Since my time here with Flicks, I’ve presented myself as being a lot of things: a feminist, a cyborg, a romantic who has never actually romanced. However, I’ve never been so pitifully spiteful over anyone or any film that I’ve told it to get f–ked. Well, to celebrate its home release, I’m making history: How to Meet Girls from a Distance can get f–ked.
This antichrist of a film spawned from the Make My Movie project, a competition where anyone could submit their movie idea in writing along with a conceptual poster to help really sell the concept. This was their entry.
I also entered with a stupendous movie idea, one that was gagging to be made. It was a comedy thriller called Be-Trade Me that mixed the farcical with the frightening, intending to be a statement on Auckland’s current economic conditions, a social commentary on the apathetic attitudes of today’s CBF generation and a profound existential meditation on the assholishness of assholes.
You could also call it a satirical Untraceable rip-off, but I’m pretty sure no one remembers that film.
I got a few buds together who helped make the kick-ass poster and drum up support for my noble cause. People were digging it, we had over 1000 Facebook likes (one of the highest in the competition) and even David Farrier’s seal of approval.
It links to our film. Honest. Type the damn link in yourself.
However, when the panel of judges narrowed the finalists down to 12 finalists, our film was cut. In our rightful place was some shitty entry called How to Meet Girls from a Distance. Reading that email fueled me with so much anger, I had to buy a new monitor.
The other finalists seemed legit, ranging from found-footage horrors to quirky sci-fis. But I couldn’t turn away from this Peeping Tom-rom-com, the one entry that took my film’s rightful slot in the final dozen. Even with my filmmaking dreams dashed, I could at least take glee in seeing this concept dropped in the ditch when it came down to the final two.
Except, it didn’t drop. In fact, it won the damn competition.
Not only had it taken MY film’s space in the MMM running, but it was going to get the chance to make its dumb movie into a reality. My hatred grew more for this film that hadn’t even existed yet. This anger may seem petty, like hating a child who was still in the womb. But if you picture Make My Movie as my whore of a wife and How to Meet Girls from a Distance as the douchie teenage neighbour kid who impregnated her, then maybe you can understand why I’d direct my hatred towards a foetus.
I couldn’t wait to see this movie fail, so when the film saw its release, I went with my American pal Gabe (he’s the American-looking one in the poster) to see it in cinemas, thinking I’d be the first one to walk out saying how much it sucked. With a pessimistic attitude and my Twitter account in hand, this hater was gon’ hate.
But something happened when the film started…
Something I wasn’t expecting…
Something that made me truly hate How to Meet Girls from a Distance…
The film was good. The film was really bloody good.
We weren’t laughing at the film, we were laughing WITH the film. Every gag that hit me eradicated a segment of spite I had built up over the year. Every witty line converted my scepticism into belief. Every moment Jonathan Brugh was on screen made me forget how much I wanted to see that film burn. I exited the cinema with a big stupid smile on my big stupid face, not with the snarky douche expression I had been practising in the mirror months before.
By being talented filmmakers – writing a great script and creating a genuinely funny movie that New Zealand can be proud of – Dean Hewison, Richard Falkner and Sam Dickson proved my pessimistic predictions wrong.
And they can get fucked.
