FuzzWords | Why Quentin Tarantino has every right to shut your butt down

Earlier this week, Quentin Tarantino gave an interview to Channel 4 News reporter Krishnan Guru-Murthy to promote his latest film Django Unchained, released in the UK in just under a week. It's an interview which has received a fair amount of attention for Tarantino's reaction to one question in particular, posed to him by Guru-Murthy around halfway through the interview. Below is the full interview for your perusal, but if you just want to see the part I'm referring to, skip straight to around the 4 minutes 25 seconds mark.



Guru-Murthy asks Tarantino why he is so sure that there is no link between an individual enjoying violence in movies and enjoying violence in real life. Considering the recent spate of school shootings in America, as well as the shooting which took place during an opening night screening of The Dark Knight Rises in Colorado last year, it's a perfectly justified question. It's Tarantino's reaction to the question that has caught so many people's attention. The director tells Guru-Murthy that he "refuses" the question and stubbornly resists being drawn into a discussion on the issue, at one point even telling the interviewer "I'm shutting your butt down!".

Now, don't get me wrong, the way in which Tarantino puts his refusal across could have been more eloquent and tactful. Telling an interviewer "I'm not your slave and your not my master. You can't make me dance to your tune" when the film you're promoting deals with the slave trade in America probably isn't the best choice of words. But in terms of the reasons why he refused to answer, I couldn't stand more firmly in Tarantino's corner.

To start with, I've never been a fan of Krishnan Guru-Murthy as a journalist, finding him uninspiring and quite arrogant in his approach. This interview was no exception. The way in which Guru-Murthy posed the question came across as quite sly, clearly trying to catch Tarantino off guard. The interviewer clearly wanted a reaction, and whilst it might not have been the reaction he was expecting, in some way Tarantino unfortunately gave that to him. His question was also worded provocatively, having no link to anything previously discussed. By including the "so" in his question "Why are you so sure?", Guru-Murthy is quite aggressively pointing to something that Tarantino hasn't even mentioned during the interview. I think if I was Tarantino being interviewed by Guru-Murthy I'd probably react in the same way the director did.

Tarantino's insistence that the interview in his eyes "is a commercial for the movie" again may come across as quite blunt by the director, but to be honest, did anyone (Guru-Murthy included) really think Tarantino, or any other director promoting their new film, would think of it as anything else? Yes, it is blunt, but it's also the truth. Just as blunt was Guru-Murthy's response to Tarantino here: "So you don't want to talk about anything serious?" Considering the interview has already covered the historical setting and issues of Django Unchained, including what Tarantino refers to as the "Auschwitzian aspects" of the slave trade in America, to suggest that "serious" issues aren't being covered is both patently untrue and petulant by an interviewer who isn't getting his own way.

However, the main source of criticism for many who have seen the interview, apart from Tarantino's seemingly less than calm reaction, is his direct refusal to answer the question Guru-Murthy was posing. Actually, he did answer. He just didn't answer in the way that maybe those watching or Guru-Murthy wanted him to:

"The reason I don't want to talk about it: because I've said everything I have to say about it. If anyone cares what I have to say about it, they can Google me and they can look for 20 years what I have to say. But I haven't changed my opinion one iota."

Tarantino's answer is that since his opinion on the issue hasn't changed in the two decades he's been making films, he doesn't want to repeat himself again. It's not as if Tarantino shies away from people knowing his thoughts on the issue: he invites anyone who wants to know what he thinks to do the most basic form of research in the 21st Century - type it into an internet search engine - and find out.

So I did. Unfortunately (and ironically) at the moment a lot of the hits on the first few pages of Google actually take you to different reports and analyses of Tarantino's interview with Guru-Murthy. One particularly useful hit, however, takes you to an article on The Atlantic Wire who, in response to Tarantino's claim, have listed several quotes from Tarantino from as far back as 1993 (so, twenty years then) showing his thoughts on the subject. It makes for a fairly interesting read, but more importantly confirms exactly what Tarantino said: he hasn't changed what he thinks in the time he's been making film, and anyone who wants to know what he thinks can find out pretty easily without him having to say it yet again.

