MCN Blogs
Ray Pride

By Ray Pride Pride@moviecitynews.com

Eva Markvoort, subject of 65_Redroses, was 25

redroses
[Yung Chang, Nimisha Mukerji, Philip Lyall, Eva Markvoort, HotDocs 2009]
65_RedRoses’ Eva Markvoort has died. “A New Westminster woman who became a celebrated cystic fibrosis campaigner died in her Vancouver General Hospital bed of the disease on Saturday (March 27) morning. She was 25. Markvoort was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis as a baby. The former Miss New Westminster and University of Victoria theatre student received a double lung transplant in 2007, but her body wouldn’t accept the donated organs. She was awaiting a second donation when she died. Markvoort brought worldwide attention to the disease while encouraging people to become organ donors through her online journal, 65 Red Roses—a name chosen for how she would mispronounce “cystic fibrosis” as a toddler—as well as an award-winning documentary of the same name made by Vancouver filmmakers Nimisha Mukerji and Philip Lyall. Two days before she died, she wrote in her blog that she was “supersaturated” with drugs and that her doctors were going to try taking her off some of them to see how she would manage. Her final words in a blog post were: “and i am not managing, not managing at all. i’m drowning in the medications. i can’t breathe. every hour, once an hour, i can’t breathe. something has to change.”

Markvoort’s last video. Her LiveJournal. Below: the trailer for the fiercely moving, intimate documentary.

Comments are closed.

Movie City Indie

Quote Unquotesee all »

“Would I like to see Wormwood in a theater on a big screen? You betcha. I’d be disingenuous to argue otherwise. But we’re all part of, like it or not, an industry, and what Netflix offers is an opportunity to do different kinds of films in different ways. Maybe part of what is being sacrificed is that they no longer go into theaters. If the choice is between not doing it at all and having it not go to theaters, it’s an easy choice to make.”
~ Errol Morris

“As these stories continue to break, in the weeks since women have said they were harassed and abused by Harvey Weinstein, which was not the birth of a movement but an easy and highly visible shorthand for decades of organizing against sexual harassment that preceded this moment, I hope to gain back my time, my work. Lately, though, I have noticed a drift in the discourse from violated rights to violated feelings: the swelled number of reporters on the beat, the burden on each woman’s story to concern a man “important” enough to report on, the detailed accounting of hotel robes and incriminating texts along with a careful description of what was grabbed, who exposed what, and how many times. What I remember most, from “my story” is how small the sex talk felt, almost dull. I did not feel hurt. I had no pain to confess in public. As more stories come out, I like to think that we would also believe a woman who said, for example, that the sight of the penis of the man who promised her work did not wound her, and that the loss she felt was not some loss of herself but of her time, energy, power.”
~ “The Unsexy Truth About Harassment,” by Melissa Gira Grant