There’s something fascinating about revisionist history in films. Sometimes it can be thrilling, insightful, and even downright hilarious in spite of the pure fiction of the presentation, like in Inglourious Basterds. Other times, when it’s pure hagiography like in Michael, the level of unadulterated bullshit is insulting to the intelligence of the audience (and in Jackson’s particular case, his alleged victims). There’s a fine line to be walked in these situations, and I think the X factor is the ability to say something meaningful that reflects upon the truth of the matter while playing up the falsified moments.
In that respect, Primetime, the narrative feature debut from documentarian Lance Oppenheim (who’s very familiar with the mix of voyeuristic nonfiction and ironic representations of the truth), is an absolute success. Filmed like a horror movie and exaggerated to the point of absurdity at times, the picture basks in its intentionally exploitative and obsessive examination of a real man who helped change the American media landscape, stopping just short of character assassination while still showing the damage he arguably caused.
The story focuses on Chris Hansen (yet another nomination-worthy outing from Robert Pattinson), the host of the To Catch a Predator series spun off from NBC’s news magazine show, Dateline. Rather than being a straight up biopic about the latter day gonzo journalist who set up elaborate entrapment schemes to expose and arrest pedophiles, the film is much more about the Ahab-esque quest for the ultimate takedown, and the ensuing laurels that would surely come from the TV and news industries as a result.
We open with a pristine example of how this play-within-a-play unfolds. In a nondescript suburban house, a “decoy” named Del Harvey (Phoebe Bridgers), so chosen because she can pass for being a teenager, invites an unsuspecting pervert played by Tony Revolori inside, the man thinking that this will be a sexual encounter with an underage girl he’s been messaging online. Once Del clears the room, and once we establish the litany of hidden cameras and the active control room being run from within by producer Andie Bender (Merritt Wever), Hansen makes his smarmy entrance, calmly asking the man to “take a seat” before interviewing and shaming him, and then leaving him to the police. There’s an almost sick precision to the operation, given how exacting each move is, an illustration of Hansen and the crew being the real hunters and the pedos being the actual prey. It’s an odd sort of food chain dynamic. As Liam Neeson put it way back in Phantom Menace (one of the only good lines in the entire flick), “There’s always a bigger fish.”
But in that same respect, there’s also always a bigger target, a tastier meal to satisfy the predator’s hunger, and that’s where Primetime really sets itself apart from a purely narrative perspective. This isn’t just about Hansen’s need for righteous attention. There’s also a focus on the collateral damage. This manifests largely through Dan Plum (Skyler Gisondo), a young, struggling actor looking to build credits so that he can join SAG. He takes a random audition where he sings a cringeworthy version of “Seasons of Love” from Rent for about 20 seconds before being cast as a new decoy working alongside Del. Given basically no prep time and no real idea of what he’s meant to do, he “improvs” his way through an encounter with another online creep (Jonathan Lipnicki? What the hell?) before Hansen makes his move. The young man is so “good” at being terrified that Hansen sort of takes him under his wing, dubbing him “Decoy Dan” and praising him as a hero.
This is some of the best character work in the entire movie, as Oppenheim depicts Hansen as a man possessed, so laser focused on getting ratings once TCAP becomes its own show and achieving some sort of legendary social status that he doesn’t realize that he’s a) likely traumatizing Dan to an insane degree, and b) ironically “grooming” the young man in much the same way that the men he’s trying to trap are doing. Regardless of method, the goal is the same – to make Dan into a sexual victim. The difference is that the horny men are looking for instant gratification while Hansen is looking for a legacy and a level of respect he’s never received as a reporter.
Now, is the real Chris Hansen like this? Almost certainly no (though there is some time devoted to an alleged affair that may have been a factor in his divorce from his first wife, played by a sadly wasted Anna Faris), but that’s clearly not Oppenheim’s intent here. Hansen himself wasn’t even consulted during the production (a point of contention, especially when the real Hansen was asked to sign NDAs promising not to sue when he saw an advance screening of the film), and given the presentation, it’s clear that this version is more of an archetype and a caricature rather than an intentional depiction of the actual man. Most of the people in and around the show’s production are composites or renamed. You just kind of have to use Hansen’s real name if you’re going to use the real show as a backdrop. Oppenheim could have changed everybody’s names and used a different title for a parody version of TCAP, but the audience would see right through it, so to me it’s an acceptable compromise.
What matters is the depiction itself. Pattinson puts on a master class in how to disappear into a character. His imitation of Hansen’s voice (which he sort of workshops within the movie itself) is damn near perfect. His piercing stares and intimidating stage movements hint at a darkness just beneath the surface, which couples nicely with the clear inferiority complex the character has whenever he runs into then-Dateline anchor Stone Phillips (Bill Heck), a man with a far better reputation and degree of credibility and gravitas. It all comes together to make a version of Hansen that’s far closer to Dr. Frankenstein than the actual TV personality. He’s obsessed with conquering this one societal ill, but he never thinks of the consequences of what his creation means for the world as a whole, nor does he care about the colleagues he’s hurting on a professional level.
