Gibney Musk documentary uses a simulated Elon to test truth

Gibney used a simulated Musk because the real one never agreed to talk. The director spent four years on the project, and his producer, who knew Musk from two earlier films, contacted him by phone and email asking for his side. In a New York Times interview, Gibney said the only reply was Musk calling him a rude name on Twitter.

So the team went back through everything Musk has said in public. They took his actual audio recordings and placed them inside an avatar they designed themselves. The result plays like a long sit-down interview that runs through the whole film, with the digital Musk firing back at critics’ claims.

Gibney told an interviewer the idea grew from Musk’s own fondness for the theory that we all live in a computer simulation. If Musk likes that idea, the director reasoned, why not meet him in his own sandbox? He also saw a link to the film’s themes: Musk’s habit of blurring what is true and what isn’t, and the odd bond people are forming with AI chatbots.

The simulated Musk looks better than the real one, and that was deliberate. Gibney worked with a design firm on every detail: a stubbly two-day beard, a leather jacket and a gamer chair. He joked that Musk is the star of his movie, so the star should look good.

There was a serious reason too. Gibney said that making Musk look ugly would have dragged the film into the kind of low-grade AI imagery Musk’s fans have posted about the director. A respectful look, he argued, lets the film hold Musk to account without looking like a cheap shot.

One more design choice stands out. In real interviews, Gibney noticed, Musk rarely looks at the person asking questions. The avatar does the opposite and stares right down the lens at the viewer. Gibney said the effect is meant to feel both real and unreal at once, which fits the film’s wider mood.

The same idea runs through the rest of the movie. Almost every human interview was filmed in front of a green screen and later placed into backgrounds that the film reveals over time. The one exception was Musk’s father, Errol, who was filmed remotely at his home in South Africa.

The ethics are the part viewers argue about most. Gibney’s defense is simple: the avatar only says things Musk really said, and the team didn’t stitch sentences together to change their meaning. He said he went looking for Musk’s best comebacks, not his clumsiest moments, so the digital version gets a fair shot at each critic.

Still, a film is not a live interview. The filmmakers decided where Musk looks, how he dresses and which of his words answer which accusation. Gibney accepts that this is shaping, and says documentaries always render a subject inside a bigger picture meant to raise questions. Viewers should keep that in mind: every line is real, but the conversation around it was built by the director.

For everyday viewers, the lesson travels well beyond Musk. A synthetic person can say only true quotes and still leave an impression its subject never chose. The same tools that built this avatar can build a fake politician or a fake relative on a video call.

A few habits help:

• Ask who made a clip and why, especially when a famous face looks straight at you.
• Check whether a film or post says plainly that a person is simulated. Musk does; most scam videos don’t.
• Look for the original recording when a quote matters to you.

Plenty of people close to Musk agreed to appear, though most took a lot of convincing. Errol Musk said yes the moment he was asked. Justine Musk, Elon’s first wife, talked with Gibney for more than a year before sitting down. Influencer Ashley St. Clair, LinkedIn cofounder Reid Hoffman, journalist Kara Swisher and former UN ambassador Samantha Power also appear, along with ex-colleagues and people Musk fired.

Gibney said many powerful people in Silicon Valley would only talk off the record, which he found troubling given how much sway Musk now holds. The finished film runs close to four hours, with a 10-minute intermission. It argues that much of Musk’s reputation for genius rests on his skill at selling his own legend and his companies’ stock. Gibney also pushed back on the popular view that Musk’s tough childhood explains his behavior, calling that an explanation, not an excuse.

The release has been rocky. After premiering at the Venice Film Festival in September, the film opened in four US theaters on October 9 and took in $68,900. It widened to hundreds of theaters on October 16, but within a week most of those screens had dropped it. Over its first two weeks it earned less than $1 million.

Musk mocked the slump on X with a short post, “Go woke, go broke (yet again).” Earlier he had called the film a hit piece and a bore, and threatened to sue Gibney for defamation. TikTok banned the film’s official account, and Universal, which holds the overseas rights, reportedly hesitated before going ahead.

A publicist for the film says it never left theaters and was still showing on more than 60 screens in late October. Citing strong preorders, the team moved the digital release up to November 6, so you can rent or buy it from online stores that day. HBO Documentary Films produced Musk and plans to air it on HBO next year, though HBO now sits under David Ellison’s Skydance, a company Musk has reportedly put $1 billion into. Gibney has said people at Skydance promised him the film will air.