Voyeur (2017) *** / *****
Directed by: Myles Kane & Josh Koury.
There is a fascinating story at the heart of the Netflix documentary Voyeur, about a legendary journalist and his latest subject, which the filmmakers have full access to as they work together on the story. Gay Talese is now in his 80s – and has had a long career in journalism, exploring sex and celebrity, and many other topics in American life. He is an obsessive collector for these stories – he has a ton of stuff in labelled boxes related to all of his stories, even those that are decades old. This is perhaps why he was drawn to Gerald Foos in the first place. Way back in 1980, as Talese was about to study his book on sex – Thy Neighbor’s Wife – Foos contacted Talese, and told him about his own activities. In Aurora, Colorado Foos owned and operated a motel – and he had retrofitted that motel so that he can see and hear everything that goes on in the rooms – unseen, from above. He watches as people do all sorts of things in those rooms – particularly sex – and he never got caught. Foos, of course, didn’t want to go on record back in 1980 – but he did take Talese up there on day to show him what he could see. Then, decades later, Foos finally decides to go on the record with Talese – resulting in a New Yorker article, and eventual book. But how much of what Foos says can be believed?
Talese himself knows that Foos is perhaps not a reliable narrator of his own life – he mentioned it in the article itself. Yet, because he was there with Foos, he knows he isn’t completely full of shit. The documentary follows these two men as they wrestle for control on the narrative – friendly at times, not so friendly at others. But it’s also about how Talese, and those he worked with, ignored some of the warning signs that will blow up in their faces in the final part of the movie – when the Washington Post finds some inconsistencies in Foos’ story – most notably, that he didn’t even own the Motel for a period of several years in the 1980s. It wasn’t the first inconsistency in Foos’ story – Talese had identified others – but they mainly let them slide. At a certain point though, they add up.
Watching the film, I couldn’t help but wish that it had been made by someone else. It isn’t that filmmakers Myles Kane and Josh Koury are bad per se – just that they don’t seem to know what to do with the story other than point their cameras at it (at one point, when Talese gets really frustrated, he yells at the documentary makers, calling them “cameramen, not journalists” – and I’m not sure he’s wrong, despite the fact he’s being an asshole at that moment). The first part of the movie seems to be the story that Foos wants to tell about himself – delving into his life, his experiences, in his own words. Talese seems all too happy to let Foos keep talking. As the film moves along though, and becomes something greater, the filmmakers still just sit there and watch the two men as they bicker and argue. This works because both men are good storytellers, and also rather petty – that makes them great subjects. As the story breaks, and Foos start to question his decision to come forward at all, he in particular is a fascinating person to watch. He’s angry that Talese revealed that he has a large baseball card collection – and is convinced that people are on their way to break down his door.
The film never really answers the question about Foos and how much he is lying. At one point, Talese disavows his own work, but later, when cooler heads have prevailed, he stands by his work again. The film is content to simply allow you in the audience to watch, and figure it out. In many ways, this is the right decision to make. Yet, I couldn’t help but wonder what a filmmaker like Errol Morris (a very obvious influence on this film, for many reasons) could have done with the same material. He probably would have ended at the same place – but would have gotten more out of his subjects – he would have controlled the narrative, and not allowed it to be controlled. Then again, he’s not just a “cameraman”.
