To restart one’s life, you have to destroy the one you have. That’s one of the themes of the self-destructive documentary film I’M STILL HERE opening in limited release this weekend.
Whether the story told within the film is true and accurate has been up for much debate. Most critics seem to have taken the position that the film is a fake or faux documentary commonly called a “mockumentary.” After seeing the film, I came away thinking that it was real. Sure, many of the events have been staged and even exaggerated for greater effect on the viewer. But what happens in the movie appeared to have really happened. And I’m not sure if the staging matters, the point the movie makes is well made.
Here’s the story, sometime in 2008 two-time Oscar nominee Joaquin Phoenix announced that he was retiring from acting. Whether this was a publicity stunt is irrelevant, because the announcement was made, and aside from this questionable documentary, Phoenix has not made a traditional film or “acted” in the classic sense of the word since his “retirement.”
But the story gets more bizarre. As part of his retirement, Phoenix chose to change his public persona from Joaquin Phoenix to “JP” the hip hop artist. Again, this really happened. As displayed in the film, JP put together a recording studio in his home and pursued a new career as a rap artist. This isn’t a joke. JP is shown pouring over his lyrics, practicing and mixing his music. And in several widely reported and disastrous performances he took to the stage and delivered his mumbled beat accompanied poetry. It’s all very humbling. If this was a stunt and a joke, the butt of the joke is JP. Phoenix is depicted as arrogant, drug addicted, and perhaps mentally unstable. It isn’t very flattering.
The descent into madness chronicled by actor turned filmmaker Casey Affleck (the little bro of Ben) might have many contrived and created elements, but the central truth is the destruction of a career. If Joaquin Phoenix does return to acting again, no one will treat him the same way again. Playing like a PUNK’D skit gone terribly wrong, I’M STILL HERE manages to creep up on the viewer as JP’s decline reaches unparalleled levels. And the train wreck is impossible to avoid watching.
After Phoenix’ embarrassing appearance on the Letterman show, we are treated to what happened next. The camera, which is always present, takes it all in. JP wears the microphone as well as his heart on his sleeve. And the four letter words that unintelligibly opened the movie begin to sink in. After more than an hour of JP’s droning and moaning, we adjust to his speech rhythm and patterns. And what JP says is revealing of his soul. If you want to reimagine yourself, you have to forget who you were. And as colorfully depicted here, the new you might be worse than the old version.
I’M STILL HERE will most certainly be compared to the films of Werner Herzog (GRIZZILY MAN) whose documentary work often blurs the line between fact and fiction. But this hybrid style of filmmaking can be as effective as straight unpolluted documentary techniques. What is real? What does it matter?
