Does the Patterson-Gimlin Film Matter?

It’s been nearly forty years since Roger Patterson and Bob Gimlin, two cowboys from Yakima, Washington, went into the woods of northern California and came out with one of the most widely known and controversial amateur films ever made. The Patterson/Gimlin Film—known in bigfoot shorthand as the PGF—is the Roswell incident of bigfooting; hotly debated, analyzed, argued, enhanced, experimented on, written about and analyzed again. The subject in the film even has its own affectionate nickname: “Patty.” Many bigfoot advocates nevertheless believe the film to be a hoax, while others swear by its authenticity with a quasi-religious fervor. Patterson died just a few years after filming Patty and swore to the end that she was a real animal. Gimlin maintains the same stance to this day.

However, other than those two gentlemen, no one really knows what it was that they filmed that day. That is why many serious bigfoot researchers believe, and I’m inclined to agree with them, that the PGF is utterly useless as evidence for the existence of bigfoot. Weary of the endless debate, many bigfooters choose to avoid the topic of the film entirely, or even hold it in disdain. This includes many who long ago concluded that the film is genuine.

The area in which the PGF has perhaps been most successful is in infusing the field of bigfoot investigation with new, interested blood. The iconic figure in frame 352 of the film catching the subject in mid-stride and cautiously eyeing the camera is as recognizable as many corporate mascots. Frame 352 is the image that springs to most of our minds when we hear the word “bigfoot.” This impact has lessened considerably from year to year, however, as Patty becomes more ingrained within the public consciousness.

Nevertheless, as for a more direct influence on furthering the cause of investigation, the PGF has failed rather miserably. We are seemingly no closer to solving the mystery today than we were before the film was made. That is not Patty’s fault; it is simply an inherent feature of an unverifiable film. We gain no insight from the PGF regardless of its authenticity because it provides no potential clues to the animal’s behavior, diet, sleep habits, range, social interaction, etc. Of course, it may not even be a real animal!

In its defense, the PGF remains the most intriguing bit of possible sasquatch evidence to date. However, barring a lightning bolt confession from Gimlin or maybe a convincing recreation of the film by its detractors, such as any of the few individuals who claim to be the “man in the suit,” the film cannot be validated or debunked with certainty. At any rate, Gimlin remains as steadfast as ever, while the majority of the hoax conspiracy stories are much more full of holes than Patterson and Gimlim’s sometimes dodgy version of events.

Many advocates for the PGF assert that photographic evidence should be acceptable and point to the recent rediscovery of the ivory-billed woodpecker. The ivory-billed woodpecker was thought extinct, but recategorized based on photographic evidence. The analogy with sasquatch here is a weak one, though. The ivory-billed woodpecker is a known animal, easily compared to a type specimen. No such record exists of sasquatch. No claim of verification can be made because there is nothing with which to compare the Patterson subject.

Thus, the debate rages on to this day on Internet forums and at bigfoot conferences year after year, with neither camp able to gain ground. This is mostly, it seems, because it is simply fascinating, intellectual exercise. The arguments can be frankly quite fun, and either side can make a compelling case for their view.

Ultimately—perhaps sadly—we are no closer to finding the truth of the whole matter than we were on that fateful October afternoon some four decades ago. Barring some unimpeachable, well-documented revelation, we will likely never know. Unless of course, bigfoot someday becomes a recognized, catalogued animal—one to which our Patty bears a striking resemblance.

Until then, the fun—or futility if you prefer—will continue. Perhaps it is best that way. Maybe we should delight in the magician’s trick from time to time, without a glimpse of the mirror within the box, or the scarf up the sleeve. The world might be better off after all with a little mystery.

I like to think that Patty, whoever or whatever she was, would feel the same way.