How about a remake of Terminator 2? T2 played by Todd Trainer. I mean, look at him!

JDanger wrote:Sometime in the future Big Business starts to develop a race of Robots to serve mankind, you know, to facilitate the everyday tasks.

JDanger, tweak this pitch so that we are talking about the band Big Business, and i would so see this movie.

Cunningham wrote:Genre: Whodunnit?

Setting: Radioshack

That shit will sell out, you know it.

who done what? Sold someone the wrong adapter?
Come on man, how'd you even get in here?

fantasmatical thorr wrote:How about a remake of Terminator 2? T2 played by Todd Trainer. I mean, look at him!

This Trainer fella has been getting a lot of buzz on the scene lately.
Forget the Terminator...do you have any idea how much money you are talking about just to use the name? More than both you and I and everyone we know is worth.
I'm thinking The Running Man. Yes, we can get the rights to the Running man and have him play the swartzenegger part.
Have all new characters chasing him around, people from different bands....
I like it, I like it a lot.

Have you ever gone to a sporting event and there's a break in the action (time out, between innings, etc) and all of a sudden the announcer's voice booms out with something like "FANS! WELCOME TO THE ARENA THE AMAZING TITO BANDITO AND HIS PAL RAGAMUFFIN!!!" and then some dude runs out wearing one of those t-shirts with a fake tuxedo print on it, a headband, and a pair of comically oversized day glo shorts, and his dog (also with a headband) follows behind him, and then they continue to do synchronized acrobatics where the dog jumps through hoops, catches frisbees, does flips, etc, all while that "I GOT THA POWA!!!" song from Rocky V plays in the background?

My movie idea involves a man (Ralphie) who has trained to be one of those guys for his whole life, but fails miserably at every step. After years of disappointment that are chronicled in the longest montage sequence in movie history (72 minutes and 14 seconds), he finally succeeds in putting together an act that is sure to get him into the big time: a squirrel that can dunk a basketball from the freethrow line by using a trampoline. After a tremendous buildup and heartwarming scenes where his father lies on his death bed and is only holding on to see his son hit the big time, Ralphie finally gets to debut his act at the second round of the NBA playoffs, only to have the squirrel blow it and smash into the backboard, breaking its neck. Ralphie is forced to put the squirrel out of its misery in front of 22,000 fans by strangling it to death.

I call it "Choke Artist"

Tits: The Musical

The rest writes itself- you work out the finer points, I'm just the ideas guy.

this probably will be a straight to dvd thing:

first part: one hour of bear attacks featuring an assortment of inmates and guantanamo detainees. dialogue consists of screams and camera man going "holy shit," "oh fuck" and "gross!"

second part: bear versus the a swarm of rats, lost bear versus a pack of wolves, bear versus natural disasters, bear versus a soldier with a knife, bear versus infallibility of the pope, etc.

bloopers reel during credits mainly consists of the bear being in a good mood or too tired to start shit.

The film is called "Shit Ring Bee Wing". It starts off with a car full of teenagers on a road trip or something. Unfortunately, their car breaks down in the middle of fucking nowhere, in some forest or something. Lurking in this forest is a creature that is half man, half bee, and really pissed off about something. The teenagers realise they're gonna be stuck there all night and decide to gather up shit to make a fire and a shelter or some shit. As each of the teenagers go to gather stuff (Each of them alone of course) They get shit on by this half man half bee thing, like, projectile shit, coating them from head to toe. They all meet back at the car later all covered in shit except for one of them, who claims they hadn't encountered the bee-man. The twist: at the end of the movie once they have got back from their trip, the guy who didn't get shit on answers his door to the bee-man and flashbacks come up of the guy getting shit on and fucking loving it. he invites mr bee in and proceeds to have a scat fest.

I think I should sell this to troma.

It is 1979 and I am Roger D Buum, holder of the world record for longest wheely (six miles) and the first scientist in the world to perfect human cloning. I break this news to a conference room (Holiday Inn, Vienna) packed full of the world's foremost thinkers and a handful of men in dark glasses and painted on black suits (it is IMPERATIVE that the suits are painted over their naked bodies).

My findings are met with rapturous applause, and I am promised a knighthood by the British queen (despite being Estonian) and a Nobel Prize by Henry Kissinger. To celebrate, I take a couple of my professor friends to a strip joint located within a local naval barrack and wonder where all the ladies are at. We enjoy the night nonetheless.

Towards the end of the night, I am drugged by a trio of men I recognise from my earlier presentation. I recognise them because their painted-on suits are starting to wash off with the sweaty heat of the club. Before I can tell them that I can see their shamebits I pass out.

I awaken in a speedboat that is being driven in circles around the Statue Of Liberty and a man in a tweed suit and dangerous hair threatens to kill me unless I work for him. He tells me that I must make a thousand clones of him, or the AIDS of a thousand camels will visit my pants. I reluctantly agree (I am also given $20m).

I set to work on creating his clones, but come to loath what I am doing to the extent that I want to die. Just as I build up the nerve to kill myself, I find my dead mother's old merkin, and I devise a devious plan to clone her from this, AND transplant MY BRAINS INTO HER HEAD.

I do this. It works.

I break out of the fortified compound that I've been forced to make with the science in by flashing my ankles at security guards (oh, and maybe a couple of blow-jobs along the way too).

