Okay, imagine if the real life version of the crazy director from Entourage got totally high on shrooms, got ten film students, gave each of them a camera, then drove to random locations and told Ellen Page, "Say whatever the f*ck you want". Then imagine that he gave all 1,000,000 hours of this footage to the lovechild of Michael Bay and Amy Whinehouse to edit. But let's also say that both monitors broke during the editing process. So he/she couldn't even see what they were putting together. Then, after they were finished, the monitors started working again, and they gave 20 people off the street a chance to place any alternate take they wanted in a small video overlay somewhere on the screen. Welcome to The Tracy Fragments, the worst film I've seen this year, and maybe in the last five years.
I don't often wish bodily harm to people, but after this piece of trash, the director of this movie would be wise to avoid me.
I don't often wish bodily harm to people, but after this piece of trash, the director of this movie would be wise to avoid me.