Oh, how I have waited for this day… much like how I await
the day I get castrated. Today is the day that I look at a film that has been
disowned by its director. Not that this is anything new in Hollywood; google
the name “Alan Smithee” and you’ll get an idea of how prevalent this is.
However, what makes me so hesitant to look at this is for two big reasons: One
of them being that disowning a project usually happens as a result of excessive
interference/displeasure with said project, meaning that the end result more
likely than not is going to suck. The other reason is that the disgruntled
filmmaker in question today is David O. Russell, recent Oscar idol and a man
who I wholeheartedly trust to deliver emotionally resonant, if sometimes
incoherent, cinema. The man has a knack for delivering amazing work from rather
unorthodox subject matter when left to his own devices. In other words, he’s
pretty much one of the last people that should be brought under the fire of
studio interference.
