Mistaken for Strangers

Rock documentaries live or die by one fateful question: Do you like the band featured in the film? If no, why watch? You’re going to hear music you don’t like, watch interviews with musicians you don’t appreciate, and likely get no enjoyment out of the film. If the answer is yes, then your ticket is already purchased. That’s the challenge of the rock doc: to bridge the gap between the fans and the seemingly indifferent.

And that’s the hook of Mistaken for Strangers. It’s a film that, while featuring the indie rock group The National, is in no way about The National. Fans will be thankful that the film is scored, in part, by The National’s tunes, but those apathetic to their music will enjoy focusing on the unique cinematic aspects of the film. How unique? Well, at the risk of venturing into hyperbole, Mistaken for Strangers is one of the most puzzling, fascinating, depressing, hilarious meta films I’ve seen. It’s a film that is so acutely aware of what it’s doing, but, at the same time, doesn’t have a clue where it’s going. It’s a documentary about music, film, celebrity culture, and, above all, the complicated dichotomy of sibling rivalry.

In 2010, Matt Berninger, the handsome, reflective, witty lead singer of The National, invited his schlubby, loudmouth brother, Tom, to go on tour with the band. Matt is 9 years older than Tom and, sensing an emotional distance caused by age and fame, extended the invite for Tom to join the tour as an assistant road manager. Tom, who isn’t really a fan of his brother’s music (he prefers heavy metal Christmas music), is thrilled for a chance to rage the rock star lifestyle. He even brings his consumer-grade DV camera, hoping to capture some of the madness. Shortly into the European leg of the tour, Tom realizes that The National aren’t partiers. There are no drugs, no heavy drinking, no girls, no fights – just the music. In his disappointment, Tom becomes the party – boozing, being loud, being dumb, and eventually getting himself fired from his own brother’s tour. Once home, Tom decides to shape his footage into a behind the scenes documentary, accidentally making himself the star of the film we’re watching him cut together.

From a filmmaking perspective, Mistaken for Strangers is far more technically sound than it lets on. And not just the concert footage, in which several high quality cameras capture the calm-turned-crazy energy of the band’s shows. But pay attention to other aspects of the production. Notice how the sound is often much better quality than the crappy microphone built into Tom’s camera. Notice how, on occasion, it’s difficult to tell who’s holding the camera, especially when both Tom and Matt are on screen together. Basically, Tom is far more attuned to the filmmaking process than his film lets on. He courageously paints himself as a fumbling, dimwitted buffoon, but the guy knows how to capture and cut footage. It’s a rare instance of a filmmaker trying to cheapen the quality of his work with trickery, as a means of enhancing the meta vibe of the story.

And that leads us to the most interesting question surrounding Mistaken for Strangers: how much of what we’re seeing is actually real? The first scene of the film, for example, shows Matt plunging an umbrella into the ground with his shoe in a Brooklyn park; a scene that seems funny for the sake of being funny (note: it is funny). But I have a hard time accepting that a rock star went to the middle of a city park with his bonehead brother, carrying a silly little umbrella and a folding chair, just to record a poorly-executed interview. There are several examples of this throughout the film, so perhaps the most important question is: does fact laced with fiction make for compelling (or entertaining, or humorous, or insightful) cinema?

In the case of Mistaken for Strangers, the answer is a universal Yes. The fun of the film isn’t just watching Tom behave like a moron, but rather, wondering how much of Tom’s performance is performance, as opposed to real human behavior. Don’t get me wrong, the film isn’t a farce; much of the footage feels highly authentic, because, presumably, it is. There’s a brief shot of Matt finishing a show and rushing backstage to find solace. Tom calls out to him, and Matt stares blankly into the camera, as if he doesn’t recognize Tom at all. The moment lasts for half a second, but it is easily the most poignant scene in the film. Tom takes offense to Matt’s slight, and Matt’s wife calmly justifies her husband’s behavior. “He has to go to a place when he’s up there. That’s the job.”

Yep, that’s the job. Mistake your brother for a stranger and seek shelter in an isolated dressing room, away from the pulp fiction of the lens. B+