The only question that remains is whether you think Tarantino should have just answered the question, trotting out a similar response to what he's always said just because he was on camera. I say no, he shouldn't. If he had been invited to a debate on how violence in film influences real-life violence, then of course he should expect to be drawn on the issue. But this was an interview about his latest film which he happily spoke about, and not just in a overly simplistic "come and see my new movie!" kind of way, but by touching on some pretty heavy subject matter. Is it going to fit Tarantino's "commercial" to start talking about how violent films do or do not cause actual violence? Of course not. So he just chose not to even entertain Guru-Murthy's baiting whilst at the same time giving a perfectly satisfactory response.

But then there's also the issue of respect. It's something which The Guardian's Ryan Gilbey touches on in his article defending Tarantino's reaction: "The problem here was not the issue of violence itself, but the wearisome ploughing of the same furrow. You've got Quentin Tarantino sitting in front of you, one of the most stimulating interviewees in the world, and you ask him questions that he was unpicking 21 years ago when he promoted his debut Reservoir Dogs? Tarantino's indignant response was proportionate and refreshing."

It's a sentiment I agree with entirely, but it also goes further than respect. This is Quentin Tarantino. He makes Tarantino films, and Tarantino films are inherently violent. As Tarantino himself said when promoting one of his earlier films: "Sure, Kill Bill's a violent movie. But it's a Tarantino movie. You don't go to see Metallica and ask the fuckers to turn the music down." And as he stated in the interview with Guru-Murthy when asked why he makes violent films: "It's like asking Judd Apatow: 'Why do you like making comedies?'... I consider it good cinema." Ask any self-respecting director why they make the films they do and you'd hope to get the same response: they make the films they want to make, to tell the stories they want to tell in a way that they think is the best, most effective, or most artistic. Guru-Murthy's question is at best redundant; at worst, it's actually quite insulting to Tarantino and his library of work.

Whether you're a fan of Tarantino's films or not, considering the critical reaction the vast majority of his films have had I think it's pretty safe to say he's doing something right. Quentin Tarantino's is a glowing and highly-regarded career in cinema, something that not every director can say. He's earned his place in cinematic history, which gives him every right to "shut your butt down" when you ask him a question he doesn't want to answer, moreover a question he's already answered numerous times over the past twenty years.

Fuzz Five | Batman Villains Christian Bale Will Never Face

With The Dark Knight Rises signalling the end of Christopher Nolan's Dark Knight Trilogy, there are a great many of Batman's most nefarious villains with whom Christian Bale will never do battle under the guise of the Caped Crusader. With that in mind, here are five enemies of Bat who didn't make the cut for the trilogy and how they could be brought into Nolan's version of Gotham.

1. The Riddler
Would it have worked?
One of Batman's most famous foes, The Riddler was most recently brought to life on the big screen by Jim Carrey in 1995's Batman Forever. Whilst I enjoyed Carrey's hyperractive take on the character, his performance was certainly not for everyone and would definitely feel at odds Nolan's grittier Gotham. The Riddler's modus operandi of leaving riddles and forcing his victims and enemies solve puzzles is certainly something that I would have loved to see in the Dark Knight universe. You can almost see him being reimagined as an accomplice, associate or even protégé of Heath Ledger's Joker. Given a Ledger's Joker-style makeover, The Riddler is definitely an adversary that would have fit very aptly into the franchise.

