Movie news on your iPhone today!
Advertisement
Sign in
Username   Password         Forgot password?
Wanna join? Sign up
Find movies you'll love

SpoutBlog on spout.com

  • Variety vs. Bloggers. Today in Film Bloggery 03/23/09

    Was this review helpful? [Be the first to tell us!]
    Under discussion:

    The Expendables  (2010)

    Variety published three separate but similar “Top Stories” Sunday (one - two - three) on the topic of blogs and how certain bloggers (mainly Nikki Finke, pictured) exhibit questionable journalistic practices. What seemed at first to be an excessive, behind-the-times and otherwise forgettable trio of articles has today (and initially last night) become a topic of discussion for many film bloggers, including some who were mentioned in these Variety pieces who felt the need to respond.

    My personal response is primarily, as I said, one of disregard. But here’s a quick commentary: I enjoy Finke and others as I might have appreciated Louella Parsons or Hedda Hopper decades ago — with a grain of salt. The fact that some bloggers are taken more seriously for their rumors and faulty reporting styles than, say, any one of the hundred other fanboy movie blog sites out there is the problem of the reader (especially the one who’s a Hollywood player), not the writer.

    Though the timeliness of Variety’s blogger-hating trilogy comes on the heel of recent errors and conflicts involving Finke and others, there’s no more necessity in such articles as there would be for a trio of stories about the trustworthiness of Fox News. Don’t read the blog, don’t watch the channel, don’t read the trade magazine if you don’t like their content.

    Anyway, I’ve given my two cents; read what others have to say after the jump:

    • The Big Picture’s Patrick Goldstein, who is referenced by name in Cynthia Littleton’s article, points out the trade’s hypocrisy regarding blogs’ use of anonymous sources and concludes with an admission of guilt that takes Variety editor-in-chief Peter Bart down with him:

      Bart’s major point seems to be that blogdom has yet to discover a workable business model, hence its nastiness and desperation. Peter, take it from someone who knows all too well: No one in today’s media, whether it’s my paper or yours or any pajama-clad bogger, has a reliable business model anymore. When it comes to a downward economic slide, we’re all tumbling down the elevator shaft together.

    • David Poland at The Hot Blog has some ironic visual aids to also show Variety’s hypocrisy. Then he agrees that Finke is “the scum of the earth,” yet he addresses what the trade really should be concerned with instead of her:

      [Finke's] business does not directly affect Variety’s revenues (or MCN’s, for that matter). The question Variety faces is the need for any trade magazine in the internet era with the significant overhead that the paper - and The Hollywood Reporter - carries. And as Bart notes for others, though it is just as true for Variety, this is a given information “news” arena… not a serious reporter’s medium. Some of the very worst reporting on this business has been from reporters who take their work dead seriously… because the rules of Hollywood just aren’t the same. The stakes are lower and the egos are bigger and corporations lie daily in spite of their stockholder responsibilities.

    • In Contention’s Kristopher Tapley also chimes against Finke: “She is the 21st Century bad apple and she’s spoiling the bunch…I do hate what Finke is and has been doing and it should be brought up in a certain light.”
    • Lane Brown at Vulture somehow agrees with Variety while also agreeing (with me) that the articles are pointless while also feeling the need to respond anyway:

      Even though we ourselves are “toxic bloggers”, we’ll certainly concede that many of Variety’s points are valid ones. But it does seem a little weird that they’d use so much energy building a case around what’s essentially a three-headed attack on just one person (a person who’s gleefully reported the trade’s financial troubles and scooped them recently on several major stories). That’s like something a blog would do!

    • Similarly, but much lengthier and raising much better points is Cole Abaius of Film School Rejects (a site he admits is more about opinion than news), who believes Variety is wrong and right about film blogs:

      Variety is right to raise these questions, and they are right to be concerned while we’re still in this nebulous area of ethics, quality, and mean-spiritedness. But they are wrong to claim that blogs and websites are the only ones causing the problems, wrong to claim that they already see where the future is headed, and wrong to believe that they will survive in a world of new media without getting their hands a little dirty. Luckily, it seems like they don’t have a problem with doing that.

