On one hand the film does a fine job of validating the claim that documentary is more of an "experience" than an "object." We are acutely aware that we are somehow active in piecing together the story. Moreover, we are aware of the film's very conscious (recognizable, not hidden) awareness that it too is putting this enigmatic puzzle together. We can recognize the choices the film has made in framing (the male on the couch) and in editing (intercutting between home video and contemporary footage). I don't mind a film's overt activeness in this manner (see any Errol Morris film, e.g.).
On the other hand (though I am sure there are more than two hands here), the film is frustrating in this very way. For instance, Debbie Nathan, the journalist who looks into false memory/sex abuse cases, is quite intentionally not given the space to develop a linear story. The film consciously stops her narrative telling and moves to another's view so often that it leaves me wanting to hear more from her (actually, she seems the only one able to tell the "whole" of the story). It's as if the film withholds information for its own "artistic/creative/power" benefit.
Thus, I admit I picked this film (quickly, I know) because of what it exposes about documentary film(-making), more than about what story it tells us.
