Misunderstood Masterpieces 02.17.09: An Alan Smithee Film: Burn Hollywood Burn
Posted by Will Helm on 02.17.2009
...or, I'd Say It's a Case of Life Imitating Art, But There Would Have to Be Actual Art First
In 1968, the Directors' Guild of America devised a pseudonym for directors unhappy with the final cut of their films due to studio interference: Alan Smithee. Though infrequently used, Alan Smithee because an almost legendary figure in Hollywood and a great leverage tool for directors to keep some form of creative control over their pictures. This system worked fairly well for about thirty years . . . until an infamous Hollywood screenwriter and Misunderstood Masterpieces Hall of Famer went and broke it.
Joe Eszterhas, scribe of such great works as Flashdance, Basic Instinct, and Showgirls, decided, in his infinite wisdom, to lampoon the Hollywood filmmaking industry, using the tradition of Alan Smithee as the hook to his "mockumentary." The end result, released in 1997, ended up an ironic example of life imitating art, as original director Arthur Hiller – former head of the Director's Guild and helmer of such films as Love Story, The In-Laws, and Hear No Evil, See No Evil – requested his name be taken off the final cut of the film and replaced by . . . Alan Smithee. With a background and pedigree like that, it's no surprise that the resulting film, An Alan Smithee Film: Burn Hollywood Burn, won five Golden Raspberry Awards, including the coveted Worst Picture of the Year. Of course, all those lauds and praises don't mean anything unless the film is a certified Misunderstood Masterpiece. Let's find out if it is!
I just have to mention how much of a challenge it is to not type "anal" when I'm trying to type "alan."
For no reason whatsoever, the first person to appear onscreen is Sylvester Stallone, who shouts his classic "Yo, Adrian!" line before mumbling incoherently, all the while apparently smoking a blunt. That's followed up by one of the most annoying tradition in cinema, the expository scrawl, which explains the legacy of Alan Smithee . . . complete with Joe Eszterhas-approved profanity. He's like David Mamet . . . just not. Finally, the film proceeds to the opening credits, promising the comedic stylings of such thespians as Ryan O'Neal, Chuck D, and Coolio. One of those things is not like the others, methinks.
Finally, after an interminably long opening credits sequence, featuring graffiti for no particular reason – why is it I get the feeling I'm going to be typing that phrase a lot? – the film proper begins as Sylvester Stallone, Whoopi Goldberg, and Jackie Chan shoot at director Eric Idle, here in the role of, ironically, a man named "Alan Smithee." Alan Smithee, apparently, doesn't like being shot at, so everyone hates him; then, later, everyone watches dailies featuring the clip of the three stars shooting at Alan Smithee interspersed with clips from – inexplicably – Die Hard with a Vengeance because, apparently – according to an expository monologue – Alan Smithee ran off with the original film featuring Stallone, Goldberg, and Chan. Dum-dum-DUM!
This startling revelation provokes the ire of movie executive – and late, great stand-up comic – Richard Jeni, who is very, very, very amazed that critics loved the big-budget blockbuster featuring Stallone, Goldberg, and Chan, considering critics don't like anything, even Ishtar and Waterworld, which Richard Jeni takes the time to badmouth. Hey . . . them's . . . pretty accurate assessments, actually. Meanwhile, in an asylum, the now apparently insane Alan Smithee freaks out while producer Ryan O'Neal talks about the Stallone-Goldberg-Chan über-work, titled Trio . . . which is nice, because it's getting hard to figure out different ways to write about a movie starring Sylvester Stallone, Whoopi Goldberg, and Jackie Chan without getting repetitive.
Speaking of the stars, Sylvester Stallone then chimes in from one of his many – at the time – Planet Hollywoods as he rambles about redemption, while Goldberg and Chan whine about their characters dying in the film. Of course, due to the objections of the stars, Ryan O'Neal hired a bunch of writers to mess with the original script, which was, apparently, penned by Shane Black. The Monster Squad FTW~! Oh, and Lethal Weapon and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang and all that. Anyway, Shane Black's original screenplay was punched up, later on, by Joe Eszterhas and some woman fueled by her ugly sweater and feminist rage; it later found its way into the hands of Billy Bob Thornton, who passed it on to . . . Shane Black, who ended up finishing his own, unrecognizable script. Ah, Hollywood.
