Very very predictable, including the post credit scene !!!

I don't have all the words right now but this film is a work of art.

Although it has its amusing moments, in eneral the plot does not convince.

While it doesn't offer any answers, it both thrills and makes you think.

I usually dig movies like this. Ones with wide open panoramic cinematography and nobody characters but this one really made no sense at all. We basically have this unstable guy who travels around doing a horrible comedy routine. He takes in the sights and wears a yellow hat. I get the premise of this movie. Basically it's a statement about how delusional we can be in our dreams. The main character absolutely fits that part. He doesn't know how to tell jokes, except to convicts and the most hilarity in his act is basically his comb over look. When someone heckles him he can't handle it and tears the person apart. He really doesn't care about anyone or anything.I do not recommend this movie even if you are a fan of independent movies. This one is really forgettable. It's not very good and its ending is abrupt and pointless.

A fascinating and ambitious mess, with echoes of David Lynch, Jim Jarmusch and Stanley Kubrick among others. Beautifully shot and full of careful and striking lighting and compositions, this tragic-comic character study of an abrasive, sad, utterly unsuccessful stand up comic has a number of surreal scenes and images that are deeply affecting and/or quite funny. There are also a number of scenes that seem needlessly repetitive, or working way too hard to be self-consciously weird. And the film definitely feels long. Back on the plus side, it's made more complex and interesting by the fact that the stand up character in his off-stage real life is outwardly nothing like the hyper-annoying, aggressively unfunny and gross person he plays on stage. He's quiet and introverted and seems more terribly and dangerously depressed than angry. However, under the surface the comic and his on-stage alter ego share a desperate sense of alienation from other human beings, and it's that terrible modern isolation that's at the heart of the film. Extending that exploration, 'Entertainment' plays with an interesting meta idea. What if an arty, self-referential surrealist comic like Andy Kaufman (or this film's lead Gregg Turkington) spent their career playing their most difficult and abrasive alter-ego like Kaufman's Tony Clifton (or star Turkington's Neil Hamburger, who is the basis of the on stage persona here), but instead of playing for crowds of hip and 'knowing' urban young people 'in on the joke', they only got to do that act in sad, barely populated working class dive bars out in the middle of the California desert, where the inside joke is totally lost for the audience. It raises interesting questions about perception and comedy, and how much of our enjoyment of hip ironic distance in modern entertainment is a cover for something wounded and broken inside us. It's a difficult film I'd be hesitant in recommending to most other people, and that I have my own reservations about. Yet I find that since I've seen it, moments, images and performances are aggressively haunting me in a powerful way, and make me look forward to seeing it again.

"Entertainment" is almost as hard to watch as Turkington is hard to look at. Why does his hair always appear wet?It's one of those sparse art movies where nothing happens and the movie barely seems to notice the main character, which I suppose is the point. Turkington found fame as Neil Hamburger, an "anti-comedian" who is funny because he isn't funny. That's the joke.In "Entertainment", he plays a comedian - nameless - who isn't funny because he isn't funny. His shows are bad at first, and continue to get worse until he gets on stage and blows a continuous raspberry - repulsive to view and listen to - and in a final performance, collapses.It wouldn't be one of these weird art movies without two things - unexplained celebrity walk-ons and equally unexplained disturbing scenarios. For the walk-on, we get Michael Cera in one scene where he asks the comedian to "hang out" with him in the men's room. For the disturbing material, we get him approaching a woman in labor on a public bathroom floor, and then a cut to him with a newborn baby in his arms while he sits on the floor, looking as bored as he has throughout the entire movie.The stand up performances are the only part of the movie that have any kind of drama to them. Yes, they're bad, but there is some kind of character arc present in the way they devolve. Nothing else in the movie is of any value, none of it makes sense, and it's not even interesting enough to frustrate you when you realise that.

I really hated "The Comedy," so I'm a little baffled to have rather liked the director's followup, which is basically more of the same hilarity-and/or-torture-of-the-brutally-unfunny stuff. But while his prior film just seemed annoying and smug in its contrariness, this time it felt like he'd actually located the 9th circle of Hell or something like. The movie is like an unending nightmare in which you can't escape the hopelessness, negativity and humiliation of a universe in which you (or rather the stand-up "comic" protagonist here) are on the perpetual receiving end of a joke you're not even in on. Our "hero" is some sort of victim, yet we can't even feel for him--in fact, we kind of wish more of his unhappy patrons would throw things or beat him up. It's hard to imagine who to recommend this movie to, but it's sort of like a Beckett play: Uniquely, repetitiously desolate, with occasional content that suggests humor, but which perversely and very deliberately refuses to prompt any actual laughter. It is an expression--or analysis, or both--of pure self-loathing and existential despair. If you are in the mood for something grotesque, minimalist and defiantly unpleasant, "Entertainment" will fill that need. If you need a punchline, you can always dwell on choice of title. I'm not sure where this director can go from here--few movies have so vividly defined their own dead end in terms of artistic intent and "message." I'll almost be disappointed if he picks himself up off the floor and makes another movie. The next logical step would seem to be suicide. The bleakest statements by folks such as Lars von Trier or Gaspar Noe still have more filmic energy than this rather elegantly crafted movie that dares you not to kick it to see if it's still breathing. Yet I can't say it was boring--there's something compelling in its sheer masochism.