“Lead Me Home” Review: A heartwarming short documentary about the homeless on the West Coast

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Lead Me Home Review

Now streaming on Netflix, Lead Me Home seeks to humanize the housing crisis. Instead of going into detail and going deep into this topic from a political point of view, this short documentary captures the lives of homeless people in cities like San Francisco, Los Angeles and Seattle, as well as and how often conversations break down between rulers in just 40 minutes. This may not always be easy to see, but it is essential.

Every night, more than half a million Americans experience homelessness.

Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Seattle have declared homelessness emergencies in recent years. And in Lead Me Home, we take a first-hand look at what it’s like between 2017 and 2020. These are people looking for basic things like an apartment or a house. Or asylum, nursing, shower, bed.

We hear from people who have spent some time with their families but no longer want to feel like a burden. Abandoned by their families after coming out as transgender. Who has lost their homes because they are between the roofs? You have to make up your mind and feed the children- your child.

They find themselves on the road due to the unreasonable cost of living, mental illness, imprisonment, family problems, job loss. We met several people who tried to help the uninhabited residents by moving them to safer accommodation, feeding them, or simply bathing or washing.

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Lead Me Home compares wealthy people who spend their money on expensive restaurant meals with those who feel left homeless, queue for plates, or discuss feeling hungry until their stomachs bulge. It is a city with some of the most significant wealth gaps globally, with 1% living in skyscrapers while the remainder is living in tents wherever possible.

And this is a seemingly endless cycle; A man named Luis said he owned an apartment but knew that within six months, he would be homeless again because it was unaffordable to pay such rent. These stories are powerful, but in our short time with politicians and politicians, we see that nothing can change for these people unless those in power do something about this epidemic.

All the interviews on Lead Me Home are captivating:

Maybe because they were all themselves, Lewis feels trapped in a cycle of a woman he sees. Patty wants to run away from her abusive partner but admits she knows nothing but street life. And many others who share their experiences of loss, traumatized. And resilience.”

Lead Me Home is an extraordinary film. With only about 40 minutes, she says a lot in a short amount of time. And prefers to let photos and people talk about themselves. Rather than concentrate on specific topics and people. Many can recognize the locations depicted in the film. The Skid Row in the Los Angeles, Pioneer Square in the Seattle, Division Street in the San Francisco.

To name a few, Lead Me Home is less about the undisclosed location specifics. And more about how widespread this crisis is. Actually. This film shows us, honest people who try their best every day to survive, find work, keep their bellies totally full, and also stay safe when the sun goes down.

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Because Lead Me Home obscures names and locations and presents images without explanation. We were encouraged to draw our conclusions to experience the full emotional impact of what was seen. Many of these still images or moments of silence on the topic of this emotional interview. That speaks more than any expert or politician can ever do on the subject.

There’s something almost somberly meditative about all this:

A poetic quality that does not seek to exploit us in an exploitative way but instead describes the lives of about half a million people in the United States. Bringing me home isn’t always easy to watch – it hurts to hear about this trauma and our failure to support these people – but watching is indispensable.

Lead Me Home is a necessary and heartbreaking work of art. Vitally poetic contemplation of the housing crisis and the real people it affects daily.

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