The film is narrated from Barrett's point of view (an odd choice that indicates either a quest for originality or a love for Sunset Boulevard), as he relates the tale of the man who killed him, and how that came to happen. The murderer is Montgomery, a blue collar guy from upstate New York in his late 40s who became dissatisfied with his life--his factory job, his floundering marriage, his overall malaise--and found an outlet, as many do, on the Internet. He began playing online poker, and striking up chat conversations with his fellow players. And then he met her.
Her screename was 'talhotblond,' and she was beautiful, athletic, flirtatious... and 18 years old. "I knew I wasn't gonna meet this girl," he remembers, so he made up an identity--a younger, idealized version of himself named Tommy, screen name 'marinesniper.' Tommy was 18, youthful, jubilant, about to deploy, and crazy about 'talhotblond', whose name was Jessi and lived in West Virginia. "It made me feel like a kid again," he says of creating and living as his alter ego. He liked "Tommy" so much, in fact, that he wanted that live to eclipse his real one, for "Tommy" to take over his personality, to live as the younger man, to be with his online love. As you might guess, it didn't go so well.
The story of Tommy and Jessi (and Brian, the unfortunate co-worker who wandered into their online "romance") is a fascinating, compelling one, and Schroeder's film is masterfully constructed--we don't know where it's going, but we know it's nowhere good. Through current interviews and a skillful montage of their pictures, videos, and instant messages, the twisting story is told--of the sickness that they shared, the dark fantasies, the mental abuse, the petty jealousies that got so far out of control, they left a bystander dead.
Schroeder finds some clever ways to break from the talking heads mold, such as the stylish (and effective) use of on-screen text for their IM exchanges. She wisely lets the words on the screen speak for themselves (there are no cheeseball, To Catch a Predator-style voice-overs), particularly as Tom reveals himself to be a vile, violent, rage-filled racist, and by showing how his fury mounts as his attempts at reconciliation are ignored (there's something perfectly cold about the way "talhotblond has signed off" lingers on the screen). The doc's fast pace is effective as well--it clips along at a slim 75 minutes, barely letting us get our bearings as the situation goes further off the rails.
In its shock-twist construction and true-crime roots, Talhotblond is somewhat reminiscent of another recent (and excellent) MSNBC films documentary, the stunning Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father. It is not that film's equal--the narration device doesn't really work (and it allows for too much on-the-nose moralizing at the film's end), the music is a little obvious, and there are some bothersome exclusions (where was his wife after her discovery of his secret?) in favor of salacious details. For that matter, the other victims (his family) are only glimpsed or barely heard. But at the end of the film, there is an interview with Jessi's father that is devastated--and devastating. It packs one more punch into this powerful nonfiction thriller.
Everyone's heard horror stories about stalkers and pedophiles and the various creeps that are lurking in the Wild Wild West that is the World Wide Web. And many of us have, at one time or another, tip-toed into a chat room to see what all the hubbub's about, and might have even told a fib or two in the process. The cautionary tales about both tend to have a "well, duh, of course not" air to them, but Talhotblond goes beyond those generalities into deeper territory--places were emotions run high, and motives are dark. The film has its flaws, but it has an immediacy and intensity that is tough to shake.
"Talhotblond" is available now on DVD. For full A/V details, read this review on DVD Talk.