Like many virtual endeavors, ‘Catfish’ stirs mainly skepticism about its intentions

"Catfish" is the latest entry in the almost instantly tiresome genre of possibly fake documentary.

Is it a moving chronicle of fluid identity in the anonymous Internet age? Is it a self-serving bag of tricks from a reality-show wannabe? I'm afraid I'm in the latter camp.

"Catfish" seemed phony to me from the get-go, when it introduced its de facto subject, a New York photographer and ready-for-his-close-up camera hog name Yaniv "Nev" Schulman.

In the movie's opening shot, Nev flashes about $10,000 worth of orthodontia, bats his eyelashes at the camera and tells the director (his brother Ariel) that he doesn't want to be filmed.

Right, and don't throw Brer Rabbit into the briar patch.

"Catfish" goes on to "document" Nev's virtual friendship with an 8-year-old Michigan girl who sends him a painting based on one of his published photographs.

Zeb "friends" the girl, then her foxy older sister Megan, who sends provocative photos of herself, then gooey texts and e-mails, evidence of an infatuation the movie (unconvincingly) elevates to romance.

Not for a moment did I believe Nev's putative online affair with Megan would interfere for a split second with his evident burning love of self.

And so, selfishly, Zev and crew stop by Megan's house for an unannounced visit, and we all finally get to meet the folks behind the digital curtain. If you are surprised by what they find, then you think that guy who's e-mailing you from Nigeria really needs financial help.

In our scummy new world of reality and narcissism - Me-ality, if you will - "Catfish" could be discounted as a clever bit of self-promotion.

But the movie wants to wring real tears from its audience, and engineers an emotional climax based on the filmmakers' purported compassion for the very real people they meet, face to face, in Michigan.

The movie is actually more defensible as utter fraud. If it's even a little bit real, then the filmmakers count on the involuntary participation (exploitation might be a better word) of people who are in no position to consent to their appearance in the film - such consent, if it's possible at all, would require the presence of a competent guardian, and there is none in this circumstance.

So, in the end, we're left with the documentary that Nev didn't want to make, one in which he starts out cute and coiffed and ends up morally magnanimous, if he does say so himself.

Ugh.

Filmmakers Ariel Schulman and Henry Joost will answer questions about "Catfish" following tomorrow's screenings of the film at the Ritz East, 125 S. 2nd St.