The Brainstorm That Led to Hollywood's Most Unlikely Remake
Geoff Chaser is the best Hollywood producer in history.Geoff Chaser was carving that sentence into the neck of a terrible and majestic white tiger, its head lolling from the sedatives, when the door to his office shuddered. He stopped and looked up. There was silence. He screwed the magnifying loupe back into the space between his eye and cheek, and picked up the knife. The door shuddered again. Geoff depressed a button, and his intercom buzzed into life."Janice!" he screamed into the little box, delighting in the classical conditioning that caused his personal assistant's asscheeks to clench whenever she heard his voice. "Either my door is possessed or you're going to find snakes in your bed tonight because you're not doing your fucking job!"
"Yes, touch them. Touch the snakes.""Sorry sir!" the strained voice came instantly. "It's Mr. Blazer, sir. He's ah ... he appears to have enslaved a small army of interns. They've turned the water cooler into a sort of battering ram, sir.""Well for God's sake, woman, let him in! You know my door is always open for Chaz.""I know, sir, but he never asked! They ran in screaming and didn't even pause. They just attacked.""Fantastic!" Geoff stood, the abrupt motion tossing a limp tiger skull from his lap. "That's called initiative, Janice! Take notes; I'll carve them into a tiger later."The door shuddered again, cracked and split. A flood of pasty, red-eyed 20-somethings streamed into the office, yelling and frothing at the mouth. Each was wearing an elaborate leather harness, a beer helmet and nothing else. Behind them, Chaz strode casually through the wreckage. When he saw Geoff, he extended his arms in greeting.
Like this, but the complete and total spiritual inverse."Geoff, my Baby, Baby, Baby Bitch! Ask me why I've besieged your office!" Chaz, too, was wearing a beer helmet -- though his was equal parts polished aluminum and smooth white plastic. An Apple logo winked arrogantly from its side. "Chaz, Sweetbreads! Why have you besieged my office?"Chaz clapped his hands twice and clucked something in a complicated, grunting language at the interns. They immediately cowed, retreated to the far corner, squatted down meekly and awaited further direction."I've besieged your office because I have raped and pillaged the answer to all of our problems! You know how the investors were making a ruckus last meeting because our studio quote-unquote 'deals exclusively in the trade of fecal matter and human misery.' Well, I'll tell you what I did: I stocked my iBooze with pints of Dextromethorphan and moonshined Four Loko (I've had to fly it in daily from a little stilt-town down in the everglades since they banned it), and I sat down in my office and meditated on our little problem. Suddenly, it came to me! Baby, I got this shit! The perfect property! It's got literary esteem, mainstream American appeal, tits, asses, epic battles and sequel potential!""I'm hard," Geoff replied encouragingly. Chaz continued. "It's even got a nice, catchy title: Paradise Lost."
"Poster needs some work, though ...""That underground parking garage Casino/Labyrinth in Koreatown? I love that place! I like to put horns on a homeless man and chase him through it with a sword.""No, no! Milton! It's a 17th century epic, written entirely in blank verse," Chaz was roving about the room in fast little circles with the flustered impatience of a man inspired -- or a man severely under the influence of caffeinated malt beverages and pharmaceutical hallucinogens. "OK, I get respectability from that, sure, but how does that callously make us billions of dollars?" Geoff strode across the room to the corner where the submissive intern slave-army was left idling. He reached to pull a Four Loko from one of their helmets, but the thing howled at him, slapped his hand and tried to scrabble up the wall. "Don't do that," Chaz warned him, "I've made it so they need it to live. But don't worry, plenty more where that came from. We're just the vanguard. The supply line is bringing up the rear behind us. Be here any minute.""Billions of callous dollars," Geoff prompted him, feeling the horrible tide of sobriety crest beneath his skin."Right. Right! See,
"Yes! A sexily misunderstood devil. Don't think those wings will play, though, let's have God afflict his visage with a bitchin' leather jacket instead.""I love it! We'll make teenage girls
"... and Jesus spake: There ith nay spoon.""Oh, Geoff, my warrior of the wasteland, my ayatollah of rock-and-rollah, don't talk about guns like I ain't got none. What, you think I sold 'em all? I brought the big ones, son!
Like this, but with a bunch of lens flares and some Deftones playing in the background."I'll tell you what I'm seeing for this, and fair warning: You're probably going to fondle my proverbial balls in appreciation of my genius when I'm done. Are you ready? Got your hands cupped? I like 'em warm, Chaz, you rub those palms together. Here we go: Remember the guy did that movie with Nic Cage and the hair, you know the one? Where math is like, an alien weapon sent to destroy the Earth?" Geoff walked back around his desk to stare out his windows. This city was his. He owned it. Spiritually, if not legally -- and maybe this was just the illegally distilled Four Loko talking, but wouldn't it look pretty on fire?"
You can buy Robert's book, Everything is Going to Kill Everybody: The Terrifyingly Real Ways the World Wants You Dead, or follow him on Twitter and Facebook. Or you could just start repenting your sins now, because you're going to need the headstart: The next Bible remake is giving the devil a Ducati and an uzi.
For more remakes that shouldn't happen, check out 5 Upcoming Remakes of 80s Movies (That Must be Stopped). And get you some more Brockway in 5 Upcoming Comic Book Movies That Must Be Stopped.