“We’re shooting the goddamn fetus fistfight in a week, right?”

I’m not one to really be called a “Troma Junkie”, but this book has helped me realize that I will never be capable of producing  bad art. Chapter One: Let’s Make Some Art is fully focused on pumping and prepping up our low self esteem and budget. The humiliation this man is still experiencing by cleaning rat shit up in the Troma building’s basement is nothing compared to the ridicule he’s already lived through. It encourages us to dig up money from any doctor, dentist, or Blue Cross blood drive service we can (note: soliciting sex was not excluded from this). I’d say if you’re going to suck and fuck your way to top with plastic gloves, than you might as well as have that camera rolling before you attempt any of it. Meet Your Future Victims: It’s not the nicest way to introduce your characters, sisters or cousins, but it’s honest. I tried to shoot my best friend and sister in a friendly Frisbee park for a stalker onslaught scene once. The Frisbee got thrown a little too far off, and the crew was already whining four hours into it. If work is involved with it, then a little dishonesty never hurts. We’re taught that filmmaking, indeed, has it’s ruts. Most likely, digging yourself out of them is always the toughest task. Unfinished art is clearly the most hard-up and depressing as the industry will get. Other hints and tips this book has is on special effects and props. Tomatoes and oranges have just enough innards and fluids as a brain or heart. Chapter Eleven: Marketing, Publicity, and Distribution (Whoring Yourself Out For Your Art Yet Again). I like this book for advice like that. I could pay out the ass for film school and never learn any of this.

-Smutstrutter