Ryan O'Neal, for no reason in particular, namedrops Ivan Reitman and Don Simpson while Stallone, Goldberg, and Chan continue their annoying "whiny superstar" shtick. Elsewhere, some guy with a beard – who is, apparently, a talent agent – talks about Alan Smithee, as he was one of the guy with a beard's clients. The guy with the beard confesses that the only reason Alan Smithee was hired to direct Trio was because he was a long-time editor who the studio and producers felt they could manipulate into making the movie they wanted, rather than the movie he wanted. Of course, Richard Jeni rebuts this claim while Alan Smithee rants his day away in an asylum. Richard Jeni, on a see-saw for no reason in particular, even disputes Alan Smithee's ramblings until the guy with the beard shows up for more exposition . . . which continues the debate – via film – with Richard Jeni.
Elsewhere, Ryan O'Neal brags about his awesome life while the guy with the beard keeps talking and talking until Alan Smithee's wife (Cheri Lunghi) drops in to share her two pence. Well, she is British after all. Of course, there's even a retort for her interjection, as Alan Smithee's assistant director chimes in with some exposition of his own. Meanwhile, Sandra Bernhardt whines to Richard Jeni – because, evidently, whoever made the movie decided it would be hilarious if they were a married couple – while Richard Jeni compliments Alan Smithee's efficiency as a filmmaker, which causes Ryan O'Neal and the assistant director to butt in. Finally, the argument ends when Richard Jeni drives while Ryan O'Neal – in a separate car – gets his knob hobbed by some HOT CHICK.
Sometime prior to all this, in a nondescript editing room, Ryan O'Neal argues with Alan Smithee while the guy with the beard talks about Alan Smithee standing his ground in the face of studio interference. Of course, Ryan O'Neal, in the present of 1997, refutes that statement while Alan Smithee freaks out some more in the asylum. At this point, I have to wonder if this film is, at least, following parliamentary procedure, as it's just one big cinematic debate. I half expect Tony Blair to come waltzing out to poke fun at the Tories.
Later, Goldberg and Chan work out while Stallone mumbles in his own inimitable way and then Ryan O'Neal overrules Alan Smithee, but the guy with the beard doesn't minj.
Wait . . . doesn't what?
"Minj."
What the HELL does "minj" mean?
I have no idea, but that's what I have written in my notes. I guess that's what I get for watching these movies at 3 AM: bad penmanship.
Anyway, though the guy with the beard doesn't minj, Stallone, Goldberg, and Chan proclaim their love for any and all directors, as they can be an actor's best friend . . . or worst enemy. And then Jackie Chan beats up an innocent log. Elsewhere, Alan Smithee fondles a rock while his wife has her cousin over for dinner, who appears to have a bit of incest on his mind. Creepy.
Anyway, since the film was taking a prurient turn, some HOT CHICK (Leslie Stefanson) joins the tale and mentions how she met with Ryan O'Neal and Alan Smithee for dinner, where she was more interested in fellating Alan Smithee's big stick – literally, perverts . . . he carries an African shillelagh throughout the film – than anything on her plate. Ryan O'Neal, of course, since that's the only thing he's good for in the film so far, discounts her testimony, but it turns out that she was a spy working for Ryan O'Neal, despite his objections. Sadly, like any female spy in any espionage movie ever made, she fell for Alan Smithee; alas, due to his current state, she now has to settle for legendary producer Robert Evans for her lovin'.
After this little pseudo-sexual interlude, Richard Jeni returns to get the plot back on track as he starts talking once more about Trio and then he meets with Ryan O'Neal at the gym, where they complain about Alan Smithee stealing the only print of the film, rather than let the producers and studio hack it to bits. While Alan Smithee rests comfortably in the asylum, Richard Jeni and Ryan O'Neal vent their frustrations on some innocent punching bags. Later, Alan Smithee does stereotypically crazy things while Ryan O'Neal and Richard Jeni argue about the futures of Cher and Burt Reynolds and then drop the bombshell that Elvis lives in Michigan. Well, Elvis Grbac went to Michigan; I guess that's close enough.