    • Kim Masters at The Daily Beast has Finke’s back in a defensive attack against the antiquated Variety:

      maintaining a high journalistic standard hardly explains the type of anemic coverage too-often found, or not found, on the pages of either Variety or the Times. Bart’s attack—indeed the whole whiny Variety package—sounds too much like the enraged cry of an old-media dinosaur trying to defend what’s left of its terrain.

    • Bouncing off Masters’ piece, Jeff Wells at Hollywood Elsewhere adds:

      In other words, if Finke was a guy — some kind of tough-talking, finger-poking Walter Winchell-like internet gunslinger — Bart would never have written about how he needs to watch his manners or be more respectul of his elders.

    • Lashing back at Masters, David Poland (again):

      Masters , like Finke before her blog, is without full employment as a journalist and is writing this piece as a freelancer for another blog that aspires to trafficking in gossip as “breaking news.” Slamming Variety instead of reporting on whether the accusations are factual fits the profile of the person she is defending.

    • Still no word from Finke at the time of this Bloggery, but we should probably conclude as Kris Tapley does in a follow-up: “Like I said, it’s going to get ugly. Let’s hope we can make it about the movies again real soon.”

    Okay, Kris, here’s something more about the movies to really conclude this roundup:


    Originally posted on:SpoutBlog

  • Make-Out with Violence: Interview with Filmmakers The Deagol Brothers

    Was this review helpful? [Be the first to tell us!]

    Make-Out with Violence: Interview with Filmmakers The Deagol Brothers

    In a way, this all started back in high school, in an art classroom, painters-turned-filmmakers Andy Duensing and Chris Doyle meeting there. Better known now as the pair behind the collective the Deagol Bros., Andy and Chris, working with longtime friends and fellow artist-musicians Eric and Jordan Lehning, have spent from production to final cut the last five years of their lives making the at turns poignant and goofball, genre-defying coming-of-age indie Make-Out with Violence.

    As chronicled in journalist Jim Ridley’s feature story for Nashville Scene, the production was beset early by stumbling blocks. Budget limit halts of production, wear and tear on the seams of friendship and at least one very ill-timed break-up roughed up the filmmaking journey. Yet despite these trials, the high school friends, not knowing if they’d ever have another opportunity to make a feature, sought to tell the most distinct and interesting story possible.

    Pulling from memories of growing up in a much more rural Hendersonville, TN than exists now, Andy, Chris and Eric, all working from separate cities, began a script crafting process that would, in its final stages, blend styles of many seeming opposites. One part comedy, one part drama, another mystery and the last (very small part in the scope of it all) horror, Make-Out with Violence tells the story of teenage twin brothers Patrick (Eric Lehning) and Carol (Cody DeVos), who after the disappearance and death of their friend Wendy (Shellie Shartzer), diverge in their paths toward after high school futures. While the somewhat obsessive Patrick tends to Wendy’s barely animated (read: zombie) corpse, Carol chases, much of the time ineptly, his elusive, tender sweetheart Addie (Leah High.) Told through the eyes of the brothers’ younger sibling Beetle (Brett Miller), the story unfolds with a necessary level of detachment into its punchy and disconcerting yet graceful, moving conclusion.

    With its deftly-handled blends of style and score, Make-Out with Violence is at its best as an experiment; it’s both familiar and unexpected, nonchalant and thought-provoking, slapstick comic and full of all that’s yearning and desolate. As such the film in its festival run so far has had both its fervent champions and its quieter skeptics, those who really appreciate its many layers and those who stand in some confusion as to what is ultimately being said here. It’s undeniable, though, that whichever side holds greater sway for the individual filmgoer, Make-Out with Violence leaves a person wondering deeply, and just a little happier afterward for having seen this mix of ideas, images and songs. As Andy puts it, “There’s a certain amount of room there for the viewer to experience the movie in whatever way they want.”

