Critic Reviews

Michael M. Bilandic deftly captures the arrogance and despair of New York artists in their efforts to succeed in a decadent world that forces them to produce inherently epigonic work.

It is a rather sly affair, slipping in some genuine food for thought amongst its snickering.

Even with a runtime just barely over an hour, the shock comedy of Hellaware grows a bit numbing after a while.

Hellaware is a cynical, caustic, and often very funny send up of not only the current commercial art world but the entire borough of Brooklyn.

Hellaware doesn’t really have anything new to say about its art world subject... But Bilandic does perfectly capture the laid-back style of the twentysomethings (the lead actors all do fine work) and manages to present a fresh story of callow youth caught up in their own American odyssey.

The old story of art as a refuge for scoundrels and callow youth is amusing and updated with assorted details.

The cinematic equivalent of a modestly amusing shaggy-dog story that meanders toward a clever punchline.

Hellaware is short enough that its doggedness never gets tedious, but the film’s near-total absence of curveballs exposes either a limited imagination, or a lack of time and money to flesh out the premise.

A broad and occasionally disjointed indictment of the New York art scene and horrorcore rap that leaves no broad side of a barn untargeted.