Me and My Victim
(Canada, USA, 100 min.)
Dir. Maurane, Billy Pedlow
Monsters can be found everywhere at this year’s Fantasia Film Festival. From science-fiction epics to hellish horror fare, the renowned Montreal genre festival has always featured loud antagonists in their lineups. Unexpectedly, the most terrifying monster from this year’s selection is from a meta-documentary.
In Maurane and Billy Pedlow self-referential Me and My Victim, the duo reminisce on their turbulent relationship through a cinematic exorcism. Maurane, a 25-year old Quebecer not to be confused with the mononymous Belgian singer, was visiting New York City before she linked up with 30-year old Billy Pedlow through a fateful tinder match. Pedlow is an applauded provocateur, known for his salacious literature within the New York poetry scene. Throughout the documentary, Maurane includes archival footage of his public readings, which punctuate his perverseness and red-flag behaviour.
Me and My Victim was originally intended to be a poetry book compiled by Pedlow. However, after realising that nobody would care to read his writing, the couple decided to adapt their literature into a metatextual chamber piece. In the making of the documentary, the filmmaking team took direct inspiration from Caveh Zahedi’s The Show About the Show. They were enamoured by Zahedi’s philosophies and honesty. They were inspired by his methodology, which serves as the foundation for their direction.
Akin to an avant-garde podcast, Maurane and Billy sit down and discuss their past through off-the-cuff interviews. Through ad-libbed recreations and found footage, Maurane edits their conversations with a hyper-active aesthetic. The film reflects on their dynamic by referencing internet iconography. Maurane’s editing is kinetic, where she includes screen captures and delirious super-impositions to complement her spoken-word testimonials.
Polished images are discarded in favour of messy collages. Gain and colour levels are heightened, where the extreme colour correction produces a saturated red filter. The scrappy and personal execution reflects on the messiness of the duo’s affair. The kaleidoscopic pastiche is reminiscent of the work of Jon Rafman, a multi-disciplinary artist whose video collages comment on the impact of technology in the 21st century.
As the film moves along, Maurane and Pedlow’s relationship descends into an insufferable rabbit hole. Pedlow’s misogyny clashes with his abhorrent narcissism. The documentary shifts gears when Maurane interrogates a sudden act of sexual assault perpetrated by Pedlow. The duo share both sides of their story, where the conversation evolves into a vocal platform for Pedlow’s reckless behaviour. Me and My Victim illuminates his justification of date-rape.
Pedlow has no interest in working on himself, nor challenging his preconceived definitions of sexual assault. Instead, his snarky responses and dark humour cover his lack of engagement within Maurane’s interviews. Later in the documentary, the viewer listens to a reprehensible poem written by Pedlow in which he boastfully scribes his rape fantasies to Maurane. While the documentary attempts to deconstruct the power imbalances shared between the two subjects, Maurane’s forgiving portrayal of Pedlow’s male egotism diminishes the impact of her revelations.
When the film eventually comes to a close, Me and My Victim fails to fully resonate with its confrontational commentary on sexual assault. From the get-go, there’s an imbalance shared between Maurane and Pedlow that’s reflected upon the film’s methodology. Maurane does most of the heavy lifting as she co-directed and edited the documentary. She also designed the poster for the film. Meanwhile, Pedlow merely co-directed the feature and designed the title-card fonts. However, his presence in the documentary reaffirms the obvious. Pedlow is a creep disguised as an amateur poet. A mere admission of his crimes is not sufficient enough for compelling commentary. Instead, the micro-budget production dwells on one of the most insufferable subjects in documentary history. His blind narcissism is disguised as blissful ignorance, as Maurane’s lenient portrayal raises more questions than answers regarding the couple’s objectives.