Who could have played him?
As you can imagine, after the release of Batman Begins, and again following The Dark Knight, all sorts of discussions surfaced on the internet as to which baddies might appear in any possible sequels. The Riddler was at the top of many fans' lists, with suggestions of who might play him rife. Casey Affleck is a name I remember hearing in the run up to the release of the first sequel and I like that casting idea a lot, especially after his exceptional turn in 2007's The Assassination Of Jesse James By The Coward Robert Ford. David Tennant of Doctor Who fame also fits the bill in terms of the look, and his work in theatre could give The Riddler a pleasing pantomimic style - see also his performance as Barty Crouch Jr. in 2005's Harry Potter And The Goblet Of Fire. A third route to take, and one entirely of my own machination, is Jesse Eisenberg. Imagine a 21st Century, post-9/11 Riddler, a computer hacker or cyber terrorist setting up his riddles and puzzles through computers. Now think back to Eisenberg's superb turn as Mark Zuckerberg in 2010's The Social Network. It would probably have needed the most revision from the source material (not something Nolan has ever had a problem doing when it comes to Batman characters though) but Eisenberg as The Riddler could have been a very exciting prospect.

2. The Penguin
Would it have worked?
Compared to many of Batman's adversaries, The Penguin is arguably one of the least theatrical. He's a gangster, considering himself a "gentleman of crime" and dressing in fine attire, rather than anything as over-the-top as The Riddler or The Joker's costumes. He has his trademark umbrella, usually concealing a weapon of some variety, but that's about as outlandish as the traditional version of The Penguin gets. With a little more realism thrown in, there's no reason that The Penguin couldn't have fit in well as a gangland kingpin amongst Carmine Falcone and Sal Marone in Nolan's films. Just like The Riddler, The Penguin has been portrayed in film before, in Tim Burton's 1992 film Batman Returns by Danny DeVito. Burton's vision of The Penguin was a lot more bizarre, transforming the character from a gangster to a deformed psychopath who lives in Gotham's sewers. Any attempt to bring this version of The Penguin into The Dark Knight Trilogy would have been very ill-advised, being at odds with far too many aspects of this universe.

Who could have played him?
Again, discussion around The Penguin took place between Nolan's films being released, but for me there is one clear candidate: Toby Jones. Physically he clearly looks the part. In terms of his performances, his turn as Dr. Arnim Zola in Captain America: The First Avenger shows that he can fit a comic book style of film; his work elsewhere in films such as W. (playing George Bush's right hand man Karl Rove) and Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (as shady head of British Intelligence Percy Alleline) shows that Jones' ability to bring to life seedy, underhanded characters who wield psychological rather than physical power is ideal for the role. I can only hope that the next person planning to bring Batman to the big screen (2015's Justice League movie anyone?) reads this and realises just how perfect Toby Jones would be for the part of The Penguin.

3. Mr. Freeze
Would it have worked?
Bringing Mr. Freeze into the Nolan version of Batman's world would have been the biggest stretch so far, what with him needing to keep his body constantly at sub-zero temperatures (hence the nifty suit seen in the picture). That said, Nolan made Bane's "venom" work in The Dark Knight Rises with a few adjustments, so I reckon Freeze's permanent refrigeration wouldn't have necessarily been a stretch too far. The "freeze rays" and other ice-based weaponry would have needed to be toned down or significantly altered to make them credible. Freeze's back story as a brilliant scientist working to save his wife from a fatal disease through cryogenic technology would have been a great addition to the emotional character arcs seen through characters such as Harvey Dent and Bruce Wayne himself in Nolan's films. Just as long as any version of the character stayed as far away as possible from Arnold Schwarzenegger's ice-pun-spouting version seen in Joel Schumacher's infamously awful Batman & Robin...

Who could have played him?
There are several directions a Nolan version of Mr. Freeze could be taken. If you wanted to play up the psychopathic element of the character, someone like Philip Seymour Hoffman could fit the bill perfectly, bringing the cold and calculating criminal elements of the character to the fore. On the flipside of this, Freeze is a character based in sci-fi, built around the mad scientist archetype; Michael Fassbender, fresh from his turn as android David in Prometheus, would bring a chilling sense of warped genius to the role, akin to that of an evil Sheldon Cooper.

