There are plenty of films about making movies. Some are documentaries, while others are traditional scripted fare, like the pandemic-era Netflix comedy The Bubble, which was very much a product of its moment and probably won’t be remembered much beyond that. Chapter 51 takes a different route. It adopts the mockumentary format, but underneath all of the absurdity is a surprisingly grounded core.
The film centers on what is supposedly one of the most disastrous productions in movie history, with its reputation placed alongside famously troubled shoots like Apocalypse Now and The Wizard of Oz. You could certainly think of others that might deserve mention, but the point comes across. This fictional production keeps losing its female leads to a serial killer, and years later a documentary crew revisits the case to examine the four people who could have been responsible.
The running joke is that the film’s obsessive director refused to stop shooting under any circumstances. Cameras rolled constantly, to the point where the production supposedly used more film stock than any movie ever made. The shoot drags on for years as actresses continue to disappear and replacements are brought in, trapping everyone involved in an endless production that nobody seems capable of escaping. The whole premise becomes an exaggerated satire of the idea that once a movie starts, it has to be finished no matter the cost.
I didn’t have audio description available for my screening, but I’m not convinced I missed much. The presentation closely resembles television mockumentaries like Abbott Elementary, St. Denis Medical, Parks and Recreation, and The Office, constantly shifting between interviews and behind-the-scenes footage. Those formats don’t always lend themselves particularly well to descriptive narration anyway.
One detail I did appreciate was the film’s commitment to visual variety. Chapter 51 reportedly utilizes everything from IMAX and VistaVision to the rarely seen 8mm format. If there was ever a way to shoot on film, this production seems determined to include it. It becomes another layer of the joke, emphasizing the unchecked ambition and complete lack of restraint that defines this monstrosity.
Interestingly, my screener labeled Chapter 51 as a crime thriller. I never really saw it that way. I found it much funnier than suspenseful. The mystery is there, but the movie works far better as a satire of overblown productions, self-important filmmakers, clueless talent, and directors who demand increasingly impossible things simply because they can. I laughed far more often than I found myself on the edge of my seat, and I don’t consider that a criticism. The comedy is what makes the film work.
The central premise may sound exaggerated, but it isn’t quite as far removed from reality as it first appears. Audiences might scoff at the notion of a production refusing to shut down despite overwhelming tragedy, yet the industry has shown us that sometimes a film simply has to reach the finish line. Rust ultimately resumed production and was completed following the death of cinematographer Halyna Hutchins. Reality has a way of making satire feel a little less outrageous.
My biggest issue with Chapter 51 is actually how it’s being marketed. Coleman Domingo’s name is featured prominently, almost as though he’s the lead. He is in the film, but calling him the star would be like saying Judd Hirsch was the star of The Fabelmans or Judi Dench was the star of Shakespeare in Love. His role is brief enough that it likely didn’t require much of his schedule. Abigail Breslin also has name recognition and a larger presence, though she isn’t the central character either. The rest of the ensemble may not be filled with household names, but that doesn’t make them any less effective.
In fact, some of the film’s strongest moments belong to performers audiences may not immediately recognize. They’re the ones who fully commit to the escalating insanity of the production, delivering the kind of completely straight-faced performances that allow the comedy to land. Nobody plays to the joke. They play the situation as though it’s perfectly reasonable, and that’s exactly why it’s funny.
In the real world, plenty of artists, in front of and behind the cameras, have actually suffered for their art. There are legendarily terrible stories about troubled film shoots, accidents, stunts gone wrong, and if you believe the Poltergeist rumors, a curse. Chapter 51, by not pretending to be a laugh a minute Spinal Tap style mockumentary ends up paying safe homage to the real tragedies, while also offering up a satirical look at a production that needed to shut down at the first murder. I think more industry insiders will enjoy this film over regular audiences, as is often the case with films about Hollywood, but I’m a critic. Movies are my life, so I thought this film had plenty to offer and say.
Chapter 51 is a surprisingly satirical look at flawed productions, gifting us a fictional film that never stopped filming, but probably should have. A love letter to all those artists who bled for their craft, and went unappreciated.
Fresh: 7.4/10