    Talking here in phone conference, Andy, Chris, Eric and Jordan share stories about the film’s development, particularly the crafting of its memorable original soundtrack — the disc length of which is longer than the film itself, “by quite a bit” says Jordan, who worked alongside Eric to compose all of the tunes. In the background of our conversation, Kevin Doyle, one of the film’s directors of photography, folds origami DVD sleeves for screener copies of the film. He does this for a full hour while the four others of the film’s creative core talk.

    How do you sustain passion for a project over such a long period of time?

    Chris: If there’s one thing that’s kept this together, it’s that we really are close friends. We’ve been friends for ten years. It’s kind of like we were from the Make-Out with Violence world, and for a lot of crew that would come in and out, crew that were hired hands, they would accuse us — everybody who knew each other from the actors to the creative team — of existing in this bubble that they could never really get into. We were very collective and stayed together.

    Luckily, when one of us would lose interest in the movie, somebody else would always keep the fire alive; nobody ever gave up all at one time. There was always somebody who rallied behind the film. That’s not to say everything ran as usual. There were a lot of obstacles, some of that being also the fact that we were all in a difficult time. We all moved back to home to make the movie, and we all left different things in order to do that. We pigeonholed ourselves into committing all at once.

    Eric also likes to talk about how it was almost like we were in thirteenth grade, that we reverted back to the way we were then.

    Eric: For me personally, all of the mistakes that I didn’t make in high school, I made in this Make-Out with Violence we invented. It was a time of baffling stupidity.

    (laughs) I’d like to talk about the writing for a bit. Considering that you were writing from three different cities, how did you combine all those efforts?

    Andy: Initially, when Chris and I started working on it, we had a general idea of a high school age movie that would take place over this amorphous period of time, the summer, and it was always based on our experiences from one degree to another.

    Chris: We wrote a treatment that was just really rough, just the things that we would want to see in a movie like that. Because Eric was the only one of us who was a screenwriting major, the prolific writer among us, we said, “Can you write a screenplay based on this?”

    Andy: We’d initially never really thought of making a horror film, but [Chris and I] both considered it…Chris knew that [co-writer and actor DeVos] was really interested in horror films, and that was just fortunate, that he is a good writer, got a perfect score on his SAT.

    Chris: So we had four versions of the script going at one time. Then by January 2005, Andy and I were to fly out to California to meet with Eric so that we could finish the script and compile the best ideas from the four different versions. Andy ended up not being able to come, and so Eric and I just took all four versions, laid them out and tried to make sense of them.

    Andy: Also, when Chris and Eric were out there working in San Francisco, and we were telecommuting in a way through e-mail, the music, which was always just an idea, really started [coming together.]

    Talking about the music, I really love the way you guys not only handled the scoring from the beginning but also the way in which you focus on it for the Web site. I really appreciate those in-depth score notes, and I find the music so pivotal here, particularly because there had to be such stylistic diversity.

    On this, how did you go about creating the score, and how does it inform the way in which you all see the film?

    Jordan: I had a ton of direction in where to go with the tunes and a lot of the transitions from song to song and song to score…There was the pop song aspect which would sometimes segue into score. I always really liked the idea of really poppy music that’s both dark and interesting.

    Eric: We started writing songs before we started writing the script, before the story was put down completely. So I was writing lyrics while I was scripting basically, and that was a really interesting way of pouring thoughts out.

    Chris: We also lucked out that Jordan had been working in music for basically four to five years, and because he was in the studio, he was able to change up the music when he needed to. There were a lot of old demos from high school that he’d never recorded; Addie’s songs in the movie are basically Jordan’s demos that he’d been recording before he’d gotten involved in the project. When he wrote with Eric, he had a specific sound that would work for Patrick or Carol, but then when Jordan writes by himself, he does something differently in the working process. So there was a body of music that we could pull from, and that really helped in shaping [the film] because we were cutting to the songs, either right at the edit, or he’d go back in and re-record songs to fit the edit. So it was constantly a give and take. The songs were always evolving, and that made the process a lot more interesting than what it started out as.

