Adam Irving’s debut feature will leave you feeling empathetic, frustrated and bewildered at the strange conundrum that is Darius McCollum’s life.
“Stand clear of the closing doors, please.” Most people who ride the New York City subway hear the disinterested conductor mumble these words into the archaic PA system on a daily basis. They think nothing of it, and continue about their day. They seldom stop listening to their iPods, reading the newspaper or sipping on their piping hot coffee to hear the announcement. But for Darius McCollum, those languidly delivered instructions have always been a source of fascination, wonderment and to a larger extent, obsession. So much so that the middle-aged man from Brooklyn has serially impersonated multiple different roles within the Metropolitan Transportation Authority (MTA) for the last four decades. From train conductor and dispatcher to token dispenser and maintenance worker, the infamous train fanatic has been arrested for his antics more than thirty times, serving “more than half of [his] adult life in prison.”
While most who read about Darius McCollum in the news do so in a cynical, disparaging, if not laughable manner, it is anything but that. With over a dozen news articles written about him in the New York Times alone, McCollum has created a persona non grata-like aura around him when it comes to his relationship with the MTA. He is both prohibited and drawn to it, creating a strange dichotomous relationship with the transit authority which both soothes his Asperger’s and leads to his downfall.
His obsession began at a young age, when the torment at school became too much to handle for the juvenile McCollum, leading him to seek refuge in the mechanically scheduled and rigidly maintained subway system. There, he was calm, collected, and even appreciated. After all, many individuals on the autism spectrum like McCollum find comfort and joy in adhering to strict timetables and routines, something that public transportation most certainly provides.
The MTA employees soon gained a liking to the driven young boy who would often ride the subway all day, coming to absorb an almost encyclopedic knowledge of the largest public transit system in the world. He would help in any way he could, sweeping the offices, changing the lights, and even helping conductors on their routes. In short, he was an MTA prodigy.
It was only a matter of time before his escapist obsession with trains transitioned into a life of impersonation and jail-time. Starting from 15, the young McCollum never did break his habit of taking the helm of trains and buses for what the media labeled as “joy-riding.” But what Adam Irving’s beguiling documentary reveals is a story of a man who has fallen into the cracks of the system, and for the life of him, cannot legitimize himself enough to pursue the only passion that he has ever had.
Adam Irving’s spellbinding documentary is a powerful example of how character focalization, particularly in a non-fiction setting, can drive a narrative discourse. In its attempt to focus on McCollum’s personal story, a greater dialogue begins to emerge, one that speaks to the larger issues at hand within the American correctional system and its relationship with mental health.
With no adequate treatment in his maximum-security confinements—which have included the infamously dangerous Attica, Sing Sing and Rikers facilities—McCollum is desperately stuck in a “continuously revolving door,” which ensures that he never receives the proper care he needs to break the vicious cycle.
And yet, having lived through homelessness, assault, poverty, and mental health issues, the middle-aged McCollum has seldom been deterred him from pursuing his life-long dream of working at the MTA. Despite the overwhelmingly depressing circumstances the affable, charming and witty McCollum finds himself in, he continues to radiate hope, passion and fortitude.
Adam Irving’s film is a powerful one that causes one to be both angry at the government’s lack of proper action and soothed by our protagonist’s happy-go-lucky approach to life. Even as his parole stipulates he never enter the subway, McCollum still spritely slings himself onto a bike and pedals his way through the bustling, dirty and unforgiving avenues of New York. Surrounded by life, noise and people, it is on the streets that McCollum feels most isolated and alone.
In his four decades of driving buses and conducting trains, McCollum has never once caused an accident leading to mechanical damage or worse, injury and/or loss of life. Perhaps that fact alone should be enough to help McCollum move on with his life and find some sort of rehabilitation.
Instead, we find a system that is broken and unwilling to change. Maybe one day McCollum’s story will resonate enough for action. Maybe one day McCollum will finally be able to conduct a train legally. Until then, all we can do is hope. I just wish we didn’t have to.
Check out “Off the Rails” December 8 when it exclusively hits Sundance Now.
