If you think you have family issues, you’ll feel positively Stepford-like after watching My Architect. The documentary begins as the momzer son of architect Louis I. Kahn seeks to understand how his famous father could have died penniless and anonymous in Penn Station in 1974, but he soon finds that Kahn’s life befits such a mysterious end. Kahn, who only saw a handful of building to their completion (notably The Salk Institute in La Jolla, CA and the Parliament Building in Dhaka, Bangladesh), was nevertheless recognized for his genius and spiritual understanding of concrete, space and light. Dubbed the “Jewish mystic” by his colleagues, Kahn had a secret life away from the office (not to mention his wife and family), siring two children by two different (brilliant in their own right) women. His only son, Nathaniel, grew up wondering why his father didn’t live with him and and why he scratched out his name and address on his passport before he died: Was it because he was leaving his wife or an attempt to escape the emotional web that lacked all the clarity and integrity of his architectural designs? So many decades later as Nathaniel visits his half-siblings and his father’s monumental, graceful buildings to reconcile the great man with the lousy father, his posthumous digging comes up with the hard, precious nuggets of what it means to be human.