4. King Tut
Would it have worked?
King Tut originated from the 1960s Batman TV series starring Adam West, making him one of the Caped Crusader's most camp and theatrical enemies. An Egyptologist who develops a criminal split personality, King Tut believes himself to be the reincarnation of Tutankhamen and all of his crimes have some kind of Ancient Egyptian theme. Fitting this version of the villain into Nolan's films would, unsurprisingly, be nigh-on impossible to do successfully. According to the internet, there is also a comic book version of King Tut - a somewhat more serious take on the character who targeted wealthy inhabitants of Gotham with his crimes and left behind riddles in the style of Egyptian mythical creature the Sphinx. Whilst this has slightly more potential, the whole riddle gimmick has been done much better by The Riddler, so there would be no reason for Nolan to opt for a less iconic enemy for Bale's Batman to face.

Who could have played him?
I can imagine Alfred Molina fitting the bill quite well with a decent history in action adventure and comic book adaptations. Richard Griffiths, recently known for playing Vernon Dursley in the Harry Potter films, could alternatively bring a pleasing thespian style to the role.

5. Batzarro
Would it have worked?
As Superman has his botched clone known as Bizarro, so Batman has Batzarro. Batzarro looks similar to Batman, except with yellow fangs, no eyes and an upside-down bat symbol on his chest. Would Batzarro have worked? Er, no. Not unless Nolan decided he wanted Terry Gilliam or David Lynch as a guest director.

Who could have played him?
Any actor who fancied a quick way of ending their career. Joaquin Phoenix probably would have shown some interest.

Fuzz Five | Things I Hate About Looper (spoilers)

I was looking forward to Looper enormously, combining, as it does, many of my favourite things in life (Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Bruce Willis, Rian Johnson, Sci-Fi, Time Travel, the list goes on...), and I was really hoping it would be a film I would want to rewatch again and again. A film I would recommend to anyone and everyone. A film like Brick. A five star film.

It wasn't and I was disappointed. It was enjoyable, but not stunning; watchable but not mind-blowing. Rightly or wrongly, I was disappointed. I went home, and several days later, I wrote a list of things that disappointed me about the film. If you'll give me some leeway for having high expectations and with a healthy gap since I left the cinema, I'll give you: The reasons I wouldn't give Looper five stars:

The protagonist's relationship with himself

I like a lot about both Willis and Gordon-Levitt, and I like a lot about the way that they interact on screen in Looper. They have more chemistry than the average action twosome for the time that they are onscreen together. The problem is that they aren't a twosome. They're a onesome. There should be a whole set of fascinating mental challenges that come with simply having a conversation with a version of yourself from 30 years ago, that go beyond simply being more experienced and confident. Someone facing themselves would have a much stronger grasp of the hopes, dreams and insecurities of their opposition, and a conversation between the two of them should give a writer huge scope for an exchange unlike anything possible in a conventional film. Instead, it felt at times like Willis was simply Gordon-Levitt's father, berating a sulky teenager for a misspent youth, which I see as a missed opportunity.

The world

So, there's some sort of problem with criminal gangs, and drug taking and “vagrants”, and there seem to be both slum areas and ultra-modern apartments, but there's little or no attempt to weave that into a convincing narrative of society. Without a wider context, it's difficult to judge the relative danger the protagonist is in (are they running from a small criminal gang, who are themselves trying to stay out of sight, or do this gang “run the city”?) and also difficult to empathise with anyone, since their world feels completely disjointed from the viewer's.

The telekinesis

This is in some ways a follow-on from the above point. Why bring telekinesis into the story? It doesn't form a seamless part of the world that the movie is set in (if it was, wouldn't we occasionally see people using it to pass each other small objects?) and there's no attempt to go into the social repercussions of the emergence such a skill in any depth. It's almost as if it was a last minute addition that the filmmaker doesn't care about. That's not necessarily a killer blow to the film, but it is frustrating when such a major plot point revolves around something that feels like it has been inserted with little care.

