Hi, Mike here,

As a director, I’ve always gone into projects with a clear vision. My role has typically been to guide the story, making sure every shot, every angle, every word serves that vision. Filmmaking is a craft that’s often about control—about directing outcomes. But my recent project with Dementia UK challenged this foundation in ways I hadn’t anticipated. This project, focusing on the raw realities of dementia, taught me that sometimes, the most powerful stories don’t follow a plan. You can’t direct dementia; instead, you have to be open to the story it wants to tell.

From the very beginning, I knew that we needed to approach these films with sensitivity and honour the dignity of the stories being told. But I underestimated what that would entail. When one of our contributors felt uncomfortable with an initial recce, we had to forgo our usual approach to planning. Without the luxury of mapping out locations, angles, or setups, we walked into unknown territory. This wasn’t just a logistical change to one contributor's story; it forced me to abandon my usual preconceptions and reminded me to stay fully present, adapting in real-time to what every contributor was ready to share.

Each person’s story of dementia is unique. It’s a deeply personal journey, and no two experiences are alike. For this project creating something “real and raw” meant being willing to accept what comes, as it comes.

During my research, I read an account from a woman who described dementia as “squeezing the life out of your loved one.” Her honesty underscored something that I needed to face in my work: there’s no room for softening the reality of this illness. To convey the pain, anger, and helplessness that families endure, we needed to show the truth. In three of the four stories, the focus naturally shifted to caregivers, revealing the complex, often heartbreaking transformations in relationships that dementia brings. By focusing on these family members—the ones watching and supporting—we were able to show the full emotional toll of dementia in an honest and vulnerable way.

Just as I thought I’d grasped what this project was about, I met Gail Gregory, our final contributor. Gail lives with early-onset dementia, and her approach to her diagnosis completely upended my perspective once again. Diagnosed at 54 and given seven years to live, she is now in her fifth year and has chosen to embrace this stage of her life with positivity and gratitude. She told me, “I see my dementia as a gift... It's given me things I would have never even thought of doing.” 

Gail’s story showed that while dementia is often framed as a narrative of loss, it can also be a story about embracing life and creating joy, even in the face of an inevitable outcome. We needed to broaden our understanding of dementia, to challenge the stereotypes that cast it solely in terms of despair. With Gail, we made a film that was as much about living as it was about illness, about strength in the face of change. Her resilience showed us that part of honouring these stories means not only acknowledging the painful realities of dementia but also leaving room for hope, empowerment, and choice.

Ultimately, I measure the success of this project by the reactions of the families who shared their lives with us. A quick look at my socials will tell you that ‘selfies’ aren’t really my bag, but I was genuinely moved when each contributor asked for a group photo after filming. That small gesture spoke volumes about the environment we created together—a space built on trust and mutual respect.

In making these films,the real challenge isn’t just in capturing the footage or crafting the story; it’s in listening, in adapting, and in giving each person the agency to decide how they want their story to be told. Sometimes that means letting them say “no,” being clear about what we’re asking, and, above all, being willing to put the camera down when it’s needed.

These are the projects that unsettle you in the best way. They’re the ones that make you nervous during filming and hesitant to hit “publish” on the final edit. But they’re also the projects that make you a better storyteller. They remind you that sometimes, the most important stories can’t be directed—they can only be witnessed.

If you haven’t already you can watch Gail’s and Mahersh’s films here