Deranged Self
Absorbed Director Threatens to Helm Beloved Children’s Film Adaptation
Los Angeles (AP) There are no sacred cows in Hollywood, it
seems. Reporters were summoned to the offices of Digital Domain this week for
an announcement by director Michael Bay, whose obnoxious, loud films have been
a pestilence for years in movie theatres, including Pearl Harbor, The Rock, and the Transformers
series. The director, who never heard of a movie explosion he didn’t like,
and who finds himself the most fascinating human being on the planet, has been
taking on a swirl of projects, convinced that each one is going to get him
Oscars. This reporter was one of a number of real reporters sent in to mingle
with fake reporters (otherwise known as entertainment reporters) to hear the
announcement. This reporter remains in editor dictated hell for months on end
simply because his editor despises everything about him (editor: you laughed at my mother-in-law’s funeral. I never forget, and
I never forgive).
At any rate, despite the callous disregard of the editor who
should have been relieved to see his mother-in-law battleaxe shuffle off her
mortal coil (editor: hey! Watch your
mouth!), this reporter knew he’d be stuck with this purgatory of an
assignment. On a side note: yes, your mother-in-law was a battleaxe. Now then, we return to the subject at hand. This
reporter and a number of actual reporters were subjected to the presence of
vacant headed buffoons calling themselves entertainment reporters in the
auditorium. Those of us who were real reporters speculated on how many times
Bay would look in the mirror, already set up by the podium. Finally a staffer
came out, called everyone to order, and announced the arrival of her boss.
Bay came out on stage, waved and grinned in his usual
halfwitted way, and stopped by the podium, gazing at himself in the full length
mirror and winking. This reporter expected that deep down, Michael Bay was
deeply in love with Michael Bay. He was dressed as usual- jeans, blazer, and a
denim shirt unbuttoned at the neck. And he had the customary slightly
dishevelled hair and three days of stubble. “Hello, everyone!” he called out as
he looked over the crowd of reporters, stealing one last glance at himself in
the mirror. “It is delightful to see you all here today! Just as much of a
delight as it must be for you to be here and hear my announcement. Am I right
or am I right?”
The real reporters remained silent. Entertainment reporters
applauded. Bay seemed to only notice the latter. He smiled again in that
customary halfwitted way of his, oblivious to reality. “You know, I’m a busy
man. I always have lots of things on the go, big projects in the wings, and I
can never stop taking on a new challenge. That’s what I’m here today to tell
you, about my next big challenge.”
“Are you going to take a vow of silence and stop making
films?” this reporter asked.
“No! Of course not!” Bay said, totally oblivious to this
reporter’s tone. “Oh, you’re such a kidder! Why would I walk away from the
world of film? The movie world needs me,
after all. What would they do without me? Who else is as good as I am in
blowing things up during every film? Nobody! Now then, what I’m here today to
tell you about is a new film concept. Something that will blow you away and
have you wanting to see right now. A film that is bigger and grander and more
explosive than you can imagine.” This reporter wondered if he could get
assigned to something less obnoxious. Like the Rachel Dolezal story.
Nonetheless, the ordeal continued. Bay kept prattling on,
obviously in love with the sound of his own voice. “You know, there’s a beloved
institution out there, a comic strip that we’ve all known and grown up with. I
can tell you that yes, I know there’s a movie in the works already about them,
but my take is going to be different. For one thing, it’ll be live action, not
animated. And for another, it’s going to take the characters and make them
adults. Something we would have never seen in the original series, because,
hey, let’s face it, comic strip characters generally do not get older. Except
for Doonesbury. And that one’s just a
little too dry to adapt for a movie. Though I could make something of that Jeff Redfern is the Red Rascal ongoing
plotline.” This reporter sighed, imagining just how much of a mess Bay could
make of that.
Bay smiled, gazed at himself in the mirror once again,
smiled some more, and then turned his gaze back on his audience. “Where was I?
Oh, yes. My film. Right. Ladies and gentlemen, my next big project, once I’m
done with the other multitude of other projects I’m working on, yes, folks, the
one you’ve all been waiting for...” This reporter glanced at his watch,
wondering how long the buildup would take. Three minutes and lots of hype words
later, Bay finally finished by saying, “I’m adapting Peanuts for the big screen! Yeahhhhh!!!!”
