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Empire Records
A while ago I saw the film Empire Records, at the insistence of more people than I care to remember. I wasn't terribly impressed, and found myself wondering how such a film came to be made. The following scene came to mind:
INT: The office of Jeffrey D. Kirschtorte III, Senior President at Megabucks Film Studios Inc. The room is huge and imposing, with a ceiling so high it has its own weather system, and a carpet so deep-pile that you can twist your ankle on it. In one corner a fountain of vintage champagne tinkles: in another, this year's Misses April and November pillow-fight listlessly on one of the many sofas. KIRSCHTORTE sits at his desk, which is made entirely of piled $100-bills, and regards his subordinate SIMMONS.
KIRSCHTORTE: OK, Simmons, give me numbers.
SIMMONS [who changed his name from Simonowski in the hope of swifter promotion, but is thinking of changing it back: the Polish-Jew market
segment is big this year]: Bad news I'm afraid, sir. Our net profits were down for the fifth quarter running. We've slipped below France and
Italy as a world economy.
KIRSCHTORTE: Below Italy? Now that's just embarrassing.
SIMMONS: I'm afraid so, sir. The good news is [riffles papers] we're still ahead of Thailand, Singapore and Austria.
KIRSCHTORTE: Thailand!
SIMMONS: Well, if you will keep authorizing Tom Cruise vehicles...
KIRSCHTORTE: Shut up, Simmons.
[KIRSCHTORTE leans back and lights a footlong Cuban cigar with a Google share certificate.]
KIRSCHTORTE: I tell you, Simmons, this industry's going to hell. We used to make serious money in the old days. Back when the Brat Pack were going. We'd just get 'em all together, film some heartwarming dreck, and watch the cash come in. Those were the days.
SIMMONS: Maybe, sir... we could make those days come back?
KIRSCHTORTE: What the hell are you talking about, Simmons? The Brat Pack have gone, burned out or whatever.
SIMMONS: Yes, sir, but we could always make... a NEW Brat Pack!
KIRSCHTORTE: Stop talking crap, Simmons. You can't manufacture talent like Molly Ringwald's!
SIMMONS: Indeed not, sir. But we don't have to. All we need to do is reach into our "young hopefuls" files, find a half-dozen hot-looking twentysomethings, write some anti-corporate, anti-capitalist teensploitation movie, then market it as if it's subversive and underground. That way, the disaffected stoner Gen X market demographic will think they've discovered it themselves, and it'll propel the stars into some serious profitability.
KIRSCHTORTE: Wait a minute - did you say "anti-capitalist"?
SIMMONS: That's right, sir. Anti-capitalism is very big right now in our key market segments.
KIRSCHTORTE: But that's ridiculous! Corporate capitalism is what made America what it is today!
SIMMONS: Exactly, sir. May I make a further suggestion?
KIRSCHTORTE: Keep talking.
SIMMONS: If we set the movie in a record store, we could give it a veneer of underground sophistication, AND make big money from the soundtrack album. Since we're partnered with Sony, we can include music from their catalogue without worrying about licensing fees.
KIRSCHTORTE: Brilliant! That would get Kobayashi-san off my back, too, with his goddamn "synergies".
SIMMONS: Of course, we don't want to use any bands that are too well-known. We want the bands to be nicely obscure, so that kids will think the music is underground and cool and want to buy the album. I've prepared a draft list of bands for your approval. [hands list over]
KIRSCHTORTE: [looking at list] Coyote Shivers? Gin Blossoms? Toad the Wet Sprocket? Are you seriously telling me that bands with these names exist?
SIMMONS: Not yet, sir, but my cousin plays bass and has a large collection of wigs.
KIRSCHTORTE: OK, Simmons, you've convinced me. Now, who could we get to star in this movie?
[He reaches for the nearest file, which is of course Z.]
KIRSCHTORTE: Renee Zell... however the hell you say it. Never heard of her. She'll do.
[He continues to look at files]
KIRSCHTORTE: No, no, no... definitely not, no, no, yes, no, hmmm, must ask that one to dinner, no, yes, no, no, yes... that'll do. But I think it needs to be more rock'n'roll. How about we cast Pamela Anderson? She used to be married to a rocker, she's underground.
SIMMONS: [shudders] I, uh,... think she's contracted to another studio, sir. But we do have Steve Tyler's daughter on our books. Aerosmith are
pretty rock'n'roll.
KIRSCHTORTE: Simmons, you're a genius, and if this thing fails, it'll have your name all over it.
SIMMONS: And if it succeeds, sir?
