The film is a witty, no-holds-barred satire of the gimmicks studios use to pull audiences into theatres, presenting what looks like an audience-driven project while everything remains pre-selected and the true viewer response stays unseen. It even hawks images that promise shock value, such as a man flushing himself down the toilet, to lure crowds and sell the experience as something immersive and participatory.
The narrative follows Rodney Pointsetter [Dick Shawn], a weary newscaster whose life feels crushed between a demanding job and his family. In a bid for meaning, he decides to make a film about his own life, a project he hopes will capture his struggles and perhaps offer an outlet for his despair. He builds a metafilm that is constantly interrupted by arbitrary sketches, introduced by an emcee who insists that the audience supposedly craves these interruptions. The result is a sprawling collage that blends personal crisis with a parade of diverting, offbeat bits.
Among these bits is a provocative sequence featuring a stripping nun, brought to life by Angelique Pettyjohn as the Dancing Nun Angelique Pettyjohn. The core tension of the film deepens as Rodney’s gay brother, Ainsley Pointsetter [Dick Shawn], stages an opera inside his own home, turning private space into a stage for art and spectacle. This domestic opera becomes a counterpoint to the main narrative, a bold, performative interruption that frames Rodney’s crisis from a new angle.
The opera sequence is described as being staged by John Hall of the Glyndebourne Festival Opera, and it features a notable lineup of performers, including Vincent Cole, Johnny Guarnieri, Dennis Parnell, Tanino Provitera, David Romano, Gene Shaw, James Sterret Bryant, Starleigh Godfrey, Pam Scanlon, and Susan Grossman. Their presence adds a layer of theatrical ambition to the film’s already wry meditation on art, audience, and the pressures of creative life.
Through its sharp, satirical lens, the movie probes how media and entertainment shape our expectations, often blurring the line between genuine emotion and manufactured spectacle. It invites viewers to consider what counts as entertainment, what it means to tell a life on screen, and how far a filmmaker will go to expose the gaps between what audiences think they want and what the creators actually deliver. The result is a dense but accessible constellation of ideas, jokes, and performances that stay faithful to the premise while expanding it into a larger meditation on cinema, popularity, and personal meaning.
