Browsing through my notebooks, I see that 2007 was a pretty prolific year (maybe being single all 365 days had something to do with it). I remember sitting down and writing almost every night, usually right after a late-night shredded beef burrito from Del Taco, consumed with a hedonist's deliberate & tarrying delight while watching some shlocktronic favorite like The Creature Walks Among Us or The Reincarnation of Isabel, which is probably why I came up with a lot of titles like Brain Without a Head and Arousal of the Damned - this is what we call "obvious influence," 'though the less charitable (and probably more accurate) view would deem it "derivative crap." Either way, it has to be admitted that this sort of easy transubstantiation can yield some worthy results.
For example:
King Kong → A*P*E
Star Wars → Starcrash
Flashdance → Breakin'
The Terminator* → Lady Terminator
And as everyone knows by now: FernGully: The Last Rainforest → Avatar
See what I mean?
What a lesser world this would be, in my highly prejudiced opinion, were the bastard children of Mainstream Cinema denied their public life, their happy public flickering before the hungry eyes of millions. Derive away, I say, and keep them babies coming (except for The Island, which it's claimed was neither derived from nor influenced by Parts: The Clonus Horror but was in fact a straight rip-off thereof [read about it here]).
Case in Point
No doubt influenced by Stephen King's Cell and the movie The Signal, I came up with the following idea on May 21, 2007:
"a story about a mysterious pulse that blasts out of the TV while everyone's watching Fame Whores, an American Idol-type show; the pulse turns everybody into zombies except people who like Shakespeare; survivors hole up in a cabin in the woods where they're terrorized by a biker gang that's mysteriously escaped zombification"
Of course, I'm nothing if not eclectic in my alchemical approach to storytelling - sorry, kids, it's in my DNA. Which is why I'd have to say that the second part of the story would no doubt be highly influenced by (or flatteringly derivative of) such eerily appropriate source material as These Are the Damned, Mad Max and Straw Dogs, as well as The Day the World Ended, Panic in the Year Zero and Night of the Living Dead (not to mention Last Year at Marienbad and The Madness of King George - whew!).
"But, Diego," you say, "that's more than just an obvious influence or whatever - you're mashing shit up again!" Well, yes, I guess I am. (Didn't I just fucking say my approach to storytelling is alchemically eclectic, etc.? It's like I told the frog when I stinged him: "Sorry, dude, it's my nature." If you don't like it, stop reading this blog and go watch I Am Sam. Again.)
Hey man, I do get the difference - "obvious influence"/"derivative crap" (OIDC) is when you borrow various elements (including the storyline) from a single source and incorporate them at the genetic level in a fresh iteration, as in Play Misty for Me → Fatal Attraction, whereas a mashup is the conscious synthesis of two or more sources into a single entity but for which elements of said sources are directly & grossly constituent, like the Frankenstein Monster, or as illustrated by the following equation:
28 Days Later... + Escape From New York + The Road Warrior = Doomsday
There. Are you happy now?
Anyhoo, I think this "TV pulse" story idea could actually work - or could have, were it not for a) its two main sources of inspiration, Cell and The Signal, (hey, there's a title for you: The Cell & the Signal, kinda like The Agony & the Ecstasy [not really]) and b) the predictably prompt threat of a lawsuit for copyright infringement from one or both authors of those works. Best let this one lie low for a while, maybe deploy it a few years from now when everyone's distracted by the media orgy over Justin Bieber's divorce from Dakota Fanning.
In the meantime, I've got lots more material to develop.
Till next time...
Copyright © 2010 by Diego Baz
* The Terminator itself is the product of this sort of transubstantiation, too - specifically 2 episodes of The Outer Limits: "Soldier" and "Demon with a Glass Hand." More info here.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Sunday, November 28, 2010
What child is THIS?
It's now officially the most wonderful time of the year, my lovelies. Some of you are giddy, some of you are anxious, and some of you could give a rat's ass (bah, humfuck). Some of you are hoping Santa Claus'll finally bring you that divorce you've been restlessly waiting for, while others just wanna get laid this holiday season 'cause it's been like 6 months or so since your last encounter of the carnal kind and you've been having trouble concentrating on other things as a result. Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows? What am I, a mind-reader over here?
Whatever your holiday state of mind, though, remember: the Christmas season is here, so put away your guns & knives & weedwhackers, and stop trying to poison your neighbor's pets - and for Christ's sake, don't drink & drive between now & January 2nd; the last thing you want to do is plow into an oncoming car & grease a whole family at Christmas (whatever your faults & shortcomings may be [e.g. you actually paid to see Step Up 3D at the theater], you're not a homicidal maniac, are you?). Just drink your eggnog and leave the plutonian business of murder & mayhem toour government trained professionals.
Onward to this entry's offerings...
Dead Alone
All this'd be is Home Alone + Night of the Living Dead, thus:
Mischievous 8 yr. old Wally Brambles gets left behind by his family during Christmas. A pair of bumbling burglars breaks into the anthropologist's house next door to steal a copy of the Necronomicon and inadvertently wake the dead largely ignored by his family. Soon enough, Wally finds himself besieged by the living dead, and he's alone...dead alone...
Much Ado About Dracula
I came up with this one on April 18, 2006. The mashup is my natural state of mind, it seems.
Take Much Ado About Nothing + Dracula, then blend: Don Pedro & his companions Benedick & Claudio pay a visit to Leonato, governor of Messina. While there, Claudio gets a boner for Leonato's daughter, Hero, but is constantly cock-blocked by Leonato's mysterious & annoying house guest, Count Dracula, who wants Hero for his own. Things get messy when Van Helsing & Jonathan Harker arrive (disguised as interior decorators) to dispatch the Count.
A Nightmare of Their Own
On May 28, 2006, I thought it'd be a good idea to mashup A Nightmare on Elm Street and A League of Their Own. Simple. Freddy Krueger stalks an all-girl baseball team in the 1940s.
Unpleasantville
Two teen couch potatoes get sucked into a combo David Lynch / Lucio Fulci version of their favorite TV show. Pleasantville + Blue Velvet + The Beyond. You're welcome.
The Hills Have Elves
Jotted this one down on December 19, 2006. Now here's a Yuletide flick I'd like to see. The Hills Have Eyes + Elves = the dysfunctional Hurwood family's RV breaks down on the way to grandma's house for Christmas, while at a secret army base nearby, a government experiment to turn Santa's elves into deadly bioweapons has gone awry. I'm sure you can figure out what happens next (except for the movie ending with a wedding - didn't see that one coming, did you?). Ho, ho, ho!
Please Don't Eat My Time Machine
This one's from May 21, 2007. Had no story for it at the time, but thinking about it now I'd have to say the story for a title like this'd have to be about a kooky Doc Brown-type scientist who invents a dime-sized time machine. He's forced to hide the time machine in a birthday cake for some reason, and then the cake's delivered to some kid's birthday party, and the kooky scientist'd arrive just in time to watch the birthday boy or girl eat the slice with the time machine in it - this'd be the title scene, of course; in slow motion, the kid puts the cake in his/her mouth as the kooky scientist leaps across the backyard & cries out, "Please don't eat my t i m e m a c h i n e !"
Too late, of course - the kid eats the time machine and now every time he/she burps or farts, he/she jumps in time; the scientist'd follow him/her back & forth across the timeline and then, once the kid's been apprehended, it'd be a simple matter of waiting for him/her to shit out the time machine so everyone can go home. If it helps, the scientist & the kid are surrounded by zombies.
Copyright © 2010 by Diego Baz
Whatever your holiday state of mind, though, remember: the Christmas season is here, so put away your guns & knives & weedwhackers, and stop trying to poison your neighbor's pets - and for Christ's sake, don't drink & drive between now & January 2nd; the last thing you want to do is plow into an oncoming car & grease a whole family at Christmas (whatever your faults & shortcomings may be [e.g. you actually paid to see Step Up 3D at the theater], you're not a homicidal maniac, are you?). Just drink your eggnog and leave the plutonian business of murder & mayhem to
Onward to this entry's offerings...
Dead Alone
All this'd be is Home Alone + Night of the Living Dead, thus:
Mischievous 8 yr. old Wally Brambles gets left behind by his family during Christmas. A pair of bumbling burglars breaks into the anthropologist's house next door to steal a copy of the Necronomicon and inadvertently wake the dead largely ignored by his family. Soon enough, Wally finds himself besieged by the living dead, and he's alone...dead alone...
Much Ado About Dracula
I came up with this one on April 18, 2006. The mashup is my natural state of mind, it seems.
