Secret Mall Apartment movie review (2025) | Roger Ebert

“Secret Mall Apartment” is a Search Engine Optimization-friendly title for a documentary that’s about a lot of things that cannot be captured in three words. Directed by Jeremy Workman, it tells the story of a group of friends from a rundown, artist-friendly neighborhood who got pushed out of their homes by gentrification and somehow ended up discovering an unoccupied, seemingly unmapped spot inside of the mall that pushed them out, then began furnishing it as a living space. The process took three years, all told, and during that entire time, they managed to avoid detection by mall security or even other patrons.

Workman has said that as he worked on this film, he “quickly learned that they created the secret apartment to make a statement against gentrification. They had lost their homes as a result of development, and this was their unique personal way to show developers that they weren’t going anywhere.”

However, as the film demonstrates, there were other elements in the mix. One was the thrill of doing a victimless, playful protest crime in plain sight of mall staff and customers who never noticed that the same eight people were hanging out in the mall constantly, rarely buying anything but food court items, and disappearing and reappearing for hours at a time without leaving the complex. The group slowly created a “normal” apartment in a concrete-walled, high-ceilinged, 750-square-foot room accessible only through crawl spaces and a tall set of metal stairs (which must’ve been hell to navigate with the dish cabinet and multiple couches that ended up in the space).

What’s most fascinating of all is that, in a roundabout way, “Secret Mall Apartment” is about artistic expression—and how artists can talk and talk and talk about why they did things, but might never really know the full story because the impulse to create comes from such deep places.

The eight artists were Michael Townsend, the ringleader; his then-girlfriend Adriana Valdez Young, Colin Bliss, James J.A. Mercer, Andrew Oesch, Greta Scheing, Jay Zhengebot, and Emily Ustach. The mall apartment wasn’t just a lark or an invasion by “squatters” (as the local newspaper called them) but an extension of what the eight were already doing in their public-facing careers.

Townsend is mainly a “tape artist” who makes art with easily removable tape meant to be observed and considered and then disappear. He is also a teacher who specializes in instructing people who don’t think of themselves as artists to do art in groups and to encourage people to feel confident in their artistic impulse even if they haven’t had formal training. Under his leadership, the group of eight traveled all over the United States and did what you might call temporary or ephemeral art, often comprised of silhouettes of people, animals, and objects made of paper tape. (You might have heard about the taped silhouettes they did on the sides of New York buildings commemorating the lives of people who died in the 9/11 attacks.)

The various works were playful, clever, gently mysterious exercises. They were meant to remind people of the interconnectedness of human experience and fleeting nature of existence; bring beauty to places that otherwise lacked beauty; stop people in their tracks and make them think about why it’s so revelatory to see art in a place where you wouldn’t normally expect to see art.

Although there are a few re-creations that are clearly identified as such (the filmmakers constructed a replica of the mall apartment and show how it was designed and built in a studio), the movie relies mostly on the incredible amount of low-resolution, early aughts video footage captured by the group. A lot of the footage is process documentation, just showing what was done and how.

But some of it captures tense or raw moments, including arguments about the long-term usefulness of continuing the project and the gap between Michael’s enthusiasm and everyone else’s, and the group’s encounter will mall security while they were truing to smuggle concrete cinder blocks in via the parking garage. (Michael has always had a talent for talking his way out of these kinds of situations, but the movie is wise to admit that this project wouldn’t lasted more than a day if the participants were Black.)

Workman and his co-editor Paul Murphy have an intuitive and very pleasing sense of structure, giving you the information you need at the point in the story where you think, “I wish they’d tell me more about that.” The sense of how to time the appearance of context and explanation in a movie a gift that can’t be taught in schools; you either have it or you don’t. There are times when one might wish they’d dug a little deeper into the personalities and relationships (seven of the eight were publicly unidentified until now). And as complexly as Michael is portrayed, there are connections between his biography and this project that you keep expecting the movie to highlight, yet it never does. (As a child, he moved eight times in his first year of life, which all by itself suggests why a man would build an entire artistic career around things that aren’t permanent.)

But these are nitpicks. This is a delightful, thought-provoking movie that’s about a lot of things at the same time. It’ll make you see the world with fresh eyes, and probably wonder why there isn’t more art in it.