I'm only a couple years removed from my own cancer journey, a journey that one particular day found me staring up at the urban hospital room ceiling where I'd just lost my bladder and was left with an ostomy believing with every fiber of my being that I was dying. 

I was alone. I was pissed. 

I wasn't dying, of course. I didn't die. I'm sitting here now only a couple days from my next surgery having watched Martin Krafft's low-key, deeply engaging feature doc Ain't Got Time to Die. 

I'm pretty sure that Krafft didn't know much, if anything, about my own story when he decided to send his film my way. In fact, he lightheartedly referenced another doc I'd reviewed, rather scathingly, that had a similar narrative to his own. 

He believes it is a better film. I can assure you he's correct. 

Ain't Got Time to Die finds Krafft immersed in what could be called the end-of-life story of Rachel Heisham. Rachel Heisham is a compelling woman, both fascinating and frustrating in equal parts. After a long-awaited move to Montana to live out of her RV, Rachel receives a terminal cancer diagnosis. It's this diagnosis that forces her back to hometown in small-town Pennsylvania where she confronts her complicated life journey. 

Along the way, Krafft becomes somewhat of a human connection for Rachel. She's a person who appears to be desperately in need of that connection. 

Rachel is accurately described in the film's press materials as a "wild woman." We see that wild woman a lot in Ain't Got Time to Die, in which we see Rachel's fierce will to live against life circumstances that seem to argue against it at every turn. 

Now then, what Krafft also wouldn't have necessarily known about me is that I'm also currently featured in a documentary. I'm a 60-year-old paraplegic/double amputee, a two-time cancer survivor (also prostate) who's well past my life expectancy with spina bifida. For 35 years, I've also been a bit of a wild man having traveled in my wheelchair over 6,000 miles raising funds for a variety of non-profits. This documentary, which I'm not here to advertise, chronicles this journey and my recent efforts to eliminate medical debt in Indiana where I've lived since birth. 

So yeah, while I can't say I found a lot of common ground with Rachel I most certainly identified with her. I also identified with Krafft's ever-increasing determination to chronicle Rachel's existence through her own lens as a "fighter" and a "survivor" and with a film that somehow radiates an awful lot of joy even amidst a rather heartbreaking sadness.

Having a filmmaker become immersed in their subject's life is generally frowned upon. However, sometimes it's the essential ingredient that makes a documentary extra special. That's the case here. Without that relationship, Ain't Got Time to Die doesn't work nearly as well. The two don't always get along, a refreshing authenticity that further fuels the film's impossible to ignore narrative. 

Krafft does much of the production work here as cinematographer, director, and producer for the film. However, Emma Thatcher's editing is rich in its humanity and instinct. Thatcher's work amplifies Krafft's vision for the film and Rachel's own wishes. 

Ain't Got Time to Die is the kind of film you love discovering at an indie film festival. It's the kind of film that lingers in your heart and mind. It's also the kind of film that makes you self-examine, as I obviously did. As a film critic, you're always told not to insert yourself into reviews. Hogwash. Sometimes, that's exactly what a review needs. In this case, I can't help but think that's how Rachel would have wanted it. 

It's hard to call Ain't Got Time to Die a lovely film, though much more than being anything like an end-of-life film I can't help but think it's a film about love, connection, and the absolute necessity of interdependence. 

Written by Richard Propes
The Independent Critic