Take Much Ado About Nothing + Dracula, then blend: Don Pedro & his companions Benedick & Claudio pay a visit to Leonato, governor of Messina. While there, Claudio gets a boner for Leonato's daughter, Hero, but is constantly cock-blocked by Leonato's mysterious & annoying house guest, Count Dracula, who wants Hero for his own. Things get messy when Van Helsing & Jonathan Harker arrive (disguised as interior decorators) to dispatch the Count.
A Nightmare of Their Own
On May 28, 2006, I thought it'd be a good idea to mashup A Nightmare on Elm Street and A League of Their Own. Simple. Freddy Krueger stalks an all-girl baseball team in the 1940s.
Unpleasantville
Two teen couch potatoes get sucked into a combo David Lynch / Lucio Fulci version of their favorite TV show. Pleasantville + Blue Velvet + The Beyond. You're welcome.
The Hills Have Elves
Jotted this one down on December 19, 2006. Now here's a Yuletide flick I'd like to see. The Hills Have Eyes + Elves = the dysfunctional Hurwood family's RV breaks down on the way to grandma's house for Christmas, while at a secret army base nearby, a government experiment to turn Santa's elves into deadly bioweapons has gone awry. I'm sure you can figure out what happens next (except for the movie ending with a wedding - didn't see that one coming, did you?). Ho, ho, ho!
Please Don't Eat My Time Machine
This one's from May 21, 2007. Had no story for it at the time, but thinking about it now I'd have to say the story for a title like this'd have to be about a kooky Doc Brown-type scientist who invents a dime-sized time machine. He's forced to hide the time machine in a birthday cake for some reason, and then the cake's delivered to some kid's birthday party, and the kooky scientist'd arrive just in time to watch the birthday boy or girl eat the slice with the time machine in it - this'd be the title scene, of course; in slow motion, the kid puts the cake in his/her mouth as the kooky scientist leaps across the backyard & cries out, "Please don't eat my t i m e m a c h i n e !"
Too late, of course - the kid eats the time machine and now every time he/she burps or farts, he/she jumps in time; the scientist'd follow him/her back & forth across the timeline and then, once the kid's been apprehended, it'd be a simple matter of waiting for him/her to shit out the time machine so everyone can go home. If it helps, the scientist & the kid are surrounded by zombies.
Copyright © 2010 by Diego Baz
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
It's time to give fangs...
The Man in the Street
People sometimes stop me in the street and ask me, "Hey, Diego, do you ever run out of ideas?" or "Hey, Diego, do you ever get writer's block?" or "Hey, Diego, do you always wear those stupid sunglasses? 'Cause they make you seem like you're really full of yourself."
To which I'll usually reply, "Um, excuse me - do I know you?" or "I'm sorry, sir/madam, but you have me at a disadvantage: I don't know who the fuck you are..." or "Mom, do you have to embarrass me in public all the time? How'm I supposed to get laid with you embarrassing me like that all the time?"
Actually, that never happens. The only people who stop me in the street are homeless guys; I usually give 'em whatever money I have in my wallet and/or the rest of my cigarettes if I have a pack on me. I appreciate it when the process takes no longer than 60 seconds, however: not 'cause I'm skeeved or grossed out or anything; more 'cause I usually have shit to do (like pick up my son from school or do laundry or write this blog).
It occurs to me, though, that maybe these homeless dudes'd be a great source of feedback & commentary on some of my movie ideas. Why not? I always listen to their life stories or their observations on contemporary society or their explanations of why they're for or against the death penalty; I'm buying the fucking coffee & providing the smokes, though, so shouldn't I get to say something, too?
Now, is it vile & inconsiderate of me to propose using the homeless as sounding boards for my cinematically-oriented narrative proposals? Would I be in violation of the Second Maxim of Kant's Categorical Imperative if I did so? And, more importantly, does anyone really give a shit?
Such considerations are both beyond the scope & outside the purpose of this blog. You don't come here for intellectually masturbatory philosophical analysis; you come here to read about (and, hopefully, someday buy) my ideas for movies & maybe a novel or short story or farm equipment catalog. So let's get to it, shall we?
Vampire Santa Redux
I know what you're going to say: "Diego, didn't we just cover the whole Santa/Dracula thing a few days ago?" Yes, children - on November 20, to be exact. But I was watching Taste the Blood of Dracula last night and was reminded of a couple of titles I came up with a few years ago...
Back in the spring of 2004, WB Home Video released Dracula Has Risen from the Grave and Taste the Blood of Dracula. Manna fromHeaven Transylvania! At the time, it occurred to me that you could switch "Santa Claus" for "Dracula" and you'd have two awesome titles:
Admit it: you totally want to see these movies now...
Stay tuned: I'll pull a storyline out of my ass for these two soon enough.
Random Bits
I haven't worked out a plot or story or characters for any of these titles yet, either, but they strike me as worthy of the effort. And because I know you'll be eagerly waiting for me to whip up something worthy of your attention, I promise to put my best men on this ASAP (i.e. as soon as I drive down to Home Depot and hire them).
Revenge of the Manitou (proposed sequel to William Girdler's masterful The Manitou)
Body of a She-Male (from the Amero/Findlay sexploitation classic Body of a Female)
and
Any of these you want me to work on first? Let me know...
Happy Thanksgiving!
Copyright © 2010 by Diego Baz
People sometimes stop me in the street and ask me, "Hey, Diego, do you ever run out of ideas?" or "Hey, Diego, do you ever get writer's block?" or "Hey, Diego, do you always wear those stupid sunglasses? 'Cause they make you seem like you're really full of yourself."
To which I'll usually reply, "Um, excuse me - do I know you?" or "I'm sorry, sir/madam, but you have me at a disadvantage: I don't know who the fuck you are..." or "Mom, do you have to embarrass me in public all the time? How'm I supposed to get laid with you embarrassing me like that all the time?"
Actually, that never happens. The only people who stop me in the street are homeless guys; I usually give 'em whatever money I have in my wallet and/or the rest of my cigarettes if I have a pack on me. I appreciate it when the process takes no longer than 60 seconds, however: not 'cause I'm skeeved or grossed out or anything; more 'cause I usually have shit to do (like pick up my son from school or do laundry or write this blog).
It occurs to me, though, that maybe these homeless dudes'd be a great source of feedback & commentary on some of my movie ideas. Why not? I always listen to their life stories or their observations on contemporary society or their explanations of why they're for or against the death penalty; I'm buying the fucking coffee & providing the smokes, though, so shouldn't I get to say something, too?
Now, is it vile & inconsiderate of me to propose using the homeless as sounding boards for my cinematically-oriented narrative proposals? Would I be in violation of the Second Maxim of Kant's Categorical Imperative if I did so? And, more importantly, does anyone really give a shit?
Such considerations are both beyond the scope & outside the purpose of this blog. You don't come here for intellectually masturbatory philosophical analysis; you come here to read about (and, hopefully, someday buy) my ideas for movies & maybe a novel or short story or farm equipment catalog. So let's get to it, shall we?
Vampire Santa Redux
I know what you're going to say: "Diego, didn't we just cover the whole Santa/Dracula thing a few days ago?" Yes, children - on November 20, to be exact. But I was watching Taste the Blood of Dracula last night and was reminded of a couple of titles I came up with a few years ago...
Back in the spring of 2004, WB Home Video released Dracula Has Risen from the Grave and Taste the Blood of Dracula. Manna from
Admit it: you totally want to see these movies now...
Stay tuned: I'll pull a storyline out of my ass for these two soon enough.
Random Bits
I haven't worked out a plot or story or characters for any of these titles yet, either, but they strike me as worthy of the effort. And because I know you'll be eagerly waiting for me to whip up something worthy of your attention, I promise to put my best men on this ASAP (i.e. as soon as I drive down to Home Depot and hire them).
Revenge of the Manitou (proposed sequel to William Girdler's masterful The Manitou)
Body of a She-Male (from the Amero/Findlay sexploitation classic Body of a Female)
and
Diary of a Shotgun
The Robot Who Broke My Heart
Chainsaw Hitman
Leave Her to Satan
Story of a One-Night Stand
Curse of the Starry Night
Death Train to Phoenix
The Devil's Stepmom
Grand Theft Evil
Prognosis: Gay
Sword of the Cheerleader
Foot Meets Ass
Gestapo Starbeast
The Eternal Damnation of a Monkey's Uncle
Dr. Racist
Vault of Cataclysm
Any of these you want me to work on first? Let me know...
