With their millions of dollars, perfect bodies, and absent hubbies, one has to wonder who is out there protecting the MILFs of L.A.? “Yogaman” dares to ask that question, and many more, like: can something as lame as yoga be real? and is Detroit a third world country? The answer to both of those is, of course, yes. But that’s only a fraction of what one can learn when an undercover reporter (JohnMark Triplett) goes deep to expose the dark side of spiritual enlightenment.
Every indie film starts with a good idea. That’s a given. Where the film succeeds or fails is in the execution. “Yogaman” could have easily rested on its laurels, spending the whole film inventing new ways to make fun of yoga, but it didn’t. The film’s writers, Rob Lambert and JohnMark Triplett, pack more jokes into a short than most indies have in a whole feature. Every line is funny in itself, but also sets up a spike for the line that follows.
The film also understands it’s own limitations, making simple moments ridiculous through the fearless use of ridiculous characters. In this way, the audience can trust the filmmakers to keep the funny coming. A high quality, 100% entertaining film that rewrites cliché with comedy that’s both fresh and comfortable.
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