I vaguely remember hearing about The Life and Crimes of Doris Payne when it was going to appear for a day or more at the Museum of Fine Arts, but it was a week night so it got less appealing as the work week progressed until it was completely forgotten. The Life and Crimes of Doris Payne did not even make it to my Netflix Queue, but one Sunday, I strayed from my queue to see what was popular. When I saw The Life and Crimes of Doris Payne, I remembered it instantly and spontaneously decided to watch it immediately.
While I enjoyed the documentary, if I had fought fatigue and paid money to see it in the theaters, I would have been disappointed because it feels a bit thin. The Life and Crimes of Doris Payne seems to be missing a certain je ne sais quoi. While I was interested in hearing Doris Payne’s point of view, the director tries and fails to truly confront her when he suddenly finds himself inadvertently complicit in her attempt to establish an alibi for a recent crime. Is it deference because she is cute and old or a fear of losing the subject of your documentary? Either way, the director was clearly more comfortable reveling in Payne’s exploitation of racist and cultural biases than confronting the possibility that she is a criminal and comparing and contrasting Payne’s tall tales of her illustrious career as a jewel thief with the reality. By focusing on her most recent trial and failing to truly interpret the legal implications of the events, not as Payne sees them, but that legally, she has hit a wall that she can’t break through until the end, The Life and Crimes of Doris Payne feels more like one last con instead of a documentary.