We can tell how this movie got made by watching it: Brainless, self-centered twit is too dim to realize that she knows nothing and should definitely continue her education, so she writes a film script and, lo and behold, her writer dad tells her she's really got something. Unfortunately, he's dead wrong.
If I hadn't seen this during a pre-screening where the director was present, I would have walked out instead of sitting through this with saintly patience, and I wouldn't have been alone. No one present valued the experience, and we were a forgiving bunch as we suffered through an interview and Q & A that made it very clear that Clara Mamet is as vacuous as her effort here. When asked why she included a brief scene where her character had an absurd number of lit cigarettes in her mouth at once, she responded that she really likes smoking. Pure unapologetic narcissism, through and through, as if we couldn't already tell from her work.
The reputable critic who reviewed this film and likened Ms. Mamet to Buster Keaton should probably consult a surgeon to have his tongue removed from her father's rectum. It should never have been made.
If I hadn't seen this during a pre-screening where the director was present, I would have walked out instead of sitting through this with saintly patience, and I wouldn't have been alone. No one present valued the experience, and we were a forgiving bunch as we suffered through an interview and Q & A that made it very clear that Clara Mamet is as vacuous as her effort here. When asked why she included a brief scene where her character had an absurd number of lit cigarettes in her mouth at once, she responded that she really likes smoking. Pure unapologetic narcissism, through and through, as if we couldn't already tell from her work.
The reputable critic who reviewed this film and likened Ms. Mamet to Buster Keaton should probably consult a surgeon to have his tongue removed from her father's rectum. It should never have been made.