TIFF Review: I'm Still Here

The documentary doesn't answer its central question: Has Joaquin Pheonix gone mad or is his post-acting persona an elaborate hoax?

Its authenticity more debated than that of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes’ marriage, I’m Still Here has been enjoying buzz since Joaquin Phoenix ended his relationship with acting – and shaving – back in 2008. The verdict? Though based on reality, the film seems to be an elaborate hoax intended to mock celebrity culture – and us for buying into it.

There’s no doubt that Phoenix gave the Unabomber a run for his money in hygiene while working the PR circuit with the enthusiasm of a potato for the past two years. But the movie comes off just as choreographed as The Blair Witch Project as we follow Phoenix from the high of the Golden Globes to his collapse into a hubristic state of mind rivaling only that of Icarus, or Kanye West. Smattered with frat-boy humour (including a scene that makes Team America’s infamous sex scene look tame), the movie plods along, punctuated by moments of excitement courtesy of Phoenix’s celebrity friends.

And this might just be the point. No matter how low Phoenix sinks (snorting coke off a hooker’s breasts, for instance) everyone titters with excitement when Ben Stiller drops by and when P. Diddy finally appears. It feels like the film is ultimately mocking us for watching, especially when the screen splits into multiple frames, each showing a different media outlet, all discussing Phoenix’s appearance on Letterman. The screen suddenly mirrors us, the audience, captivated by nothing more than a hubristic personality package in celebrity.

Pick it? Not at the fest; for curiosity’s sake, see it in wide release on a cheap Tuesday.