The blatant bait-and-switch that this film attempts to pull is just astounding. It starts off as supposedly a film about hecklers, and how public performers, mostly standup comedians, react to them as a phenomenon.
Then 25 minutes in, it complete veers off into talking not about hecklers, but about CRITICS. Director Michael Addis tries to justify this threadbare analogy by asking what the difference is between the two, and showing one or two interviewees who entertain this notion, like Craig Ferguson, who says that both are usually drunk and stupid, or author John Ridley, who compares the heckler's "You suck" to the critic's "The performance wasn't that good."
Um, no.
The former is obnoxious, and comes from someone who is not an articulate writer paid to present his or her views in a forum that people pay or click on to read of their own volition. Hecklers merely disrupt a performance that many others paid to see, and do nothing but annoy others. By contrast, when a critic writes reviews you do not agree with or dislike, you can choose not to read them. The mere existence of a review by a critic you dislike doesn't disrupt your ability to read other parts of the paper.
I could've enjoyed a good documentary examining the practice of entertainment criticism, but this should've been a separate film, one distinct from one about hecklers, and which could've led to a discussion of the distinction between which critics are articulate, polite and thoughtful in their analysis of whether a film set out to do what it intended to for its targeted audience. Instead of focusing on that from the outset, Addis engages in what is either the worst narrative con-job I've ever seen in a documentary, or the worst instance of a filmmaker's inability to decide upon a consistent subject for his film. One clue to this is that during the outtakes that are shown during the closing credits, when a band called The Used is solicited for an interview, the film is described to them as "a documentary about critics". So why wasn't the movie simply called "Critics"? Draw your own conclusion from this.
Even as a film about critics, there seems to be, in the "critics suck" portion of the film, a preponderance of those who merely whine about receiving bad reviews, even when those are reviews are restrained, if critical. Jamie Kennedy makes an fool of himself when he confronts one critic and argues, that he would've liked "Malibu's Most Wanted" more if he had better sex prior to watching it, or denigrating another as attending a Trekkie or Comic-Con nerd. Yeah, Jamie. YOU'RE the cool one. I guess in Kennedy's view, "Malibu's Most Wanted" is good as a question of fact, and therefore, anyone who disagrees must therefore, ipso facto, be operating from some ulterior motive or personal problem coloring their reaction to it. It's almost as if Kennedy feels entitled to not get bad reviews. Similarly, Rob Zombie characterizes critics who give bad reviews to Spielberg films as sexless losers living in their parents' basement. Sure, Rob. That's the reason critics said that "Jurassic Park II" wasn't that good. It's not because the film wasn't that good. No, it's because of the critics' problems. This is par for the course throughout the film, with everyone from to Perez Hilton to Uwe Boll jumping on the argumentum ad hominem bandwagon, completely failing to distinguish between gratuitous vitriol and dismissal of any and all legitimate criticism. If there is any credence given to the idea that criticism is a valid form of writing, and that some critics are talented, insightful essayists who indeed serve the audiences who come to appreciate them as good gauges based on their simpatico tastes, it's almost completely absent from "Heckler". Some brief lip service paid to Roger Ebert as one exception, but it is used as a springboard to dismiss even him by pointing out the poor quality of the one film whose screenplay he did write, "Beyond the Valley of the Dolls". Criss Angel is shown saying that he listens to critics in order to improve his work, but the film abruptly cuts away from him before he can elaborate.
The film eventually broadens its scope to criticism of ANY TYPE, as when Eli Roth whines about focus groups, which he calls the death of cinema. He makes the point that those in focus groups should not necessarily be taken as accurate barometers of the national or global audience for a film, but then undercuts this argument (which could've set a respectable tone for the film, and provoked dialogue among the film's subjects and its viewers), by referring to a focus group attendee as a "fat girl from Cleveland" and a "f***". I'm not sure what's funnier, his hypocrisy in decrying polite criticism by moviegoers by criticizing them impolitely himself, or his referring to his work as "cinema".
Even criticism itself is thrown out the window as a unifying theme, when instances of Jewel, Jim Everett and Andrew Dice Clay being denigrated by obnoxious interviewers are included as relevant cases. So undiscriminating is Addis about what he is willing to throw into this chop suey of a film, that he even profiles actress Nicole Madich, who talks about being bullied as a teen for being small-breasted (which she proves to us by showing us her bare breasts), and Jody Vaclav, who talks about reaction to her being a transsexual. If Vaclav is an actress or comedian, I don't know, since the film only identifies her as "transsexual". What these two interviews have to do with critics, much less the film's title, is anyone's guess.
Yes, there are critics who are nothing more than obnoxious nihilists with who simply revel in negativity and are about as thoughtful and balanced in their assessments as Joseph Goebbels reincarnated as a rabid snake, like the utterly obnoxious blogger that Kennedy confronts while on G4'th "The Live Feed", but the film not only lacks balance, and a desire to ask its subjects what the criteria are for good reviews and bad ones, it lacks any cogent thesis. It simply either doesn't know what it wants to be about, or tries to fool the viewer into believing it's about one thing that's actually conflated with several other things, and beyond the first 25 minutes, just resembles a pityfest by Jamie Kennedy and other performers grumbling in indiscriminate fashion over anyone who doesn't provide them with uncritical adulation.