The Worst Film Festival Ever

A gaggle of filmmakers congregate in a rented hotel to watch their films be showcased in a dodgy, backroom, low-rent film festival run by a criminal and his inept son.

Alan (Harrison) has got a problem. His dad’s just had a heart attack and had to go into hospital, leaving nobody to run the film festival which is set to make them a good wodge of cash. Stepping into some pretty big shoes, Alan takes the helm and bumbles about meeting the actors/directors/producers, who as you might expect for these low-budget travesties, are usually the same person in all three roles. In amongst the milieu, there’s the brilliant Esme Presley (Taylor) and her leading man, Tugg Speedman (Black), along with a couple of soft-porn actresses, and a father-daughter team who like making edgy action thrillers. These, along with the requisite cinema art-piece, world film, and a surprise late entry, constitute the roster of bad films up for awards at The Worst Film Festival Ever.

The cache that is trying to be borrowed here, by writer/director Danny Patrick, and the probable reason for the Trainspotting nod in the title, is that The Worst Film Festival Ever is supposed to be set in Edinburgh. Patrick goes to great lengths to get his location photography of all the landmarks, not to mention the transport hubs and the street signs which locals and tourists alike can recognise. Unfortunately though, once anyone’s in frame, we’re transported back to leafy, suburban Surrey where we can quickly get indoors, shut out the sunshine, and pretend that we’re still in the bustle of the biggest cultural hub of the arts in the world that is the Edinburgh Festival. Needless to say, this trick-of-the-eye doesn’t work and we are left with a bunch of fruitcakes wandering the halls of the hotel, coming together here and there to offer their characteristic witticisms, trying to defend their part in some truly terrifying tripe.

So, with everyone in position, and the feeble set-up of Alan needing to come good for his dad under the pretence of some nonsensical lie in place, everyone gets to business getting themselves in each other’s business and everybody has fun along the way, except for maybe the audience. The characterisation of many of the filmmakers is necessarily over-the-top, though still representative of those whom Patrick has himself met at such events, but they are never more than caricatures, with badly drawn backgrounds and crudely filled-in personalities. Tugg Speedman, especially grates as someone who is played to extremes, although I’m sure people like him do exist in the industry, while the women are unfortunately only used as titillation throughout, played for the most part as dumb tarts who’ll do anything for a role.

Obviously, everything in The Worst Film Festival Ever is to be taken with a pinch of salt. The tongue is placed firmly in cheek by all performers and would-be producers in and out of the meta-narrative of the film, however, it feels more like this is being used as a screen for the bad acting, directing and producing of this project, rather than it being a statement of the quality of those being presented at film festivals. It is an indictment of this feature that the direction and cinematography choices made in some of the fake films contained within it, actually outshine the choices made for the film we’re watching.

In the end, everything does actually come together for The Worst Film Festival Ever, and if you can sit through the first hour of nonsense, the last twenty minutes do offer some measure of fun and reward for your investment. The awards ceremony plays almost as a last chance saloon for the filmmakers involved in the festival as well as for Patrick and his film, too, but with everyone suited-and-booted and putting on their best acts, the whole thing almost becomes a triumph. None of the characters are forgotten about and everyone actually gets an arc, which is nice, and the personal growth of the filmmakers in the film almost feels like it could be the same growth as those behind the scenes making this one.

Sadly, it all comes a little too late and there’s not a lot of bang for your buck over the course of the full eighty-two minute runtime. There are nice moments here and there, and a couple of the jokes work, especially when you give them time to mature, but most of it is blind farce. Coco Taylor is the standout actor in amongst some dedicated, but poor, performances, and the fact that she’s almost exclusively wearing lingerie in every scene she’s in probably won’t hurt the marketability of the film either. The Worst Film Festival Ever, however, might just be a victim of its own gaze, as it revels in the craziness of low-budget filmmaking whilst itself being a crazy low-budget film. Being self-referential is one thing but being good is entirely another.