Three days after it aired, I finally get the opportunity to watch my documentary. Everything feels off about the experience, though, because I’m not chatting about it online as I watch with a group of fellow enthusiasts. I’m sitting alone on my couch in sweatpants, fidgeting as I stare at the screen.

My mind wanders back to the family dinner the other day. Between the rain and the squabbling, it seemed like the typical wild Brady gathering. I’m struck by how ...