The film, which premieres with audio description on January 26 as part of the Independent Lens series on PBS, rises above the disability tropes often found in documentaries that capture the experiences of people facing life-changing challenges. While the film does delve into Vivien’s journey into sight loss—resonating with the flood of emotions so many of us who have gone blind have similarly faced—it resists framing that journey as a narrative designed to elicit sympathy or inspiration from the audience (or, in the case of this writer, the listener).
Instead, Hillgrove demonstrates her own gift as an auteur within the art of documentary filmmaking, using her blindness as a driver of narrative as she carries us through the varying chapters of her life. The result is a wild ride that rises and falls through the troughs and crests of loss and love.
Along the way, we encounter the major plot twists of her life: the loss of her daughter, whom she was forced to give up for adoption as a young teenage mother; their meeting for the first time decades later; Vivien’s journey breaking through the gender gap in the film industry; and how she and the love of her life reinvented themselves amid the tranquil paths winding through their own Garden of Eden, far removed from the chaos and noise of San Francisco.
The film moves quickly, carrying us from chapter to chapter, not always in chronological order, but rather tethered to the present. This approach pulls the audience into the story through shared emotions that are fundamentally human—those universal realities rooted in love and loss. It is here that Vivien delivers one of the film’s most powerful messages: not something that necessarily inspires, but something that offers solace as we wrestle with life’s highs and lows—the truth that joy and sadness can coexist.
Alongside the accolades rightly earned for the film’s many achievements — unsurprisingly, the editing is superb under the direction of a world-class editor — I would like to draw particular attention to the sound design. The work of the sound editors and mixers elevates the storytelling in subtle but profound ways. Leading the sound team was sound designer and effects editor William Sammons, alongside supervising Sound Designer James LeBrecht, with sound mixing by Greg Francis at IMRSV Sound.
The music was composed by Todd Boekelheide, who received an Oscar in 1985 for best sound in Amadeus, and he does an excellent job as well, building on major and minor themes to carry forward the joy and sadness that rise and fall during the film.
I am not sure how much of what I heard was intentional or subconscious; after all, Vivien began her career as a sound editor. What stood out to me, however, was how the sound consistently captured and echoed the emotions unfolding on screen.
For example, when we travel with Vivien as she learns to navigate the world as a new traveler relying on a mobility cane, the sound of automobiles racing alongside her stokes emotions I vividly recall myself—the first time I crossed five lanes of traffic, counting steps at every turn to avoid losing my way. Later, walking with Vivien through her garden, the soundscape shifts entirely, transporting me to a sanctuary that feels worlds apart from the chaos of busy intersections.
In the end, Vivien’s Wild Ride is a moving documentary that is far more than the story of a cinematic artist losing her sight. It captures the part in all of us that searches for joy when sadness settles in. It is the mirror every gifted editor uses—reflecting the director’s vision into stories that resonate most deeply with the audience: our shared humanity, revealed through the magic of sight and sound.
