The Imposter does not bait the audience with a mystery as to whether or not the man in the trailer is actually Nicholas Barclay, a thirteen-year-old boy who disappeared from San Antonio, Texas in 1994 and then somehow turned up in Spain three years later. The preview would have you believe this mystery is the premise for the documentary, but you will be sorely mistaken. Rather, The Imposter is a film that examines human nature: our need to be loved, our faith in people, our desire to believe the improbable, and our tendency to deceive for our own benefit.
The thirteen-year-old Nicholas Barclay was a blonde, blue-eyed, slightly gap-toothed boy, unflatteringly described by his mother as “13 going on 30,” and, according to his sister, Carey, “not this perfect, nice, sweet, innocent boy.” This brush of delinquency does not detract from our sympathy for his family or his disappearance, but it sketches a connection between the young, rather narcissistic boy who goes missing and the manipulative reprobate who ventures to take his place.
In Spain, twenty-five-year old chronic interloper Frederic Bourdin poses poses as tourists who stumble upon a cold, hungry, traumatized teen – also played by Bourdin. As the tourists, he calls the police and has himself discovered. Cowering in a phone booth, Bourdin sits silently, stares blankly, and flinches in pretend fear as the police officer touches him. All this is by design to pass himself off as a scared adolescent who knows “they’d have to put me in a children’s home.”
Bourdin’s goal of getting into a child’s home – if we believe his testimony – is to atone for his loveless childhood. He was the product of a tryst between a teenage French woman and an older Algerian man. At her father’s request, Bourdin’s mother was supposed to get an abortion, but refused, thus birthing Frederic into a racist environment, labeling him from the outset. As viewers, director Bart Layton toys with us – as does Bourdin. The tale of a virtually abandoned child tugs at our heartstrings and almost rationalizes his decision to seek an existence less loathed.
This coerced sympathy makes it difficult to castigate Bourdin as he begins to deceive the San Antonio-based Barclay family who have been hoping Nicholas – dead or alive – will resurface. However, as the documentary moves forward, we must question how much of Bourdin’s background is true. How much of his childhood was shrouded in hate? Was it?
Bourdin’s ruse might best exemplify our need as humans to believe what we want to believe. Much like the devout who have erected a shrine around a tree stump in New Jersey on which they believe resides a visage of the Virgin Mary, the Barclays are so overcome with the possibility that Nicholas has been found alive that they abed Bourdin’s transition to a new identity and entrance into the country.
The way in which Bourdin stumbles upon the Barclay’s story is incredible. If it were in a fictional movie, the narrative would be deemed schlocky and overly ambitious. Here though, his process exemplifies our need to believe that people are trying to be good. Held in the police station overnight, Bourdin begins makes a phone call to the Center for Missing and Exploited Children in the United States. Here, he poses as a detective in Spain who has come across an abandoned child. After gathering the numbers to state police headquarters, Bourdin makes additional calls in order to come across any name / identity that he might fit. Taking a chance on Nicholas Barclay, Bourdin asks for a photo to be faxed. And here, he begins to study and transform himself: applying three homemade tattoos, dying his hair, coming up with a story as to why his eyes are a different color (he was tortured and his eyes were dyed with a chemical).
After offering his newly assumed identity to the Spanish police, his “family” is contacted, which prompts his “sister” Carey to jump on a plane to Barcelona and claim him. By both of their accounts, the moment they meet lacks hesitation or surprise. He becomes Nicholas. She begins to show him pictures to jog his memory (remember, he was tortured and traumatized) and he memorizes all of the names and faces so that he can convince one final inquisitor of his identity so that he can board a plane to Texas.
In one sense, it might be said that Layton mocks the Barclay family throughout while celebrating Bourdin’s deception, but I’m not sure if this is true. The Barclays – in part because of their accent and country look – come off as simple and naïve, but I’m not sure that this is Layton’s intent. Rather, their frustration is momentarily allayed. When Nicholas went missing, news coverage was non-existent and – according to the Barclays – the investigation was negligible, resulting in their actions (posting notices, making phone calls, searching the neighborhoods) being the only actions. The lack of investigation leads to feelings of resentment and distrust of law enforcement; it also leads to a cold case with no answers. Nicholas’ death was never confirmed or denied, so when a boy turns up claiming to be Nicholas, their efforts, regrets (Nicholas went missing because his older brother didn’t want to pick him up, and his mother was sleeping after working all night) and hopes all funnel into one answered prayer.
At the same time, the Barclay’s acceptance of Bourdin is a headscratcher to anyone watching: he speaks with a constant French accent, his skin tone is a brown, his eyes are a different color, and his ears are a different shape. As the film progresses, it becomes clear that the Barclays suspect he is not their kin, particularly when his “mother,” Beverly, refuses to give a DNA test to prove that Bourdin is her son, but again, this connects back to our need to believe in the improbable. The elation felt throughout the family as Nicholas stepped foot into the Texas airport would have been elided and depressingly heartbreaking if they had to let Nicholas go again – even if Bourdin just becomes a symbol of Nicholas.
The unfortunate undertone throughout The Imposter is that Nicholas is never found. Bourdin gets a slight punishment. The Barclays are investigated for Nicholas’ murder – on account of Bourdin’s testimony. Charlie Parker, a private investigator, persistently tries to uncover Barclay’s body, and Carey ends the film with an adamant “Fuck him,” but there is not closure. No wound is healed, and boy remains missing.
The most astounding part of the film is that Bourdin – despite his lengthy rap sheet – is able to conjure trust from nearly everyone he encounters: police, tourists, the Barclays, the courts, the news, and perhaps even this film’s director.