After the antique store closes for good, Farrier makes a big mistake and takes the broken, discarded sign from the shop as a souvenir. He’s then sued by Michael and Jillian, and before he can appear in court and give it back, the sign is stolen from under his house. Farrier goes to court six hours away, is subjected to Michael’s litigious prowess, and has to pay a ridiculous fine. But Farrier keeps asking questions, to understand the whirlwind, and then the force of Michael Organ strikes by making itself more omnipotent, inflicting paranoia. He tells Farrier that “one of his colleagues” gave him a key to Farrier’s house. Michael speaks so clearly, asserting that he’s telling Farrier this because he has nothing to hide. It’s one of the many ways the film captures a narcissist’s behavior—they recite lines to you from a play you don’t even know you’re in.
Midway through “Mister Organ,” before Michael becomes even more nauseating, Farrier talks about worrying about being wrapped up in such a crazy course of events, that telling it will sound like he lost the plot. And that’s exactly what happens. Michael’s hour-long tangents and belittling interviews take over this movie and its filmmaker, and Farrier eventually talks on-camera about being bored to tears by Michael and his oppressive nothingness. But in place of a journey, of a documentarian’s control, “Mister Organ” grows a unique and terrifying power, as if Michael’s narcissism were reaching through the screen. Because of Farrier’s commitment as a storyteller, the insidious qualities that make Michael one of the most infuriating documentary subjects interviewed on camera achieve a full cinematic effect: they’re in 3-D, Dolby Surround, Smell-O-Vision, 48 frames per second. The end result of this multi-year endeavor is only 95 minutes, but its succinct editing achieves the awful sensation you’d get from seeing every bit of footage.
Farrier and his small crew keep rolling with this endurance project, which features a vulnerable scene where a teary-eyed Farrier regrets pitching the movie. But while Farrier usually leads with a casual first-person point of view, more transparency about the production and its stakes would help us better understand why Farrier has to keep sitting through hours of Michael’s monologues about nothing. For a documentary that so effectively beholds a narcissist’s grip, Farrier subjecting himself to Michael to eventually somehow complete this film (which it never becomes) doesn’t stand up next to the many tales of intimidation Farrier collects.