While you await the next Scream sequel, you could try to sate your Ghostface jones with The Premiere, a mockumentary about the making of a Scream musical. But I doubt it’ll do the trick.
Made in the Hamptons (with every bit of insularity as that sounds), this improvised comedy follows the cart-before-the-horse theatrical ambitions of Sam (Sam Pezzullo) as he attempts to stage the show — and fails spectacularly. As you’ve already guessed, he’s incompetent, oblivious, passive-aggressive, narcissistic and as questionably talented as he is underfunded.
Any comparisons to Christopher Guest’s Corky St. Clair of Waiting for Guffman are entirely merited and, one assumes, invited with ornate calligraphy and burgundy wax seals. The glaring difference is here, I found nothing funny. Sam yammers incessantly, as if doing so increases the chances something will hit a target. It comes off not as a matter of calculation, but desperation, overestimating his audience appeal by a magnificent mile. Other characters you want to see more of get short-shrifted.
The Premiere is spotted with germs of good ideas, like one of the leads having no knowledge of the Scream franchise, or the only rejected actor from auditions protesting the production, yet none are properly mined to yield laughs. (To that end, you could add its premise to the list.) I did smile at one bit, when Sam gasps at breaking news of Queen Elizabeth’s passing, not out of empathy, but the threat he believes the event poses to his press release.
In addition to starring, Pezzullo shares writing, directing and producing duties with Christopher Bouckoms. But only Pezzullo is credited as editor, which may be the root cause of an avoidable problem: He’s too close to the material, with Exhibit A being the pic nearly running an oxygen-sucking two hours. (Ironically, in his everyday career, Pezzullo excels in the short form, being behind some of your YouTube feed’s favorite viral marketing stunts in recent years.)
Look, I’m not saying The Premiere is an ego project; I’ll let the closing credits’ red-carpet photos of him and him and him and his friends and him do all the talking there. —Rod Lott