There was an audible gasp from many of the reporters. The
beloved comic strip by the late Charles Schulz has been part of our lives for
decades, featuring the lives of children written with depth and one beagle with
an astounding imagination. There is an animated film in the works, but the idea
of Michael Bay desecrating the characters in any way seems to be nightmarish.
“Did you just say....?” a Reuters correspondent started.
“Yes!” Bay said gleefully. “But not Peanuts as it is. I mean, for one thing, there’s no way a studio
insurance underwriter would let a guy like me make a film with kids- too many
explosions, too much risk. So the concept of my film is to take these
characters we all know and bring them up into young adulthood and see where
they are now. With lots of explosions.”
Bay glanced at his reflection in the mirror again and
smiled. “So our central figure, of course must be Charlie Brown. Where is he at
this point in his life? Well, he’s grown up to be a pretty good guy. He gave up
his baseball dreams, and when he did that, his infamous bad luck finally went
away. Charlie got over that childhood bout of cancer and finally grew a decent
head of hair. He’s an Army officer, and a bomb disposal expert, so you just know that in a film I’m making that will
come in handy.” Reporters gasped and rolled their eyes. “He’s even happily
married. No, not to that Little Red Haired Girl we never saw. Instead he got
married to Violet, who for whatever reason didn’t get used that much as time
went on.”
This reporter wondered, not for the last time before this
press conference would end, if Charles Schulz would be rolling over in his
grave. Oblivious to all thoughts of reporters, Bay prattled on. “His friend
Schroeder is a world famous concert pianist, just as you’d expect, and
Schroeder’s a big part of the plot. His other friend Linus is a theology
graduate student who tends to smoke weed and has some strange ideas on divinity
and the Great Pumpkin. Sally Brown is an award winning playwright about to
debut her new musical My Sweet Baboo on
Broadway. Pig-Pen has taken his talent for attracting dirt and put it to good
use as a Navy SEAL. Franklin’s a hip-hop artist and my token African-American
character, because in a Michael Bay film, you always have to have one of those.
Snoopy, admittedly, is where I need to suspend disbelief for a bit, because
who’d believe a dog would live in excess of twenty extra years? Snoopy’s still
around, still picking fights with the Red Baron and leading his Beagle Scouts
and writing books that get rejected by publishers and still thinking of Charlie
Brown as that round headed kid. And Peppermint Patty and Marcie have finally come out of the closet and are
getting married.”
This reporter sighed with dismay, wondering if his grouchy
editor would ever stop being annoyed with him (editor: note to you: I never will, you prat!). Bay was still
carrying on with his grandiose announcement. “And rounding out the main
characters is the key antagonist. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the one, the
only... Lucy van Pelt. She who was crabby and grouchy and obsessed with
Schroeder as a child has not improved. In fact, she’s become a supervillain,
kidnapping Schroeder for her own lustful purposes, and threatening the world
with stolen nukes. Which, of course, happens to be the disarming speciality of
our hero, Charlie Brown. The big confrontation between two old adversaries,
because let’s face it, Charlie and Lucy hated
each other. The stakes are much bigger though than a football being pulled away
at the last minute. Which reminds me, the title of my blockbuster is Kick The Football, Charlie Brown.”
A collective sigh of dismay rose up from the real reporters.
Bay still smiled gleefully. “And now, bringing out my cast, starting with our
lead actor....”
“Let me guess, Shia LaBeouf?” this reporter asked.
“No, but he is in the cast,” Bay replied. “No, ladies and
gentlemen, playing Charlie Brown with the gravity and dignity that the
character so richly deserves, an actor I haven’t worked with before, Mr.
Channing Tatum!”
Tatum came out on stage, waving at the crowd, his expression
being his usual dimwitted hit in the head by the football too many times look.
“Hello there!” he called out. “It’s wonderful to play this timeless character
in such a fresh and new way. You wouldn’t believe
how long it took me to learn that sentence.”
Bay kept speaking. “And playing his wife, a newcomer to my
films, but you’ve seen her in lots of films before. Ladies and gentlemen,
playing Violet Gray-Brown... hey, those are three colours! Ladies and
gentlemen, say hello to Emma Stone!”
The actress stepped out on stage, looking awkward. “Look,
don’t hold this against me, I was signing lots of documents and it turns out
one of them was a one movie deal with this hack,” she said, glaring at Bay, who
laughed.
