JT Leroy: the allure of ambiguity and the magnificent Laura Dern

REVIEW by Drew Rowsome

You know, JT LeRoy does not exist. But he lives. That's what a famous film historian once said about Bugs Bunny. 
- Laura Albert to Interview

Like everyone else in the aspiring gay arts and literary world, I read JT Leroy's novel/memoir Sarah as soon as I could get a copy. It was moving, frustrating and a must-read. Then, like everyone else, I watched in horror tinged with schadenfreudian delight as Leroy was unmasked and vilified. While the artistic merits of Leroy's writings can be debated, the writer was embraced whole-heartedly. A gay, possibly transgender, HIV positive man-child who was raised by a drug addicted mother who pimped him out as a lot lizard, was irresistible as a cultural touchstone. He was also, understandably, painfully shy but moved in the most rarefied of celebrity circles. He was just ahead of the times.

As the film JT Leroy makes very clear, JT Leroy as a work of conceptual art was also just ahead of the times. The Laura Albert character references "Ziggy Stardust" as a justification of the creation of her alter-ego JT Leroy. That resonates considering how many have come since, from Madonna to Andy Kaufman to Richard Bachman to even Garth Brooks, it is a longstanding artistic ploy. Perhaps people, particularly the literary and celebrity establishment, were so upset by JT Leroy being fraudulent because they weren't in on the deception. An upstart outsider fooled them all. Today he/she/they would be given their own reality television series.

JT Leroy does a good job of laying out the story of the creation of JT Leroy and how it fell apart. There is a conspicuous credit that states "Based on a true story" so that liberties can be, and are, taken. But the plot follows the basic facts as they are known: writer Laura Albert created JT Leroy as a pseudonym and, when successful, convinced her sister-in-law Savannah Knopp to impersonate Leroy for public appearances. The film contends that Albert enjoyed portraying Leroy, and definitely enjoyed the perks Leroy earned, so much that she was almost possessed by her own creation. And the same transition happened to Knopp. 

The film is based on Knopp's book Girl Boy Girl: How I Became JT LeRoy and Knopp is, along with director Justin Kelly, an executive producer. So naturally the Knopp character has a crisis of conscience and Albert is portrayed as mentally unstable. Kristen Stewart does subtle work as Knopp/Leroy and her androgynous blankness ideally suits the Leroy persona. When she does need to communicate a contradictory emotion, it is done almost subliminally. She is a clear slate searching, and when she tries on Leroy it fits too well. The look of fleeting fear and horror when she realizes this is quietly devastating.

Laura Dern as Albert/Leroy is magnificent. The script is occasionally obvious - a moment where she realizes Knopp/Leroy has taken her rightful place as Leroy is blatant - but Dern makes it believable. She also provides an eerie ambiguity in the difference between Albert's impersonation of Leroy which feels much like possession, and Albert's impersonation of Speedie the manager which has seams showing all over it. Not only do we and the filmmakers not know just how crazy Albert is, neither does she. But Dern does.

JT Leroy is not as concerned with the plot or laying blame, as it is with questions of art versus reality and the allure of ambiguity. Knopp/Stewart is torn between the amiable and nurturing (and breathtakingly sexy) Kelvin Harrison Jr, and the manipulative and driven movie star Eva played by Diane Kruger. Gender stereotypes are upended in the same way that JT Leroy blurred gender and sexuality expectations well before it became part of the mainstream. It is deliciously queer in tone and execution.

Albert/Dern initially justifies the creation of Leroy as a way to publicize the band that she and Knopp's brother (Jim Sturgess) are struggling to make a success. The music motif, beyond the Ziggy Stardust reference, is woven into the fabric of the film with the use of Kiss - who were nothing without their heavily made-up alter-egos - posters and t-shirts. The use of the chestnut "Windmills of My Mind" is also a meta-musical moment. Not subtle but precisely on point. And the sole person ballsy enough to play themself is Courtney Love, who it is a delight to see on the screen again. Unsurprisingly, Love also gets the best zinger of the entire proceedings. 

JT Leroy begins with a quote from Oscar Wilde - "The truth is never pure and rarely simple" - and Albert/Dern reiterates at least twice that "Sometimes the lies are more true than the truth." And that's probably the fascination with the JT Leroy story and with this film. When does a persona become fraudulent, an impersonation a crime? Dern brilliantly skithers across all the possibilities and JT Leroy charms as much as it disturbs. Knopp may not have made her case for redemption but JT Leroy highlights how blurring the edges of reality, sexuality and gender is as enticing and life-saving as it is dangerous.