    There’s a pastiche quality to the film, with its huge amount of alternating humor and bittersweetness that weave in and out of themes of loss, obsession and coming-of-age. In the editing process, how did you guys balance between those styles and themes?

    Chris: In general we tried to go with whatever we felt was interesting in a scene, and we had a lot of help from our editor Brad Bartlett in terms of getting a fresh set of eyes. He cut an assembly for us initially, and because of working other paying gigs, he’d come on and off the production whenever he was available. He definitely has a totally different cutting style than either Andy or I have; so he’d cut a scene for us, and then we’d go in to cut it. Then he’d re-cut what we had cut. We’d just go back and forth, keep changing like, “Let’s see what happens if we take this out. Or what happens if we throw these two scenes together.”

    In a lot of ways we didn’t know if it was working. It seemed to work for us, but for a while we were worried that the movie would seem herky-jerky; it changes genres so quickly. In our initial test screenings, it seemed like people felt overwhelmed by the whole movie, but it seems like—the movie didn’t really change all that much in terms of editing—through Eric and Jordan doing the sound and music, they were really able to use that to orient you, to tell you what you’re supposed to be feeling and where you are storywise.

    Seeing as you all have been artists working in different forms for so long, I wonder what you see as the specific purpose, or even perhaps necessity, of film that differs itself from other art forms. Why are you compelled to make films?

    Andy: I really enjoy painting and working as a painter, but I think it’s really difficult for people to look at paintings anymore. Paintings are single entities, and they demand the presence of a person, whereas film seems like it connects more with a variety of people because it exists in time as a series of images and sounds. It’s a much more common way of getting information today, and so it’s much easier to relate to. And, on some level, it’s more interesting an experience to consider making art for an audience.

    Eric: For me [making movies] is the most exciting way to tell a story, and I love telling stories, imagining other worlds. Movies are a space in which you can actually adventure, make it anything you want it to be.

    Chris: I basically agree with Eric, that whole idea of creating worlds. One of the things I feel is of interest in other filmmakers, people who have a very distinct point of view, is that they are able to portray that cinematically, to make movies that have worlds that can only exist in a movie.

    Then down to the practicality of making a movie I like the idea of making things in a collaborative way. That’s always interesting for me. Jordan and I have been doing some work together, whether it be creating a painting or working on his album. When we get together, it’s just about trying to combine all that.

    Collaborative art making and filmmaking is not uncommon, but when it comes to directing, it’s a work method we’re seeing more and more of. With all the Sundance alumni—Quentin Tarantino, Todd Haynes, Kevin Smith—we seem in the recent past to have gone through this hyper-auteur stage of American cinema, and it’s nice to see that changing a bit. What is your theory on collaborative filmmaking as not a future rarity but as a common role, especially among the independent set?

    Andy: Initially we thought that if we worked as a collective that if any one of us got out there, we’d all get out there. Then once we actually decided to make the feature, it became an actual necessity. In order to shoot a scene, Chris and I were constantly having to change roles; he’d be directing while I’d be producing, scouting a location and vice versa. So I can definitely see that as [a viable working method.]

    The equipment now for low-budget filmmakers hoping to make film on a Sundance level is also at a higher level of production. But, you’re always still limited by time, resources; having more people working on a project on a higher budget level allows you more possibility and freedom.

    Chris: Also, working on a low-budget, independent level, I don’t think any of us could have made this movie by ourselves…The fact that you have a group of people relying on you for your part forces you to rise to the occasion.

    The hardest thing about trying to get everybody on the same page is in having to figure out when decisions have to be made and who gets to make the call about that, just so that you don’t wind up in arguments that last for hours and hours. The four of us, and my brother have been working on the movie the entire time, and we really learned quickly how to work in collaboration with other people and figure out what our boundaries were. That’s sometimes been a difficult process. That’s especially been difficult for me at times in working with Eric and Jordan on the music; I know nothing about music, so it’s hard for me, if I have a strong opinion about what goes in, to justify that, especially if they’ve spent days working on a song. If a song didn’t emotionally fit a scene, there was a process I had to learn to rectify that, some sort of shorthand [I had to learn]. If we wind up making another feature, we’re definitely all in a place now where it’ll be a lot easier to do.

