He directed a fine chariot, yessir.

"Phew! That was wretched! That sucked more than an elephant stumbling into quicksand! I may just take up random vomiting as a hobby after watching that!"

Sure, we've all said this about at least one movie, if not about several in our lifetime. But what happens when the person saying that after watching a film... is the director him or herself? They could just live with the shame, that black spot on their cinematic record, or they could hit the "EJECT" button and scramble out of there faster than a nonsensical metaphor at a poetry convention.

Thus, a completely fictitious man who existed in name only was born. Mr. Alan Smithee squeezed out of the birth duct of Hollywood in 1968 to offer a perfect scapegoat to directors who felt that not only was their film beyond hope, but it was also beyond their creative control.

You see, you couldn't just wrinkle your nose at your movie and demand a "Alan Smithee" replacement pseudonym; you had to actually make a case to the Directors Guild of America (DGA) that your film had somehow been yanked out of your hands and tinkered with to your intense distastifaction. Common examples would be when movies in production changed directors in mid-stream, causing neither director to be happy enough with a screen credit. Or perhaps the studio was a bit into micromanaging, and kept fooling around with a film to the point where they both had herpes and the director could no longer recognize his or her initial vision. Or it could just suck, and they would whine and make up some excuse. No matter; the DGA was mostly drunk during the Alan Smithee period (1968-1999), and granted these credits like popcorn.

The cheese stands alone.

Here's a weird thought: while you most likely have never made a real movie in your life, a totally fake person managed to make dozens. How's that help your self-esteem?

You probably never noticed Alan Smithee's name, unless you are a huge fan of crud, or somehow learned about the long-running "secret" of Hollywood's shame. Most of the films that are granted a Smithee credit are done so because they're forgettable trash — although the very first Smithee film, Death of a Gunfighter, was abandoned by both of its directors only to release to rave reviews. The New York Times even said, "[Death of a Gunfighter was] sharply directed by Allen Smithee who has an adroit facility for scanning faces and extracting sharp background detail" D'oh!

Another weird piece of trivia: "Alan Smithe" (minus one "e") is a possible anagram of "The Alias Man". Coincidence?

According to IMDb, Alan Smithee is credited with directing at least 65 (if not more) movies and TV segments. You probably aren't familiar with most (if any) of his movies; Hellraiser: Bloodline (or even The Birds II: Land's End) might be the best-known, and that is a dubious claim. My favorite Smithee film title has to be Bloodsucking Pharaohs in Pittsburgh — as if Pittsburgh didn't have enough problems. Lissa, get on that!

You know "MacGuyver"? Guess who directed the pilot? Smithee also dipped his hand into "The Twilight Zone" and an episode of "The Cosby Show" (the controversial one where Dr. Huxtable dropped the F-bomb).

Sometimes Alan Smithee would get slapped onto a movie that had a legitimately proud director irritated when the TV version of the film would change or cut so much out of it that the end result looked like five-day-old roadkill. Scent of a Woman, Dune, Heat, The Insider and an airline version of Meet Joe Black all were disgraced by the touch of this foul phantom.

And just like Fight Club, there's a sacred rule of the Smithee Club — a director who asks for this credit must never, ever talk about why he or she wanted it. Case in point: director Tony Kaye became dissatisfied over Edward Norton's alleged re-editing of American History X to where Kaye wanted out. However, because he had discussed his intention to get a Smithee credit in Variety, the DGA stumbled into a brief moment of sobriety to deny his request. Kaye turned around and sued the DGA, and the movie marched on to garner positive reviews and an Oscar nomination.

Once in a while, other people than directors — such as the actors, writers or producers — would get jealous of that special directorial privilege, and vie for the Smithee name. Sometimes they got it.

Now that I've gotten this far down into an article, sweating over stupid little research trivia, I just discovered that AMC channel ran a documentary called "Who Is Alan Smithee?", which is mostly likely 100% better than the drivel you're reading here. But hey, I bet they didn't talk about vomiting as a hobby, so I've got that to keep me from weeping into my pillow tonight!

Burn, baby, burn... disco inferno!

So how did a completely fictitious man happen to die in 1999? It so happened that a satirical film called An Alan Smithee Film: Burn Hollywood Burn released in 1998, which threw a giant spotlight onto the whole Smithee phenomenon. The DGA, livers failing and friends intervening, decided that it was time to let Smithee ride off into the sunset. That is to say, they took the guy out into a dark alley, stripped him of his clothes and dignity, and bludgeoned him with rusty movie reels of his many failures.

Although the Smithee name has popped up here and there since '99, the DGA decided that Smithee had a large family, and it was time for them to get in on the action. Their new policy was to grant unsatisfied directors a Smithee-ish credit, but instead of "Alan Smithee", a different name would be chosen for each bomb. Supernova became the first post-Smithee film, directed by Smithee's second cousin (once removed) Thomas Lee.

As odd and abrupt as Smithee's "life" was, his spirit continues to this day: in video game easter eggs, in an obscure Simpson's reference (Monty Burns credits his movie as an "Alan Smithee Film"), and even through the "Smithee Awards". As a writer of several atrotious articles and reviews, I feel a certain connection with Mr. Smithee, and hereby forever invite him to be an invisible member of the MRFH community.

Much thanks goes to The Invisible Hand of Alan Smithee for the information and pictures