Faking a Murderer Movie Review

As I sat down to watch Faking a Murderer, my interest was aroused with a swiftness. It moves in real-time as Stu and Adam put their in-law tribulations on the periphery for the sake of a vision: a documentary film investigating an alleged killer who lives in the outskirts. And I mean OUT. SKIRTS. As in Canadian, yo. Does it get much outskirtier? Doubt it.

I love Canada, and wanted to heighten my experience dietarily. So, I grabbed some Canadian cheese curds, a snack I’d yet to explore. As I ingested Stu and Adam’s hilarious route in finding an investor for their film, I digested said curds. Although I use the term ‘digest’ loosely. I had them smeared on a piece of fermented bread, thinking that maybe the blue tint on the slice would help bridge any gap between it and the illustrious dairy nuggets.

My movie snack honed the whole experienced, sending my stomach into dishevelment comparable to the duo’s filmmaking tactics…

Stu and Adam are two lowly brothers-in-law with a vision. Similar to my own cheese-curded dreams, they seek to create a documentary that will make its viewers as perplexed and intrigued as they are by found footage of an alleged killer. A backwoods gentry with a Bugs Bunny-gone-demonic grin, emitting a slew of gobbledygook that could, maybe, possibly, be means for pegging him as a killer. Thing is, they don’t know if he really is a killer. And that’s what their movie is going to be about: a documentary following two filmmakers who investigate a guy who might be a cold-blooded killer, and who they have no clue as to his identity nor whereabouts. Needless to say, they have trouble finding an enthusiastic investor. But that search pales in comparison to most everything thereafter.

I was inspired by Stu and Adam, and their relentless pursuit of the truth. This man, who they had discovered online, lead them down a rabbit hole full of some of the trippiest folks seen on either side of the lens. From a Jamaican PI who is constantly rattling the duo for their continuously creative (borderline illegal) methods, to a corner store clerk who bike-delivers pizzas as a side gig, they are brought closer and closer to finding out who this man is. And whether or not he truly committed the heinous slaughters that he brags about via his one-lined/two-toothed diatribes.

I don’t want to give too much away, as part of this movie’s fun is joining Stu and Adam through their travails, but like their documentary that turned into a documentary about making a documentary, nothing is quite as it seems. Just like my cheese curds.

Shit, I checked the label. Despite their namesake, they weren’t even properly Canadian. They were made by a dairy company right here in San Francisco. I wanted answers. I ran out to my car…right after I finished the movie.

I pulled up to Dairy-On My Wayward Son out in Hunter’s Point, a lowly warehouse against the bay; where the government once built crafts for WWII, and has since degenerated to the crypt of a decrepit industry. The windows were shuttered. All but one. I picked up some pebbles and tinked them against the glass until a woman appeared. She called down, asking my business. I asked to speak to the curderer of the cheese that was still somersaulting in my belly, and held up the package.

“She is I and I is she!” she called down. Like some of the characters in Faking a Murderer, she had the comic book ambiance that made me wonder if she was about to spider-climb down the gutter. She didn’t. She simply glared down at me with an intensity that made me nod, shrug my shoulders, and say, “Good shit.”

She nodded back and vanished through the window. I went back to my car, somehow both relieved and disappointed.

Maybe some mysteries are best left unsolved.

The mystery of Faking a Murderer however ends up skewed and more hilarious than I’d imagined. It lags at times, but kept me hooked enough to warrant a solid 4/5 stars. It also inspired me to investigate the origins of that San Franciscan Curderer. More to follow. Maybe.