Five minutes in, and you already realize that there are certain things that humans do that you just cannot understand.
You head to the bookstore. Sorry mam’ where can I learn more about humans?and earth? And perhaps the creator
‘Here’ she says while handing you a copy of book that she claims has all the answers you’d be looking for in life. lol
A book called The Secret of the earth&humans
So you’re saying the biggest secret about human life is inside this book?
“The secret about the life in the entire universe.” She says in the absolute voice of pride.
Wait a minute… ALL the answers I’ll be looking for? Isn’t that what they say in religious cults?
She doesn’t laugh, all the contrary in fact. She takes a step back, crosses her arms, arches her eyebrows and says to you:
“You like clever remarks huh? Did you know that this books has sold millions upon millions of books? What do you think about that?”
I think they need better title!
… I mean, you’re buying the book under the premise to read some privileged information that nobody has, not a story that everybody has been sold on already.
You’re out of the store now, curiosity gets the best of you and so you decide to read the book - and by read the book I mean watch the movie.
You’re 10 minutes in that documentary-style movie and your mind cannot believe what your eyes are seeing.
You’re bombarded with exaggerated imagery of goofy grownups in some douchey white gowns. They’re all forming a circle as if they were about to perform some sort of ritualistic sacrifice in the name of the hooded one.
Wait, is this the Illuminati thing everyone keeps talking about?
You keep watching and you see ancient scriptures being passed around in secrecy inside some overly lit caves filled with plastic cobwebs.
Because you know, ancient cavemen are known to operate flashes and LED lights.
One thing is clear, this is either some sort of a ridiculous charade or a strategically crafted narrative presented with all sorts of crazy imagery and infused with dramatic music and powerful words.
Probably aimed for impressionable people with an inclination to the hyperbole and fairy-tales.
But you’re still curious. Not intellectually curious, but more like a lonely housewife who wants to know the ending of her Telenovela kind of curious.
I mean, the author claims that this important and vital secret was hidden for the ages until she herself stumbled upon it the midst of global recession.
Coincidentally just when people are the most desperate and willing to bite in any story that gives them any sense of hope.
But that’s just a coincidence I’m sure. The woman is probably just sharing with us a secret that has been hidden for centuries.
So what’s this big secret you say? Positive imagery and The Law of Attraction.
That’s it? That’s the big secret? If that was a secret it was really poorly hidden.
Napoleon Hill wrote about it in the 1930s, Norman Vincent in the 1950s, Tony Robbins just a few years before her.
That’s no secret? That’s spinning at best. At worst they’re selling people on some seriously unethical marketing strategies with false advertising and a maybe even a fake story to begin with.
Which is closer to that truth, that she’s spinning spin the same law of attraction story for the fifth freakin’ generation, or that she accidentally stumbled on the secret of humanity that was locked in some medieval cave?
You don’t need caves, scrolls and people dressed like Freemason... That same secret has been in every book store for five freaking generations already.
If you’ll ask me, that story doesn’t really add up.
You resist the urge to turn that thing off, and toss that book in the trash.
You want to know what other people think about the book and you join a book club, a Secret Book Club in this case.
Eyes Wide Shut
You try share your doubts with the members, but they are unconcerned, they are clearly emotionally attached to their secret, and they have faith, blind faith.
You don’t understand, they all seem to say.
They tell you that your problem is that you lacking faith, and that all you need to do is to open your eyes and start believing.
Or in this case, close your eyes.
They tell you that the secret she found on those caves is a treasure that provides proof of existence of a new God, a god unlike anything seen before.
A god called the universe, and that the universe is your wishes granting dispenser.
So you just wish away, and the universe is limitlessly bound to provide you with anything you want, anything in the world.
*“Oh yeah, we have that story in my planet too.”(
“You do?”
We do, but we have another name for it, we call it Aladdin.
Only instead of a treasure book it’s a lamp, and instead of unllimited wishes, we have only three.
There’s no call for sarcasm they say as silence drowns the laughter. Everyone is so offended now.
What’s the big deal you ask? If you’re offended, just cast your wishes to the universe to re-write this conversation, it’s like it has never existed.
They don’t see the irony and tell you that they’re offended because you’re speaking as if The Secret is some spin-off version of a new age religion.
They tell you that they’re offended that you compare the secret with Aladdin’s genie tale.
In the middle of the outrage someone plays the movie to “educate” you and the screen freezes in the most incredible scene:
Son of a bitch! They’ve spun Aladdin too!
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They say prostitution is the oldest profession in the world, and for that reason, I think my favorite term for a hand-job is an "old-fashioned."
Not this kind of Old Fashioned...
I love the nobility, and the sense of class that the term has. I also love that if the first part of that first sentence is true, then the second part must obviously be so.
