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It cost $2.99. It had one review. The review said “Received.”
Stan Mercer has three flops, seventeen dollars, and until Friday. Then, at three in the morning, he finds a barely read e-book called Why I Am Not Writing A Book, and he sees the whole movie.
All he needs is a script, a star and the money. What he gets is a screenwriter who was once sued by a baby, a crypto investor who insists on a dragon, a dentist who wants to be in every scene, a billionaire who only speaks through a sock, and Lorenzo Bellafiore, a former Italian soap star whose English is perfect, at least to him.
Oh, and an author who has to wear a paper bag on his head.
Six cans of film. Thirty days. A styrofoam headstone, a fog machine and a cameraman who keeps saying “incredible.” What could possibly go wrong?
Told by everyone who was there, this is the inside story of the cheapest, messiest, most improbable production in film history. And somehow, eleven Oscars.
Book 2 of The Why I Am Not Books. Each book stands on its own.
It cost $2.99. It had one review. The review said “Received.”
Stan Mercer has three flops, seventeen dollars, and until Friday. Then, at three in the morning, he finds a barely read e-book called Why I Am Not Writing A Book, and he sees the whole movie.
All he needs is a script, a star and the money. What he gets is a screenwriter who was once sued by a baby, a crypto investor who insists on a dragon, a dentist who wants to be in every scene, a billionaire who only speaks through a sock, and Lorenzo Bellafiore, a former Italian soap star whose English is perfect, at least to him.
Oh, and an author who has to wear a paper bag on his head.
Six cans of film. Thirty days. A styrofoam headstone, a fog machine and a cameraman who keeps saying “incredible.” What could possibly go wrong?
Told by everyone who was there, this is the inside story of the cheapest, messiest, most improbable production in film history. And somehow, eleven Oscars.
Book 2 of The Why I Am Not Books. Each book stands on its own.