af Kenneth Krabat
And then I dream I am pitching a movie idea to this old Hollywood investor – famous writer couple mum and dad die, while on vacation. Only thing surviving is their laptop, containing a half finished story. Son, or come to think of it, daughter, wants to finish the story, but doesn’t yet know how,
”STOP”, says the investor, how do they die, and why is the laptop the only thing surviving,
”well”, I hiss, and suddenly I am a woman, ”that all depends on the money, for example if some rich investor donates a large amount of money then they are vacationing in Monaco by the Mediterranean, and he is dictating to her, because he is driving, and she is writing it down, and she suddenly realizes he is citing a song,
”you’re doing it again”, she says
”doing what, honey?”,
”citing that song”,
”I know honey, but we are on holiday
BAM, the rental car is hit by a truck, the laptop flies out the open window and the car spins and vaults out over the cliff and takes a nosedive into the rocks far, far below. “Okay!?” SHE looks at the old investor.
”oh, I don’t know”, he says, ”normally things in a moving car continue their movement or is out-accelerated by a force from behind, so how can the laptop go out the side, when they are hit from behind while moving?,
”You made that movie in your head, I said nothing of the sort”,
”Yes, so you did. And seeing that you are interested, this pitch can go anywhere – into comedy, action, horror, sci-fi, sunday romance, anything can happen, when the youngster takes the place of the parents…,”
”yes, failure would be one of them”, says the old man,
”which would place it in the horror genre”, says I, ”but like I said, it can be anything.”
”Even porn and docu-drama? ” the old man says.
I get up and kiss him on the cheek, and leaving the room I say, ”even porn and docu-drama,” and my buddy says, ”are you aware who you just walked out on? Only the single most influential single-investor in Hollywood! Not the richest, but the most well-connected.”
”That’s alright,” she says.
Apparently she takes over, when ever there is risk of failure, and that is also alright.
”I am not about to lose myself to replicating an un-original story just to please a TV-channel. I still haven’t worked out why it would even be possible for the youngster to fill his, or her, parent’s shoes, or why he, or she, would even attempt it. Damn it, she. Does she possess a knowledge of her parents’ success; does it have to be some kind of literary debunking, as in ”all good ideas come from real life”-kind of stuff, with them being telepaths channelling life onto pages, or spies having lived the stories they write about, or a curse forcing them to let out creatures from another world for a spin, and then they write about it afterwards, or they just love one another and being in love somehow unblocks the inventive channels and in order to finish the book the daughter has to fall in love… but it is definitely not going to be a porn. Even if the Mediterranean is alluring. Hmm. Dirty, old man.”
”Maybe he was just testing you to see how far you would go to make a movie.”
”I am sure he was. I was testing me too. And I wasn’t moved by the pitch. There is another story blocking it, and he knew that.”
”Then why don’t you do that instead!”
”For that I need to be a man, and a sorry one, at that. I’ll have to wait for it.”
”And then every other story in between will come out sort of soaked in another story from having rubbed up against that one still coming in? That’s losing energy, having to oppose something coming the other way. Why not just suspend other stories and open up to it? Get it over with?”
”Because… because I am afraid.”
”And of what, my dear?”
”Loss of love and respect from everyone, professional isolation, paparazzis on my every move…”
”Oh, it’s that kind of story.”
”No, actually it is not. I just spun you one.”
”So, what is it?”
”The hardest kind.”
”Oh, no, you don’t mean…”
”Yes, the psychological story that must not be misunderstood.”