Happy Thanksgiving!
Copyright © 2010 by Diego Baz
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
All I Want for Christmas...IS YOUR BLOOD!
You know that movie, The Blood on Satan's Claw, Piers Haggard's cute little masterpiece from 1970 about witchcraft and/or Devil-worship in a 17th-century English village?
Wouldn't it be awesome if they made a movie called The Blood on Santa's Claw?
Now here's the part where you, as usual, jump in and go, "Yeah, Diego, but what would it be about?" Which some people may ascribe to impatience on your part, but I prefer to think of as a refreshing enthusiasm (and if it was impatience, I'd still give you a pass, 'cause I'd assume you have to go to the bathroom or something, 'cause maybe you're 68 years old and had a McRib meal for lunch).
In answer to your query, though, I'd say The Blood on Santa's Claw is about Santa getting bit by a vampire while delivering toys to a house in Eastern Europe one foggy Christmas Eve...and then becoming a vampire himself! Holy fucking shit! Ooo, maybe the vampire who turns Santa is Dracula, the Dracula, the Prince of Darkness himself, who's risen from the grave and whose blood we must taste (hmm...why's that sound so familiar? Oh, that's right...).
For reasons best worked out during that phase of Hollywood studio moviemaking known as "in development," the story's climax would take place at the North Pole, at Santa's village or castle or Fortress of Solitude or whatever, where Santa & his elves would stand off against Dracula & his vampire lackeys (vackeys?).
"But, Diego," you say as you lean back in your Garden Treasures aluminum-strap chaise lounge patio chair from Lowe's and take a sip of that boxed wine you like so much, "what about The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy, specifically the 1-hour Christmas special, 'Billy & Mandy Save Christmas,' in which Santa Claus gets bitten by & becomes a vampire?"
To which I'd reply, "Fuck you! I had that same exact idea like a year before 'Billy & Mandy Save Christmas' was broadcast!" (Which is true, I really did.) And then I'd quote David Trottier: "Creativity is not creating something out of nothing; it's a new twist on an old idea. It's making new combinations out of old patterns. It's converting the Big Dipper into the Little Ladle." (The Screenwriter's Bible, 4th Edition, p. 89.)
If, at this point, you kept giving me shit, then I'd point out that Shakespeare "borrowed" the plot of Hamlet from the Ur-Hamlet & other sources (oh, you gonna get all up in Shakespeare's Kool-Aid now?), that Holly Lisle'd back me up on the notion of "borrowing" ideas and/or points of inspiration from other works, and that subsequently in history, "borrowing," "reworking" & "reimagining" are both widespread in practice and have yielded some worthy results (e.g. Romeo & Juliet → West Side Story; Parts: The Clonus Horror → The Island; Garfield → Garfield the Movie - you see? YOU SEE?).
And/or you might say (in an excessively whiny voice, for some reason): "But, Diego, isn't there already a movie called Satan Claws?"
"Good point," I'd say, and then refer to the contemporary phenomenon of dueling movie releases as an example of (to paraphrase David Trottier) a new twist on the same ideas (well, a hoped-for new twist, or at least the semblance thereof, for the sake of the box office; I mean, you don't have to work that hard these days to fool an audience into watching the same movie over & over, but it still involves some effort [like changing the title & all the characters' names {e.g. War of the Worlds → Earth vs. the Flying Saucers → Independence Day → War of the Worlds → Skyline → Battle: Los Angeles → ?}]).
So, yes, there is a movie called Satan Claws. So what? Let's face it, kids: "evil Santa" stories are by now almost on the verge of perhaps possibly becoming (maybe) a fringe tradition of the Christmas experience in America. To wit: Christmas Evil, Don't Open Till Christmas, Silent Night Deadly Night, the aforementioned Satan Claws, Bad Santa, Santa's Slay, etc. To me, the burgeoning nature of this sub-sub-genre signals a welcome to new expressions of its core values & tenets, a call to storytellers everywhere to bring their voices to the Evil Santa Party, and all I'm doing is RSVPing that my ass be attending. Me + 1 guest...will it be you?
And then you'd say, "Yes, Diego, I see your point. I'm really looking forward to The Blood on Santa's Claw now." To which I'd reply, "Well, this ought to tide you over till then, or this..."
¡Feliz Navidad!
Copyright © 2010 by Diego Baz
Wouldn't it be awesome if they made a movie called The Blood on Santa's Claw?
Now here's the part where you, as usual, jump in and go, "Yeah, Diego, but what would it be about?" Which some people may ascribe to impatience on your part, but I prefer to think of as a refreshing enthusiasm (and if it was impatience, I'd still give you a pass, 'cause I'd assume you have to go to the bathroom or something, 'cause maybe you're 68 years old and had a McRib meal for lunch).
In answer to your query, though, I'd say The Blood on Santa's Claw is about Santa getting bit by a vampire while delivering toys to a house in Eastern Europe one foggy Christmas Eve...and then becoming a vampire himself! Holy fucking shit! Ooo, maybe the vampire who turns Santa is Dracula, the Dracula, the Prince of Darkness himself, who's risen from the grave and whose blood we must taste (hmm...why's that sound so familiar? Oh, that's right...).
For reasons best worked out during that phase of Hollywood studio moviemaking known as "in development," the story's climax would take place at the North Pole, at Santa's village or castle or Fortress of Solitude or whatever, where Santa & his elves would stand off against Dracula & his vampire lackeys (vackeys?).
"But, Diego," you say as you lean back in your Garden Treasures aluminum-strap chaise lounge patio chair from Lowe's and take a sip of that boxed wine you like so much, "what about The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy, specifically the 1-hour Christmas special, 'Billy & Mandy Save Christmas,' in which Santa Claus gets bitten by & becomes a vampire?"
To which I'd reply, "Fuck you! I had that same exact idea like a year before 'Billy & Mandy Save Christmas' was broadcast!" (Which is true, I really did.) And then I'd quote David Trottier: "Creativity is not creating something out of nothing; it's a new twist on an old idea. It's making new combinations out of old patterns. It's converting the Big Dipper into the Little Ladle." (The Screenwriter's Bible, 4th Edition, p. 89.)
If, at this point, you kept giving me shit, then I'd point out that Shakespeare "borrowed" the plot of Hamlet from the Ur-Hamlet & other sources (oh, you gonna get all up in Shakespeare's Kool-Aid now?), that Holly Lisle'd back me up on the notion of "borrowing" ideas and/or points of inspiration from other works, and that subsequently in history, "borrowing," "reworking" & "reimagining" are both widespread in practice and have yielded some worthy results (e.g. Romeo & Juliet → West Side Story; Parts: The Clonus Horror → The Island; Garfield → Garfield the Movie - you see? YOU SEE?).
And/or you might say (in an excessively whiny voice, for some reason): "But, Diego, isn't there already a movie called Satan Claws?"
"Good point," I'd say, and then refer to the contemporary phenomenon of dueling movie releases as an example of (to paraphrase David Trottier) a new twist on the same ideas (well, a hoped-for new twist, or at least the semblance thereof, for the sake of the box office; I mean, you don't have to work that hard these days to fool an audience into watching the same movie over & over, but it still involves some effort [like changing the title & all the characters' names {e.g. War of the Worlds → Earth vs. the Flying Saucers → Independence Day → War of the Worlds → Skyline → Battle: Los Angeles → ?}]).
So, yes, there is a movie called Satan Claws. So what? Let's face it, kids: "evil Santa" stories are by now almost on the verge of perhaps possibly becoming (maybe) a fringe tradition of the Christmas experience in America. To wit: Christmas Evil, Don't Open Till Christmas, Silent Night Deadly Night, the aforementioned Satan Claws, Bad Santa, Santa's Slay, etc. To me, the burgeoning nature of this sub-sub-genre signals a welcome to new expressions of its core values & tenets, a call to storytellers everywhere to bring their voices to the Evil Santa Party, and all I'm doing is RSVPing that my ass be attending. Me + 1 guest...will it be you?
And then you'd say, "Yes, Diego, I see your point. I'm really looking forward to The Blood on Santa's Claw now." To which I'd reply, "Well, this ought to tide you over till then, or this..."
¡Feliz Navidad!
Copyright © 2010 by Diego Baz
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Let's Hear It for the Demons
Back on November 8, 2009, I jotted down the title Evil Death in one of my notebooks (an Office Depot personal size vinyl cover notebook, 'though I've since switched to a Moleskine cahier). Imagine it on a movie poster:
Now there's a title that just screams "I promise you nothing but trash!" Such sweet, sweet assurance...sigh.
