can you see anything?

the documentary is about a disgraced former billionaire who tried and failed to revolutionise the blood testing industry. she invites a film crew to document the final month before her trial. we watch her navigate life as a mother of two preparing to be locked away for one hundred and twenty three months. her partner is a narcissist. we watch him dictate every second of her day, teaching her how to beat eggs, making decisions on her behalf before she needs to think. despite the gravity of her failure - which has costed her freedom and other people's lives - he fuels the delusion that she should try again. she is steadfast in the belief that her mission is feasible and good, that with the right technology and faith everything will work this time. we never see a working prototype but she believes.

the documentarian struggles to be a fly on the wall. we watch relationships develop between him and the couple, each of whom relax into his company in different ways. the masks slip and there are glimpses of what the camera claims as truth. her partner corrects what he reads as her missteps and covers up on her behalf. she nurses her newborn and cries without trying. the tears fall gently, the wells of her eyes even bluer than before. she insists that she has done nothing wrong, that she does not lie, that everything she did was for the benefit of others. I believe her, despite knowing what she did, the mess she made, and how much pain she caused. over dinner we watch an actress provoke the partner to the point of showing his true colours. our subject has been lied to. she waits behind bars whilst he uses her image and voice in the world however he likes: with anger and total disregard for optics or her reputation. we feel sorry for the children and the mother who can only see them in the prison yard.

by the end the documentarian is challenged by the actress. she tells him he's come too close to tell an objective story. what he remembers of a conversation during a prison visit is clouded by a bias in favour of the subject. open ears have fostered empathy. empathy clouds memory and how we choose to tell our stories. the facts of the case hang heavy on the headlines. but how much can we really will what we know to change our hearts? the film ends with a shot of the subject in the prison yard from outside. she holds the hand of her toddler, keeping him from falling as he races down the lawn.

credits and her blue eyes in the dark of a cinema of strangers. truth is a concept. however curated the surface is a mask we shape/curate/frankenstein/keep willing to be seen. truths are stories told. masks are witnessed, worn and real. I think about the mirror and my reflection in the eyes of others. I wonder what they think/who I am/if we ever truly know.