Though this is the rare documentary that admirably admits recording "reality" on film actually shapes how people behave under the camera's gaze, I think Eleven Minutes is going to appeal mostly to hard-core fashionistas.
Like its subject, whose designs were partly inspired by hot-air balloons, this documentary, by Michael Selditch and Rob Tate, sometimes seems buoyant to the point of weightlessness. It can also be fawning, but it's far from hot air.
Eleven Minutes is better when the cameras stay on McCarroll and allow him to voice his extreme ambivalence about being a reality-TV creation, and about the industry and his place within it. As ever, he plays the consummate outsider to perfection.