"But, Diego," you say, "what'd it be about?"
Good question. Well, let's see...what kind of movie would Evil Death be? I think it'd be a good idea to start by asking: what exactly is an "evil death"? What does it mean if a death is "evil"?
The first thing that comes to mind is "death in an especially evil manner." Like, if a rhino bit your head clean off while you were getting raped by a mandrill, that'd be an especially evil death (you might say it's an especially nasty death, too, but the title's Evil Death, not Nasty Death, so stop interrupting, okay?). Or like when that Diaper Mafia dude gets his head shoved up his own ass in Citizen Toxie: The Toxic Avenger IV. Or like when Elizabeth Taylor's cousin gets eaten by those Spanish kids in Suddenly Last Summer. That's some evil shit!
So, now that we've defined what an "evil death" is (more or less), it occurs to me that the story of Evil Death could be about troubled teen BRAD CORBETT, whose family has just moved from the Big City to some two-bit hick town in the Midwest where dancing's been outlawed, which is a major bummer for Brad 'cause what he likes to do most (after drinking, getting high, having sex, playing videogames, watching porn, and podcasting about how tough it is being a teenager these days) is dance.
With the predictably rebellious spirit of youth driving him on, Brad quickly rallies the local kids to the cause of getting the dread anti-dancing law repealed. The city council, however, is unimpressed with Brad's argument ("Leaping and dancing! Leaping...and dancing!") so Brad organizes an illegal prom across the county line, over at the old Dunwich house, a.k.a. Blood Mansion (which, if you think about it, could be another title for this turkey, i.e. Blood Mansion, but you're ingesting superheated cocaine hydrochloride [i.e. "smoking crack"] if you think I'm gonna whip up another epynomial justification for an alternate title).
It'd be explained at some point that Blood Mansion was the site of several unexplained but intensely gruesome deaths in the past; it'd basically be this story's Hill House but with a more depraved history. Our hero Brad, though, being both a charmingly flippant teen and a dismissive Big City outsider, would convince his dance fever-infected clique of bumpkin peers that Blood Mansion's ideal for their soirée and who cares about the house's reputation, it's all bullshit anyway so c'mon you sheepfuckers: LET'S DANCE!
Bad idea, Brad. Very bad idea.
So now the story'd follow the same narrative arc as Night of the Demons: aroused & awakened by the presence of so much nubile young flesh, the evil spirits of Blood Mansion would trundle up from the nether planes of their demonic slumber and right away start with their mischief, i.e. taking over the kids' bodies and slaughtering them, which'd consist of particularly atrocious modes of demise (e.g. forced inhalation of one's own penis, vaginal impalement on a bazooka, decapitation by rhino bite, etc.).
Meanwhile, you'd have some snappy-ass tunes playing on the soundtrack, like "Rude Boy," "Alejandro," and "Funplex," which wouldn't be considered "lame" or "kitschy" or "embarrassing to listen to" 20 years from now, unlike "Let's Hear It for the Boy," "Dancing in the Sheets," or "Footloose." 'Cause now we know better, right?
Anyhoo, if you've seen Footloose and Night of the Demons, you pretty much know how this whole thing's gonna turn out - except for this twist: you take the ending of Amityville II: The Possession and graft it onto this turkey, for an especially soul-chilling finale: say Brad gets possessed by one of the demons during the prom and starts wasting the farmer's daughters; then a priest shows up and performs an exorcism on Brad but ends up possessed himself; after Brad & the few kids who've survived the demonic attacks vacate the premises, the priest sits huddled in a dark corner of the mansion, waiting for the demon inside him to slowly take over...
Fade out. The end.
"Everybody cut, everybody cut!
Everybody cut, everybody cut!
Everybody cut, everbody cut!
Everybody cut footloose!"
Copyright © 2010 by Diego Baz
EVIL DEATH
Now there's a title that just screams "I promise you nothing but trash!" Such sweet, sweet assurance...sigh.
"But, Diego," you say, "what'd it be about?"
Good question. Well, let's see...what kind of movie would Evil Death be? I think it'd be a good idea to start by asking: what exactly is an "evil death"? What does it mean if a death is "evil"?
The first thing that comes to mind is "death in an especially evil manner." Like, if a rhino bit your head clean off while you were getting raped by a mandrill, that'd be an especially evil death (you might say it's an especially nasty death, too, but the title's Evil Death, not Nasty Death, so stop interrupting, okay?). Or like when that Diaper Mafia dude gets his head shoved up his own ass in Citizen Toxie: The Toxic Avenger IV. Or like when Elizabeth Taylor's cousin gets eaten by those Spanish kids in Suddenly Last Summer. That's some evil shit!
So, now that we've defined what an "evil death" is (more or less), it occurs to me that the story of Evil Death could be about troubled teen BRAD CORBETT, whose family has just moved from the Big City to some two-bit hick town in the Midwest where dancing's been outlawed, which is a major bummer for Brad 'cause what he likes to do most (after drinking, getting high, having sex, playing videogames, watching porn, and podcasting about how tough it is being a teenager these days) is dance.
With the predictably rebellious spirit of youth driving him on, Brad quickly rallies the local kids to the cause of getting the dread anti-dancing law repealed. The city council, however, is unimpressed with Brad's argument ("Leaping and dancing! Leaping...and dancing!") so Brad organizes an illegal prom across the county line, over at the old Dunwich house, a.k.a. Blood Mansion (which, if you think about it, could be another title for this turkey, i.e. Blood Mansion, but you're ingesting superheated cocaine hydrochloride [i.e. "smoking crack"] if you think I'm gonna whip up another epynomial justification for an alternate title).
It'd be explained at some point that Blood Mansion was the site of several unexplained but intensely gruesome deaths in the past; it'd basically be this story's Hill House but with a more depraved history. Our hero Brad, though, being both a charmingly flippant teen and a dismissive Big City outsider, would convince his dance fever-infected clique of bumpkin peers that Blood Mansion's ideal for their soirée and who cares about the house's reputation, it's all bullshit anyway so c'mon you sheepfuckers: LET'S DANCE!
Bad idea, Brad. Very bad idea.
So now the story'd follow the same narrative arc as Night of the Demons: aroused & awakened by the presence of so much nubile young flesh, the evil spirits of Blood Mansion would trundle up from the nether planes of their demonic slumber and right away start with their mischief, i.e. taking over the kids' bodies and slaughtering them, which'd consist of particularly atrocious modes of demise (e.g. forced inhalation of one's own penis, vaginal impalement on a bazooka, decapitation by rhino bite, etc.).
Meanwhile, you'd have some snappy-ass tunes playing on the soundtrack, like "Rude Boy," "Alejandro," and "Funplex," which wouldn't be considered "lame" or "kitschy" or "embarrassing to listen to" 20 years from now, unlike "Let's Hear It for the Boy," "Dancing in the Sheets," or "Footloose." 'Cause now we know better, right?
Anyhoo, if you've seen Footloose and Night of the Demons, you pretty much know how this whole thing's gonna turn out - except for this twist: you take the ending of Amityville II: The Possession and graft it onto this turkey, for an especially soul-chilling finale: say Brad gets possessed by one of the demons during the prom and starts wasting the farmer's daughters; then a priest shows up and performs an exorcism on Brad but ends up possessed himself; after Brad & the few kids who've survived the demonic attacks vacate the premises, the priest sits huddled in a dark corner of the mansion, waiting for the demon inside him to slowly take over...
Fade out. The end.
"Everybody cut, everybody cut!
Everybody cut, everybody cut!
Everybody cut, everbody cut!
Everybody cut footloose!"
Copyright © 2010 by Diego Baz
Sunday, November 14, 2010
The January Man
I have a file in Word that I call "XB71," which serves as a kind of database of ideas & titles for movies, novels, instruction manuals, farm equipment catalogs, etc.
Poking around in XB71 today, I see that on January 7, 2004, I came up with Revenge of the Elephant Man, in which it'd be revealed that the Elephant Man and Jack the Ripper were actually the same person. As penance for Gamer and The Bounty Hunter, Gerard Butler should play the Scotland Yard investigator assigned to the case. And I don't know about you, but I think Richard Coyle (Coupling, Prince of Persia) would be perfect as John Merrick/the Ripper.
