Please watch my totally objective docu-series, where I let the filmmakers work their magic as I, the subject, hovered above them during the entire process. Did I wield editorial control? Some might say, not enough since a few unflattering moments somehow got through. There was the time I sent back my hot dog because the cheese wasn’t gently melted. I said gently melted and it was at one with the frank, achieving rare meat-cheese symbiosis. I didn’t want that. I wanted a hint of color, a tinge of heat. Nothing curling or pulverized. I kept this moment in the doc you show my human side. They see enough of the robot side.
I want the public to see the real me. Not the authentic me or the behind closed doors me. Not the true me or the in front of windows me. But the carefully crafted real me, who wears layers of thick makeup, showers six to eight times a day to stay fresh, and never ever uses profanity near a recording device.
I wanted this docuseries to portray the person I want to be. In other words, the person people think I am. I watched as they cut together pieces of my life and career, telling them where they were going wrong. Who knows me better than me? Not them. Not you. It’s why in some cases I had to remind them who was paying for this entire enterprise. They understood and quickly got with the program.
Some people say, why didn’t I just write an autobiography? Because no one reads anymore. What about an audiobook? No one listens anymore. I want a documentary people can watch while scrolling on their phones and still take away the high points of me.
It’s not that different from Rembrandt painting those portraits of moneyed Dutchmen. You think they were all that good looking? Rem knew who his benefactor was. Lucky for them, there was no photographer at the time.
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