Sweet Bobby’s catfish story is remarkable in its scale and audacity – review
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In 2011, radio host Kirat Assi was out enjoying the nightlife in Brighton when she spotted someone familiar across the dancefloor: Bobby, a doctor she had been chatting with on Facebook. They had yet to meet in person, and when Kirat approached to say hello, Bobby appeared puzzled, as if he didn’t recognize her. As you watch Netflix's documentary Sweet Bobby, which is based on Tortoise Media’s excellent podcast, you might find yourself wishing that this odd moment had led her to cut ties, erase their conversations, and move on to avoid the challenges ahead. However, this incident was just the beginning of Kirat and Bobby's journey.
The conversation between the two carried on. They had been introduced by Kirat’s younger cousin, who had been previously dating Bobby’s younger sibling, and both belonged to a tightly-knit Sikh community. As Bobby faced serious health issues that almost claimed his life and found himself in witness protection in New York following a shooting incident in Kenya, their bond evolved from a friendship into a romantic relationship. They began having long overnight Skype audio chats to keep in touch while they slept and even talked about planning their wedding. Bobby also shared his circle of friends and family with her on Facebook. These details are illustrated in the film through interviews with Kirat, her past voice messages, and recreated versions of their direct messages.
Bobby, as you may have suspected, was not the person he claimed to be. The documentary follows a catfishing saga that's impressive in its scale and boldness, along with the surprising identity of the offender (I won’t spoil that for you if you’re not already acquainted with the story, since the reveal is truly shocking). However, it doesn’t go into the same level of detail as the original podcast and experiences some pacing issues, rushing toward the confession without fully exploring some of the more puzzling aspects of this case.
The story is told from Kirat’s viewpoint, revealing her as a lively and warm individual. It's deeply unsettling to witness how this “relationship” shatters her self-esteem, especially as Bobby becomes increasingly controlling and inundates her with blame-filled messages. We also hear from the real Bobby, the person whose images and personal details were misused in the catfish's ruse. Kirat's family shares their perspectives as well, emphasizing the extent to which this online connection dominated her life—her aunt describes it as a “total takeover.” This highlights the emotional toll of such a cruel scam, especially when Kirat opens up about her dreams of having children with this fictional character. There are certain warning signs that seem obvious in hindsight and with some emotional distance. The documentary successfully points these out without falling into the trap of blaming the victim, treating Kirat's story with compassion.
While the story itself is truly captivating, it’s difficult to overlook how online narratives like this don't always translate well into a visual format. The typical Facebook-style visuals and stock footage can become rather repetitive. When the significant reveal occurs, the film abruptly stops instead of exploring the implications in depth. Kirat barely has time to voice her devastating question, “Who have I been talking to on the phone for the past three years?” before the text onscreen summarizes what happened next (Kirat pursued legal action against the offender, which was resolved outside of court).
This is a well-crafted and thoughtfully produced introduction to an astonishing story. However, much of it functions as a lengthy preview for a podcast that offers a deeper and more engaging experience.
