A movie about movies, and not in a good way

Rating: 4/10 (7 February 2015)

Some filmmakers can create an alternate universe, and others can show you life as it really is. This is the sort of film that tells you nothing except what other movies the filmmaker's seen. It's clear that whoever's responsible for this is a massive Woody Allen fan (there's even a blatant steal from "The Front") but that in itself isn't exactly a recommendation, as Woody's reputation as a truth-teller with authentic insights into the human condition kind of went south around the time it was revealed that he was attempting to turn Mia Farrow's household into his own personal mother-daughter harem. Now, I won't say this film is sexist, because I know how that sets people off these days. But when you decide to include an attempted rape in your screenplay, is it really the best decision to immediately have the intended victim blame herself, then use it as the lead-in for an out-of-nowhere lesbian scene? The violent machismo on display here was pretty off-putting, but the depiction of women is downright little-boyish.
I have spent a fair amount of time in Broadway theaters (including the one depicted in this film) but I doubt that the creators of this film have either much experience in or respect for what goes on there. The grossly unprofessional, grossly irresponsible and occasionally criminal behavior of the characters in this film would not be tolerated (well did Helen Lawson tell Neely O'Hara that Broadway doesn't go for booze and dope) and you could simply not do a Broadway-quality live production under the conditions depicted here. While pretending to hold up theater as the greatest expression of the actor's art, it's incredibly insulting how it insinuates that great performances are all about seat-of-the-pants outbursts of egocentric exhibitionism. I can imagine Benedict Cumberbatch, Michael Keaton's rival for this year's Best Actor Oscar, who's actually experienced the rigors of major-league theater and is currently prepping to play Hamlet in the West End, shaking his head in embarrassment if he ever had to sit through this picture.
Keaton does not deserve the Oscar any more than the overall film does. It was clearly an ego trip for him, even if he does grandly show us his unbotoxed skin and (allegedly) unplugged scalp. He's done nothing in this film to be proud of. Actually, neither has anyone else involved in it.