Out of nowhere, some creepy guy (Harvey Weinstein) arrives on the scene with the task of tracking down Alan Smithee – ugh, he's in an asylum there, champ – and the film as well. He mentions that, rather than actually work, he just went to the tabloids and the evening news, with Ryan O'Neal's help. Because if any family knows their way around the tabloids, it's the O'Neals. Meanwhile, a psychologist (Stephen Tobolowsky) offers his diagnosis of Alan Smithee and he states that the director is actually certifiably sane. As this is Hollywood, however, that didn't make a good enough story, so Ryan O'Neal and Richard Jeni pressure the psychologist into diagnosing Alan Smithee as "crazy" instead. I guess it's the equivalent of a medical rewrite; it's too bad Shane Black wasn't involved.
Sometime later, the creepy guy actually does his job and goes in search of the film while Alan Smithee's wife drinks. Meanwhile, some hippie chick (Nicole Nagel) talks about Ryan O'Neal's stress level and his love of coke, another claim that Ryan O'Neal disputes . . . even though Robert Evans knows the truth because Robert Evans is omnipotent regarding anything Hollywood related. It's also because the HOT CHICK was actually a double agent working for Robert Evans and he used her to cheer up Ryan O'Neal . . . and garner more Hollywood blackmail fuel.
The assistant director, out of nowhere, mentions that Alan Smithee attacked him with his African shillelagh, so the guy with the beard fired Alan Smithee on the spot. Alan Smithee, on the other hand, argues that he fired the guy with the beard, but he's crazy so his opinion doesn't really matter. That evening, Richard Jeni watches a Lakers game while Alan Smithee's wife badmouths Rupert Murdoch for impugning her husband's honor. Meanwhile, Ryan O'Neal pontificates from his tanning bed.
Just because it's the most nonsensical thing to happen as of yet, Alan Smithee shows up on Larry King and declares war on Hollywood, stating that his first act of terrorism is to burn the only known print of Trio. Richard Jeni, unsurprisingly, doesn't approve of that behavior, so Ryan O'Neal pushes him off a bridge. Since they're bungee jumping together. Which is strangely homoerotic even though it probably shouldn't be. Then, after Alan Smithee's appearance on Larry King, he becomes a cult hero and the HOT CHICK is amazed by his popularity, even though everyone thinks he's crazy. Of course, the creepy guy knows all – even though he isn't Robert Evans – but Richard Jeni and Ryan O'Neal just want to reason with Alan Smithee. To that end, Ryan O'Neal goes on television to reason with Alan Smithee, but the newsman is suspicious of everything that's going on with Trio.
Meanwhile, some guy at a gas station pesters Alan Smithee, who has apparently been living out of his Range Rover since stealing the film; Alan Smithee, rather than be suspicious of this new character, goes out for ribs with his newfound friend in another utterly nonsensical moment. Over dinner, Alan Smithee and the guy become accomplices; meanwhile, Richard Jeni brags about having black friends and then he and Ryan O'Neal – in another homoerotic moment – go to the bathroom together. Later, at a party, Ryan O'Neal punches out some guy from the National Enquirer for writing a story about real-life Ryan O'Neal. Or just because the guy's name was "Alan Smith." So hilarious.
Over in South Central Los Angeles, Alan Smithee bonds with his new associates and then Chuck D and Coolio show up, because they're renegade "urban" directors, who have a respect for Alan Smithee's integrity; Alan Smithee, meanwhile, tells a story while on a toilet. Somehow, this makes Ryan O'Neal freak out while the HOT CHICK poses for pictures in front of a fireplace. Over time, Chuck D and Coolio bond with Alan Smithee, but they confess that they don't like Richard Jeni so much. Either way, Alan Smithee, Chuck D, and Coolio watch movies together and Chuck D and Coolio try to talk some sense into Alan Smithee, who bares his soul to them and then mocks Showgirls. Oh, aren't you clever, Joe Eszterhas? I see what you did there.
