The long tail of 51 Birch Street continues. It's been referenced
favorably the past two Fridays in NY Times reviews of other personal
documentaries; first by A.O. Scott in his paean to October Country, then by Jeannette Catsoulis in an otherwise painful pan of Phyllis and Harold. That film inspired yet another kind mention in Reuters by Doris Toumarkine, as well as by the Unpaid Film Critic (appearing, among other places, in the local Stuy Town rag, Town & Village, which is usually fodder for the bottom of my bird's cage).
It's clear that over the years 51 Birch Street has become, along with Tarnation and
Capturing the Friedmans, the gold-plate standard of family
dysfunction docs. Of all people, my mother would appreciate the irony.