The arbitrary action scene

In a film which largely manages to construct interesting, original set pieces, it is a real disappointment to me that the showdown between two time travelling criminals comes down to a sequence with Bruce Willis mowing down a parade of faceless goons with two ludicrous machine guns. I'd hope that anyone writing, producing or directing such a scene would question whether maybe an audience might have seen this before, in any of hundreds of other action films, and whether, perhaps, there was a more engaging way of getting rid of an entire organisation of gun toting gangsters that you inconveniently wrote into your story.

The time travel

This is the big one. If you're making a serious time travel movie, then that aspect of it has to make some sort of sense, and you have to make some effort to avoid paradoxes. To not do this is to instantly trade away any intellectual capital you've invested in crafting the rest of the plot.

So: As a time travel story teller, a decision needs to be made. Is the traveller moving backwards in his own timeline, or moving into a different timeline. If the latter, you can do whatever you like: He can change anything, but it will only have repercussions in the future of his new timeline. If the former, however, you have to be careful to avoid kill-your-grandfather type paradoxes. Looper chooses the former, but makes no attempt to avoid these paradoxes, instead appearing to revel in them. There were numerous bits that bothered me, mostly involving memories, or scars, but I'll stick to the simplest one: A man is butchered horribly in the present, to bring his future self into line. He then, apparently, ages thirty years, burdened by awful disabilities, is sent back in time to be killed, and somehow escapes from his younger self, despite not having legs.

I find it very difficult to fully enjoy a film where a filmmaker has produced a situation like that, which makes no logical sense at all, and leaves the viewer confused and frustrated. It smacks of laziness, carelessness or a lack of respect for the audience, none of which are things I expected from this movie.

Film Reviews | Catfish (2010); Exit Through The Gift Shop (2010); I'm Still Here (2010)

Catfish, Exit Through The Gift Shop and I'm Still Here all have quite a lot in common. Not only are they documentary films, but they are also all documentaries that have had similar criticisms levelled at them at various points through their creation and release. The criticism focuses upon whether or not each film was genuine in what it purported to document. Whilst each hasproponents for both sides of the argument, two conclusions that seem to be arrived at by critics fairly regularly are:

i) that a documentary film not being "true" links in some way to the quality and aesthetic worth of what has been made;

ii) that the makers of a documentary not being entirely transparent about the levels of factual and fictional content in their film again impact on its quality and aesthetic worth.

* * * * *

Looking first at Catfish, reviewing the film's content is tricky as a fair amount of the impact that the film will have on its audience rests on finding things out as the film progresses. The film focuses on photographer Yaniv "Nev" Schulman who strikes up a friendship on Facebook with a young girl called Abby after she sends him paintings of some of his photographs. This online friendship soon spreads to Abby's extended family, including her mother Angela and her half-sister Megan, and the film continues documenting the unexpected directions these relationships take.

Since its release, the truth behind the events of the film has been questioned from a number of directions, including opinions from others in the film industry ranging from the relevant (Morgan Spurlock, most famous for making Super Size Me) to the not-so-relevant (Zach Galifianakis, most famous for playing an idiot in The Hangover). Some seem merely unable to believe that the events of the film could be anything other than fictional; others have analysed the way in which the film's events are related and the timescale over which they are purported to have happened, and concluded that the film can't be relating real life events. Nev and the makers of the film, his brother Ariel and their friend Henry Joost, have continually insisted that the film's story is completely true, although they have admitted to recreating a handful of elements after the event for the benefit of the film's narrative. For many, this is enough to call shenanigans on the whole film.

