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RUNNING TIME 128 Minutes
• Deleted Scenes
To quote the rear of the box: “you will learn things that no book can ever teach.”
Bill Zebub, Angelina Leigh, Stephanie Anders, Clover St. Claire, and many more.
The director of such classics as Antfarm Dickhole and Jesus Christ: Serial Rapist plays a fictionalized version of himself. Hilarity doesn’t ensue.
About halfway through my first viewing of Indie Director, it dawned on me that I would be incapable of writing a traditional review for this film. Bill Zebub is one of these prolific self-taught microbudget exploitation filmmakers, kind of like the New Jersey version of Philip Gardiner. He’s paying out of pocket for a lot of his films, and calling in a lot of favors. It’s what you have to do if you want to make microbudget movies, and it’s not easy. I respect that. A movie is never a simple thing to make, and I know Bill Zebub worked hard on this thing, and now he has a film to show for it. Is it a good film? Does it even matter if it’s a good film? In this case, I don’t think so.
Bill Zebub, who has a stunning thirty-nine directing credits since 2002, knows his films aren’t exactly catnip for critics. He really only makes films for himself (and perhaps Fangoria readers), and if he’s happy with them, then there’s nothing I can do to change his mind about them. Saying that his films are stupid, racist, homophobic, or misogynistic doesn’t really mean anything to Bill Zebub, because he’s just going to make more of them. He aims to offend, and you know what? He rarely misses his mark. So why would I spend any time talking about how offensive his films are? Bill Zebub would only roll his eyes, mutter “queer”, and just keep on rolling.
So traditional criticism is right out. What’s left? Well, let’s consider my role in this whole transaction. Bill Zebub sends his homemade film to CHUD. I write about the film on CHUD, and if everything works out right, there’s a whole bunch of lovely people like yourselves who now know that the film exists. For Bill Zebub, this is marketing. It’s not as effective as a billboard on Sunset Boulevard, but hey, it works.
So now I’m helping Bill Zebub sell his movie, which (for a multitude of reasons) doesn’t sit well with me. I’m a highfalutin’ sensitive movie snob who wants to push his personal beliefs and feelings about art onto others, so maybe I’m not the best guy to be marketing this kind of film. But I know one thing: the DVD cover art for this film SUCKS, and if we’re gonna sell some copies to CHUD Chewers, then by god, we need a change. Let’s get to work.
Okay, the first problem I see is that the quote in the top left corner is from indiemoviemaker.net, which is unfortunate, because indiemoviemaker.net isn’t a real website.
The second problem is that the quote is making the film seem educational. People don’t want to be educated! They want titties, and this film’s got a healthy even number of them. We need a new quote from a real source. AICN and Fangoria liked the film, but I don’t see a quote in either review that would read well out of context. Maybe we should give people a better idea of what to expect by using some dialogue from the film!
Eh, maybe not that quote. Let’s try another approach with more color, a different title treatment, and an emphasis on the humor. This is a comedy, after all.
Okay, definitely not. I’m sorry you had to see that. Remind me to shred that one later. I like the title treatment, though. Let’s try a different angle… maybe a sympathetic solemn vibe?
FUCK ME, SERIOUSLY? Rape agai—okay. Let’s try some things I scribbled in my review notes, surely there must be some quotable stuff. Oh, and more color, please. It’s gotta pop, y’know?
Oh, I think we’re getting somewhere. This is ugly, but in just the right way. Floating heads… people like floating heads, so that’s good. I like the red, but it makes it look too much like a horror film. And the hula-hooping… perhaps it would be prudent not to sell the film on a hula-hooping montage. Tell ya what, let’s try something really different. Surprise me.
We have a winner! I like the use of the Bill Zebub Productions “logo” we see in the film. A nice touch. I’m thinking we send this one over to the folks at The Criterion Collection.
Oh, that was fun. You see, there’s an audience for everything. Even Indie Director, which at a ridiculous length of two hours and eight minutes, manages to be little more than an excuse for Zebub to film himself fondling semi-nude women. To quote the artist himself:
“…I want sorrow and pity from the viewers, not hysterical laughing.”
Be careful what you wish for, Bill.
You really wanna have this conversation? Heavy sigh. Okay. This movie looks and sounds like garbage, but hey, THAT’S ON PURPOSE!! Don’t you dare criticize it!
The deleted scenes are a small collection of excised soapbox rants on things like granny panties and use of the word “actress”. The bloopers feature several prominent farts, if you’re into that.
Out of a Possible 5 Stars