Oppenheim takes what Pattinson and the others give him and spins it into this almost giddy dark comedy. Using a dozen different cameras to simulate the digital SD format of the early 2000s, Oppenheim and cinematographer David Bolen shoot this as if it’s a pure horror flick at times, emphasizing deep blue hues, shadow play, and imposing angles to literally box everyone in the frame. The score from Ari Balouzian joins in the fun with suspenseful cues that build in intensity as Hansen’s stings become more elaborate. There are moments where the cast intentionally overacts in a given scene, imbuing a sense of self-awareness that these stunts are more performative than anything else, especially any pretense of justice, and that’s without even needing to explore the dubious legality of colluding with law enforcement to expose a suspect and taint a jury pool before anyone is charged with an actual crime. It’s as if Oppenheim is daring you to feel even the slightest bit sympathy for child diddlers, stretching the limits of the “two wrongs don’t make a right” theory. This makes for quite a few moments that have the audience audibly laughing, proving even the worst aspects of life can still have space for humor, and honestly making me question which gags were intentional versus circumstantial. The only one I can say for sure was on purpose is a brief side scene where Hansen goes to a Subway and orders the “Jared Special.” That one had the entire crowd in stitches.
It all culminates with the ill-fated pursuit of the biggest fish of them all, Bill Conradt. I won’t spoil what happens for those who don’t know, but it is a wholly appropriate climax for everything we’ve seen to this point, from the celebrity worship, to the chicanery of the television industry’s need to constantly steal and/or one-up a popular idea for the sake of ratings (there’s a whole subplot about Andie being poached by ABC to produce What Would You Do?), to the knock-on effects of Hansen’s crusade (as well as any other vigilante campaign), to the hypocrisy of public officials who either protect one another or seek to use their office to absolve themselves of their own sins. For me personally, I was just chuckling at the fact that Conradt, a former district attorney, is played by Alex Winter (the makeup job is really well done; I honestly didn’t recognize him and my jaw dropped when I saw his name in the credits), meaning that after nearly 40 years, he’s finally playing a “Bill” who’s actually an “Esquire.”
The after effects of this denouement are what audiences and critics will likely discuss when looking back at this film several years from now. Yes, Pattinson’s performance as this cartoonish version of Hansen is beyond compelling, and if he doesn’t get an Oscar nod from this I will be genuinely upset, but the real meat is in the consequences of a show like TCAP, intended or not. This show – and its proto version as a Dateline segment – came right at the beginning of the trend of trash reality TV in this country. We’re talking three years after The Simple Life debuted and a year before the Kardashians ushered in a new generation of shallow, caustic stupidity in our culture. It was at the height of Jerry Springer and Maury Povich’s popularity, and we had but a few more blissful years before Jersey Shore cemented our collective celebration of people who live their lives like an open wound rather than an open book.
There’s a tragic irony in Hansen’s almost quixotic ambition to be respected as a journalist and held in the same regard as Phillips and other contemporaries, because in a lot of ways, he achieved that goal, just not nearly in the manner he wanted. To Catch a Predator was cancelled after the events of the film, but the damage had already been done, and rather than reckon with our own lust for scandal as a society, we just went on to the next form. Don’t believe me? Look at Dateline itself in the here and now. What was once one of the most integral news shows in the country is now just a weekly “true crime” podcast with video, syndicated on cable networks nationwide as little more than murder porn, with once respected journalists reciting what is basically the same copy in every episode. “She thought she had the perfect husband, but then one day he became a monster.” “They had a storybook life, but then it turned out to be horror.” “Was this suburban mom misunderstood, or was she just a murdery murdering murderer who loved to murder?” It goes on.
In the end, Primetime is meant to be an absurdist look into how far we’re willing to go to achieve our ends. Sometimes the messaging and motivations are a little muddied (I don’t care about someone trying to get a SAG card, nor do I care about his roommates judging him for getting an actual paycheck; I do know what it’s like to be a day player, though), and there are a few moments when the film seems to be trying to elevate more shocking bits for elevation’s sake when the truth of the matter is more than enough to get the idea across. But at the same time, maybe that’s part of the point. Hansen is the lightning rod, but none of these people knows when to stop, to just quit while they’re ahead, and real harm can happen as a result, whether it’s destroyed lives, destroyed marriages, or just destroyed bedtimes (Hansen waking his kids up in the middle of the night to make them watch his show is another comedy high mark). The sad reality of this scenario is that Hansen and his crew think of themselves as warriors for justice by preying on those who would prey on others, but a wild beast always needs to be fed, and if you don’t tame it, it’ll eventually grow beyond your control. If there’s a lesson to be had, it’s that we need to see something this extreme as a reminder that it’s up to those who hold power in the media – or any industry – to be responsible enough to not let that breakout happen. And failing that, it’s up to us to say no rather than indulge it.
Grade: A-
Join the conversation in the comments below! What film should I review next? Did you watch Hansen when he was at the height of his powers 20 years ago? What black magic continues to exist to make it so Kristen Stewerat has an Oscar nomination but Robert Pattinson doesn’t? Let me know! And remember, you can follow me onĀ TwitterĀ (fuck āXā) as well asĀ Bluesky, and subscribe to myĀ YouTubeĀ channelĀ for even more content, and check out the entire BTRP Media Network atĀ btrpmedia.com!