    As a branch off on that note about your brother, there seemed to be a lot of family involved in multiple capacities on this film. With that said, I wanted to ask Eric a bit about the acting and particularly those scenes played against Jordan.

    Eric: Originally I was going to play the character that Jordan plays, and Cody was going to play both brothers, but his stand-in dropped out of the project like a week before—

    Jordan: The night before.

    Eric: We were basically picking up all of the film equipment, and we got the call from the stand-in to tell us he couldn’t do it. I didn’t know I was going to be playing Patrick, so I just had a really hard time finding that character. Halfway through the second shoot I felt comfortable doing it.

    Acting with Jordan was pretty easy. The only thing that was strange about the scenes between he and I was that Andy and Chris were wanting to do some goofy brotherly stuff; I guess we’re kind of goofy together as brothers, and they wanted authentic brother bullshit. That was tricky to pull off, and I don’t know if we did or not.

    How did you like the acting?

    Jordan: I thought it was fun. I had a good time.

    Eric: Jordan was much more natural, I think, in his role.

    I do love the hard-fought anger that’s infused into the part of Patrick, that always under the radar anger. I never felt as if that was discontinuous, and I really appreciated that throughout the performance.

    Eric: We had a really good editor.

    Everyone laughs.

    In anecdotes of levity, what are each of your favorite memories of the shoot?

    Chris: I enjoyed watching our friend, DP James King drive his pick-up truck into the front of my car. It had a generator in the back of it, and it looked like it was going to land on the hood of my car. Luckily there was a two-by-four in the bed of the truck that stopped it from smashing. There was just a little damage to the bumper. So that was kind of exhilarating to watch happen.

    Andy: I don’t know if this is my favorite moment, but it was definitely one of the most ridiculous. We were in the middle of shooting, and I got a phone call from the funeral director at the funeral home that we were getting ready to shoot at as the very next location, and we had gone through a lot of trouble with him to let us shoot at the home, to let him know that this is not a slasher-horror film. I guess he was very concerned about their image. So right in the middle of this shoot, I got this call, and he was absolutely furious because someone (I won’t say who) printed a request for extras in The Tennessean, which is our local newspaper here in Nashville, that said something to the effect of, “Summer blues got you down? Come cool off with a zombie. Be an extra in a movie.” It basically went on to explain that people could come be in this great zombie movie. So this funeral home director, who we had spent days and days convincing that this was not a zombie movie, was now not going to let us shoot there, and we had, like, an hour before the shoot.

    Chris: Just to clarify we didn’t try to mislead people that it wasn’t a zombie movie, but at that point we were having a really hard time trying to describe what the movie was going to be like. So when the funeral director asked what it was going to be like, we gave what we thought was an accurate description at the time, especially because we weren’t thinking of Wendy as a zombie but more as a ghost trapped in a girl’s body.

    Andy: Basically in order to be able to shoot there Chris immediately left the set and re-wrote our screenplay so that it would appear much more tame.

    Chris: It was pretty stressful at the time.

    Jordan: I remember, talking about favorite stories, one night, we were supposed to go in to have a photo shoot the next day—

    All the filmmakers laugh in the background.

    And Eric had cut his hair the night before—oh, yeah, he said that Mom cut his hair, told these guys that she did but that she had to leave off when in fact—and I think he and I went to go get Taco Bell for everybody and on the way out, he was driving, and he said something like, “I feel like a scarecrow. I feel like a scarecrow,” which cracked me up completely–when I asked, “Did Mom cut your hair?” he was like, “No! She didn’t cut my hair. I tried to cut my hair this morning.”

    So, I guess that’s my favorite memory.

    Well, here’s the thing: Any day that we knew that we got what we were going for was my favorite day. It was just such a long experience and felt like it was never going to end, and so any day that we knew we weren’t going to have to go back and do that again I felt really good.


