When one thinks of the celebrity persona, it can range from the handcrafted (a la early Lady Gaga) to the authentically alluring (such as a pop-culture icon like Rihanna) or highly contentious (the late Joan Rivers). Magnetic figures often have a pronounced degree of accessibility or pointed refusal of it (that’s why “I’m Still Here” was an effective mockumentary). Yet Mavis Beacon, of the popularized computer software Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing, captivates filmmaker Jazmin Renée Jones for precisely the opposite reason.
“Seeking Mavis Beacon” is an Internet investigation conducted by Jones and her friend/producer Olivia McKayla Ross. As they seek to find the software’s model, a Haitian woman by the name of Renée L’Esperance, their visceral desire to discover her is rooted in the fact that, in the public eye, she’s a silent symbol–mere branding. But Mavis Beacon’s persona was one of the first commercialized AIs (though it isn’t voiced by L’Esperance). Through its figurehead Black woman, it inspired many Black people to hone their skills (including Jones and Ross) and ushered everyone into the age of cyber-centricity. Her photo is credited not only with history-making cultural phenomena but influential representation.
Through their refusal to allow her to be forgotten and without her flowers, “Seeking Mavis Beacon” is motivated to find and honor her. Created and released by a trio of white men under company The Software Toolworks, why was Mavis (named after Mavis Staples) Beacon (chosen for its recollection of a guiding light) Black? What did it mean when they conjured the character? And what does it mean now that her image is a corporate-owned enigma?
Much of “Seeking Mavis Beacon” follows the principles of a traditional investigative documentary: the girls pore over libraries and internet databases, cold call anyone available, and interview those they can nail down. However, the use of a virtual desktop as a storytelling tool is what brings the elements and impact of the film into harmony. Between clever file names that denote highlights of the doc’s research to hilarious, cheeky usage of memes new and old as reactions to the legacy of Mavis Beacon and the filmmakers’ emotions as things come to light–Jones and Ross center the ways our relationship with the Internet has shifted. Even as a journalistic quest, “Seeking Mavis Beacon” is utterly personal.
As two self-proclaimed “Black e-girl investigators” Jones and Ross integrate the importance of identity into the politics of the internet. They, as women, are felt through every element of the film, as their search serves them as much as they hope it serves Renée. Their home-base is lit with sunset lamps and adorned with shrines and frames dedicated to the likes of Toni Morrison, bell hooks, and more. In addition to the software’s creators and adjacent figures, they also interview multiple interdisciplinary Black artists about how they reckon with the normality, and sometimes indispensable necessity, of online persona. While not always effective in keeping the momentum going, some of the artists provide insight that lays stones for the rest of the film’s path.
As Gen-Zers raised online, they’ve been wise to the way it has rapidly evolved over the last 10-15 years, and how the implications of digital likeness have shifted. Jones and Ross know the consequences of your digital footprint (Ross, as a self-titled “cyber doula,” has made it a goal to educate on this topic), and that control of your likeness is scant, and only getting worse as social media and AI continue to truck on. For lack of a time machine, Renée L’Esperance was not privy to any of this. This focus drives the investment and stakes of “Seeking Mavis Beacon.”
As the filmmakers uncover more information about Renée, including locating the home where she used to live and her son’s contact information, “Seeking Mavis Beacon” hits a hard shift. What are the implications of retroactive access to people? Renée was photographed in 1987, and nearly 40 years later, elements of her most personal information are accessible with a charged laptop and tenacity.
There’s self awareness here, as they weigh the ethical risk and reward, yet ultimately choose to talk the leap anyways. When it is suggested that, after their months of looking and how close they’ve gotten, that “she don’t wanna talk to y’all”–“Seeking Mavis Beacon” becomes a by proxy evaluation of parasocial relationships. (This is emphasized in a scene where Jones tearfully laments to Renée’s own son her desire to speak with her.)
The incredible intelligence and resolve of Jones and Ross are on full display in “Seeking Mavis Beacon,” as it becomes less about the woman and more about the ever-shifting implications of cyber-existence. In the latter third, the pacing takes a hit as the documentary loses its drive and focus, dulling the edge of its conclusion. Yet the investigative elements are poignantly troubling, as what we already know about the entanglements of life on and offline is spotlighted. “Seeking Mavis Beacon” is utterly creative, a documentary that reflects the state of the Internet as it stands, and as it turns a mirror on its makers.
