Micro Budget is less a comedic mockumentary than it is a thoroughly demented behind-the-scenes special feature for a disaster movie that doesn’t exist. Directed by Morgan Evans and written by himself and Patrick Noth (who also stars as the director), the comedy film uses conventions from Christopher Guest’s brand of filmmaking and workplace sitcoms with a hint of Tim Robinson-esque humor to propel it. Evans and Noth weave in plenty of jokes throughout the film, assuring that if this one doesn’t work, the next one will. Terry (Noth) directs a dream movie of his about a meteor cratering the earth in a deadly impact on Toronto. The behind-the-scenes feature chronicles every single thing that goes on behind the camera, for better or worse.
There’s a few things going on here: the surface-level Office-type verité shooting style and delivery, the character study of each member of the film’s talent and production crew, and the movie-within-a-movie itself. The former’s effectiveness depends on your mileage for comedies like The Office or Parks and Recreation, which, for some, can get tired fairly early on. But working behind that is a cleverly constructed study in character psychosis, a delayed release that picks up its documentarian style from simply coasting on imitation. When we spend enough time with each and every individual, their demeanors morph from what we assume about them based on industry types to a more complete image. In creatively differing ways, a cocktail of horror and amusement floods the change in perception as every person working on “Untitled Meteor Movie” voluntarily reveals details about themselves in increasingly embarrassing ways.
What many may find most chaotic and effective in Micro Budget is the actual material being shot within the faux-making-of documentary. Director Terry follows a vision of his to make a micro-budget disaster flick that feels very on par with something we would see from the twisted mind of Neil Breen: bizarre directing and editing choices, fundamental misunderstandings of the production process, and lots of questionable budgeting practices. The entire joke is brought home once Terry visits his “VFX whiz” Rick (Bobby Moynihan), proudly displaying his near-finished renders of moments in and around Toronto during the meteor collision. Buildings topple like bowling pins, their window lights still twinkling as they bounce and twist on what will be a horrendous ground zero for the worst fictional disaster ever for the bustling Canadian metropolis. A single old man screams on a plane. Boats ripple on undulating waves rendered violent from this deadly cosmic event.
Terry, a man who is confronting the realization of why films aren’t shot in script order, is disappointed in these subpar effects. Yet he has no choice but to soldier on with the project. His hubris promises him immediate, overnight success in the vein of Paranormal Activity. Perhaps we can all take inspiration from the micro-budget conquering the world of mega-budget box office behemoths, but not all of us will take the specific lessons Terry has digested. Micro Budget is a comedy of spirals aimed at different exit points, starting at the exact same point in space and time.
Most surprising about Morgan Evans’s inaugural effort is the humble revolving door of comedic legends. Maria Bamford, Chris Parnell, Hal Linden, Neil Casey, and Kate Flannery (closing the circle on The Office) all appear in various capacities. Micro Budget creates its own satisfactory momentum that when the cameos start, it’s jarring, in the sense that an already delectable and rich comedy introduces a complex icing on the proverbial cake. The two combine, expanding on its inherent torturous flavor as the comedy beats already begin to pay off in deeper senses of dark humor before more ingredients are added.
The fact that Micro Budget is in itself a micro-budget movie, made in the neighborhood of $235,000, verifies the authority that Evans and Noth utilize in their satire of an industry modeled after larger industries. It’s a detail that never becomes a focus in something that would be milked as metacommentary elsewhere, instead focusing on showing us what goes on during the arguably creative process of struggling through filmmaking. At a certain point, the film’s formula wraps around itself, returning to its simplistic beginnings, but with everything behind its humor, it feels richer than how it started out (in some cases literally).
The confident authenticity behind the voices that made Micro Budget sell this as a special feature that becomes the main feature with staggering accuracy. There is no doubt that inspiration comes with hidden résumés, including litanies of history on sets like Terry’s. Silent awkward moments, abject hatred of one another, comedic errors of miscommunication & overcommunication, and hidden motivations abound in what could be a real, unscripted documentary showing the actual process of making someone’s awful vanity project come to life. The only difference here is reflection. Micro Budget surprises with its sharpened sense of humor backed by cursed knowledge in the film industry, which will hit different based on your familiarity with it. But for those who need it, this is a therapeutic breath of fresh and rarified air.
Micro Budget is currently playing in select theaters and is available on digital platforms courtesy of Factory 25.
Micro Budget surprises with its sharpened sense of humor backed by cursed knowledge in the film industry, which will hit different based on your familiarity with it. But for those who need it, this is a therapeutic breath of fresh and rarified air.
Anya is an avid writer on films. You can read her diary at letterboxd and words on recent releases on medium. In its off time it volunteers as a projectionist & martial arts film programmer, reads disgusting horror novels, is still trying to get a D&D group together, and spends her hard-earned rent money on tattoos and blurays.
