Catfish

I was originally going to write about This Film is Not Yet Rated, which is a documentary that consists of repeated jabs and uppercuts to the Motion Picture Association of America, the cloaked-in-secrecy board which controls the distribution of films in the United States through its omnipresent system of rating films for content.

I liked it because, in a lot of ways it was obliquely related to the topic we covered last week (why certain films rather than others enjoy more popular access) and its themes were eerily similar to those very well imparted by Dirty in This Filthy World and F@%k.

Basically, it was a compelling take on how the vocal minority of douchenozzle letter-writers and affluent, white, conservative, God-fearing housewives anonymously and effectively censor directors, with a little Magnum P.I. thrown in for good measure. It ends up being something akin to Religulous, without the comedy, and left me pissed off, but not pissed off enough render me incapable of making meatloaf that night. At the end of the day, is it really that important to the everyman and our nation’s youth that Kevin Smith got an R-rating for Jersey Girl instead of a PG-13? I think fucking not.

Instead, I got involved with Catfish, which was a far more enjoyable view and played nicely off The Social Network, which I watched the night before.

Catfish is a documentary in which filmmakers Rel Schulman and Henry Joost follow Rel’s brother, dance photographer Nev, into a blossoming technology-dependent relationship that unfolds primarily over Facebook. The progression of their journey is simply absorbing. The most intriguing portion of the film captures the transformation from virtual to reality and how blurred the line between the two has become for the vast majority of us.

There were only a couple of aspects of the movie that didn’t sit particularly well. As both the characters of the movie and the ones who are making it, it was weird that, even though I thoroughly liked the movie, there something very slightly and distractingly dislikable about the three. I couldn’t shake the feeling that to get to know them more personally would be to enter into a world of colored cocktails, pretentious art critique, and hipster grab-assing.

Also, although the trailer is what hooked me in the first place, it is completely misleading. I’m sure that desire to drum up interest is one of the major reasons why they presented it as a thriller (which it is most certainly not, in the traditional sense anyway). They weren’t aboveboard (unnecessarily so) and there is something off-putting about that. Of course, this marketing decision is their prerogative and I guess they get the last laugh because it worked on a sucker like me.*

Minor gripes aside, the story is cleverly portrayed and exceedingly relevant and relatable. The suspenseful plot twist that slowly takes hold mid-stream is as good as advertised, although one does get the sense that Nev, Rel, and Henry knew it was coming far in advance rather than in real time.

There is much meta-commentary that analyzes the innumerable complexities created by the juxtaposition of our technology and culture. For me, the film forces a step back to examine the jarring implications of this for interpersonal relationship.

The Internet is now the dominant outlet for our energies and has become a new medium for experiencing our lives. This is an obvious statement, but in surrounding ourselves with constant connectivity we are generally unaware of the extent to which this is true. To see the full consequences play out as an observer is certainly illuminating.

Catfish is well worth your while and is just plain delightful. Go.

*You see what I did there? Making a criticism and immediately backtracking, is one of my strengths as a person.

p.s. Green and yellow, bitches. (Lil’ Wayne, who knew?)