In a group of five people, one will lead, another will innovate, and the remaining three will sit on their asses in fold-out lounge chairs, sip on fruit cocktails that come with complimentary little umbrellas, and think about season four of the X-Files, when Scully found out that what she thought was a monthly case of hemophilia was actually an alien induced pregnancy.
In the broader sense, the previously mentioned information indicates that we have the government to lead us, Hollywood to innovate us, and Mulder and Scully to keep us company every Sunday night from 9-10. Unfortunately, there is a gap in these assumptions.
The government leads us, but who stands to innovate us?
Hollywood has lathered our brains in artificially flavored butter-esque topping, and the music industry died weeks ago, shortly after the release of Train’s new album, Drops of Jupiter and other Satellites in or around our Solar System.
As of late, the two industries have been trying to clean off and repackage projects that gurgled up around the marketing drain and now smell worse than the kitchen sink after Taco Night.
One collaboration between the music industry and the movie industry, which probably occurred on an elevator in the Sony building, is the up-coming Britney Spears movie starring Dan “I-should-have-quit-after-My-Girl-2” Aykroyd and Samantha, from Sex in the City. Aykroyd has a history of being in movies that can cause belly button lint to self-animate and strangle its owner, but poor Samantha. She probably got pressured into doing the movie back when Britney was a celebrity, six months ago. Someone should tell Samantha that the only part she can play is … Samantha.
The cameramen and women have to make good on their unspoken agreement with the public. They went to film school and got MFAs in film making, and now they must take their place among the entertainment elite and make good on the promises that their predecessors had no intention of making good on. It is the job, nay, the responsibility, of Hollywood to finally develop 3-D movies that look 3-D.
No more Captain EO or big plastic clown glasses at the entrance to the theater. 3-D technology was due out decades ago and it was supposed to revolutionize the industry, just like laser discs and Ricky Martin accent-building kits. What interrupted Hollywood’s journey towards providing us with another dimension of entertainment? Was it the Baha-Men? I bet it was those fuckin’ Baha-men and/or a militant bag of crunchy Cheese Doodles.
Sometimes I think that if Hollywood were in the business of delivering milk, the world would be paying $10 a weekend to eat cottage cheese sans pineapples. Moviemakers have to burn their thought trees, re-plant and self-fertilize. They’ve given us 14 Ernest sequels, and they’ve given Christina Ricci a career as a Sundance actress, and while these kinds of events should only occur in the sixth dimension, or maybe at a Fifth Dimension reunion concert, they haven’t occurred in the third dimension. So, if anyone out there is moved by the heart to do so, write a letter to your local Hollywood representative and tell them:
“We want more visual stimulation. We don’t want plots, we want plumbers and housewives having a dance party with a neighborly DJ lesbian friend who can shake her groove thang while she increases and decreases the tempo of the demo song on an ’84 Casio keyboard … and we want it all in 3-D.”
Archived article by Bradley Werner