In the satirical mockumentary The Moment, Charli XCX fears—and eventually embraces—the end of “Brat summer,” the cultural wave that turned her sixth album into a phenomenon. But the film, which stars the singer as a fictionalized version of herself, struggles to find humor in Charli’s identity crisis and lacks the exhilarating energy of that 2024 album. Watching The Moment shortly after its lukewarm reception at Sundance, I felt something fading—but it wasn’t Brat; it was the mockumentary style itself.
How did mockumentaries become so tiresome? Once a fresh narrative approach brilliantly used by directors like Christopher Guest and the late Rob Reiner, the mockumentary now feels almost as stale as the formulaic films it tries to parody. It’s a disappointing shift. For much of the past half-century, faux-documentary filmmaking thrived thanks to the twisted creativity of comedy legends, from Monty Python’s Eric Idle, who mocked Beatlemania with 1978’s irreverent mock-doc The Rutles: All You Need Is Cash, to Albert Brooks, who made his directorial debut with 1979’s proto-reality TV spoof Real Life.
Then, in 1984, Reiner brought an improvisational spark to the heavy-metal parody This Is Spinal Tap, a film that turned comic ingenuity up to 11 and made a fictional band of scruffy misfits feel more real than their MTV counterparts. Its influence endures; Spinal Tap‘s success paved the way for Guest’s own series of mockumentary classics—Waiting for Guffman, Best in Show, A Mighty Wind—still beloved for their quirky characters, improvised dialogue, and recurring cast. In these films, the mockumentary format lends an air of authenticity to characters who are both absurd and utterly ordinary.
Unfortunately, Guest hasn’t directed a film in a decade, and recent mockumentaries haven’t matched the lasting appeal of his work. That includes, ironically, Spinal Tap II: The End Continues (featuring Guest), which I’m reluctant to criticize—partly because it has some funny moments (like a sleazy music promoter who’s neurologically unable to process music), and partly because its release was overshadowed by Reiner’s tragic murder in December. But much as Spinal Tap II pokes fun at aging band reunions, it also feels like a nostalgia trip, straining, like many legacy sequels, to recapture the original’s magic.
In some ways, the mockumentary’s stagnation mirrors the creative decline of documentaries themselves, where celebrity-focused projects often feel more like image-building exercises than anything else. Like many glossy showbiz documentaries, Spinal Tap II and The Moment mistake high-profile cameos for substance. With its handheld shots of Charli being shuffled between label meetings, tour rehearsals, and meet-and-greets, The Moment superficially resembles those behind-the-scenes docs often produced by the subjects themselves, but its satire feels aimless and bland. A good mockumentary should skewer its subjects, much like 2016’s Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping mocked self-absorbed, Bieber-era superstars. But The Moment offers a muddled portrait of Charli and saves its sharpest jabs for a pompous, corporate-minded director—memorably played by Alexander Skarsgård—who wants to sanitize her image for a family-friendly concert film.
In this era of overly fawning celebrity documentaries, The Fall and Rise of Reggie Dinkins should be the perfect satire. This new NBC sitcom has a delightfully meta premise: it’s a documentary-style show partly about making a documentary. Tracy Morgan shines as a washed-up former NFL player who hires an Oscar-winning filmmaker, Arthur Tobin (Daniel Radcliffe), to help repair his image. The only problem is, Tob…The desire to create an authentic film, rather than a polished advertisement for Dinkins, is clear. However, “The Fall and Rise” never feels like the genuine result of Tobin’s filmmaking; it comes across as artificial. Created by veterans of 30 Rock, the series relies on witty one-liners and sharp punchlines—a style that undermines its aim for mockumentary realism. While it serves as a platform for Morgan’s awkward charm, the show misses the natural flow and chemistry that make great mockumentaries come alive.
More troubling is how American right-wing podcaster Matt Walsh degraded the genre in 2024 with his shallow take on diversity initiatives, Am I Racist?. In this blatantly provocative effort, Walsh goes through the motions of obtaining a DEI certification, attending antiracist workshops, and playing the role of a woke critic—essentially stretching a “triggered, libs???” tweet into a feature film. He encounters some opportunistic figures capitalizing on white guilt, yet somehow remains the most insufferable person in every scene.
Though Walsh manages a cringeworthy stunt by tricking White Fragility author Robin DiAngelo into paying $30 in reparations to a random Black producer, he fails to fully embrace the documentary form, often cutting to scripted skits with a diner waitress. His goal isn’t to challenge or inform his audience, but to reinforce their existing beliefs—specifically, that white supremacy isn’t real and racism is a liberal fabrication.
Hope for the mockumentary lies in smaller, gritty projects like Rap World (2024) and Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie (2026). The first, directed by Conner O’Malley and Danny Scharar, follows four friends making a rap album in 2009 suburban Pennsylvania, capturing the rough, DIY aesthetic of late-2000s YouTube with unsettling accuracy. The second, a wild buddy comedy based on the web series Nirvanna the Band the Show, cleverly uses homemade camera setups and “real” footage of Matt Johnson and Jay McCarrol interacting with Toronto pedestrians, making an absurd time-travel plot between 2008 and the present feel surprisingly believable.
In both cases, the filmmakers use mockumentary techniques and intentionally unpolished styles to make viewers invest in the fabricated worlds of these bands and their chaotic journeys. Both films are inventive, humorous, and made on minimal budgets outside of Hollywood. They prove the mockumentary isn’t dead—it just urgently needs fresh energy.
Frequently Asked Questions
FAQs Charli XCXs Brat The End of the Mockumentary Era
Beginner Definition Questions
1 What is Charli XCXs Brat movie
Brat is a 2024 film directed by Sam Pilling starring Charli XCX Its a stylized fictionalized narrative about a pop star navigating fame creativity and identity blending music video aesthetics with a loose meta storyline
2 What is a mockumentary
A mockumentary is a film or TV show that uses the style and techniques of a documentary to tell a fictional often satirical story Classic examples include This Is Spinal Tap and The Office
3 How does Brat signal the end of an era
Critics and fans argue that Brat moves beyond the ironic observational style of mockumentaries Instead of parodying reality it creates its own hyperstylized emotionally raw and internetnative fantasy suggesting audiences and artists are seeking new less detached forms of storytelling
Context Analysis Questions
4 Why were mockumentaries so popular for so long
They thrived in the 2000s and 2010s because they perfectly captured a cultural mood of irony skepticism towards media and a desire to peek behind the curtain of various industries with a wink to the audience
5 What makes Brat different from a traditional music mockumentary like Popstar Never Stop Never Stopping
Popstar is a straight satire of celebrity culture and music documentaries Brat isnt primarily a parody its an immersive sensory experience that uses fiction to explore authentic emotional themes without the layer of ironic detachment
6 Is Brat a complete rejection of the mockumentary format
Not entirely It uses some documentaryadjacent techniques but it subverts them The goal isnt to convince you its real or to mock a genre but to build a specific artistic mood that feels true to the digital age