However, opinion on whether the film's events are "real" often takes over the entire view of the film. From armchair critics to professional journalists, the focus regularly returns to how truthful the filmmakers are being about how much (if any) of their film is fiction. This is undoubtedly a great shame, as Catfish has a huge amount going for it in terms of style and craftsmanship. The way in which modern technology is seamlessly integrated into the way the story is told is fantastic; using Google Earth to illustrate long distance travel and Google Streetview to produce establishing shots, for example, are simple yet inspired touches. The style of cinematography is matched perfectly to the tonal shift of the film as it progresses, beginning with a personal handheld style, moving to a more sinister quasi-horror style as events take a more unsettling tone, and then a cleaner, relatively more polished feel for the film's closing act. Schulman and Joost know their stuff when it comes to documentary style, that much is certain. The narrative is engaging and kept me hooked until the very end. Nev is presented as such an amiable character that you feel an immediate attachment to him and his life. And none of this hangs on whether or not what we are watching is true. Moreover, does it actually matter when the film is as enjoyable and masterful as it is?

I'm Still Here is, in almost every way, the counterpoint to all the things that make Catfish a great documentary. The film chronicles a year in the life of Joaquin Phoenix as he unceremoniously retires from acting in order to pursue a career as a rapper. And that's pretty much it. Phoenix's reasons for leaving acting are never entirely clear, other than boredom on the actor's part, with him essentially coming across as a conceited Hollywood brat. His rapping is awful, although his intention to become a serious rapper seems entirely genuine most of the time. Phoenix's meetings with P Diddy to get advice and try to jumpstart his new career move provide some of the film's most compelling scenes. The uncomfortable edge they have is comparable to that seen in Larry David's Curb Your Enthusiasm or Ricky Gervais' Extras, although never to such an entertaining degree.

Other than that, the film is filled with Phoenix and his entourage ordering hookers, getting drunk, taking copious amounts of drugs and generally behaving appallingly towards each other. Many of these scenes quickly become tedious and regularly unpleasantly uncomfortable. Phoenix himself comes across as highly unlikable and obnoxious to be around for most of the film. The way he treats those around him is abhorrent. By the end of the film, not only is it hard to care about Phoenix's struggle to break into the music business, but also that he left a promising career in film to do so. I just wanted him to go away.

Having insisted all along that Phoenix's tumultuous attempt at a career change was entirely genuine, soon after the film's release (and in what many have seen as an attempt to boost unimpressive box office returns after mixed reviews) director Casey Affleck admitted that everything seen in the film is entirely set up. Phoenix was playing a fictional version of himself the whole time, remaining "in character" during public and promotional appearances whilst the film was being made. Phoenix and Affleck have explained their desire to comment on people's willingness to believe everything they see as true when it is labelled as "reality". But this desire never comes across through the film, nor does coming clean about the manufactured nature of the film's events make it any more obvious. There is never a clear message behind the film, despite bookending the events seen with references to Phoenix's childhood and relationship with his father (also set up: the home video footage is fabricated and the man seen in the film is actually Affleck's father, not Phoenix's) possibly to imply Phoenix straying from his roots. This lack of clarity is not due to subtlety, but simply poor filmmaking.

Whilst there are moments that are made slightly more impressive by knowing they were set up (the scenes with P Diddy, for example, and an uncomfortable altercation between Phoenix and Ben Stiller), for the most part the revelation just serves to make Phoenix come across as even more self-indulgent. He has moved from a self-important actor failing to make it as a musician, to a self-important actor who apparently thinks watching him fail to make it as a musician will be entertaining for others. A film of this type needs to be shot through with either genuine humour or satire, and it is sorely devoid of both. Affleck too does not come off well. The revelation of the documentary's fictitious nature doesn't matter; either way, his directorial style throughout the film is uninspired, lacking in panache or storytelling know-how. Compared to the effortlessly stylish Catfish, in terms of craft this is pedestrian at best, downright amateurish at its worst. Affleck may be a highly promising acting talent, but based upon I'm Not There, I'm not looking forward to his next outing as a director.

