The increased size and overall accessibility to the internet has undoubtedly made human connection easier. We can keep in touch with one click of the mouse. Yet, with increased activity on the internet and with a desire to increase the size of our social network, people often leverage their position behind the computer to build themselves into something they aren’t. More or less, they construct an avatar of themselves, fill it with some ounces of self truth, but also pounds of self exaggeration. The latter is done in an attempt to mold a friend acquiring persona. We all do it to some degree, but with the increased importance of social networking in our lives, I wonder how many of these people on my friend’s list do I know? Sure, I can know them superficially like their name and basic interests, but who are they really? By muddling over this question, you’re looking at the subject matter of Catfish, this years surprise documentary that came out of Sundance with controversy in tow.
Actually, let’s put an asterisk next to the word documentary in the previous sentence because the film frighteningly walks the line between real life and art. Prior to a 20/20 piece about the film a few weeks ago, the film had viewers up in arms about its authenticity. It is hard to tell considering the film possesses a surreal quality that often makes one wonder if what’s happening on screen isn’t an elaborate setup. After all, the film unfurls in a manner that can only be found on the silver screen. I’d like to try and limit the details about the film in this review as a means to retain its potential impact, but for the sake of this review, I must divulge some of the plot. Catfish begins as a documentary that looks at online relationships. More specifically, the rate at which online relationships can develop and the ambiguity that can be found within them. The ambiguity is amplified further when the person you’re developing emotions for is untouchable, and the only tangible thing you have is their voice and a profile description. Due to this lack of physical contact, people often fall into a trap where the perceived image takes precedence over reality. Just ask Nev Schulman, the subject of Catfish. He establishes an online relationship with a woman, and even her whole family, that seems too good to be true.
Finding Nev’s foray into the internet abyss to be momentous, Ariel Schulman (Nev’s brother) and Henry Joost (Nev’s friend) decide to document Nev’s newfound relationship. As you can probably discern, there is an unknown undertow that lies deep within the words that make up a Facebook profile. It’s with this notion that Catfish switches from 21st century romance to an extremely effective mystery that is downright chilling. It's especially nerve racking when considering the copious amount of hours we spend interacting with the unknown citizens of any given social network. Nev learns this the hard way as he discovers that the perfect relationship he’s established is marred with holes and inconsistencies. In an attempt to find out the truth, he spearheads a cross country trek to seek the woman behind the silhouette. What he finds is without a doubt shocking, but the shock eventually wears off when one considers the ramifications of the film’s final act. First, it loses all of its luster when the film becomes stagnate in its investigation. As a matter of fact, when the film goes deeper and deeper into the truth, it actually loses its mystique. This is not to say the answers weren’t necessary, but to delve as deep as the film does, it cheapens the taut atmosphere that preceded the revelation. Hell, it seems like half the film is dedicated to this game of absolving all of Nev’s qualms. Instead, it probably should’ve spent more time on exposing Nev’s earnestness in developing such a relationship to the point that he’d overlook the finer details.
Secondly, I felt that there was an exploitative nature to it that made the film’s ending, and to a degree the film as a whole, a little less redeemable. It made me wonder, who got played in this whole scenario? If it is in fact a documentation without fabrication, then the ending undeniably exposes a person to a level of first degree embarrassment. In some way they deserve it, but dedicating half of a film to their exposure isn’t just deprecating to them, but also to their family who are seemingly innocent bystanders about to be dealt a blow of collateral damage. My mind wonders further to the point that although the events in the film are true, were they enhanced or forced by Schulman and his documentary crew? They seem to be well versed in the technological age, yet their suspicions seem played out to the point that it makes me question whether they knew the truth behind Nev’s relationship all along. Perhaps they even perpetuated the events that eventually transpired to push this story further. We’ll never know the entire truth behind Catfish, whether it’s an actual piece of life or art. Nonetheless, it has enough moments to keep your eyes glued to the screen and your mouth agape in amazement as the perils of online interactions are realized. And despite the rather exploitative feel of the film, Catfish makes for a topical debate, if not a worthy social warning.
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