At DOXA, the Kids Aren't All Right

Parents of teenagers beware: DOXA is about to force you to face up to some unpleasant truths.

For example, you might unwillingly contemplate your 15-year-old son's pornography and video game habits, as he likely attempts to escape the reality of approaching adult life. 

If your worry muscles aren't convulsing already, stop and listen to East London teen Ryan detail his daily routine. Flicking through porn sites catering to every taste, the boy is candid about his preferences and eager to find girls in real life who remind him of the women online.

Or hear a London teen girl describe her endurance of a sexual assault, because getting her Blackberry -- and her virtual life -- back from the boys who snatched it from her was more important than her physical safety.

Depressing? Hell yes.

InRealLife, a documentary from British director Beeban Kidron (Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit), elicits a remarkable frankness from its young subjects -- perhaps another byproduct of the age of digital over-sharing.

Not so the subjects of Web Junkie: less-than-verbal teen boys addicted to gaming are packed off for treatment at one of China's 400 clinics dedicated to internet rehab.

'Electronic heroin'

Defined as someone who uses the Internet for more than six hours a day for non-work purposes, these teen "addicts" are bundled off to boot camp in short, sharp, shock fashion -- often tricked, sometimes even drugged, by their desperate parents.

Tales of 48-hour World of Warcraft sessions, helped by the use of adult diapers, are sprinkled through Shosh Shlam and Hilla Medalia's film, which follows the rather unsophisticated psychiatric intervention. "The internet is electronic heroin," the doctor in charge tells his charges to blank stares and sniggers.

There's no doubting the distress of the parents, unable to reach their teens, apparently swallowed up whole into this mystifying, sensory playground. But, when the filmmakers encourage the boys to open up, it soon becomes clear that, while the tools are different, the malaise that drives these kids to them is age-old.

They talk of loneliness and alienation -- the virtual world is their escape from impending adulthood, the demands of schoolwork, their socially crippling, nerdy unease.

"Reality is too fake," one boy shrugs without irony.

No wonder then, that Colton Harris-Moore became a folk hero of the modern age. Growing up in a poverty-ridden, abusive home on Washington's Camano Island, the Barefoot Bandit -- as he came to be known -- was sent to a halfway house for his serial stealing. At 15, he escaped.

What happened next is the subject of Fly, Colt, Fly: Legend of the Barefoot Bandit, a terrific ride of a movie that combines documentary with animated dramatic reconstructions of Harris-Moore's escapades, as he outwits the cops for a good two years.

A great escape

Notorious for breaking into stores and cleaning them out of money this, nevertheless, was no ordinary delinquent. How often do you hear of teenagers ordering airplane manuals via the internet using stolen credit card information, breaking in again to collect their order, and then teaching themselves how to fly?

Clearly a smart, resourceful kid set off on a bad path by neglect, Harris-Moore's story took on mythic status via the Internet, as young people everywhere became obsessed by his catch-me-if-you-can chutzpah. His daring dash across the States, stealing cool cars, planes and boats made him an online phenomenon -- a contemporary Tom Sawyer.

The reality, of course, was that he was still half-formed, abandoned, lonely and lost. In the end, his capture in the Bahamas was more his decision than any crack detective work.

His is a journey that will make any parent shudder, but can't help but be seen as heroic by their offspring. Because, while online porn, social media and video games offer a certain kind of refuge, what teenager doesn't spend time wishing they could just grow wings and fly far, far away?

I know I did.

The DOXA documentary film festival runs from May 2 to 11. See here for screenings.