Buried Secret of M. Night Shyamalan

So it turns out that The Buried Secret of M. Night Shyamalan, an “unauthorized documentary” about the director’s life on the Sci Fi channel, was a complete fraud. There is no buried secret, there was no drowned child in Night’s past, and his movies are not in any way autobiographical except that they take place in his hometown of Philadelphia. I saw this last night. It was awful. Its attempts at appearing factual made Michael Moore look like National Geographic. Why would you film a conversation with your boss about the documentary you’re making? Why would a house that’s been more or less empty for the last 20 years still have a rather large amount of belongings in it, including things like paper towels which would have been chewed up by bugs and rodents by now? How could an 11-year-old child handle a camera during the 1970s (a time before camcorders), and why would his mother be wearing suspiciously modern clothing? The ending was even worse: the filmmakers wandered around on the street and asked random strangers whether they believed in the supernatural. I wanted to stab forks in my eyes.

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