Starting your self applauding documentary/retrospective on the famed new beverly cinema off with the bold statement 'You shouldn't be watching this if you can enjoy a film on your notepad or phone' is noble and all. But when your docu looks like it was filmed using a phone, and its 95% talking head filler with nobodies, who look like they're sat in cardboard boxes... you can suck my dick. Rent-a-mouth Kevin Smiths gone from amusing to shit quicker than Sandler, Ferrell and Gervais combined. And poor lonely senile citizen Lloyd Kaufman must drive around LA all day looking for doc film crews to chat with. Boring, I bet even the bevs regular patrons found Out of Print mediocre.