Directed with a potent blend of compassion and fury by Helene Klodawsky, Stolen Time swings like a wrecking ball, aiming to shatter the myths of Canada’s for-profit elder care system. Riding shotgun with powerhouse lawyer Melissa Miller, Klodawsky seeks to hold the giants of the long-term care industry accountable for what amounts to institutionalized abandonment.
Crafted much like a courtroom procedural interwoven with a social horror story, from the moment we are introduced to Miller, armed with mountains of evidence, unshakable empathy, it becomes abundantly clear Stolen Time is not here to awareness, its goal is to blow the doors off, shedding the light of the law on a cavalcade of corruption.
The film draws its momentum from the COVID-19 pandemic, when facilities owned by major players like Extendicare, Sienna Senior Living, and Revera Inc. became ground zero for systemic failure and human suffering. Casualties were fathers, mothers, war veterans, and grandparents. Through unflinching testimonies, court footage, and damning visuals, Klodawsky exposes a profit-driven machine that treats elder care like an assembly line of disposable lives.
But it’s Melissa Miller who is the spine of Stolen Time. A partner at Toronto-based firm Howie, Sacks & Henry, she leads a class-action lawsuit representing thousands of grieving families. But this isn’t a glimpse of an advocate in action. Klodawsky shows the strain on Miller, her team, as well as those they represent. Investigator Brett Rigby’s presence adds some grit as he assembles evidence, while scholars like Pat Armstrong and Lisa Alleyne give the larger picture devastating clarity, grounding the film with enough data and research to move the case beyond a shadow of doubt.
Melissa Miller reviews surveillance video revealing conditions inside a long-term care facility.
Image from the film – Courtesy of National Film Board of Canada.
“…exposes a profit-driven machine that treats elder care like an assembly line of disposable lives..”
Many times, these aged-care facilities are referred to as dying rooms. That last stop on the way out for those who’ve lived too long. This documentary shows them to be exactly that. We’d all like to believe we’ll meet our final hours with dignity. But in this world, at this time, the old are forgotten. This movie is a reminder of where we could end up, and what kind of end will that be?
Stylistically, the film remains focused, economical, intellectual, and emotionally charged. That’s apart from being politically damning. Every voice matters, and Klodawsky ensures we see the real pain here. The outrage is earned, and the cries for action are unmistakable.
Stolen Time stands out among some of its fellow pandemic-era exposés because of the avalanche-like effects of the atrocities. It connects COVID’s devastation to decades of policy erosion, unchecked privatization, and public indifference. It asks: What is a life worth when there’s a balance sheet to protect? Who benefits from silence?
Is it imagery you want to recoil from, yes, but that’s the point? Klodawsky has made a confronting film, to demand action, and to shine a forensic light on a system that failed the very people it was supposed to protect.
In the end, Stolen Time feels less like a film and more akin to a cry for justice. A warning shot across the bow of corporate callousness. If you’re not outraged by what you see here, you should be.
"…feels less like a film and more akin to a cry for justice."
