Alan Smithee, the infamous Hollywood pseudonym used by directors to distance themselves from bad films, has made a bad film and he's stolen it. An endless stream of guests stars are "interviewed" while they seemingly dry-read cue cards in an attempt to appear natural and relaxed and nothing else happens. The camera is often visible in reflective surfaces, cigars are used as clumsy Freudian symbols, lens-flare is seen indoors, and fingers or something blocks the left-hand side of the shot around the 25-minute mark. Sylvester Stallone is nearly incomprehensible, Robert Evans mispronounces cojones, and Joe Esterhas apparently never saw a first take he didn't like. It's now playing on Showtime, but you should watch something else.
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