This story is based on true events. DATELINE: Hollywood. In an expansive conference room, casting agents sift through a flotilla of headshots and resumÃ©s, sweat beading on their foreheads, every brain working feverishly, empty bottles of sparkling spring water piled in the corners and on the center of the table. "He's got to have range," mutters one, for the 20th time that night. âHeâs got to be dynamic,â says another as she pushes a stack of headshots away in disgust. âLiterary, intelligent, yet capable of great savagery. A terrifying genius.â This from the oldest among them, the acknowledged master of the art of casting. He flips through the script again, searching for inspiration that will not come. The cover page reads Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. âDammit!â shouts one of the agents. âWeâre trying to cast a role played by Spencer Tracy, Fredric March, Jack Palance, John Barrymore! Who in Hollywood can possibly live up to such performances?â âIâve got it!â says the old man. The others turn to him with mooning faces, ready to kneel at the altar of his wisdom. âIâve got it,â he repeats like a mantra. And, with a suitable pause for effectâ¦ âKeanu. Fucking. Reeves.â The announcement stuns the room. Collective gasps are enjoyed by all, and a deep silence falls over the table. Finally: âButâ¦what? Keanuâ¦uhâ¦â âI think youâre thinking of Christopher Reeves,â says an intern sheepishly. âAnd he died, sir.â The old man grumbles from deep inside his chest. âI know that, you idiot! Who do you think delivered the eulogy?! I said Keanu Reeves and I meant Keanu Reeves!â The other agents all suck air through their back molars simultaneously. One of them mouths the word âawkward.â âHeâs got to have range,â mutters someone, for the 21st time that night. âNo, right, I know,â explains the elder. âI was giving up.â Relief washes over them. âOh! OK. Thenâ¦ strippers and hookah?â âNatch.â And with that, an instant film classic is born.
Iâm hoping he goes with the first one, so we can watch Dr. Jekyll wage a grim fight against Mr. Hydeâs quest to invent Cheetos, thrash on the 19th century equivalent of an electric bass (which I believe would be the steam-bassoon) and hassle Tchaikovsky. Plus the constant switch between a black duster and bright neon shorts is probably the only way the audience will know which character heâs supposed to be playing at any given time. Keanu, if youâre reading this, donât panic. Iâve got some simple, quick fixes that will help you give the impression of being able to play two whole characters, without actually going to all the fuss of doing so. First, try some thick accents. No oneâs going to confuse your Jekyll and Hyde if Jekyll introduces himself as a âman uh da sciences, eh?â and Hyde vows to âshtop at nosink!â Yes, itâs borderline racist, but if you settle for your usual caliber of performance, you risk offending facial paralysis victims everywhere. If that doesnât do the trick, give Hyde a thin black mustache. Itâll make him seem a lot more evil, and itâs easier to explain how a man can grow and ungrow facial hair throughout a movie than to explain how in the hell the producers thought you were a good choice for this role. Of course, thereâs also the âmethodâ route. âMethodâ is a fancy actor word for actually doing whatever your character is supposed to do. So if youâre playing a crackhead, smoke some crack. Itâs like cheating for actors. I guess what Iâm saying is that you should try to invent a serum that turns you into a monster. Difficult, yes, but much easier thanâ¦ well, you know. And if all else fails, thereâs always subtitles. Oh and hey, Keanu, while Iâve got your attention: SPIKE?! Youâre playing fucking
- Stoic savior of the human race/Retarded 80s stoner
- Retarded 80s stoner/Unbelievable romantic lead
- Unbelievable romantic lead/Stoic savior of the human race
Most rich kids just want to be pop stars.
How did these hyper-specific tropes spread so quickly?
The Hollywood rumor mill has been playing games with celebrity deaths for at least a century.