Andrew Jorecki’s film Capturing The Friedmans, a picture of a suburban family torn apart by accusations of child molestation and the media and legal circus that results, is edited in such a way as to confuse the audience as to whether Arnold Friedman and his son Jesse committed the crimes of which they were accused. It does this in a way that is manipulative of its viewers, revealing a new fact about the case every few minutes and thus preventing the viewer from fully forming an opinion. The film is rich in subtext; it examines the myth of suburban family perfection, the nature of the justice system in investigating and prosecuting sex offences, and the reliability of child witnesses. Nevertheless, Jorecki’s editing cheapens the effect of this otherwise effective and nuanced movie, forcing the viewer to engage the film’s controversial subject matter through gut response rather than through full rational comprehension.

From the very beginning the film toys with the viewer, establishing a sense of place that dares the viewer to subscribe to the stereotypical image of suburban calm before exploding it. Jorecki presents the Friedmans as a respectable middle-class family, albeit one with a secret—not quite the Brady Bunch, but perfectly likeable and functional nonetheless. As the movie progresses and the family is torn apart by scandal, the director exposes the dysfunction hidden beneath the surface: Arnold’s troubled marriage, Elaine’s alienation within the family. A powerful contrast is shown between what had been established earlier and what is revealed later; the image of a family at peace is replaced by that of a family at odds with itself. Yet even in showing the breakdown of the family, Jorecki allows hints of the “old,” jocular Friedmans to appear (dancing to Latin jazz in the living room, clowning on the courthouse steps), creating not only nostalgia in the viewer but also a sense of confused humanity; because one cannot figure out whether the “real” Friedmans are the friendly family of the beginning of the movie or the dysfunctional family of its end, one must conclude that neither contains the whole truth.

The treatment of the Friedman family dynamic exemplifies a process that Jorecki uses throughout the film: he establishes a set of characters or an issue as being simple and direct, reveals an uglier side, and then sets the two in contrast. The viewer, confused about which to believe, believes both and neither simultaneously and is forced to confront the complexity of the characters and issues at hand. Jorecki uses this approach not only to depict the breakdown of the Friedman family but also to address the reliability of the child witnesses upon whom the case against the Friedmans was built, the possible bias of the investigators, and, most notably, the truth of the pedophilia charges themselves.

Jorecki’s process of choice is effective in showing the complexity of difficult issues in an accessible manner; it becomes problematic only when the director chooses to mislead the audience to make his point. By revealing a new fact about the case or about Arnold’s past only every ten minutes or so, Jorecki lies by omission; he allows the viewer to form an opinion based upon the information he or she has at the moment, which then becomes moot when new facts are revealed. This repeats itself numerous times throughout the film, so that by the end, the viewer is unsure of what to believe. While the strategy is effective in driving home the uncertainty of Arnold and Jesse’s guilt, it feels cheap; particularly onerous is Jorecki’s choice to hold back, until the final third of the movie, the revelation that Arnold had relations with underage boys in the past.

Perhaps the film would not be as effective if it did not manipulate the viewer as much, but it would also feel more honest. Moreover, a more straightforward approach would allow the viewer to process the facts and events of the film through high-order reasoning rather than gut response even while presenting the same material. The metaphor of a train track may be useful to describe the effect of Jorecki’s editing. In building a train track between two points, one can build the track in a straight line, or one can build a track that swerves back and forth. The first is a train, while the second is a roller coaster; the first conveys passengers from one point to another as effectively as possible, while the second leaves the passengers thrilled, disoriented, and a bit queasy. Jorecki’s movie is the latter.

A 2003 Village Voice article describes how “[Jorecki] was struck by how [viewers at Sundance] were split over Arnold and Jesse's guilt. Since then, he's crafted a marketing strategy based on ambiguity, and during Q&As and interviews, he has studiously avoided taking a stand. (http://www.villagevoice.com/news/0321,nathan,44228,1.html)” According to the Capturing The Friedmans Wikipedia article—admittedly not the most reliable source—Jorecki had publicly defended the Friedmans’ innocence. One must wonder why he did not do the same in the film. Perhaps he knew that the “strategy based on ambiguity” would make a more effective movie. His editing choices reflect that view—sacrificing an impartial presentation of the facts in exchange for a roller-coaster ride.