“I've been reading a lot of scripts lately. You know, it's a lot cheaper than going to the movies.”
Those are the words of Troy McClure, the vain and callow B-movie star from that cartoon program that has been the centerpiece of far too many of the conversations I've participated in.*
Those are the words of Troy McClure, the vain and callow B-movie star from that cartoon program that has been the centerpiece of far too many of the conversations I've participated in.*
The canary-skinned star of Leper in the Backfield was right: Scripts are indeed cheaper than movies. The first draft of “Craine & Bloom's” was written for a Cinema Production class I took in college. As the shooting date approached, doubts crept in that the story was too long and elaborate to fit into the limited amount of shooting time my group was allotted. I decided to write a different script for filming, one that would be simpler, more manageable, and neophyte-friendly.
Plan B for the big Cinema Production project was a disaster called “Monster in the Attic.” It was made all the more disappointing by the absence of both a monster and an attic. The plot could be described in one of two ways. 1. A dopey heavy metal musician writes and performs a song about his roommate and his girlfriend being terrorized by a savage critter in her apartment. 2. Never mind.
I sang a Capella for a solid minute wearing a shaggy wig and a black Pantera shirt. The lyrics, which are familiar to about one-third of the people who occasionally visit Fistpumps, are as follows:
I don't mean to create panic/ And I'd hate to start some static
But there's fear in my heart/ 'Cause there's a monster in the attic
Monster in the attic/ You'll lose control of your bladder
Monster in the attic/ We've got knives but it doesn't matter
Monster in the attic/ It's come to feast on your soul
Monster in the attic/ Could be a cat, but I think it's a troll
Good gracious, it sounds Hellacious**/ Its breeding ground is so spacious
Could be a wolverine or maybe a demon/ One thing you know: that creature ain't leavin'
Monster in the attic/ You're gonna crap your pants
Monster in the attic/ You wanna kill it but you can't
Monster in the attic/ Its teeth can bite through steel
Monster in the attic/ Your wounds will never heal
Don't get me wrong: I'm proud of the lyrics to “Monster in the Attic.” It's just that I realize the short film experience would've been much less excruciating had I simply read the lyrics in front of the camera and quit while I was ahead. No characters, dialogue, or script necessary.
Plan B for the big Cinema Production project was a disaster called “Monster in the Attic.” It was made all the more disappointing by the absence of both a monster and an attic. The plot could be described in one of two ways. 1. A dopey heavy metal musician writes and performs a song about his roommate and his girlfriend being terrorized by a savage critter in her apartment. 2. Never mind.
I sang a Capella for a solid minute wearing a shaggy wig and a black Pantera shirt. The lyrics, which are familiar to about one-third of the people who occasionally visit Fistpumps, are as follows:
I don't mean to create panic/ And I'd hate to start some static
But there's fear in my heart/ 'Cause there's a monster in the attic
Monster in the attic/ You'll lose control of your bladder
Monster in the attic/ We've got knives but it doesn't matter
Monster in the attic/ It's come to feast on your soul
Monster in the attic/ Could be a cat, but I think it's a troll
Good gracious, it sounds Hellacious**/ Its breeding ground is so spacious
Could be a wolverine or maybe a demon/ One thing you know: that creature ain't leavin'
Monster in the attic/ You're gonna crap your pants
Monster in the attic/ You wanna kill it but you can't
Monster in the attic/ Its teeth can bite through steel
Monster in the attic/ Your wounds will never heal
Don't get me wrong: I'm proud of the lyrics to “Monster in the Attic.” It's just that I realize the short film experience would've been much less excruciating had I simply read the lyrics in front of the camera and quit while I was ahead. No characters, dialogue, or script necessary.
In Cinema Production class I wrote a script for a bad short film that never should have been produced and a (potentially) good short film that should have been produced but wasn't. Most people blog to feel like less of a failure (or outcast), and I'm no different. Enjoy the footnotes, and then “Craine & Bloom's Exotic Butcher Shop.”
*Every time a writer ends a sentence with a preposition, the ghost of Ernest Hemingway shoots another hole in his skull.
**For the longest time, I thought “hellacious” was an actual word, that it was an acceptable synonym for the adjective “hellish.” How long have I been shitting myself on this matter? It's not surprising that “hellacious” isn't printed in the dictionary because I'm pretty sure I was introduced to the word by a pro-wrestling announcer on TV. As in: "What a HELLACIOUS Tombstone Piledriver!"
*Every time a writer ends a sentence with a preposition, the ghost of Ernest Hemingway shoots another hole in his skull.
**For the longest time, I thought “hellacious” was an actual word, that it was an acceptable synonym for the adjective “hellish.” How long have I been shitting myself on this matter? It's not surprising that “hellacious” isn't printed in the dictionary because I'm pretty sure I was introduced to the word by a pro-wrestling announcer on TV. As in: "What a HELLACIOUS Tombstone Piledriver!"
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