(517-word review) After the mediocrity that was _Police Academy_, there was only one reasonable thing to do on a moral and noble level: fulfill your life's duty to exist by watching real cinema. And so, here it was, waiting there, tranquil and paradisiacal, with a godlike presence and aura that you can't help but be drawn toward against your every fleshly impulse.

Casuals trying to cheat the system will watch films like _The Godfather_ and its sequel, _The Shawshank Redemption_, _Schindler's List_, _12 Angry Men_, _Citizen Kane_, _Inception_, _Forrest Gump_; more recently, the likes of _Parasite_, _Joker_, _Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood_, _Portrait of a Lady on Fire_, _Everything Everywhere All at Once_, _The Whale_, and so on: all these other so-called "real cinema." But they don't see the truth; it escapes them because of their casualness, even though it's right before them.

What is the truth? _Best F(r)iends: Volume 1_ is the truth; it is real cinema. It's why aliens haven't invaded yet because they're terrified of it: it eludes their highest levels of comprehension and understanding. It's the same with the casuals but to a more significant degree: they've convinced themselves that "their" idea of real cinema is genuine and accurate when, in actuality, it's a survival mechanism set in place because they're not capable of seeing the reality.

It begins with the masterful line, "Are you going to stand out there, like a Statue of Liberty?" There's never been this good of a start to a film. The countless nuances of that line, combined with the sublime delivery by Mr. Wiseau, propelled cinema to new heights, and that was only the start of the film.

The phenomenal story and writing by Greg Sestero were only the tip of the iceberg; it goes deeper into the depths of everything we thought we understood. Each bit of dialogue was honed to perfection with the best of care and sublime delivery, causing a state of euphoric, profound completion to engulf you, fully and thoroughly: but also punches you in the liver; you can't forget that part.

Furthermore, the soundtrack and the score by Daniel Platzman and Justin MacGregor, including Farhan Umedaly's cinematography, further cemented this masterpiece into Civilization's Hall of Fame.

Praise be: Tommy Wiseau and Greg Sestero, masters of their craft on a level nobody else has reached. Their collective and individual prowess knows no bounds, for they are not of this world anymore; they have ascended to a plane beyond corporeal restraint.

No duo has accomplished what they've accomplished, nor will there ever be one. No individual in entertainment history has given an acting performance at their level. The lack of awards that should be tossed at them without a care in the world, as if they're the epitome and example to follow in the stripping discipline, is staggering, and everyone responsible for this deplorable inaction, this heinous crime, needs to be brought to justice.

This was/is a masterpiece of epic proportions that only Tommy Wiseau and Greg Sestero could conjure into existence. And for that, I say, "Hello! Hello!" to the sky because they've ascended.