I had never been to a movie premiere before, nor even been invited to one. I didn’t even know they held screenings of movie trailers before I was invited to this one. I’m not privy to all of the details, but I gleaned that they made this trailer to raise money to make a feature-length film. During a speech after the premiere, the producer said the trailer was a “proof of concept.” Proof of what concept, I don’t know.

It was objectively awful. It was the sort of movie trailer they would put in a movie to make fun of a bad movie trailer. The acting was bad, the editing was bad, and the story didn’t make any sense. I know what the story is about, and the trailer still didn’t make any sense. Presumably, none of that footage would be used in the final cut of a feature film. One hopes.🤞

I would have been so embarrassed by this film that it would never have seen the light of day had it been my project. After seeing it, and the filmaker’s confidence, I wanted to go straight home and upload every video I’ve made, but didn’t upload because I wasn’t happy with the way it turned out. It would seem that little things like quality and talent don’t matter anymore. It’s a fucking free-for-all and there are no rules.

We were invited because Bonnie knows the filmmaker. I asked her if he was looking for notes, and she said that he doesn’t really want to hear the truth. So, what do you say to someone when they ask you what you thought of their terrible film, but they don’t want to know the truth? I understand that most people would just lie and say they liked it, and have no problem doing so. I’m not most people. I don’t like lying to people, and it makes me horribly uncomfortable to be put in a such a position.

So, instead, I hustled out the door while the filmmakers were busy talking to other people. As I threw Bonnie’s cup in the trash as I got out the door, the bartender asked me if I liked it. I told her I didn’t have any, and I pointed to Bonnie, saying, “She drank it,” and then I practically ran out the door. We were halfway home, in the car, when I realized that she was probably asking me how I liked the film. Bonnie reassured me that I’ll never have to see her again, so it makes no difference, but it will keep me up at night for years to come.

The highlight of the hour we spent in a tiny theater built for 70 people in an office building in Westwood was the little blonde girl seated in the row ahead of us. A woman asked her how old she was, and she blurted out, “Nicole!” The woman asked again how old she was, and again, she yelled, “Nicole!” Then, her dad explained that the woman was asking how old she was, and she held up two fingers high and proud. Fucking adorable.