Unbothered: The Life and Crimes of Doris Payne

I don't see many movies on the big screen.  The last grown-up film that I can remember watching in the theater was Dreamgirls when I was pregnant.  Or maybe it was The Help.  In any event, it's pretty sad; my parents have seen Straight Outta Compton and The Perfect Guy- I have not.  However, I do enjoy a good documentary and The Life and Crimes of Doris Payne is one of the best that I have seen in a long while.  You know when you watch something and it's so good that you either:

a) want to watch the entire thing again b) text all of your friends and tell them to watch it?

It's that good.

My first exposure to Doris Payne came a few years ago.  If I remember correctly, I was teaching Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man in 7th and 8th grade LE and we were discussing the trickster in the African-American literary tradition.  I came across an article about a female jewel thief in her 80's, and we ending up having a debate about whether she was a hero, a criminal, or both.  Ever since then I have been (not-so) patiently waiting for this documentary to come out.

Brer Rabbit, the original trickster

I must say that watching Doris Payne on screen in her 80's is inspiring.  The way that she artfully applies her Chanel make-up and combs her white bob into place is like an actress getting into costume.  The thought that she puts into details of her appearance (pale lavender nails and animal print flats) puts me to shame.

Say Yes to the Dress!

The Life and Crimes of Doris Payne is interesting because it is about the power and pathology of physical beauty.   The way that Payne presented herself was crucial to the success of her cons.  She was able to get rich, white people to ignore her blackness at the height of segregation because of the way that she styled and carried herself.  Her crimes (or "campaigns" as she calls them) were victories against racism as she used her looks and her intelligence to outmatch her victims.

Ironically, there is nothing remarkable about Payne's physical features.  In The Bluest Eye,  Toni Morrison refers to "the cloak of ugliness" that Pecola puts on that makes her unattractive.  Doris Payne demonstrates that there is also a "cloak of beauty".  She was attractive because she believed it to be so.  And because she believed it, so did others.

She was described as "sharply dressed" and "looking like a model" in her police reports.

Doris Payne's success as a jewel thief was due to her skills as an actress, as well as her looks. Actresses are professional liars and Payne is riveting to watch.  I wonder why the filmmakers did not make more of an effort to verify her stories about her childhood and her children.  Her mother was a Cherokee? That's what we all say.  Her son, who is clearly an addict, never asked her for any money?  Ok.  Perhaps they wanted viewers to do the work of figuring out what was true and what was not.

One of the most interesting scenes in the film was when Payne was caught lying to her probation officer about being with the filmmakers when she was not.  She first got angry and then tried to make him feel guilty for her lie.  Hmmmm.  Very familiar.  The thing that is refreshing about Payne is that she seems to know when she's lying, as evidenced by the final scene in the film.

Is Doris Payne a liar? Yes.  Is she a psychopath?  Probably.  Does she have anything to show for the 2 million dollars without of jewels she stole?  No.  But as her daughter says, she lived her life the way that she wanted to live it.  With joy and without apologies.

Watch the trailer and then see the film on Netflix. I'm about to go watch it again!