I concur 100% with previous reviewer Kev: this is a worthless "extra" thrown onto the INTOLERABLE CRUELTY issue on DVD.
The entire 12-minute farrago is based on a contradiction: the Coen Bros. are irreverent, anti-Hollywood satirists, with a facetious streak a mile wide. They have attracted a loyal following and significantly also attract some of Hollywood's biggest names & talents like flies, hankering to stretch their thespian wings with some offbeat material.
So presenting the straightforward, "rah rah" documentary, in which all manner of cast and behind the scenes folks (principally Brian Grazer, who almost tells the truth here & there via Freudian Slip) worship at the altar of the filmmakers, is diametrically opposed to the whole Coen ethos. One would have expected a mockumentary, sending up the stupid format we've seen for the umpteenth time.
Yes, the dirty little word (Grazer dares to utter it: "commercial") is that even artistes like the Coens have to make a living. If not, they will go the way of Henry Jaglom -increasingly hermetic, cheaper & cheaper almost homemade films cranked out for a dwindling audience of dedicated sycophants. Or worse, they could devolve into an Amos Kollek, making movies I'm certain even his mother couldn't love.
So, they sell Grazer a script for a screwball comedy like Hollywood used to make in the '30s, when Howard Hawks, Preston Sturges, Mitchell Leisen and especially Ernst Lubitsch made it all look easy. Reluctantly, as we inadvertently learn in this stupid docu, they later agreed to direct it for Grazer. And the result is a star-studded film filled with flop sweat - a case of trying too hard and smothering with silliness any intrinsic comedy in the material. A pity, as so many forgotten Hollywood craftsmen, take the underrated Frank Tuttle as a prime example, could handle this romantic nonsense effortlessly.
The entire 12-minute farrago is based on a contradiction: the Coen Bros. are irreverent, anti-Hollywood satirists, with a facetious streak a mile wide. They have attracted a loyal following and significantly also attract some of Hollywood's biggest names & talents like flies, hankering to stretch their thespian wings with some offbeat material.
So presenting the straightforward, "rah rah" documentary, in which all manner of cast and behind the scenes folks (principally Brian Grazer, who almost tells the truth here & there via Freudian Slip) worship at the altar of the filmmakers, is diametrically opposed to the whole Coen ethos. One would have expected a mockumentary, sending up the stupid format we've seen for the umpteenth time.
Yes, the dirty little word (Grazer dares to utter it: "commercial") is that even artistes like the Coens have to make a living. If not, they will go the way of Henry Jaglom -increasingly hermetic, cheaper & cheaper almost homemade films cranked out for a dwindling audience of dedicated sycophants. Or worse, they could devolve into an Amos Kollek, making movies I'm certain even his mother couldn't love.
So, they sell Grazer a script for a screwball comedy like Hollywood used to make in the '30s, when Howard Hawks, Preston Sturges, Mitchell Leisen and especially Ernst Lubitsch made it all look easy. Reluctantly, as we inadvertently learn in this stupid docu, they later agreed to direct it for Grazer. And the result is a star-studded film filled with flop sweat - a case of trying too hard and smothering with silliness any intrinsic comedy in the material. A pity, as so many forgotten Hollywood craftsmen, take the underrated Frank Tuttle as a prime example, could handle this romantic nonsense effortlessly.