In the quiet corners of Kamloops, where mountains frame the Thompson River, a powerful story of resilience and raw truth is unfolding through the lens of local filmmaker Andrea Sullivan. Her groundbreaking documentary “Breaking the Silence” has emerged as a catalyst for uncomfortable yet essential conversations about mental health—conversations that many communities across Canada have long avoided.
“I started this project because I was tired of whispering about mental illness,” Sullivan told me during an interview at her small production studio overlooking downtown Kamloops. “We discuss physical health openly, but mental health remains shrouded in shame. This film is about pulling back that shroud.”
The 78-minute documentary, which premiered last week at the Paramount Theatre to a sold-out audience, features intimate interviews with twelve Kamloops residents who share their journeys through depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, and schizophrenia. Their testimonies, unfiltered and often gut-wrenching, offer viewers a rare glimpse into the daily reality of living with mental illness in a society that frequently misunderstands it.
What distinguishes Sullivan’s work from similar mental health projects is her unflinching commitment to authenticity. The documentary doesn’t sanitize or dramatize mental illness—it simply presents it through the lived experiences of ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances.
Dr. Anita Chakraborty, a psychiatrist at Royal Inland Hospital who appears in the film, emphasizes that projects like Sullivan’s are crucial for community healing. “When we bring mental health discussions into public spaces, we begin dismantling barriers to treatment,” she explains. “In Kamloops, where resources can be stretched thin, many people suffer in isolation before seeking help.”
Indeed, statistics from the Canadian Mental Health Association show that nearly 20% of Canadians will personally experience a mental illness in their lifetime, yet many delay treatment for six years or more due to stigma. In smaller communities like Kamloops, where everyone seems connected by just a few degrees of separation, that stigma can feel particularly acute.
Sullivan’s film also addresses the complex intersection of mental health with other social issues prevalent in Interior British Columbia—substance use, homelessness, and the legacy of trauma in Indigenous communities. These connections offer viewers a more comprehensive understanding of mental health as not merely an individual challenge but a collective social issue.
The documentary has already caught the attention of mental health advocates across the province. The BC Division of the Canadian Mental Health Association has expressed interest in using portions of the film for educational programs.
“What Andrea has created isn’t just art—it’s a public health tool,” says Michael Reynolds, regional director for CMHA’s Interior Region. “We’re seeing increased demand for mental health services in Kamloops, but also increasing willingness to discuss these issues openly. This film accelerates that positive trend.”
For participant Leanne Thompson, who shares her experience with postpartum depression in the documentary, the project represents both personal healing and community service. “Telling my story on camera was terrifying,” she admits. “But if even one new mother watches this and realizes she isn’t alone or broken, every uncomfortable moment was worth it.”
Sullivan secured funding for the project through a combination of arts grants, community donations, and support from local businesses. The film’s production took nearly two years, with much of the work completed during the pandemic—a period that itself triggered unprecedented mental health challenges for many Canadians.
The filmmaker plans to take “Breaking the Silence” to other communities throughout British Columbia before releasing it for online viewing later this year. She’s also developing an educational package for high schools, hoping to normalize mental health discussions among younger generations.
As communities like Kamloops continue to grapple with mental health resources that haven’t kept pace with growing needs, projects like Sullivan’s documentary serve as both mirror and window—reflecting current realities while providing glimpses into a more compassionate future.
“The real measure of this film’s success isn’t awards or acclaim,” Sullivan says. “It’s whether someone watching feels less alone, or whether someone learns to see beyond labels to the person struggling beneath.”
In a world increasingly fragmented by digital communication and polarized viewpoints, could such intimate, honest storytelling be the bridge we need to reconnect with our shared humanity in addressing mental health challenges?
