Seeing a homegrown legend on the giant cinema screen is a rare ritual in Canadian film culture, but the documentary Run, Terry, Run carries an unmistakable sense of homecoming as it not only celebrates Terry Fox and his incredible legacy, but peels back the layers of who the 21-year old man really was.
For director Sean Menard and Terry’s younger brother, Darrell Fox, sharing this story on the big screen ahead of its nationwide theatrical rollout on Friday felt like a rare victory. Menard reflected on premiering the documentary at TIFF: "Canadians don't usually get that opportunity to see our Canadian heroes up on the screen in theaters and sit amongst other fellow Canadians when the lights go down. So, to me, that's everything,” he said in an interview.
What makes Run, Terry, Run a solid entry is the visual appeal being devoid of any present-day talking heads, no studio backdrops and no staged reunions. Instead, we see archival footage – which was only just discovered in 2020 – along with audio interviews from Fox’s brother Darrell, friend and driver Doug Alward and journalist Leslie Scrivener, letting the archival footage speak for itself.
For Darrell, that deliberate absence of contemporary talking heads is precisely why the film works. "First and foremost, I'm not in it. I mean, I am in it, but there's no visuals of me present day," Darrell explained. "It's an hour and 48 minutes of Terry taking on the impossible. What could be better than that?"
After carrying the weight of his brother’s legacy for more than four decades, Darrell confessed that he often carried a lingering anxiety about whether any tribute could ever match the reality of what happened in 1980. This documentary, he feels, finally lifts that burden. "I think this is the greatest Terry Fox project ever," Darrell remarked. "I think that this will allow me to take a little bit of a break going forward, because I've been trying to share Terry's story for 40 plus years... and I always feel I'm failing, I'm not doing the story justice. But this does it in a big way." Even Alward, the steadfast companion behind the wheel of the support van who long insisted no film could ever top 2010’s Into the Wind, gave the project his seal of approval.
By unearthing long-forgotten film reels and scanning the original negatives into pristine 4K, the documentary strips away the untouchable myth of Terry Fox to reveal the gritty, aching mechanics of his run. Viewers are pulled directly onto the shoulder of the highway, where passing drivers had no clue who the curly-haired kid with the hitch-and-hop stride was. Menard found himself captivated by the raw micro-moments that high-definition restoration suddenly brought to life. "You start picking up on all the little details: the sweat on his forehead, the fact that he's chewing gum during a lot of the running, fixing the leather strap as he's running up a hill because that leg was designed for walking, not running," he said. "To watch him run down the road, even for 30 seconds or a minute, and to watch him shake someone's hand and collect a five-dollar bill, and then clutch it and continue on running... I was, personally, with my jaw on the floor."
For Darrell, who was only a 17-year-old kid when he climbed into the van beside Doug to follow his brother down endless strips of asphalt, the film became an emotional portal back to those 93 days on the road. "Just the opportunity to be in a van or on the side of the road and watch Terry run was a dream, was a chance of a lifetime," he recalled. "I recognized I was witnessing something that may be remembered forevermore. So that's what this doc does. It takes me back, puts me on the side of the road, and I'm taking it all in again."
That direct bridge to the audience was forged through an intense, unspoken trust between director and family. Documentary filmmakers rarely get unfiltered access to the surviving inner circle of a national legend, and for Menard, honoring the small group inside that cramped 1980 camper van was the only metric that truly mattered. "You want to do right by the family first and foremost, especially the individuals in the van," he admitted. "I can't control how an audience is going to perceive the movie, but I always say if I can do right by the family and those that were there, that's everything." Hearing Darrell openly declare it his favorite depiction of Terry brought a palpable, shared vulnerability to their collaboration.
Rather than framing Terry as a perfect hero, the film deliberately spotlights his awkward, hesitant beginnings: an ordinary, shy student who slowly built quiet courage with every brutal mile across Canadian terrain. Menard wants young moviegoers to see that monumental change doesn't require perfection, only stubborn resolve. "I think the beautiful part about Terry is he shows that you know he might be an average athlete, an average student, shy talking to people. You see that he starts to gain confidence throughout," he explained. "For Canadians to see that version out there and show that something like that is possible, that attitude and that effort, hardworking mentality, it's a beautiful thing."
The documentary is built to speak to a generation raised in an era of polished digital cynicism, offering a portrait of an ordinary young man who simply refused to quit. Though Darrell suspects Terry himself would have hated being the center of attention on a giant movie screen, he knows his brother would champion the film's endurance. As Darrell noted of Terry's enduring challenge and what he’d say, "Don't make the mistake that I did. Don't wait until something happens to you before finding out what you're truly made of." By keeping Terry’s stride alive across nearly two hours of restored celluloid, Run, Terry, Run ensures that the Marathon of Hope remains as immediate, urgent and human as it was when Terry took his very first step.
Run, Terry, Run is in theatres today.