This ISN'T a discussion about hand-jobs (or cocktails either), but rather about a couple of films I think would be fun to make, but never have. I wonder if by the time I'm finished here, it will be obvious to either you or me, the answer why.
You know what? I’m gonna give this universe wishing dispenser a shot,
I’m gonna wish for a better book!
I have this folder on my computer called "writing again," which makes me laugh every time I think of it. I've remembered to move it from laptop to laptop, every time I upgrade my computer, and yet, I still don't know why. There's another folder, a documents type folder that has every essay from college and every other damn un-filed thing but then this. This odd little folder with a few writings in it. Less than a dozen, with titles like "The problem is.doc" and "11-17 Wall Signers.docx"
A "Wall-signer" is a term I made up to describe a woman who comes over, sleeps in your bed, but doesn't have sex with you. This happened a lot when I was in my early twenties, fat and new to Los Angeles...
The one that caught my eye, when I found the folder this time was "I Don't Understand.doc". I opened it up and found the first page of a script I must have been working on.
It's just that page. It doesn't go anywhere further than that, but obviously I thought it WAS going to go somewhere.
The idea as I remember it, was that this guy wakes up one morning and for some reason, everyone around him sounds like a dog to him. Different dogs to be sure (I mean the girl at Starbucks wouldn't be the same type of dog as the homeless dude outside the McDonald's right?) but all dogs. He can speak perfectly normal, and is sure he's not going crazy.
This clearly causes him distress because he can't function normally at first, but then slowly begins to realize that his life is such a boring routine of repetition, that he is in fact able to carry himself pretty well in the coming weeks and days until he finally tries to speak to a dog (of which has been able to speak English just fine the whole time apparently,) and he loses his damn mind.
The second, and in my opinion, more "avant-garde" film is about the day in the life of a man told entirely from the perspective of a camera affixed to his wrist and facing his hand. It's an odd way to look at the world. The script might look like this:
INT. BEDROOM, Early Morning
We open in the the dark, a alarm sound goes off, the camera moves as PAUL's (28, underachieving) arm reaches over to grab his phone and turn off his alarm.
_
From there we would see him in the bathroom checking his email with his feet resting on the cold white tile floor in front of the toilet. We see him frying eggs. We see him driving to work. Hand on the wheel, camera viewing the road in front of him, until the arm moves to the radio to change stations and we move with it...
The idea was that we use our hands for almost everything we do to interact with our physical world, but since we now handle the majority of communication we have with the outside world through our phones, it might actually provide the closest look inside someone's soul.
You'd see him trying to cheat on his girlfriend via Tender. You'd see him purchasing drugs behind his office. You'd see him cutting up his chicken fried steak after selecting the least soggy / old piece on the buffet at the strip club. You'd see him squeeze a tit in the champagne room. And you'd see him hand cash to the stripper to get the $300 dollar Old-Fashion you new I was going to tell you about from the beginning.
Needless to say it was a bleak view of the world, and I didn't know why I felt the need to show that side of life. I also didn't know how to make the film happy in any way, because LITERALLY every idea I had for a story point from that perspective was bleak.
You could show him petting his dog, but wouldn't that immediately have to lead to him picking up poo with his hand in a bag?
You could show him high-five'ing his co-worker, but would you want to after you've just shown him NOT wash his hands after taking a leak?
You could show him caressing the face of his loved one, but from that close up angle, would you not be able to see the yellow discoloration of the drive home cigarette he keeps telling her he doesn't smoke anymore?
Other possible plot points included: Firing a gun. Strangling his boss. Pinching a co-workers bum. Jerking off on his couch.
And there it is, isn't it. The old fashioned AGAIN! That old stalwart. It was always going to come back to there wasn't it.
The last thing I'll say is that the ONLY thing. THE ONLY THING that you literally couldn't pull off in that movie would be a successful fart joke. It would just be too hard to stage.
Or would it.
Ok, picture this:
INT. OFFICE, Day
PAUL (28, sort of handsome, tired looking) walks to the elevator. We see the crappy grey carpet that hasn't been changed in years. We see little curls curls of pencil shavings from TAMMY's (37, single, red hair) desk. We see the fast paced movement of legs that need to get to the bathroom quickly but are too polite, or afraid of their own body, to run.
We arrive at an elevator.
INT. ELEVATOR, Day
Paul enters the elevator, and from the downward facing angle of his arm, all we can see are the pant legs cramped together of a full car. The light changes, indicating the doors have closed. No one is speaking.
There is the subtlest of movement as the leg on screen right lifts ever so slightly and we hear,
"Pfffffrrrrrnt?"
FADE TO BLACK.
Thanks for reading.
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