I withdraw my $20m at a local Post Office and begin my journey to South America. On the way to the airport I remember how much of a dick my dad was, and how badly he treated me and my mother, and I think that just before I get on the plane to uraguay I'll pay him a little visit.
I drop by his house and he expresses mild surprise at the fact that his dead wife is no longer dead, and invites me in for a cup of tea. I accept.
We have a few cups of tea and he starts to give me the come on. I play along. We end up sleeping with each other. As I put on my clothes I confess who I really am to him. Overcome with revulsion and rage, he attacks me. There is a ten minute silence (this bit will be black and white, shot on grainy 16mm stock).

He gets up and shoots me in the face. I hit the ground and my tickets to Uraguay fall from my hand and float out onto the street into a stream of piss flowing from a hobo cock.

Fin.

Rimbaud III wrote:It is 1979 and I am Roger D Buum, holder of the world record for longest wheely (six miles) and the first scientist in the world to perfect human cloning. I break this news to a conference room (Holiday Inn, Vienna) packed full of the world's foremost thinkers and a handful of men in dark glasses and painted on black suits (it is IMPERATIVE that the suits are painted over their naked bodies).

My findings are met with rapturous applause, and I am promised a knighthood by the British queen (despite being Estonian) and a Nobel Prize by Henry Kissinger. To celebrate, I take a couple of my professor friends to a strip joint located within a local naval barrack and wonder where all the ladies are at. We enjoy the night nonetheless.

Towards the end of the night, I am drugged by a trio of men I recognise from my earlier presentation. I recognise them because their painted-on suits are starting to wash off with the sweaty heat of the club. Before I can tell them that I can see their shamebits I pass out.

I awaken in a speedboat that is being driven in circles around the Statue Of Liberty and a man in a tweed suit and dangerous hair threatens to kill me unless I work for him. He tells me that I must make a thousand clones of him, or the AIDS of a thousand camels will visit my pants. I reluctantly agree (I am also given $20m).

I set to work on creating his clones, but come to loath what I am doing to the extent that I want to die. Just as I build up the nerve to kill myself, I find my dead mother's old merkin, and I devise a devious plan to clone her from this, AND transplant MY BRAINS INTO HER HEAD.

I do this. It works.

I break out of the fortified compound that I've been forced to make with the science in by flashing my ankles at security guards (oh, and maybe a couple of blow-jobs along the way too).

I withdraw my $20m at a local Post Office and begin my journey to South America. On the way to the airport I remember how much of a dick my dad was, and how badly he treated me and my mother, and I think that just before I get on the plane to uraguay I'll pay him a little visit.
I drop by his house and he expresses mild surprise at the fact that his dead wife is no longer dead, and invites me in for a cup of tea. I accept.
We have a few cups of tea and he starts to give me the come on. I play along. We end up sleeping with each other. As I put on my clothes I confess who I really am to him. Overcome with revulsion and rage, he attacks me. There is a ten minute silence (this bit will be black and white, shot on grainy 16mm stock).

He gets up and shoots me in the face. I hit the ground and my tickets to Uraguay fall from my hand and float out onto the street into a stream of piss flowing from a hobo cock.

Fin.

One question: would the merkin be CGI, or are you going for a retro, traditional stunt merkin?

Tommy Alpha wrote:

Rimbaud III wrote:It is 1979 and I am Roger D Buum, holder of the world record for longest wheely (six miles) and the first scientist in the world to perfect human cloning. I break this news to a conference room (Holiday Inn, Vienna) packed full of the world's foremost thinkers and a handful of men in dark glasses and painted on black suits (it is IMPERATIVE that the suits are painted over their naked bodies).

My findings are met with rapturous applause, and I am promised a knighthood by the British queen (despite being Estonian) and a Nobel Prize by Henry Kissinger. To celebrate, I take a couple of my professor friends to a strip joint located within a local naval barrack and wonder where all the ladies are at. We enjoy the night nonetheless.

Towards the end of the night, I am drugged by a trio of men I recognise from my earlier presentation. I recognise them because their painted-on suits are starting to wash off with the sweaty heat of the club. Before I can tell them that I can see their shamebits I pass out.

I awaken in a speedboat that is being driven in circles around the Statue Of Liberty and a man in a tweed suit and dangerous hair threatens to kill me unless I work for him. He tells me that I must make a thousand clones of him, or the AIDS of a thousand camels will visit my pants. I reluctantly agree (I am also given $20m).

I set to work on creating his clones, but come to loath what I am doing to the extent that I want to die. Just as I build up the nerve to kill myself, I find my dead mother's old merkin, and I devise a devious plan to clone her from this, AND transplant MY BRAINS INTO HER HEAD.

I do this. It works.

I break out of the fortified compound that I've been forced to make with the science in by flashing my ankles at security guards (oh, and maybe a couple of blow-jobs along the way too).

I withdraw my $20m at a local Post Office and begin my journey to South America. On the way to the airport I remember how much of a dick my dad was, and how badly he treated me and my mother, and I think that just before I get on the plane to uraguay I'll pay him a little visit.
I drop by his house and he expresses mild surprise at the fact that his dead wife is no longer dead, and invites me in for a cup of tea. I accept.
We have a few cups of tea and he starts to give me the come on. I play along. We end up sleeping with each other. As I put on my clothes I confess who I really am to him. Overcome with revulsion and rage, he attacks me. There is a ten minute silence (this bit will be black and white, shot on grainy 16mm stock).

He gets up and shoots me in the face. I hit the ground and my tickets to Uraguay fall from my hand and float out onto the street into a stream of piss flowing from a hobo cock.

Fin.

One question: would the merkin be CGI, or are you going for a retro, traditional stunt merkin?

I'm all about analogue flange, so it'll have to be hand-fucking-stitched, hombre.

Now someone cough up the dough. This film has Sundance written all over it.