Five days later (January 12), there's this entry: "Superman vs. the Ice Demons: basically, it’s Superman & Lois Lane in bed, like in that scene in Superman II, and they just yak their heads off like in My Dinner With Andre; at the very end, a pack of ice demons breaks in and attacks, Superman blasts them with his heat vision, then he & Lois go back to their conversation." I don't know, man...to me, this sounds like the perfect date movie. 'Cause after the credits roll and everyone's walking back to their cars, all the women'd turn to their boyfriends/husbands and go, "See? Superman cuddles and talks after sex - why can't you?" Which'd then open a dialogue between significant others that'd last all the way home, after which all the boyfriends/husbands would be like, "Okay, fine: I understand why cuddling & talking after sex are important. Let's go fuck, cuddle & talk right now." But they'd end up falling asleep right after the sex anyway, and all the girlfriends/wives would be lying there all disappointed and thinking, "Fuck you, Superman vs. the Ice Demons..." (What am I, a marriage counselor over here? That's what you get for trying to use Superman vs. the Ice Demons as couples' therapy, dingus.)
It seems January of 2004 was a particularly fruitful month - there are hundreds of entries! For January 26, there's this: "Private investigator WALTER LUNCH is hired by Dr. SHELDON GRASP to find ANTOINE McBORIS, a world-famous poet who’s been missing for several days; rival poet ODIN PADILLA is a prime suspect; over the course of the investigation, Lunch discovers that Death itself is running the city of L.A.; that all the women in L.A. are actually transsexuals; that some people can teleport from one place to another through mirrors; that most people in L.A. have been possessed by the spirits of the dead & have lost their own identity long time ago." I'm thinking this kind of story'd best be told by someone like Alejandro Jodorowsky (El Topo, Santa Sangre); my second choice'd be Takashi Miike (Dead or Alive, Ichi the Killer). What do you think?
Later on that month, I came up with these titles:
Damien, Priest of the Damned - You can't go wrong with naming your protagonist "Damien" if you're telling some sort of "theological horror" story, right? Built-in subconscious associative factor right there, thanks to the (by now "ho-hum") Omen movies (and/or the story of Damien the Leper [1840-1889]).
The Diary of Figaro - Most people'd assume this is an opera movie, and I guess it could be, but really, you can do almost anything with this title - of course, this being Hollywood, it'd get shortened to just Figaro and the movie'd end up being this saccharine bildungsroman about a plucky CGI mouse named Figaro (no, really?) and his evolution from "zero to hero" over the course of 88 minutes or so. From the producers of Garfield, The Barbie Diaries, and Balto III: Wings of Change.
Terror of the CIA - Ooo, this is a good one! Not that anything with a title like this'd ever get made, but if it did, it'd probably be about the CIA creating Frankensteinian monsters for deployment in Iraq and Afghanistan. And then one of the monsters'd develop a conscience and refuse to keep doing the CIA's dirty work, so the other monsters'd be ordered to destroy him, 'cause a conscience is obviously a liability when you work for the CIA (or the U.S. government, for that matter). Hot diggity!
Ecstasy of the Swamp Creature - A Swamp Thing-like creature spends its days lollygagging in an idyllic bog (really? can a bog be "idyllic"?), just soaking up sunshine and playing with its cute forest friends. One day, a bunch of Mob goons dump a half-dead waitress in the swamp (for reasons of their own, heh heh). Our protagonist rescues & revives her, using his own "flesh" to heal her injuries; as she recovers, she begins turning into a swamp creature, too - OMG! They fall in love (bet you didn't see that one coming) and spend the happiest days - and nights (wink) - they've ever known just enjoying each other. Surprise, surprise: it all goes to hell when the Mob assholes come back to make sure there's no trace of the waitress left...
The Glitterbat - A lonely girl catches a bat, covers it with a glue and then sprinkles glitter all over it. Meanwhile, her parents get a divorce.
Exorcism at the O.K. Corral - This one shouldn't be too hard to figure out, right? You take the oft-told tale of the feud between the Earps & the Clantons and throw in an exorcist. During the famous gunfight at the O.K. Corral, a haggard, foul-mouthed, whiskey-soaked priest performs an exorcism on the combatants, but instead of expelling any presumed demonic forces from the area, the ritual actually summons the spirits of the damned, who proceed to possess the people of Tombstone, Evil Dead-style! Which of course forces the Earps & the Clantons, boiling with hatred & contempt for each other, to set aside their feud and join forces to defeat the startlingly violent demons. The horror, the horror...
Gonna have dinner now. Thanks for stopping by!
Copyright © 2010 by Diego Baz
Poking around in XB71 today, I see that on January 7, 2004, I came up with Revenge of the Elephant Man, in which it'd be revealed that the Elephant Man and Jack the Ripper were actually the same person. As penance for Gamer and The Bounty Hunter, Gerard Butler should play the Scotland Yard investigator assigned to the case. And I don't know about you, but I think Richard Coyle (Coupling, Prince of Persia) would be perfect as John Merrick/the Ripper.
Five days later (January 12), there's this entry: "Superman vs. the Ice Demons: basically, it’s Superman & Lois Lane in bed, like in that scene in Superman II, and they just yak their heads off like in My Dinner With Andre; at the very end, a pack of ice demons breaks in and attacks, Superman blasts them with his heat vision, then he & Lois go back to their conversation." I don't know, man...to me, this sounds like the perfect date movie. 'Cause after the credits roll and everyone's walking back to their cars, all the women'd turn to their boyfriends/husbands and go, "See? Superman cuddles and talks after sex - why can't you?" Which'd then open a dialogue between significant others that'd last all the way home, after which all the boyfriends/husbands would be like, "Okay, fine: I understand why cuddling & talking after sex are important. Let's go fuck, cuddle & talk right now." But they'd end up falling asleep right after the sex anyway, and all the girlfriends/wives would be lying there all disappointed and thinking, "Fuck you, Superman vs. the Ice Demons..." (What am I, a marriage counselor over here? That's what you get for trying to use Superman vs. the Ice Demons as couples' therapy, dingus.)
It seems January of 2004 was a particularly fruitful month - there are hundreds of entries! For January 26, there's this: "Private investigator WALTER LUNCH is hired by Dr. SHELDON GRASP to find ANTOINE McBORIS, a world-famous poet who’s been missing for several days; rival poet ODIN PADILLA is a prime suspect; over the course of the investigation, Lunch discovers that Death itself is running the city of L.A.; that all the women in L.A. are actually transsexuals; that some people can teleport from one place to another through mirrors; that most people in L.A. have been possessed by the spirits of the dead & have lost their own identity long time ago." I'm thinking this kind of story'd best be told by someone like Alejandro Jodorowsky (El Topo, Santa Sangre); my second choice'd be Takashi Miike (Dead or Alive, Ichi the Killer). What do you think?
Later on that month, I came up with these titles:
Damien, Priest of the Damned - You can't go wrong with naming your protagonist "Damien" if you're telling some sort of "theological horror" story, right? Built-in subconscious associative factor right there, thanks to the (by now "ho-hum") Omen movies (and/or the story of Damien the Leper [1840-1889]).
The Diary of Figaro - Most people'd assume this is an opera movie, and I guess it could be, but really, you can do almost anything with this title - of course, this being Hollywood, it'd get shortened to just Figaro and the movie'd end up being this saccharine bildungsroman about a plucky CGI mouse named Figaro (no, really?) and his evolution from "zero to hero" over the course of 88 minutes or so. From the producers of Garfield, The Barbie Diaries, and Balto III: Wings of Change.
Terror of the CIA - Ooo, this is a good one! Not that anything with a title like this'd ever get made, but if it did, it'd probably be about the CIA creating Frankensteinian monsters for deployment in Iraq and Afghanistan. And then one of the monsters'd develop a conscience and refuse to keep doing the CIA's dirty work, so the other monsters'd be ordered to destroy him, 'cause a conscience is obviously a liability when you work for the CIA (or the U.S. government, for that matter). Hot diggity!
Ecstasy of the Swamp Creature - A Swamp Thing-like creature spends its days lollygagging in an idyllic bog (really? can a bog be "idyllic"?), just soaking up sunshine and playing with its cute forest friends. One day, a bunch of Mob goons dump a half-dead waitress in the swamp (for reasons of their own, heh heh). Our protagonist rescues & revives her, using his own "flesh" to heal her injuries; as she recovers, she begins turning into a swamp creature, too - OMG! They fall in love (bet you didn't see that one coming) and spend the happiest days - and nights (wink) - they've ever known just enjoying each other. Surprise, surprise: it all goes to hell when the Mob assholes come back to make sure there's no trace of the waitress left...
The Glitterbat - A lonely girl catches a bat, covers it with a glue and then sprinkles glitter all over it. Meanwhile, her parents get a divorce.
