The tedium of the stocking commercial at the center of this is something to behold. The repetition, the ego, the Terry Richardson like behavior of the directors and photographers all for a fucking 20 second ad. But that futzing over position and sounding out of directions that only make sense in the head of creatives as crew stands by with work split between a studio and a location shoot is how this crap is made. It’s fucking work and I’m sitting here in my roach infested apartment wondering when, if ever, I’ll get into the union and I’m fucking envious of these schmucks. When the film cuts to NYC street interstitials as if to communicate that outside this high end biz of glamour making is the real world full of drunks, cops, and normal people it takes some fucking pious devotion to scripting to not see we have literally all these things captured within the world Model covers. Kind of a let down after The Store, but I’m willing to see what else Wiseman has.