IFFBoston: Invisible Girlfriend

Charles has tried a variety of medicines—Effexor, Klonopin, maybe more—but found they worsened his depression instead of alleviating it. But "I'm much better now, thanks to my invisible girlfriend," he says, and the idea of her does seem to give him comfort. He writes songs for his "whirlwind of a girlfriend" and the trip to visit her seems to provide him some purpose in life. Perhaps because of his invisible girlfriend, Charles is exceptionally friendly and open in a way that few of us are these days. Maybe his gregarious nature is enabled by his illness; maybe he just doesn't give a shit anymore. But he makes friends: asking a cattle rancher about his cows, asking an old man about the tin-can tin men adorning his yard. Most of us would walk (or bike, or most likely drive) on by, never noticing these folks. But Charles gets invited in, gets served coffee and shrimp cakes, gets asked questions, has new experiences, and talks with people who sometimes seem crazier than himself. It probably helps that he has a film crew following him around, but you get the feeling he makes these friends frequently, and derives comfort from knowing them—as perhaps they derive comfort from knowing him.

Though Charles comes off as a bit of a savant at times, uttering oddly sage and clever phrases like "It's gonna be worth the trip just to make the trip" or "Joanie ain't too keen on fires no more—that's understandable," his illness always looms in the background. He gets incredibly, irrationally angry at some biking mishaps, once accusing the camera crew of rigging a flat tire to add interest in the film (which his reaction, ironically, does). He's quite clearly delusional about Joan of Arc, saying "Joan manifest in the flesh has been promised to me," then rationalizing, "Maybe it's Dee Dee."

Despite his oddities, Charles obviously has a handle on the mental health system, noting that the only questions of importance that the doctors ever ask are "Do you hear voices?" and "Have you thought about hurting yourself?" If you answer no to these—even though we all hear voices, if you define them right, and we've all thought about hurting ourselves in some way, even if not seriously—they don't make you stay. So he's learned how to work the system, and says "If you're stupid enough to admit it, you do need help." Toward the end of the film, Charles says "I ain't right, but I'm getting there," and the viewer is almost compelled to participate in the hope that he can get better.

Charles is a remarkable character, and following his journey is an unsettling experience that will make you question your own sanity and the way you relate to people—real or imagined. The film itself, though, is a little amateurish: the quality is low, and night scenes in particular are (understandably) not lit terribly well. Some montages (of which there are many, given that the film is essentially about a bike trip) go on too long. Often the camera focuses in on a particular object—a swirling, just-stirred coffee cup, for example—in the interest of creating drama, but it comes off as more boring than meaningful. There's also a lot of imagery of death and loss, which comes across as heavy-handed and overly negative for a documentary that should be about a hopeful quest by a unique person.

Charles is such an odd character that his "crazy" ruminations essentially carry the documentary. At the same time, though, it's really hard to know how to react to Charles and the film. Is indulging his invisible girlfriend with a documentary really the right thing to do? Is it exploitation? Shouldn't we "get help" for him, whatever that might mean? Should we hold up mental illness as something inspiring? The documentary doesn't help us figure out how to feel about Charles, which is to its credit, but makes it difficult to watch and respond to. The end of the film in particular is extremely surprising and sudden, and leaves a bleak impression that contrasts with Charles' fundamentally hopeful (if realistic) demeanor.

When Joan of Arc was burned at the stake, her heart was left behind, untouched by the flames. When you're done watching Invisible Girlfriend, your heart is about all you'll have left to hang on to.