
2024 · Danny Scharar
For a low-commitment night when you want to laugh hard at deluded ambition — especially if you came of age in the 2000s and can smell the energy drinks. A hangout comedy that sneaks up on you emotionally.
Tobyhanna, Pennsylvania, 2009: four suburban friends with a camcorder set out to record their rap album in one night, convinced it will change everything. The mockumentary follows their odyssey through basements, parking lots, and gas stations as the session keeps getting derailed by everything except music.
An hour of escalating, cringe-perfect improvised comedy with a strange undertow of melancholy — you're laughing at these guys and slowly starting to ache for them. It feels like a found tape from someone's actual adolescence.
Conner O'Malley brings his signature feral, deranged-American-striver energy, and Jack Bensinger and Eric Rahill are pitch-perfect as the entourage — improvisers who never once wink at the camera.
Co-directed by O'Malley and editor Danny Scharar, the period fakery is uncanny: smeared miniDV light, basement clutter, the whole texture of the late Bush years rebuilt with an archivist's care and a satirist's cruelty. The camcorder format isn't a gimmick — it's the whole joke and the whole heartbreak.
Released free on YouTube, it became an instant word-of-mouth phenomenon that repertory cinemas came calling for — a marker of alt-comedy's DIY generation crossing into film.
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One night in Tobyhanna, Pennsylvania, 2009: four friends, a camcorder, and the unshakable conviction that their rap album will change everything. Conner O'Malley — the alt-comedy provocateur whose feral YouTube monologues and Joe Pera writing made him the poet laureate of deranged American male ambition — co-directed with editor Danny Scharar this hour-long mockumentary, and released it, fittingly, free on YouTube, where it became an instant word-of-mouth phenomenon before repertory houses came calling. The period verisimilitude is uncanny: the smeared miniDV light, the gas-station energy drinks, the basement clutter of the late Bush years, all reconstructed with an archivist's care and a satirist's cruelty. Beneath the improvised bits (Jack Bensinger and Eric Rahill are pitch-perfect as the entourage) runs a genuine melancholy about exurban drift — young men narrating greatness into a lens because nothing else is listening. It belongs to a new internet-native comedy cinema that bypassed studios entirely, and it may be that movement's first classic: a found-footage film about people desperate to be found.
Lines of influence