St. Paul native George Lamson Jr., the lone survivor of a 1985 plane crash, isn't just one of the subjects of the documentary "Sole Survivor" — he's the reason the movie exists.

"George has been the engine of the whole thing," said director Ky Dickens. The film, which will be shown Thursday at the Riverview Theater in Minneapolis, "started with George," she added, "and the story rests on his shoulders."

Along with a group of fellow Minnesotans who had spent a weekend in Reno, Nev., Lamson and his father, George Sr., were on a charter flight home on Jan. 21, 1985. About 70 seconds after takeoff, the Lockheed Electra lost lift and crashed. The fuselage cracked open and deposited the 17-year-old — who was burned and cut and still strapped to his seat — in the middle of a highway about 100 feet from the wreckage. The other 70 people on board, including his father, were killed.

For 25 years, Lamson kept the emotional trauma of that experience to himself.

"I had a few friends I had confided in that I would share the pain I was feeling," the 46-year-old said last week. "The problem was that the people that I talked to didn't understand my pain. They tried to be of support, but I didn't feel like I was connecting with them."

Things changed in 2010 when he read news accounts of two other lone survivors and realized that he could be an emotional resource for them.

Ky Dickens

"These accidents brought back feelings to me," he said. "I felt compelled to offer myself to help in any way I could."

He created a Facebook page mentioning his experience. That's where the Chicago-based Dickens found him. But she wasn't looking for a movie subject — she was looking for help. Dickens was a survivor, too. She had changed car seats with a friend less than two minutes before experiencing a crash that killed her friend.

"I had struggled with survivor's guilt and the why questions: Why did I live? Why did he die? Why did this happen?" she said. "I e-mailed [Lamson] and asked if he had any thoughts for how to heal from a situation that I went through like he went through, knowing that his was so much greater."

Mixed blessings, memories

During their weekend in Reno, Lamson had been so impressed with the city that he told his father that he'd like to live there someday. In 1992 he followed through on that urge, and now works at a Reno casino.

Being so close to where the plane crashed is a mixed blessing, he said.

"Some days it is difficult for me to be near the crash site. I have to pass by it on occasion," he said. "I think through the course of time, it has served me by reminding me how fortunate I am to be among the living."

He also has mixed memories of the crash.

"When I met with family members who had lost a loved one and I see a picture of them, I don't remember the faces right," he said. "I remember the encounters and the personalities, but for some reason the faces have changed. The last person I looked at before impact was the face of the flight attendant, Heather Coston. Over the course of years, her face in my mind had changed. I just recently saw her picture, and she looked so different from what I remember."

As for the event, he added, "I remember it vividly. It will never go away."

The documentary came into existence "organically," Dickens said. After exchanging e-mails with Lamson over several months, she booked a trip to Reno.

"I asked him how he had healed, and he told me that he actually hasn't healed and there are a lot of questions that he still has," she said. She offered to set up a camera and let him tell his story, hoping that verbalizing it would serve as a form of catharsis.

"I had a hard time thinking about the memories," Lamson said. "Once I put light on it and saw the memories for what they were, I was able to heal."

Dickens discovered that Lamson was in contact with other sole survivors via his Facebook page. Often using him as an intermediary, she reached out to them to see if they wanted to be filmed, too. Worldwide, there are 14 lone survivors of large plane crashes, she said. She contacted 10 of them, and four of their stories, including Lamson's, are told in the film.

The face of survivors

She hopes the movie makes people realize that "survivors are victims, too. People say, 'What do you think God has in store for you? You must have the cure for cancer!' That amount of pressure for someone to carry around, it puts a weight on every single day."

Lamson agrees. "I lived for many years believing that people would look at me as someone who wasn't grateful enough, or worthy enough to live. I would compare myself to others who could have done better with their lives. Feelings like this feed on themselves and make your life miserable. I had to learn to accept my survival as a gift. I had to learn to forgive myself. I had to convince myself that I am worthy. I am blessed."

The emotional weight of the survivors' stories made the film so challenging that when Dickens finished the editing, she couldn't bring herself to watch it again for six months. Although the movie has sad moments, she doesn't think it's a sad movie.

"There are tender, sweet moments in the film that make people cry, but the film really is about hope, about the restoration of life, about how we pick up and about silver linings behind every tragedy," she said. "It is a film that has happy endings and hopeful messages."

Lamson, who will join her for a Q&A session after the screening, will be seeing it for the first time. He's looking forward to it.

"It took a lot of bravery for all these lone survivors to come forward and share their stories," he said. "I want to thank [fellow subjects] James Polehinke, Cecelia Cichan and Bahia Bakari personally and publicly for stepping forward. Not only are they sole survivors, they are my friends."

Jeff Strickler • 612-673-7392