Its theme is revelatory: "It's hard to age in show business." The first 45 minutes have a dazzling quality, the technique is extraordinary. But as persuasive storytelling, on which some level it surely must function, it huffs and puffs so hard to keep its "specialness" vibe going until the end, and then it jumps the shark not once but twice. I didn't believe anything in it could happen, and by the time we meet the vicious dyspeptic critic for the Times, its satire is muddy at best. What's the edgy point? Art isn't easy? Theater is inherently self-congralulatory? And so are those who support it? Being 60 is hell? The St. James Theater should be easier to access? Consider how much the filmmakers want to send up pretentiousness, it's a pile-on of partsy-fartsy effects.
"I'm a comedian, but in my spare time, things bother me." Garry Shandling