    Originally posted on:SpoutBlog

  • Woody Allen feeds Bernie Madoff to the Lobsters

    Was this review helpful? [Be the first to tell us!]

    “Who’s that? Who’s talking to me?” Moscowitz said, still dazed by the mystical slam-bang postmortem that had transmogrified him into a crustacean.“It’s me, Moe Silverman,” the other lobster said.

    “O.M.G.!” Moscowitz piped, recognizing the voice of an old gin-rummy colleague. “What’s going on?”

    “We’re reborn,” Moe explained. “As a couple of two-pounders.”

    “Lobsters? This is how I wind up after leading a just life? In a tank on Third Avenue?”

    “The Lord works in strange ways,” Moe Silverman explained.

    A segment from a new story by Woody Allen in The New Yorker, in which two of Bernie Madoff’s victims die, find themselves reincarnated as the swindler’s potential dinner, and plot to get revenge. It’s short and cute and I totally blogged it for the sly drop of Gossip Girl vernacular alone. O.M.G., indeed.


    Originally posted on:SpoutBlog

  • Robert Greenwald: “No distributor moves at the speed of YouTube.”

    Was this review helpful? [Be the first to tell us!]

    In today’s New York Times, Brian Stelter talks to muckraking filmmaker Robert Greenwald about his latest project, Rethink Afghanistan, which Greenwald calls “a real-time documentary.” Greenwald has posted the first two of five parts of the documentary on the Rethink website and is currently in Afghanistan shooting more; eventually, the video blogs will be “stitched together” into a full-length film for potential festival play, DVD release, and even theatrical distribution.

    Greenwald says speed is his primary motivator for releasing his works in progress to the web in this way; with President Obama somewhat quietly escalating the war in Afghanistan, Greenwald (who titled the first chapter of Rethink “More Troops + Afghanistan = Catastrophe”) is hoping his film will impact policy. On the Rethink website, he’s already obtained over 36,000 signatures to a petition demanding congressional oversight hearings on Afghanistan spending, in the name of creating “a national conversation to address the many questions surrounding this war.” The YouTube comments on the first chapter would suggest that the film is already making it possible for that conversation to take place amongst the rabble, and at a surprisingly high level of discourse for the video sharing site.

    One issue that Stelter and Greenwald don’t address is the fact that Greenwald is at liberty to work this way only because he has a massive grassroots base already built, and its members are already online, and he doesn’t need film festival accolades to raise his profile, and theatrical release for his films is an afterthought. Does the collapsing of distinction between online video and feature filmmaking become less significant when it’s simply a question of finding your audience where they live? Is this a model that any other name brand documentarian would be willing to play with at this point?

    I’ve embedded the first part of Rethink Afghanistan after the jump; Greenwald is also Twittering from Afghanistan, natch.


    Originally posted on:SpoutBlog

  • BEST WORST MOVIE, SXSW 2009 review.

    Was this review helpful? [Be the first to tell us!]

    BEST WORST MOVIE, SXSW 2009 review.

    Being a humorless young man, I’m driven crazy by people who actively seek out bad movies for fun; it seems like that’s a way of avoiding engaging with good art, where the correct response isn’t always obvious. So I was nervous about Best Worst Movie, whose title tells it all. Voted worst film of all time by the normally-none-too-discriminating IMDB users, Troll 2 (Scott Tobias has written about its appeal and cult for his New Cult Canon project) has a bizarre story about people being turned into plants that makes no sense literally or metaphorically, godawful acting and general freefloating incompetence. People love it very much.

    I get the appeal — it’s sui generis weirdness that never lets up — but sometimes it bothers me that people indulge in the easy pleasure of celebrating something plainly risible. And yet filmmaker Michael Stephenson makes a case not just for the movie’s appeal, but also the downside of cult filmdom. Best Worst Movie is itself an obvious crowdpleaser that’ll probably find a decent-sized audience, but — fun though it is, and even though the stakes are pretty low, and no dramatic events unfold — it’s actually kind of a downbeat film overall. Stephenson isn’t just a documentarian; he was Troll 2’s child actor. By making this movie, he delves into the appeal of something he’s part of, yet was in no way responsible for the enduring afterlife of.

