Identity is a fragile thing, isn't it? You wake up, look in the mirror, and you're pretty sure you know who’s looking back. But in the 2019 French film Who the Hell You Think I Am (Celle que vous croyez), directed by Safy Nebbou, that certainty doesn't just evaporate—it gets shredded.
It’s a movie that basically functions as a warning label for the digital age. Starring the legendary Juliette Binoche, the story dives into the messy, often pathetic, and deeply human world of "catfishing" before that term became a tired reality TV trope. This isn't just about a fake profile. It’s about why we need to be seen, even if the version of us being "seen" doesn't actually exist. Honestly, it’s one of those films that makes you want to delete your Instagram immediately.
The Psychological Trap of Claire Millaud
Binoche plays Claire, a 50-year-old linguistics professor. She’s smart. She’s successful. She’s also reeling from a divorce and a younger lover, Ludo, who treats her like an afterthought. After he ghosts her, she does something we’ve all probably thought about doing in our pettiest moments: she creates a fake Facebook profile to spy on him.
She becomes Clara. Clara is 24. Clara is beautiful.
But the plan backfires. Instead of catching Ludo, she catches his friend, Alex (played by François Civil). What starts as a surveillance mission turns into a full-blown digital romance. They talk for hours. They share secrets. They fall in love. But they’ve never met. Alex is falling for a ghost, and Claire is falling for the version of herself she thought she’d lost forever. It’s heartbreaking to watch because you know it can’t end well. It just can’t.
Why We Can't Look Away From the Trainwreck
Most movies about internet deception focus on the "gotcha" moment. They want the drama of the reveal. Who the Hell You Think I Am is much more interested in the why.
Why does a brilliant woman risk her career and her sanity for a guy she met through a screen?
👉 See also: New Movies in Theatre: What Most People Get Wrong About This Month's Picks
Psychologists often talk about "dissociative anonymity." When we are online, we lose our inhibitions. We feel like we can be our "true" selves because the physical baggage of our actual lives—our age, our wrinkles, our history—isn't there to hold us back. Claire isn't just lying to Alex; she’s performing an exorcism on her own middle age. She wants to feel the electricity of a new crush again. She wants to be the protagonist of a story where she isn't "the older woman."
The film uses a framing device where Claire tells this whole story to her therapist, Dr. Bormans (Nicole Garcia). This adds a layer of unreliability. As viewers, we start to wonder if what we’re seeing is the truth or just another layer of Claire’s fiction. It’s meta. It’s confusing. It’s brilliant.
Cinema of the Screen
Nebbou handles the visual language of the internet better than most. Instead of showing us cheesy floating text bubbles or ugly UI overlays, he focuses on Claire’s face. We see the glow of the smartphone reflecting in her eyes. We see the micro-expressions of joy when a notification pings and the absolute devastation when the screen stays dark.
Binoche is incredible here.
She manages to make Claire sympathetic even when she’s doing objectively terrible things. You see the desperation. You see the loneliness. There’s a specific scene where she’s sitting in her car, listening to Alex’s voice on the phone, and she’s just... gone. She’s not in the car anymore. She’s in the digital world they built together. It’s a masterclass in acting that reminds you why she’s one of the best to ever do it.
The movie is based on the novel by Camille Laurens. If you’ve read the book, you know it’s even darker and more experimental with its structure. The film streamlines some of that, but it keeps the core question: in a world where we can be anyone, why do we choose to be someone else?
✨ Don't miss: A Simple Favor Blake Lively: Why Emily Nelson Is Still the Ultimate Screen Mystery
The Reality of Social Media Dysmorphia
We talk a lot about "Who the Hell You Think I Am" in the context of entertainment, but it mirrors real-world trends that have only gotten worse since 2019.
Filter culture.
The "curated" life.
We are all, to some extent, creating a "Clara" every time we post a photo that’s been edited to death. We want the validation. We want the likes. We want the version of ourselves that people admire, even if that version is a total fabrication. The movie just takes that impulse to its most extreme, most dangerous conclusion.
Comparing the Film to Real-Life Catfishing Cases
If you look at famous cases, like the Manti Te'o hoax or the stories featured on the MTV show Catfish, there is a recurring theme: the victim usually wants to believe. Alex, in the film, ignores several red flags. He wants the fantasy to be real because the fantasy is better than his actual life.
Claire provides him with an idealized partner. She listens. She understands his music. She’s always there (digitally). This "perfect" connection is a drug. When the reality finally crashes into the fiction, the withdrawal is violent.
- The Emotional Toll: Catfishing victims often report trauma similar to a real-world breakup or even a death.
- The Perpetrator's Motivation: It's rarely about money. Usually, it's about power or escaping a mundane reality.
- The Gender Dynamics: The film flips the script by having an older woman as the "predator," challenging our assumptions about who participates in these digital deceptions.
Is There a Happy Ending?
Without spoiling the final act, let’s just say the movie doesn't take the easy way out. It’s a thriller, after all. There are twists. There are moments where you’ll want to scream at the screen. The ending leaves you with a heavy sense of ambiguity.
🔗 Read more: The A Wrinkle in Time Cast: Why This Massive Star Power Didn't Save the Movie
It asks if a connection is "real" if it’s based on a lie. If Alex felt real love, does it matter that the person he loved didn't exist? It’s a philosophical headache.
The film suggests that our digital identities have become inseparable from our physical ones. We can't just "log off" and go back to being who we were. The bell can't be un-rung. Once Claire tastes the life of Clara, her old life as a professor and mother feels like a prison.
Taking Action: Navigating Your Own Digital Identity
If this movie leaves you feeling a bit paranoid, that’s probably a good thing. We spend so much time looking at screens that we forget to look at the people right in front of us.
Audit your digital footprint.
Take a look at your profiles. How much of it is "you" and how much of it is a performance? It’s okay to have a public persona, but don't let the persona replace the person.
Practice radical honesty. If you’re dating online, be real. Use current photos. Don't hide your age or your flaws. The right person will be interested in the human, not the highlight reel.
Watch the movie with a friend.
Seriously. This is a "discussion" film. You’ll find yourselves debating Claire’s actions for hours. Did she have a choice? Was Alex a victim or a willing participant in his own delusion?
Check out the source material.
Read Camille Laurens’ book. It offers a much deeper look into the literary and linguistic themes that the film only touches on. It’s a challenging read but worth it for fans of psychological fiction.
Ultimately, Who the Hell You Think I Am is a mirror. It shows us the parts of ourselves we’d rather not see—the vanity, the loneliness, and the desperate need to be loved at any cost. It’s uncomfortable. It’s brilliant. And it’s a necessary watch for anyone living in the 21st century.