible of his father, who at the time was suffering from Parkinson’s disease.

Director Chris Smith not only lets Sr. be the primary narrator of the film, he also routinely hands over his directorial reins to the latter. As a filmmaker who primarily worked between the 1960s and 1990s, Sr. is described by his cinematic peers as having an “odd sense of humour”. Sr. specialised in what can be called an absurdist form of cinema, one that deviated from the Hollywood norm, while claiming to retain the essence of the ‘Great American Comedy.’ This absurdism bleeds into the documentary as he is given control of it and dictates how this story of a family in Hollywood plays out.

Described by Jr. as a “looming figure,” Sr. is not only the main character of the documentary, he is also the foremost inspiration for his son. Since Jr.’s most visible inherited asset from his father is his love for films, that is also what becomes the focal point of the documentary.

Starting off the film, Jr. informs the audience that this is in fact his foray into trying to understand his father. Across its 90-minute run, Jr. then explores the contours of Sr. as a filmmaker, what informed Sr.’s style, how he replicated the same on screen, and the effects his career had on his family. At one point, Sr. turns to the camera to say that ultimately, film is not the be-all and end-all; that there is more to a person. This documentary, however, goes around in a cinematic circle to film Sr.’s life only through the lens of his career.

As he talks about his early films, the current documentary mirrors his style of filmmaking. Called the “Sr. cut,” a version of the documentary that he edited, cuts in and out of the main documentary. The main documentary itself is stylistically poignant, shot entirely in black-and-white, in which the camera never sits still for too long giving it the feeling of a home-movie. Sr.’s near-constant commentary as he gives directions on how a shot should be filmed, and where a segment should be placed, fills the film. The only time his voice takes a bit of a backseat is when the documentary reaches the point of discussing his Parkinson’s. However, Sr. barely misses a beat to again to tell the producers how it should be portrayed, pointing at his hand and telling the cameraman to film the shaking.

In these moments, the film goes beyond a documentary and also becomes an act of self-documentation. “Do you ever feel like you’re living in one of your films?” the producer asks Sr., who replies, “Right now!”