Banksy's Exit Through The Gift Shop treads the ground somewhere between Catfish and I'm Still Here. The film begins by introducing Thierry Guetta, the man behind the camera and an obsessive camcorder user who stumbles into the world of street art almost entirely by accident, becoming the unofficial biographer of the underground movement. Guetta becomes obsessed with tracking down Banksy, apparently considered the most elusive of all street artists, and eventually their paths cross. However, events take a twist for the bizarre once Banksy sees Guetta's documentary and decides to take control of the film himself.

The main problem with ETTGS is that, very simply, a lot of what it shows you isn't actually that interesting to watch. After Guetta himself is introduced, a lot of the first act of the film is comprised of footage of street artists doing their thing. It's just that, whilst street art as a cultural phenomenon is interesting, watching people creating the street art just isn't as compelling as looking at the finished product. For around ten minutes or so, I found myself genuinely interested in watching Guetta's footage of the intricate painting and stencil work that goes into creating street art; but there are only so many times you can see shady figures spraying walls or putting up giant images of André The Giant or being questioned by the police before it all begins to merge together.

Things perk up a bit once Guetta has teamed up with Banksy. The sequence chronicling Banksy leaving a "murdered" red telephone box on the streets of central London is a particular highlight, as is footage of Banksy's infamous Disneyland Guantanamo Bay prisoner stunt, which becomes as tense as a scene in any thriller worth its salt. There is quite a bit of street art creation footage in between these however, which still failed to truly ignite my interest in the film. In many ways the film's running time of under ninety minutes is a blessing: had it been much longer, the less enthralling segments may have ended up as my lasting impression of the film.

Thankfully, the film's final third vastly improves upon what has preceded it, with the camera turned on cameraman (and by far the most fascinating personality on show here) Thierry Guetta and his own attempt to break into the street art scene. The result is a truly excruciating finale - a car crash of epic proportions waiting to happen that you can't bear to watch but at the same time can't possibly look away from, with a conclusion truly unforgettable.

It is largely the film's final act which drew skepticism from many, which is essentially the same criticism that Catfish received. Many refused to believe that the events of the film could be anything but fictitious, the greatest elaborate prank from the street artist who is almost as famous for his elaborate pranks as he is for his pop-culture-bending stencils. The makers of the film - or at least those involved who are happy to reveal their identities - have always stated that the story the film tells, and all the people depicted, are genuine. Out of all three films here, ETTGS probably has the most evidence outside the film to prove that at the very least a significant portion of the film's events actually happened. At the same time, however, it probably has the biggest reason for people to be wary of its claimed credentials. After all, you can't ignore that above the title on the film's poster appears the phrase "A Banksy film".

Essentially, these three documentaries together show that it doesn't really matter how candid the makers of the film are about the truth (or lack thereof) in the film when it comes to the quality of the film as a whole. I'm Still Here is the only film discussed here where those involved have unequivocally stated that the film's content is staged, and it is by far the poorest of the three. In fact, these three films are more revealing about the people passing judgement on them. Catfish and Exit Through The Gift Shop in many ways prove the well-known adage that "truth is stranger than fiction", but also that many people today would rather dismiss something remarkable as fabricated than stretch their belief to accept an unlikely truth.

Whilst I'm not saying that everything should be accepted at face value, there's being inquisitive and then there's trying to reveal the man behind the curtain for no reason other than spite. When I'm Not There was first revealed as a "mockumentary" rather than a depiction of real life, there were even those who poured scorn upon that admission, seeing it as an attempt by Casey Affleck to save face for Joaquin Phoenix. Essentially, the skepticism was reversed: critics claimed that Phoenix's actions were all completely real, and the claim of it all being a set-up was the hoax. To be that cynical must make life a constant struggle against disappointment. In the end, it is of course an entirely subjective decision as to how much of what you see in these films you actually believe. Just make sure this decision has no bearing on your aesthetic enjoyment of the film.

* * * * *

Catfish

8/10

I'm Still Here

4/10

Exit Through The Gift Shop

7/10