Exorcism at the O.K. Corral - This one shouldn't be too hard to figure out, right? You take the oft-told tale of the feud between the Earps & the Clantons and throw in an exorcist. During the famous gunfight at the O.K. Corral, a haggard, foul-mouthed, whiskey-soaked priest performs an exorcism on the combatants, but instead of expelling any presumed demonic forces from the area, the ritual actually summons the spirits of the damned, who proceed to possess the people of Tombstone, Evil Dead-style! Which of course forces the Earps & the Clantons, boiling with hatred & contempt for each other, to set aside their feud and join forces to defeat the startlingly violent demons. The horror, the horror...
Gonna have dinner now. Thanks for stopping by!
Copyright © 2010 by Diego Baz
Friday, November 12, 2010
The Zombisexuals
Okay, so I'm going through my Idea Chest today, and I see that back in 2002 or 2003, I came up with this little gem:
The Zombisexuals
A delightful blend of voodoo, sex & zombies set in the ever-tasteful milieu of a women's prison. Traditional sex & violence formula, of course...gorgeous "babes behind bars," ensuring the requisite gratuitous nudity the cognoscenti'd expect from this type of movie...and shocking scenes of torture & degradation at the hands of Gamorrean-like prison guards. By Jove, what a stew! Such scenes of licentiousness & depravity'd be enough to guarantee a filthening of the viewer's soul, I'm sure. Break out the Raisinets, mes ami!
The Caribbean island nation of Macumba: in a remote women's prison in the jungle, gold-hearted inmate Emma and tough-cookie inmate Juanita lead their respective cliques through food fights, riots & attempted break-outs. Naturally these babes'd be fun to watch, but the show-stealer'd be the warden, Greta Bormann (played to perfection [if I had my way] by Kathy Bates), who'd have these delightfully weird & hideously expensive dreams that'd look like L'Age d'Or meets Showgirls.
Meanwhile, news reporter Gloria Simon (ideal casting: Kate Winslet) and CIA agent Frank Rayben (James Caviezel) travel to Macumba to find Gloria’s sister, Jill (Lucy Davis), who’s disappeared; they find out that Jill’s been mistaken for a member of an all-girl criminal gang and sentenced to 30 years in prison for attempted robbery (actually, Jill was just an innocent bystander during the robbery, but the Macumban cops are a bunch of corrupt morons who're convinced Jill was in on the job).
Elsewhere on the island, tribal chief Zacato (Edward James Olmos) and his high priest Omango (Wes Studi) have been raising the dead and building a zombie army. "But why?" you ask, your voice tinged with a measure of desperation. "Okay," I say, "I'll tell you." Zacato & Omango plan to attack the prison where Lupe (America Ferrera), Zacato’s daughter, died after being convicted on trumped-up charges of terrorism - Macumba, you see, is ruled by General René Cardona (Gary Oldman or Mandy Patinkin), your typical Caribbean macho-shithead/corrupt dictator (is there any other kind?), whose repressive government regularly rounds up suspected “terrorists” and imprisons/executes them without proof, trial or appeal. Lupe was never a terrorist, 'though she did have a brief affair with Pedro Falconi (Benicio del Toro, Diego Luna or Jake Gyllenhaal), head of the Macumban People’s Army, a Marxist revolutionary group (oh, see - now you get where the charges of "terrorism" could've come from).
Anyhoo, everyone’s paths eventually intersect in the explosive third act finale, as Zacato & Rayben fight to the death while Gloria & Jill flee from Omango while the zombies attack the prison while the Gamorrean-like guards inside try to put down yet another riot while Emma & Juanita duke it out for final supremacy of the prison’s cliques while General Cardona orders the army to flatten the prison once and for all. Who'll live? Who'll die? Who'll believe Jake Gyllenhaal as a Caribbean revolutionary? (Me! That's who!)
I don't know, man: I think this story could actually work...
Copyright © 2010 by Diego Baz
The Zombisexuals
A delightful blend of voodoo, sex & zombies set in the ever-tasteful milieu of a women's prison. Traditional sex & violence formula, of course...gorgeous "babes behind bars," ensuring the requisite gratuitous nudity the cognoscenti'd expect from this type of movie...and shocking scenes of torture & degradation at the hands of Gamorrean-like prison guards. By Jove, what a stew! Such scenes of licentiousness & depravity'd be enough to guarantee a filthening of the viewer's soul, I'm sure. Break out the Raisinets, mes ami!
The Caribbean island nation of Macumba: in a remote women's prison in the jungle, gold-hearted inmate Emma and tough-cookie inmate Juanita lead their respective cliques through food fights, riots & attempted break-outs. Naturally these babes'd be fun to watch, but the show-stealer'd be the warden, Greta Bormann (played to perfection [if I had my way] by Kathy Bates), who'd have these delightfully weird & hideously expensive dreams that'd look like L'Age d'Or meets Showgirls.
Meanwhile, news reporter Gloria Simon (ideal casting: Kate Winslet) and CIA agent Frank Rayben (James Caviezel) travel to Macumba to find Gloria’s sister, Jill (Lucy Davis), who’s disappeared; they find out that Jill’s been mistaken for a member of an all-girl criminal gang and sentenced to 30 years in prison for attempted robbery (actually, Jill was just an innocent bystander during the robbery, but the Macumban cops are a bunch of corrupt morons who're convinced Jill was in on the job).
Elsewhere on the island, tribal chief Zacato (Edward James Olmos) and his high priest Omango (Wes Studi) have been raising the dead and building a zombie army. "But why?" you ask, your voice tinged with a measure of desperation. "Okay," I say, "I'll tell you." Zacato & Omango plan to attack the prison where Lupe (America Ferrera), Zacato’s daughter, died after being convicted on trumped-up charges of terrorism - Macumba, you see, is ruled by General René Cardona (Gary Oldman or Mandy Patinkin), your typical Caribbean macho-shithead/corrupt dictator (is there any other kind?), whose repressive government regularly rounds up suspected “terrorists” and imprisons/executes them without proof, trial or appeal. Lupe was never a terrorist, 'though she did have a brief affair with Pedro Falconi (Benicio del Toro, Diego Luna or Jake Gyllenhaal), head of the Macumban People’s Army, a Marxist revolutionary group (oh, see - now you get where the charges of "terrorism" could've come from).
Anyhoo, everyone’s paths eventually intersect in the explosive third act finale, as Zacato & Rayben fight to the death while Gloria & Jill flee from Omango while the zombies attack the prison while the Gamorrean-like guards inside try to put down yet another riot while Emma & Juanita duke it out for final supremacy of the prison’s cliques while General Cardona orders the army to flatten the prison once and for all. Who'll live? Who'll die? Who'll believe Jake Gyllenhaal as a Caribbean revolutionary? (Me! That's who!)
I don't know, man: I think this story could actually work...
Copyright © 2010 by Diego Baz
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Ding-Dang Diddly
So, going through my notebooks, I see that on February 6, 2006, I came up with the following titles:
GUITARHEAD
THE VIEW FROM YOUR MOTHER
STUPID FOR SALE
THE DEVIL'S TREEHOUSE
THE DIRTY SCREAM
THE BAMBOO RIFLE
What was I thinking? I have no clue. When I get into the "zone" and start writing down this kind of stuff, I rarely have an idea regarding its ultimate worth, purpose, or possibility of practical application.
Guitarhead
What can you do with a title like Guitarhead? A movie called Guitarhead, it seems to me, would have to be one of two things: either a Jon Mikl Thor-style "horror-rock" turkey about a serial superkiller like Jason Voorhees with an actual guitar for a head, or a School of Rock-type comedy about a would-be or failed guitar hero who gets a chance to become the next Stevie Ray Vaughan or Kirk Hammett or Slash when he finds himself unexpectedly competing in one of those bullshit talent competitions that only exist in movies like School of Rock or Guitarhead.
The View from Your Mother
If your significant other asked you, "Wanna see The View from Your Mother tonight?" - what would you say? Well, if your dear mother'd died recently, and your significant other knew it, you might say, "You insensitive jerk/bitch!" Or you might say, with a mild measure of bewilderment, "Huh?" and then say something like, "You insensitive jerk/bitch!" Or, if you weren't that cut up about your mother's death or didn't really like her when she was alive so her death made no impression on you, you might answer your S.O.'s query thus: "I don't feel like driving out to the cemetery right now. Can we do it some other time?"
