Lawrence Chen’s Starring Jerry as Himself presents a bold statement from the get-go: “This is a true story.” Then, in a stylistic flourish, the title card shuffles through a rolodex of phrases such as “Adapted from a true story” and “Basically a true story” before settling on the final punctuation-less statement, “What is a true story.”
This clever sequence signals that Starring Jerry as Himself is as much about exploring truth as it is about recounting its protagonist’s strange and unsettling experience. As a cautionary tale, this docufiction brings a story to life that is as absurd as it is heartbreakingly real, blending documentary, dark comedy, and true crime in a genre-bending take on vulnerability, family, and reconnection.
The film tells the story of Jerry Hsu, a Taiwanese-American man in his 70s who lives alone in Orlando. While the opening scenes feature home video clips of a happy Hsu family, we later learn that Jerry and his wife, Kathy, have since divorced, and their three sons—Jesse, Jonathan, and Joshua—are all grown up. One day, Jerry receives an unexpected call from his mobile phone service provider, informing him that his phone will be cut off unless he contacts Chinese authorities who claim that Jerry is implicated in an international money laundering scheme. The calls are urgent, professional, and highly persuasive: If Jerry wants to avoid arrest and deportation, they say, he must assist them by transferring $25,000 to a bank account. What starts as a simple task quickly escalates as Jerry follows more clandestine instructions, convinced he is helping to root out criminals while preserving his own freedom.
What unfolds from here is something much deeper than a mere scam story. Starring Jerry as Himself follows a con that seems almost inevitable—viewers may sense where Jerry’s story is headed. Yet Chen crafts the film with a pacing and warmth that brings the audience in close to Jerry, allowing us to see just how believable the calls seem from his vantage point. We feel his urgency, his sense of duty, and his isolation as a retired, elderly father pulled further into this elaborate deception. For its runtime of 75 minutes, the film is paced well, capturing the imperfect beauty of a family coming together to process a difficult experience in a peculiar and creative way. Through this intimacy, the film highlights the dangers of misplaced trust along with the quiet risks that come with age.
Much has already been said about the documentary being a perfect companion piece to Josh Margolin’s film Thelma, starring June Squibb, in that both films focus on the elderly becoming targets of deceit. But I would argue that Starring Jerry as Himself raises the stakes even higher, as it intertwines Jerry’s search for his sense of purpose with the illusory allure of the American Dream. Indeed, in Jerry’s conversations with them over the phone, the agents speak to him with respect, professionalism, and even a personal touch. They ask about his family in a way that makes him feel valued and patriotic, as though he’s performing a selfless service. For the next several days, Jerry would operate in secrecy, fully immersed in his covert “mission.”
Despite the film’s subject matter, Chen’s decision to add humour throughout—often through Jerry’s self-deprecating charm—keeps the film from being overly bleak. Jerry’s charisma, dry wit, and his willingness to laugh at himself make him an endearing central character, and his family members bring an authentic, relatable awkwardness to the screen. And as an audience, I find myself increasingly invested in their lives and their story.
Another notable aspect is how Chen uses real people to portray themselves and relive scenes from their own lives. Rather than casting professional actors, the film features Jerry, his three sons, and his ex-wife, all playing themselves, reconstructing the story in a mix of reenactment and real reflection. This contributes to the film’s raw intimacy and unique approach in its storytelling. While I don’t have any qualms with it, the film’s heavy use of reenactments might stretch the bounds of documentary for some viewers. Chen’s decision to employ stylized cinematography, shifting aspect ratios, and cinematic lighting blur the line between reality and fiction, perhaps even veering too far for some viewers accustomed to more conventional approaches.
Having said that, Chen’s direction allows the story to unfold in a way that immerses viewers in Jerry’s perspective, showing both the allure and danger of his “mission,” as he recalls it. And through its unique approach, the film taps into the broader question it poses at the outset: “What is a true story?” The question isn’t meant to undermine Jerry’s experience; but to explore the way memory, fear, and self-perception shape our understanding of reality.
In a way, Chen invites his audience to question how much of what we see is memory, fiction, or reality. Through this balance of true-crime intrigue and personal narrative, Starring Jerry as Himself becomes a hybrid of documentary and docufiction, reminding us of the need to stay vigilant, sceptical, and self-assured. But more importantly, as a genre-defying experience, the docufiction proves that Jerry Hsu is not just a man who was scammed; he is, by definition, a star of his own making.
