Documentaries have been playing hopscotch with the line between fact and fiction for a while now, even spawning a new genre—the mockumentary. The term ‘mockumentary' is derived from director Rob Reiner's description of his 1984 film, ""This Is Spinal Tap,"" which he called a mock-documentary. But the first popular example of the genre dates all the way back to 1964, when ""A Hard Days Night"" depicted a few days in the lives of the Beatles.
More recently, Christopher Guest utilized this comedic form with great success in his movies ""Best in Show"" and ""A Mighty Wind."" And let's not forget its presence on the modern TV airwaves either, with shows like ""The Office,"" ""Parks and Recreation,"" and ""Modern Family"" using a mockumentary narrative form. A key component of this breed of mockumentary has always been its comedy—comedy that winks at the audience. These movies and TV shows aren't trying to be anything other than fiction, and it works. Recently, though a new breed of film has emerged: the fake documentary, or as I like to call it, the fauxumentary.
In 1999, Artisan Entertainment used a pioneering marketing strategy for ""The Blair Witch Project."" Artisan marketed the film primarily on the Internet and presented the film as a real event. The strategy paid off, and ""The Blair Witch Project"" is currently the third most successful independent film of all time. Subsequently, it seems that filmmakers and studios are increasingly at peace with playing fast and loose with the truth. Phrases such as ""inspired by real events"" or ""based on a true story"" may simply mean that something once happened to someone somewhere. But recent fauxumentaries have foregone admissions that any of what they depict is at all fake and falsely present themselves as pure, unadulterated truth. That stance is then held not just within the film itself but also in marketing and public discussion of the film. There is no wink, no nudge, no inside joke.
""I'm Still Here"" is a recent and prominent example of this trend. The documentary, filmed by Casey Affleck, purports to follow a ""missing"" year in the life of Joaquin Phoenix as he retires from acting to pursue a career in hip-hop. Phoenix is riveting in the film as he sees his dreams and his prospects slipping away from him, he begins to break down. It's a portrait of a man caught up in his own mythos who discovers he isn't so invincible after all.
Ironically, that's the real-life fault of the film and its creators as well. Affleck and Phoenix spent two years convincing everyone that the film was completely real. And while there were cries of skepticism from the onset, after the premiere at the Venice film festival this September, there were still plenty of critics—Roger Ebert included—who whole-heartedly believed all the events in the film were real. The truth is that the film is so convincing it feels real in the moment, even if you know it's not—and that is a trait all great films possess.
Only after the theatrical release did Affleck finally admit the entire film was pre-scripted fiction. While Phoenix and Affleck had sought a public discourse (and publicity) from their ruse, it really just cheapened the experience. Many critics who had already reviewed the film felt manipulated and were outraged—and with due cause. The film should have stood on its own without attempts to control the atmosphere in which it was seen. Viewers could have focused on the content of the film itself rather than the debate over its authenticity. Ultimately, ""I'm Still Here"" should be remembered for its inspired performance by Phoenix, but instead it will probably go down in history as an irritating prank.
""Catfish"" is another recent documentary that has been viewed skeptically and still may end with an admission of fallacy from its creators. Directed by Ariel Schulman and Henry Joost, the film follows Ariel's brother Nev, a handsome twenty-something photographer in New York, as he begins to have an online relationship with Megan, an aspiring young musician from Michigan. Nev and Megan send each other pictures, talk on the phone and awkwardly sext. But when Nev realizes that Megan's songs were stolen from various artists on YouTube, the crew decides to investigate the family in person.
What they find is an older woman of questionable mental health that constructed an entire network of Facebook profiles, using hundreds of stolen photos of people she didn't know, to create a completely fake extended family in her small town to lure Nev into a relationship with her. The story is an intriguing mystery—one that seems far too perfect to be true.
It has been suggested that the filmmakers actively sought out someone mentally ill with an obviously fake profile on Facebook and baited her for months before finally arriving to exploit her in person. Others believe that that the entire documentary was scripted and acted like an ordinary feature film. After all, why would the woman have agreed to appear in such a damning and exploitative portrait of herself? While it is possible that the film is completely real, that would make these filmmakers the luckiest guys on the planet. It is far more likely that some, or all, of it is faked and that we may be getting another announcement from the creators once the film leaves theaters.
These fauxumentaries seem determined to fool audiences into thinking they are watching reality rather than allowing the audiences to be pulled into the fictional beauty of the film. But audiences want to be in on the joke. They aren't out to be bamboozled. Fiction can have as much of an effect on an audience as reality if it is crafted with talent. So don't lie to your audience.