    Stephenson begins with Dr. George Hardy. Hardy is a dentist in the small town of Alexander City, Alabama; he’s on good terms with everyone — even/especially his ex-wife — and is generally a worthy pillar of the community. But in the ’80s, Hardy lived in Salt Lake City and auditioned for Troll 2; he’d always had frustrated dreams of acting. The resulting film was so obviously worthless that Hardy shrugged it off and moved on with his dental life. Years later, New York’s Upright Citizens Brigade got in touch with Hardy and had him attend a projected DVD screening in a room where a big column obstructs the field of vision; no matter, the 300-seat-theater was sold-out many times over, and Hardy discovered, to his fascination, that for a small group of people he was a celebrity. And he began to wonder if there wasn’t some again future for him as an actor.

    “Bad food is bad, and bad books are bad,” Cinematical’s Scott Weinberg observes, “but bad movies are not always bad.” Troll 2 fans love it because it’s so staggeringly misconceived that it achieves a weird purity; “you’d have to have a heart of stone not to enjoy it,” Caitlin Crowley (of Boston’s Brattle Theater) says. People’s relationship with Troll 2 is obsessive; no one who’s seen it appears to be just a casual fan. And Hardy grasps the appeal pretty quickly: he understands that this isn’t just another forgettable failed film, and he’s continually gratified when people ask him to re-enact particularly ludicrous moments. Even though people are laughing at the awfulness of his performance, it makes them happier than, perhaps, a good performance would; it hits some kind of pleasure reflex you didn’t know you had. Hardy and Stephenson end up finding their ex-castmates, and almost all are game to re-enact it for others and talk about it; they speak of it in bemused tones, as if they can no more comprehend how they got involved with Troll 2 or how it came about better than anyone else.

    But Stephenson also tracks down the film’s Italian director, Claudio Fragasso, who definitely doesn’t get it. He’s proud of his film; it “examines important issues like eating, living and dying,” he explains with infinite complacency. “In Italy we call this a parable.” (What do they call it in other countries?) He knows he’s good; how does he know? “I can direct in all languages.” He’s puzzled that audiences laugh both where he intended they would and even when he didn’t; he’s outright contemptuous of the “actor dogs” who aren’t as proud of the film as he is or take it with the appropriate seriousness. They’re willing to admit they screwed up; he isn’t. He doesn’t understand that the film’s meaning is no longer the one he created for it, and he sours the mood whenever he shows up. The person most responsible for the film is the one with the least understanding of how it works.

    Another person who doesn’t really seem to understand what’s going on is actress Margo Prey, who appears seriously deluded about what kind of movie she made and who enjoys it: “You compare our movie to a Katharine Hepburn-Spencer Tracy movie, and it fits right in.” Because it’s “about people.” If Prey (who appears generally troubled) is one kind of depressing, Hardy’s a decent man who eventually burns out on his newly discovered fame: some people may confess that they’ve seen the film 45+ times, but Hardy gets tired of delivering his signature lines after 20 repetitions and goes back to small-town life. And so, if Stephenson doesn’t figure out what the limitations of the so-bad-it’s-great genre are (or the limitations of an overwhelming enthusiasm for that kind of thing), he does a great job of tracing the way culture works where the gap between what was intended and how the public responded grows too large. That he manages to also convey the lives and paint affecting portraits of a half-dozen people unscathed but amused by the movie they were in that one summer — Hardy’s ambivalence is accentuated by aging actor Rombert Ormsby’s confession “Mostly I’ve wasted my life” —  is a bonus. Best Worst Movie is a classically constructed narrative doc, but it doesn’t pump up the drama through editing or even really have a story. Something slightly less than a celebration and more of a group photo, Best Worst Movie does something really compelling out of the basic elements of camp.


    Originally posted on:SpoutBlog