“Such a kidder!” Bay chuckled.
“Yes, well, whatever, and now you’ve got me shackled with
this halfwit.” Stone added, looking
at Tatum. “And considering I’ve worked with Michael Cera, I know a lot about
halfwits.” The entertainment reporters collectively gasped and started tweeting
up a storm. This reporter could already see next week’s tabloid headlines: Washed Up Has Been Actor Skewered By A-List
Actress. Entertainment reporters are scum, after all, and this reporter
wondered why his cranky editor couldn’t work for one of those outlets (editor: for your next assignment I’m having
you tossed into shark infested waters without a shark cage).
Bay seemed oblivious. “And now, playing Linus van Pelt, give
a big hand and lots of love to one of my favourite actors, Mr. Shia LaBeouf!”
LaBeouf stepped out on stage, waving and grinning like an
idiot. “Shia is so pleased to see you!” the waste of oxygen called out, still
in that talking about himself in the third person phase. “Shia is a busy actor!
Shia is glad for that, so when Spielberg comes and begs Shia to star in a Mutt Williams movie, Shia can give him the
finger!”
LaBeouf joined the other actors. Bay continued his
announcement of the cast. “I quite often cast this next actress alongside Shia
in other films as a romantic interest. Well, not this time. This time Megan Fox
is in my cast, playing a character pivotal to the entire film. She’s got the
gravity, depth, personality, intelligence, and fortitude as an actress to play
this role. Ladies and gentlemen, give a big hand for Megan, who’s been cast as
my antagonist, Lucy van Pelt!”
Fox stepped out on stage, waving and smiling in her usual
vacant looking way, dressed in her customary much too tight clothing, ample
cleavage on display. “Hi! It’s so wonderful
to play one of the most iconic characters of all time! I’m going to have lots
of fun being the bad girl!”
Bay smiled. “Now then, I do have someone who’ll be voicing
the inner thoughts of Snoopy. Someone I thought would be perfect for the part.
He can’t be here today- he’s caught up in television show work at the moment-
but he’ll be ready to go when the time comes, and his performance will be the
stuff of legend. Ladies and
gentlemen, I’ve chosen Seth McFarlane for that role!” There was silence from
the reporters. The real reporters were appalled at such a choice. The
entertainment reporters were, as usual, confused in the deepest of ways.
Bay seemed to ignore all that. “I’ve got one more cast
member to bring out. I’m still in the process of casting more parts, but I
couldn’t ignore this guy. Playing the President of the United States in this
tense hair raising thriller... Mr. Nicolas Cage!”
Cage came out on the stage, stumbling and grinning in a dazed
way, singing in a slurred way, his hairpiece even stranger than usual. “Hail to
the Chief, he’s the one we all say hail to, we all say hail ‘cause he keeps
himself so clean! He’s got the power, that’s why he’s in the shower...”
This reporter sighed with dismay. Now Nicolas Cage was
ripping off Kevin Kline’s performance in Dave.
A glance at the watch was in order, and this reporter found himself
wondering how many more years he’d be in editorial purgatory at the hands of an
overlord editor with no sense of... (editor:
purgatory? You’re in editorial hell!)
Regardless of the overlord editor’s annoying habit of
continuing to be an irritating prat (editor:
hey! Shut up!), this reporter remained doomed to covering such idiocy. Bay
was beaming as he spoke. “Ladies and gentlemen, the cast of Kick The Football, Charlie Brown! It’s
going to be big! It’s going to be bold! It’s going to be epic! With lots of explosions and barely dressed girls waxing cars
and explosions and Aerosmith doing a theme song! Yeah!!!!”
With that, they were off the stage, leaving the reporters
and entertainment reporters in their wake. The latter were busy talking about
how Emma Stone had skewered Channing Tatum and Michael Cera, while gushing
about how epic a movie this would be. Those of us real reporters condemned for
one reason or another to cover this nonsense expressed our dismay at the fact
that someone as irritating as Michael Bay would have the chance to desecrate Peanuts. This reporter could sum it all
up in two words: good grief.
It’s too bad there isn’t a Great Pumpkin. He could stomp all
over Michael Bay, and do the same to my cranky editor (editor: you are dead to me. Dead! You hear me? I’m going scorched earth
on you until the day I retire).
Like I said: too bad.
