Catfishing is perhaps the only place the work of Tegan and Sara and Erin Lee Carr could collide. After all, the former are a Canadian indie pop duo and the latter is a true crime documentarian. While the titular twin singer/songwriters deliver beautiful and achingly catchy songs about break-ups and sapphic yearning, the latter filmmaker has explored the dark depths of shocking cases like the Bling Ring thieving spree, the despised "cannibal cop," the murder of the notorious DeeDee Blanchard.
In Fanatical: The Catfishing of Tegan and Sara, the musicians and the moviemaker come together to investigate a case that's less violent, but nonetheless haunting. Seeking to catch the hacker/catfish that has been toying with the hearts and minds of the band's fans for 16 years, what's exposed is where the highs and lows of internet fandom collide with the delicate underbelly of celebrity.
This intriguing documentary takes audiences back to the late 2000s, when Tegan and Sara Quin were on the rise as artists, as was social media. Where the band — and the outgoing Tegan especially — used to make an appearance at the merch table or walk the line of fans waiting to enter the venue to give autographs and selfies, they could now interact on message boards, Tumblr, LastFM, and Facebook. But over 16 years, many fans have discovered that the Tegan they thought they were talking to was an impostor, masquerading as the pop star for reasons all their own.
Lee steps out from behind the camera here, engaging onscreen with Tegan (and to a lesser degree Sara) as well as victims who've come forth to share their stories. Shared among these women is a brilliant emotional intelligence, as they reveal their hurt while recognizing the painful experiences of others. As Lee has for tabloid-favorite killers and victims, she extends a profound empathy to her subjects that offers a supportive space for people admitting they'd fallen for the con. Some of them thought they'd made a cool new friend — who was a pop star! Others believed they were in a secret romance with one. All were tricked by Fake Tegan, or “Fegan” as they are referred to in the doc, while the investigative team tracks them down.
For the first time, Tegan herself speaks out on the catfishing, and how it's impacted her personally. And this is the film's most powerful revelation.
Tegan is quick to point out that much of her fanbase is wonderful, supporting her music and each other. However, she also makes clear there's a horrid dark side for public figures, perhaps especially when they're queer. Fans take on a sense of ownership over a celebrity that can turn judgemental and even scary.
For Tegan, the news of the catfishing was a penetrating betrayal, making her doubt her friends and self. As the catfisher(s) had accessed private photos, unreleased demo tracks, and even personal family news, she began to worry if someone she loved had turned on her — or if giving so much attention to her fans had enabled this catfish to abuse the trust of her fans and friends.
Fans take on a sense of ownership over a celebrity that can turn judgemental and even scary.
The most jolting moment in Fanatical is a tense phone conversation between Tegan, Lee, and a maybe victim/maybe suspect, who denies their volatile online behavior toward the artist was harmful. "You weren’t affected in any capacity," they angrily declare to Tegan. It's a comment that feels reflective of a common assumption about celebrities and what they must surrender for fame. Recently, queer pop princess Chappell Roan faced online backlash after going to social media to tell fans to give her space and leave her family out of their efforts to reach her. Some suggested she “signed up for” this intrusive lack of privacy by being famous, as if fame were acquired by signing a sketchy contract with the devil himself.
Being famous doesn't make you impenetrable, and Tegan shows that by sharing her story — and even her doubts about doing so in the doc for fear it'll just make things worse. While she is composed for much of her interviews, there's no denying the emotional burden she's carried with no end in sight. That, in all this time, Tegan has continued to not only put out music but also a memoir with her sister and a subsequent TV adaptation called High School is a testament to the pair’s resilience. They refuse to let these violations define them or upend their creative drive.
To create context for the digital waters in which this catfish swims, Lee presents a broad summary of how fan culture has evolved over the last 130 years. This sequence begins with the backlash from fans of Sherlock Holmes (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's original version, not the intense Johnlock fandom of the 2010s). From there, an expert tries to contextualize how fandom overreach has grown from 1893 to Eminem's seminal song "Stan," which detailed an obsessive fan who turns to violence, to the current re-contextualizing of the term to basically mean "superfan."
Fanatical suggests this transformation of "stan" risks muddling the distinction between fans who say they'll do "anything" for their idol and fans who actually dox so-called "haters" or stalk the object of their obsession. In a rush to connect these dots, the documentary loses the nuance of online conversation and parasocial relationships, and its love for hyperbole is lost. A series of reconstructed tweets (with blank avatars and no time stamps) are presented as a slippery slope, where online threats of violence might lead to dangerous real-life reactions. Here, Lee cuts to clips of pop stars being grabbed on stage or pelted with objects by the crowd, then to footage of trials of convicted stalkers.
Perhaps this section is intended as a moment for every fan to self-reflect on how they might be casually toxic. But conflating threats of violence and doxxing with tweets like "In my household we stan Lana Del Rey and whoever disagrees can choke," might cause eyerolls. Such a tame tweet feels out of place amid the details of the Tegan and Sara attacks, which include threats to out the former as a "terrible person," sharing their personal documents with others, and creating disturbing, sexually explicit fanfiction.
Perhaps, Lee takes on too much when she tries to apply what's happened to Tegan and Sara to a broader fandom conversation. (It's easy to imagine the film as a limited series because of the sheer massiveness of that topic.) But despite this wobble, Fanatical: The Catfishing of Tegan and Sara is a fascinating film because of the balance in empathy between the stars and their fans. When fandom goes toxic, both sides of that equation suffer. Lee shows that through thoughtful interviews and also interactions between the real Tegan and Fegan's victims, brought together to pick up the pieces of this bizarre betrayal of trust.
Fandom should be a place of community, not in-fighting and catfishing.
These meetings range from healing to tense. Shrewdly, Lee exposes the "unnatural" setup of such interactions by allowing camera equipment and light reflectors in frame. It's not to expose the artifice of the interview, but to bolster why a particular subject — who was a Fegan suspect — might feel insecure at this moment. There's a literal spotlight on them, and they feel it. But from this place of discomfort, hard truths and hurt feelings finally are aired so solace can follow.
Fandom should be a place of community, not in-fighting and catfishing. Through Fanatical, Tegan and Sara strive to reclaim the joy of community through sharing and shaking off the embarrassment of the whole situation. In that, they not only warn their fans about this curious hacker, but also urge the viewing audience to consider how shady online behavior can have real-world impact. Yes, even to the famous.
Fanatical: The Catfishing of Tegan and Sara was reviewed out of its World Premiere at the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival. The documentary will later debut on Hulu.
