A very good documentary that perhaps unwittingly reveals the shallowness of the participants. To me, Andrew Bolton is the only person who appears to have any substance at all. Watching Justin Bieber screeching in the hallway, people sniping at each other, sycophants gurgling over Rihanna's bizarre outfit which she caresses like some exotic animal and proudly announces that it took two years to make. What for? The dominant feeling of the entire movie was displacement and, for me, depression. I don't think one person laughed, took a walk, relaxed, or expressed an original thought in the whole movie. All this effort, all this tension, for what? To pay Rihanna twice the amount that any other celebrity has ever asked for? Why not just make a contribution to the Met? It was really an eye opener into excess, narcissism and a kind of professional, daily misery. I felt a little ill after watching it. The excesses of preening, posturing and vanity were all too much to bear. But the strangest thing is not one of these people except for Mr. Bolton, had anything remotely interesting to say.
