LADY/CYBORG Good morning, Steve. How are you?
STEVE EVERYMAN Not too bad. I sure A) Wish I wasn't so poor. B) Am glad we invented that device that grants cats the ability to speak. C) Hope I don't run into zombies today.
LADY/CYBORG Oh, Steve, A) Cheer up; we'll land on our feet, we always do. B) The Cat Prime Minister would like a word with you. C) You probably will run into zombies and they'll want to eat your brains. I'm a zombie.
STEVE EVERYMAN Boy, I sure am touching on some issues that resonate with modern Americans when I say A) I sold one of our kids to buy gas money. B) Our new Cat Overlords are cruel and oppressive. C) Holy Fucking Shit Zombies!
By August, you should know which one of your scenarios is the hot button issue. Round up some actors, tell them which version of the script you'll be shooting, and buy some solid gold condoms, because, brother, you're about to fuck the Oscars.
Your plot is irrelevant. Just pretend to be the heartwarming, underexposed "Little Guy" by having super-rich production company Fox Searchlight spend millions upon millions of dollars on a brilliant yet spurious campaign that somehow convinces everyone in America that you're some kind of small, humble, "Little Film That Could." Seriously. Is it weird to anyone else that the last three little-film-that-could, underdog, pseudo-indie films "that beat the odds," (
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
TCCoBB succeeded in that they took a typical tale about love and mortality and twisted it, by focusing on a man who ages in reverse. The lesson to learn here is "The Twist," (in France, 'Le Twiste'). If you want your screenplay to succeed why not take the exact same story that Benjamin Button used, but put a twist on it: Make it about a man who ages in reverse, in reverse.
The Astounding Account of Dr. PantsA CATE-BLANCHETTY-TYPE-CHICK comes in. [Note: If it turns out that Cate Blanchett was the one who was in the Button movie, don't use her. Use one of the other Cate's, or alternately, Blanchett in a mustache and trench coat.] Cate Blanchetty-type Chick's long, luxurious hair pours down her back like a waterfall of blood; strands flow fluidly, splashing onto her shoulders. Maybe there are even fish in it. Every move she makes is like an intricate dance step in a complicated and sexy tango. DR. PANTS sits at his desk, being the most passive and unexciting lead character in the history of cinema.
CATE BLANCHETTY-TYPE CHICK Why, Dr. Pants, do you look so forlorn, here in New Orleans, or whatever?
PANTS (The sadness weighs his words down.) Today...today is...my birthday.
CATE BLANCHETTY-TYPE CHICK Oh, Pants, that's nothing to get so down in the cheeks, for. You're just a year older, yes?
PANTS Yes...Yes, a year older this year. Same as last year. (His eyes widen with horror.) Same as every year.DR. PANTS bursts into the tears of a man doomed to live his live in forward forever, (until he dies at a statistically average age). He sobs into his hands for several seconds and then CATE BLANCHETTY-TYPE CHICK's top falls off. SEXY TV REPAIR MAN DAN O'BRIEN bursts into the room and throws a pie at her.