Uncanny Me

In Katharina Pethke’s absorbing new documentary Uncanny Me a young model named Lale contemplates the possibility of generating a full-body scanned avatar of herself. A little bit like the premise of Ari Folman’s The Congress, the notion here is that this digital rendering of Lale will be able to be deployed to represent her in work rather than her having to physically be involved. The concerns raised, however, are complex; how will she maintain control over her digital self? What are the repercussions if that self is abused in some way? What if the avatar becomes autonomous? While the film doesn’t attempt to answer these expansive and challenging questions, they constantly linger as we watch the process meticulously unfold.

Early on, Lale is recording a diaristic musing to the camera and wonders aloud how she feels about ageing – a fair and constantly pertinent question in her line of work. She decides that she is happy to be getting older: “I don’t want to look like I do now forever.” The fact that she is changing proves that she is here, she asserts. Nevertheless, Lale is very actively exploring the possibility of having a virtual clone made and, as that undertaking progresses and she begins to come face-to-face with her own computer-generated twin, one wonders what it will mean when she no longer – publicly, at least – changes. Is she still here?

Pethke’s film is all about liminality. The most obvious example of this is the uncanny valley – where digital creations live which are somehow simultaneously too real-looking, but not quite authentic enough. The film establishes a sense of slight unease about whether at some point the avatar will take Lale’s place and dupe us – there are moments when that seems to have surreptitiously happened – and we also observe a designer ironing out flaws in Lale’s pixel skin, glitches both of technology and flesh. Elsewhere Pethke’s own filmmaking form toys with margins, deploying diary film recordings, behind-the-scenes footage from photo shoots, traditional documentary, and animation. Finally, Lale’s own existence is one of in-between spaces – hotel rooms, airports – as she travels for work, wondering how much of the ‘real’ Lale actually takes part in her life. The resulting exploration of a potential simulacrum makes genuine sense in those circumstances, but equally Uncanny Me leaves lots of the topic’s knotty issues firmly on the table.

Director, screenplay: Katharina Pethke
Producers: Christoph Rohrscheidt, Sven Otto
Cinematography: Christoph Rohrscheidt
Editing: Daniela Kinateder
Sound: Michael Thäle
Sound Design: Kuan-Chen Chen, Christian Riegel
Animation: Vinzent Britz
Production company: FILMGARNITUR GmbH (Germany)
Venue: International Documentary Film Festival Amsterdam (Luminous)
In German, English
45 minutes