Egotistical Director Plans To Mangle British History; Reporters Irritated
Los Angeles (AP) If Jane Austen were around today, she might start a book with the following: "It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that an egomaniac is in want of a mirror." It applied earlier this week for this reporter, along with a number of real reporters, who were summoned to the headquarters of Platinum Dunes, one of the production companies that serves as home to the world's most self absorbed director. No, not Quentin Tarantino, but he comes close (editor: good one, that guy is a jackass). To make things worse, there was a horde of entertainment reporters, that vapid lot of stupid twits who work for such poorly esteemed outlets like Entertainment Tonight.
Gathered together with that pack of idiots in an auditorium, the real reporters were wondering what dreck the egomaniac would be announcing this time. After all, there was a serious backlog of his projects still in the pipeline, and time was moving along. At length, a staff member came up to the podium and called out, "Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, please welcome the greatest gift to cinema in the history of forever... Michael! Bay!!!!!"
The entertainment reporter broke out into rapturous applause. The real reporters sighed and checked their watches or phones for the time. Bay came out on stage, grinning as usual like an idiot, his hair dishevelled as always, with a couple of day's worth of stubble, and dressed relatively casually. He pointed to some of the entertainment reporters cheering him, laughed, and made his way to the podium. A full length mirror had been set up beside it, where he winked at his reflection (editor: he really is in love with himself).
"Hello!" Bay called, still grinning. "Thanks for coming! But of course you had to come. Everyone loves knowing what I'm doing and what I'm filming and how I'm going to win the Oscars. You know, an idea came to mind for me a few months back. Everyone loved my film Pearl Harbor." (editor: no, they didn't.) "My attention to detail of a major historical event. So why not do the same, but go further back in time? Now the problem with this story would be that well, I can't really go with the barely dressed babes waxing cars angle that I like for my movies... because for the story I wanna tell, everyone was overdressed, and cars hadn't been invented yet."
Bay paused before continuing. "Everyone who knows me knows how much I love explosions. Pyrotechnics on film are a big thing for me. I'm happy doing it this way, because if I wasn't in film, I probably would have ended up a bomber, because that's how much I love explosions. At least this way it's legal. But I'm getting off track. Because the story I want to tell is one of an explosion that didn't actually happen- but put in a twist by having the whole second act of the film being a dream sequence of what would have happened if the explosion had actually happened. Which is why I'm doing prep work for a major bio-pic historical drama, Guy Fawkes."
Guy Fawkes, whose name is still used today in Britain as part of Bonfire Night. The Catholic conspirator who failed to set off an explosion that would have wiped out Parliament. The so called Gunpowder Plot. That Guy Fawkes, whose face today is used by random anarchists who don't see the irony and never learned their history. That Guy Fawkes (editor: he's got to be out of his mind. The British will never let him hear the end of this one).
"You have got to be joking," this reporter stated.
"Why do people say that?" Bay asked. "Ladies and gentlemen, for the central role of this film, playing Guy Fawkes, the central member of the conspiracy, I give you one of my favourite actors, Nicolas Cage!!!"
Cage stumbled out on stage, carrying a half empty bottle of scotch in one hand. "Hey there!" He walked over and shook hands with Bay. "It's gonna be a blast playing this guy Fawkes. Or Fox. Who really cares? The point is we're gonna blow a lot up before the film's done. It'll be epic. It'll be tragic. It'll get me an Oscar. Right, Mike?"
"Right! And me too!" Bay exclaimed. "Now this being a period drama, we can't really go with my stand by Aerosmith doing the main theme, but that's not going to stop us from doing something for the end credits with the band. Maybe with the word gunpowder in the title." (editor: is Aerosmith still even together? Are they still alive?)
"You do realize you're stomping on actual history, right?" another reporter asked.
"That's what they said about Pearl Harbor and my angle of a Japanese attack getting in the way of a love triangle," Bay answered. "But that's not the point. The point is Fawkes envisioning the plot succeeding, and us seeing it all through his eyes. The point is Fawkes getting to see Parliament blown up- explosions and all- but then to wake up and realize that he was just dreaming. I get it, I can't change history. Can't go back there and help Fawkes blow the place up. But the second best thing is to portray what might have happened on screen before re-entering history as it happened."
"You do realize that most historians don't tend to play the what if game, right?" this reporter asked.
"Do I look like I care what historians think?" Bay countered. "Look, all that really matters here is giving the audience what they want. And what they want is explosions. And wrecking shit. And more explosions. Lots of explosions. I know this, because I know my audience. And they love the same things I love. And I really love explosions."
"And does it matter to you that you might alienate the British?" another reporter inquired.
Bay shrugged. "Not really, no."
The real reporters collectively sighed in dismay, but it was drowned out by the applause of the entertainment reporters. Bay and Cage smiled and waved, and headed off stage. This reporter shook his head and took his leave of the place- all the while wondering a few things. What would Guy Fawkes think about having his name dragged through the mud by a hack director (editor: good point)? And what would he think of being portrayed by Nicolas Cage. After all, Cage is a drunkard with expensive spending habits and a ridiculous hairline (editor: beyond ridiculous).
Whatever was going to come of all this, a film by Bay would only end ugly. And with too many explosions.