At which point, your S.O. would explain that, no, you silly, it's this movie called The View from Your Mother I got at 7-11 this afternoon, at the Redbox kiosk. "Oh," you'd say, and then go on to observe that it's a worrisome development, in your opinion, that America's now renting its movies at places like 7-11 and Albertson's: those veritable bastions of Cinema. "Then again," you'd quickly add, "it's not like they're renting Kagemusha or Touch of Evil or The English Patient out of these shitboxes, so I guess no harm, no foul." You think to yourself: yes, indubitably, what better outlet for prodigiously shitty movies like Death Race (2008, 98 mins.) and The Pink Panther 2 (2009, 92 mins.) and The Bounty Hunter (2010, 110 mins.) than a vending machine outside a convenience store? "You elitist jerk," your S.O. would say, and: "I'm sorry my taste in movies doesn't meet your high standards, boo hoo hoo." (She wouldn't actually say "boo hoo hoo," btw; she'd actually start crying, like boo hoo hoo, see?)
At which point it'd occur to you that it's unlikely something with a title as pretentious as The View from Your Mother would be available at a Redbox kiosk, unless it's an Andy Samberg movie that's basically a less-intelligent update of Ed and His Dead Mother with some of the actors from The Office and maybe Crispin Glover in supporting roles - not that you have anything against Andy Samberg (you think he's awesome); it's just that nothing he's done in movies has lived up to the brilliance of his SNL shorts so far (for example...).
Stupid For Sale
Stupid For Sale sounds exactly like the kind of movie you'd expect to be able to rent out of a Redbox kiosk, doesn't it? I mean, you wouldn't really expect a movie with a title like Stupid For Sale to share space on a "100 Greatest" list with Citizen Kane, 8½ and Apocalypse Now, would you? No, you wouldn't, 'cause I know you're not that retarded (and neither am I). But let's say Hollywood called and wanted you to write something with Stupid For Sale as the title - or what if you overheard some obnoxious teenagers at the mall telling each other how awesome Stupid For Sale is? What would you think the movie itself is about?
Well, if obnoxious mall-dwelling teenagers are singing its praises, Stupid For Sale is probably a mindless summer comedy starring Andy Samberg (sorry, Andy) or Johnny Knoxville (with maybe David Koechner in a supporting role as a bigot or boss-from-hell [or both]) about a slacky twentysomething who has a yard sale and unexpectedly winds up making a fortune selling a bunch of stupid shit like a solar-powered egg-slicer, an electric butter knife, an automatic diaper-changer, a car-charger for vibrators, etc., and then Corporate America comes calling, offering him the top slot in a nationwide chain of "stupid shit yard sales"; meanwhile, he'd gain, lose & regain a love interest, help his alcoholic father get over his long-absent wife, and show his uptight neighbor the joys of "cutting loose" and having a "good time." Or something like that.
Yes, definitely expect to see Stupid For Sale at a Redbox kiosk if such a thing ever gets made.
The Devil's Treehouse
Now let's say you were standing in front of a Redbox kiosk outside a 7-11 (where you'd just bought some Twizzlers, a Dr. Pepper, and a pack of Marlboro Lights) and you saw the cover for The Devil's Treehouse: what the hell is this? you might ask yourself. You'd go to Rotten Tomatoes on your iPhone (or your slow-ass Blackberry) and might read this synopsis: The Monster Squad meets Rosemary's Baby. Why not? A group of kids form a "monster club" and hang out in their treehouse reading Fangoria all day, bitching about all the cool-ass scary movies their parents won't let 'em see 'cause of the gore, profanity & sex. They'd say shit like "Bogus!" and "That sucks, man!" a lot. And then one day, a young couple'd move into the old Dunwich house down the street, and right away our plucky protagonists'd suspect that something was up, that no one that young, hip & urbane would move into a creepy old place like the Dunwich house. So they'd sneak in one night and discover that the couple are actually Satanists, and that the wife's carrying Satan's baby, and that they need the blood of a child as a sacrifice to the Devil because of some birdbrained ritual they have to perform as soon as the baby is born or whatever. Naturally, our monster club heroes'd spring into action, which'd involve them having to give the young Satanist mother-to-be an abortion - fun for the whole family! This totally sounds like it's right up Pixar's alley...
The Dirty Scream
What can you do with a title like The Dirty Scream? The first thing that comes to my mind in trying to tackle this bitch is the following question: is there such a thing as a clean scream? If so, what does it sound like? 'Cause if you can get a handle on what a "clean scream" is, it should then be easy to imagine its opposite, i.e. a dirty scream. But that's too much work, don't you think? Better to go with your first instinct, which is sexploitation (right?). Now, you'd still have to come up with some kind of story, what they call a "threadbare plot," so how about this: borderline-pyscho cop Harry Trask falls for a crack-addicted prostitute named Rain Fremont - she falls for him, too, but can't escape the Herculean grip of her crack addiction, which makes being together a tad difficult. So Harry quits his job and whisks Rain to an isolated cabin in the Pacific Northwest, ties her to a bed, and then watches over her as she proceeds to go ape-shit out of her mind due to mind-bendingly severe withdrawal symptoms ("I know it's tough, baby, I know!" says Harry. "But you can make it, I know you can! I love you!"). As Rain lies there screaming her head off, shitting, pissing & puking all over herself, her pimp, T-Bird Shaka, and his goons somehow manage to track her ass down - they find the cabin and lay siege to it when Harry refuses to let Rain go (here's where it'd get all Straw Dogs [or Home Alone, depending on your sensibilities]). For the finale, I'd probably have a Dead Alive-type climax, with Harry hacking all the bad guys into a hundred bloody pieces, which'd drive him all-out bonkers and leave him a stark raving lunatic. Final image: Rain, tied to the bed, and Harry, drenched in blood & gore, screaming at each other as if embroiled in a competitively-oriented session of Janov's primal therapy (but without the "results"). Okay, so not a lot of sexploitation there, I know; it kinda got away from me as I was working it out, and I'm not really into titillation anyway (I'm an extremist in that regard: porn or nothing; I'll sit through erotica only if I'm trying to get my significant other aroused ['cause I'm a man, baby]).
The Bamboo Rifle
The Bamboo Rifle: easy: the lone American survivor of a Japanese attack on some Pacific island during WWII finds himself trapped in the steaming, stinking jungle. Monkeys pelt him with their feces constantly. The only weapon he has is his Bowie knife (were Bowie knives standard issue for servicemen in the Pacific theater?), which he uses to make a rifle out of bamboo and fight the Japanese Rambo-style until American reinforcements arrive. Totally believable. And patriotic, too. Of course, now that we're all more culturally sensitive & crap, it'd be a good idea to portray the Japanese as "determined" and "fierce," instead of "bloodthirsty kamikaze fuckheads" (thanks, Letters from Iwo Jima!). Also, I think it'd be cool if you had the monkeys help our hero towards the end, 'cause he'd always take the shit-peltings in a laid-back, good-natured way, so the monkeys'd feel bad for him later on when the Japanese are trying to waste him. "Gaargh!" the monkeys'd say, "Shit-Catcher need help! Shit-Catcher friend! Yellow-Man die! Raargh!" (Yes, yes, I know it's a PC faux pas to say "Yellow-Man" but that's how people talked back then - it's the 1940s, remember? Back off already...)
Well, that's it for now, friends - I'm going to Blockbuster...
copyright © 2010 by Diego Baz
GUITARHEAD
THE VIEW FROM YOUR MOTHER
STUPID FOR SALE
THE DEVIL'S TREEHOUSE
THE DIRTY SCREAM
THE BAMBOO RIFLE
What was I thinking? I have no clue. When I get into the "zone" and start writing down this kind of stuff, I rarely have an idea regarding its ultimate worth, purpose, or possibility of practical application.
Guitarhead
What can you do with a title like Guitarhead? A movie called Guitarhead, it seems to me, would have to be one of two things: either a Jon Mikl Thor-style "horror-rock" turkey about a serial superkiller like Jason Voorhees with an actual guitar for a head, or a School of Rock-type comedy about a would-be or failed guitar hero who gets a chance to become the next Stevie Ray Vaughan or Kirk Hammett or Slash when he finds himself unexpectedly competing in one of those bullshit talent competitions that only exist in movies like School of Rock or Guitarhead.
The View from Your Mother
If your significant other asked you, "Wanna see The View from Your Mother tonight?" - what would you say? Well, if your dear mother'd died recently, and your significant other knew it, you might say, "You insensitive jerk/bitch!" Or you might say, with a mild measure of bewilderment, "Huh?" and then say something like, "You insensitive jerk/bitch!" Or, if you weren't that cut up about your mother's death or didn't really like her when she was alive so her death made no impression on you, you might answer your S.O.'s query thus: "I don't feel like driving out to the cemetery right now. Can we do it some other time?"