Even though I wish this movie wrapped up ages ago, everyone continues their stories until Chuck D and Coolio call Richard Jeni and Ryan O'Neal and propose a meeting as Alan Smithee's representatives. Somehow, this brings the hippie chick – and her mind-blowingly perky nipples – out of hiding while the movie executives and the creepy guy plan a war against Alan Smithee . . . even though he's already declared war on Hollywood. Before the war can start, however, Chuck D and Coolio meet with Ryan O'Neal and Richard Jeni and Richard Jeni, like any good executive, tries to flatter the renegade filmmakers; unfortunately for him, the directors see right through the ruse and respond with a calculated amount of black rage. This display of power infuriates Ryan O'Neal, who freaks out, but Richard Jeni instead elects to bribe Chuck D and Coolio into seeing things his way; the "urban" directors, to their credit, still defend Alan Smithee's honor and Ryan O'Neal freaks out again.
Of course, this meeting was actually part of Richard Jeni and Ryan O'Neal's evil scheme, as the creepy guy and his troops followed Coolio and Chuck D back to South Central Los Angeles, where a S.W.A.T. team raids their loft looking for Alan Smithee, who ducked out the bathroom window with Trio in hand. While Ryan O'Neal shoots a gun on the beach, Alan Smithee retreats to the La Brea Tar Pits, where he finally burns the film, which should, hopefully, end this saga and the film. Sadly, it doesn't, as Robert Shapiro gets involved to defend Alan Smithee and his actions while pummeling a heavy bag, which causes Ryan O'Neal to lament his lot in life on a beach somewhere. Meanwhile, the hippie chick – sans perky nipples – chats at a gun range.
At a Lakers game, Robert Shapiro signs autographs while talking about the Alan Smithee case; meanwhile, Larry King interviews Alan Smithee again and Alan Smithee has a nervous breakdown on the show because he put Trio out of its misery, which disappoints the guy with the beard. Meanwhile, Richard Jeni proposes marketing the trailer to Trio as an event unto itself, but his bosses don't approve of that idea. Elsewhere, Robert Shapiro brags about the deal he got Alan Smithee to avoid jail time, or even a trial, which causes Dominick Dunne to complain, since he won't have anything to write about.
Elsewhere, Robert Evans schemes with the HOT CHICK and Richard Jeni plays with a Slinky and Ryan O'Neal proposes a movie about Alan Smithee, who just so happens to have a heart attack and go catatonic until his wife apparently nags him to death. Meanwhile, at the movie studio, Coolio and Chuck D hang out with Billy Barty – no, really – and Richard Jeni and Ryan O'Neal hire them to direct the movie about Alan Smithee, just to spite Robert Evans. Somehow, Alan Smithee comes back to life and becomes a power player in Hollywood and ends up with the HOT CHICK, probably because his wife tried to kill him and even Robert Evans' sloppy seconds are pretty good sloppy seconds. Finally, Whoopi Goldberg rants, Jackie Chan rambles, and Sylvester Stallone mumbles while Ryan O'Neal tries to kill himself. Yay?
As a point of full disclosure, I generally like films about Hollywood and making movies in particular, but An Alan Smithee Film: Burn Hollywood Burn has to be one of the most atrocious pictures I've ever seen. I think the best word I can think of for it is "masturbatory," as it's just one giant in-joke for Joe Eszterhas and anyone else who shares his humor . . . which probably aren't many. Theoretically it's a comedy, but it just isn't funny and the constant shifting from character to character to dispute any claim and plot point is just plain annoying. The film confusingly shifts between the present and the past with little regard for the viewer and it all adds up to one doozy of a Misunderstood Masterpiece.
Join me next week as I turn to the other side of the coin as, in honor of the Academy Awards, I begin a trilogy of specious Best Picture winners. See you then!