At which point, your S.O. would explain that, no, you silly, it's this movie called The View from Your Mother I got at 7-11 this afternoon, at the Redbox kiosk. "Oh," you'd say, and then go on to observe that it's a worrisome development, in your opinion, that America's now renting its movies at places like 7-11 and Albertson's: those veritable bastions of Cinema. "Then again," you'd quickly add, "it's not like they're renting Kagemusha or Touch of Evil or The English Patient out of these shitboxes, so I guess no harm, no foul." You think to yourself: yes, indubitably, what better outlet for prodigiously shitty movies like Death Race (2008, 98 mins.) and The Pink Panther 2 (2009, 92 mins.) and The Bounty Hunter (2010, 110 mins.) than a vending machine outside a convenience store? "You elitist jerk," your S.O. would say, and: "I'm sorry my taste in movies doesn't meet your high standards, boo hoo hoo." (She wouldn't actually say "boo hoo hoo," btw; she'd actually start crying, like boo hoo hoo, see?)
At which point it'd occur to you that it's unlikely something with a title as pretentious as The View from Your Mother would be available at a Redbox kiosk, unless it's an Andy Samberg movie that's basically a less-intelligent update of Ed and His Dead Mother with some of the actors from The Office and maybe Crispin Glover in supporting roles - not that you have anything against Andy Samberg (you think he's awesome); it's just that nothing he's done in movies has lived up to the brilliance of his SNL shorts so far (for example...).
Stupid For Sale
Stupid For Sale sounds exactly like the kind of movie you'd expect to be able to rent out of a Redbox kiosk, doesn't it? I mean, you wouldn't really expect a movie with a title like Stupid For Sale to share space on a "100 Greatest" list with Citizen Kane, 8½ and Apocalypse Now, would you? No, you wouldn't, 'cause I know you're not that retarded (and neither am I). But let's say Hollywood called and wanted you to write something with Stupid For Sale as the title - or what if you overheard some obnoxious teenagers at the mall telling each other how awesome Stupid For Sale is? What would you think the movie itself is about?
Well, if obnoxious mall-dwelling teenagers are singing its praises, Stupid For Sale is probably a mindless summer comedy starring Andy Samberg (sorry, Andy) or Johnny Knoxville (with maybe David Koechner in a supporting role as a bigot or boss-from-hell [or both]) about a slacky twentysomething who has a yard sale and unexpectedly winds up making a fortune selling a bunch of stupid shit like a solar-powered egg-slicer, an electric butter knife, an automatic diaper-changer, a car-charger for vibrators, etc., and then Corporate America comes calling, offering him the top slot in a nationwide chain of "stupid shit yard sales"; meanwhile, he'd gain, lose & regain a love interest, help his alcoholic father get over his long-absent wife, and show his uptight neighbor the joys of "cutting loose" and having a "good time." Or something like that.
Yes, definitely expect to see Stupid For Sale at a Redbox kiosk if such a thing ever gets made.
The Devil's Treehouse
Now let's say you were standing in front of a Redbox kiosk outside a 7-11 (where you'd just bought some Twizzlers, a Dr. Pepper, and a pack of Marlboro Lights) and you saw the cover for The Devil's Treehouse: what the hell is this? you might ask yourself. You'd go to Rotten Tomatoes on your iPhone (or your slow-ass Blackberry) and might read this synopsis: The Monster Squad meets Rosemary's Baby. Why not? A group of kids form a "monster club" and hang out in their treehouse reading Fangoria all day, bitching about all the cool-ass scary movies their parents won't let 'em see 'cause of the gore, profanity & sex. They'd say shit like "Bogus!" and "That sucks, man!" a lot. And then one day, a young couple'd move into the old Dunwich house down the street, and right away our plucky protagonists'd suspect that something was up, that no one that young, hip & urbane would move into a creepy old place like the Dunwich house. So they'd sneak in one night and discover that the couple are actually Satanists, and that the wife's carrying Satan's baby, and that they need the blood of a child as a sacrifice to the Devil because of some birdbrained ritual they have to perform as soon as the baby is born or whatever. Naturally, our monster club heroes'd spring into action, which'd involve them having to give the young Satanist mother-to-be an abortion - fun for the whole family! This totally sounds like it's right up Pixar's alley...
The Dirty Scream
What can you do with a title like The Dirty Scream? The first thing that comes to my mind in trying to tackle this bitch is the following question: is there such a thing as a clean scream? If so, what does it sound like? 'Cause if you can get a handle on what a "clean scream" is, it should then be easy to imagine its opposite, i.e. a dirty scream. But that's too much work, don't you think? Better to go with your first instinct, which is sexploitation (right?). Now, you'd still have to come up with some kind of story, what they call a "threadbare plot," so how about this: borderline-pyscho cop Harry Trask falls for a crack-addicted prostitute named Rain Fremont - she falls for him, too, but can't escape the Herculean grip of her crack addiction, which makes being together a tad difficult. So Harry quits his job and whisks Rain to an isolated cabin in the Pacific Northwest, ties her to a bed, and then watches over her as she proceeds to go ape-shit out of her mind due to mind-bendingly severe withdrawal symptoms ("I know it's tough, baby, I know!" says Harry. "But you can make it, I know you can! I love you!"). As Rain lies there screaming her head off, shitting, pissing & puking all over herself, her pimp, T-Bird Shaka, and his goons somehow manage to track her ass down - they find the cabin and lay siege to it when Harry refuses to let Rain go (here's where it'd get all Straw Dogs [or Home Alone, depending on your sensibilities]). For the finale, I'd probably have a Dead Alive-type climax, with Harry hacking all the bad guys into a hundred bloody pieces, which'd drive him all-out bonkers and leave him a stark raving lunatic. Final image: Rain, tied to the bed, and Harry, drenched in blood & gore, screaming at each other as if embroiled in a competitively-oriented session of Janov's primal therapy (but without the "results"). Okay, so not a lot of sexploitation there, I know; it kinda got away from me as I was working it out, and I'm not really into titillation anyway (I'm an extremist in that regard: porn or nothing; I'll sit through erotica only if I'm trying to get my significant other aroused ['cause I'm a man, baby]).
The Bamboo Rifle
The Bamboo Rifle: easy: the lone American survivor of a Japanese attack on some Pacific island during WWII finds himself trapped in the steaming, stinking jungle. Monkeys pelt him with their feces constantly. The only weapon he has is his Bowie knife (were Bowie knives standard issue for servicemen in the Pacific theater?), which he uses to make a rifle out of bamboo and fight the Japanese Rambo-style until American reinforcements arrive. Totally believable. And patriotic, too. Of course, now that we're all more culturally sensitive & crap, it'd be a good idea to portray the Japanese as "determined" and "fierce," instead of "bloodthirsty kamikaze fuckheads" (thanks, Letters from Iwo Jima!). Also, I think it'd be cool if you had the monkeys help our hero towards the end, 'cause he'd always take the shit-peltings in a laid-back, good-natured way, so the monkeys'd feel bad for him later on when the Japanese are trying to waste him. "Gaargh!" the monkeys'd say, "Shit-Catcher need help! Shit-Catcher friend! Yellow-Man die! Raargh!" (Yes, yes, I know it's a PC faux pas to say "Yellow-Man" but that's how people talked back then - it's the 1940s, remember? Back off already...)
Well, that's it for now, friends - I'm going to Blockbuster...
copyright © 2010 by Diego Baz
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Leaping & Dancing
I think a good idea for a movie would be about an astronaut who crashlands on a planet where sentient apes rule over listless humans and have outlawed dancing – but there’s a rising tide of rebellion among the ape & human teenagers, who’ve been secretly dancing together in honky-tonk bars across the county line. The astronaut leads the ape & human teens in a crusade to get the anti-dancing law repealed (“Get your stinking paws off my boombox, you damn dirty ape!”), which makes him unpopular with the more conservative elements of simian society (one of the apes’d challenge him to a game of Chicken – on tractors!). It’d end with the ape & human teens staging a makeshift prom in a mannequin factory, and then the astronaut walking along the beach the next morning, where he’d find a Lady Gaga CD in the sand and so realize he’s been on Earth all along (“God…damn you…all to hell!”). A good title for this story’d be APELOOSE: “I’m totally loose…apeloose! Put on your Sunday shoose!” etc.
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