KIRSCHTORTE: [grins] Then I'll claim all the credit for myself.
When I came to put this in an email, my sigmonster came up with the following:
Are you OK? Can you play bass?
-- unknown driver, upon hitting Jamie Zawinski with his car door.
Smartarse random number generator.
INT: The office of Jeffrey D. Kirschtorte III, Senior President at Megabucks Film Studios Inc. The room is huge and imposing, with a ceiling so high it has its own weather system, and a carpet so deep-pile that you can twist your ankle on it. In one corner a fountain of vintage champagne tinkles: in another, this year's Misses April and November pillow-fight listlessly on one of the many sofas. KIRSCHTORTE sits at his desk, which is made entirely of piled $100-bills, and regards his subordinate SIMMONS.
KIRSCHTORTE: OK, Simmons, give me numbers.
SIMMONS [who changed his name from Simonowski in the hope of swifter promotion, but is thinking of changing it back: the Polish-Jew market
segment is big this year]: Bad news I'm afraid, sir. Our net profits were down for the fifth quarter running. We've slipped below France and
Italy as a world economy.
KIRSCHTORTE: Below Italy? Now that's just embarrassing.
SIMMONS: I'm afraid so, sir. The good news is [riffles papers] we're still ahead of Thailand, Singapore and Austria.
KIRSCHTORTE: Thailand!
SIMMONS: Well, if you will keep authorizing Tom Cruise vehicles...
KIRSCHTORTE: Shut up, Simmons.
[KIRSCHTORTE leans back and lights a footlong Cuban cigar with a Google share certificate.]
KIRSCHTORTE: I tell you, Simmons, this industry's going to hell. We used to make serious money in the old days. Back when the Brat Pack were going. We'd just get 'em all together, film some heartwarming dreck, and watch the cash come in. Those were the days.
SIMMONS: Maybe, sir... we could make those days come back?
KIRSCHTORTE: What the hell are you talking about, Simmons? The Brat Pack have gone, burned out or whatever.
SIMMONS: Yes, sir, but we could always make... a NEW Brat Pack!
KIRSCHTORTE: Stop talking crap, Simmons. You can't manufacture talent like Molly Ringwald's!
SIMMONS: Indeed not, sir. But we don't have to. All we need to do is reach into our "young hopefuls" files, find a half-dozen hot-looking twentysomethings, write some anti-corporate, anti-capitalist teensploitation movie, then market it as if it's subversive and underground. That way, the disaffected stoner Gen X market demographic will think they've discovered it themselves, and it'll propel the stars into some serious profitability.
KIRSCHTORTE: Wait a minute - did you say "anti-capitalist"?
SIMMONS: That's right, sir. Anti-capitalism is very big right now in our key market segments.
KIRSCHTORTE: But that's ridiculous! Corporate capitalism is what made America what it is today!
SIMMONS: Exactly, sir. May I make a further suggestion?
KIRSCHTORTE: Keep talking.
SIMMONS: If we set the movie in a record store, we could give it a veneer of underground sophistication, AND make big money from the soundtrack album. Since we're partnered with Sony, we can include music from their catalogue without worrying about licensing fees.
KIRSCHTORTE: Brilliant! That would get Kobayashi-san off my back, too, with his goddamn "synergies".
SIMMONS: Of course, we don't want to use any bands that are too well-known. We want the bands to be nicely obscure, so that kids will think the music is underground and cool and want to buy the album. I've prepared a draft list of bands for your approval. [hands list over]
KIRSCHTORTE: [looking at list] Coyote Shivers? Gin Blossoms? Toad the Wet Sprocket? Are you seriously telling me that bands with these names exist?
SIMMONS: Not yet, sir, but my cousin plays bass and has a large collection of wigs.
KIRSCHTORTE: OK, Simmons, you've convinced me. Now, who could we get to star in this movie?
[He reaches for the nearest file, which is of course Z.]
KIRSCHTORTE: Renee Zell... however the hell you say it. Never heard of her. She'll do.
[He continues to look at files]
KIRSCHTORTE: No, no, no... definitely not, no, no, yes, no, hmmm, must ask that one to dinner, no, yes, no, no, yes... that'll do. But I think it needs to be more rock'n'roll. How about we cast Pamela Anderson? She used to be married to a rocker, she's underground.
SIMMONS: [shudders] I, uh,... think she's contracted to another studio, sir. But we do have Steve Tyler's daughter on our books. Aerosmith are
pretty rock'n'roll.
KIRSCHTORTE: Simmons, you're a genius, and if this thing fails, it'll have your name all over it.
SIMMONS: And if it succeeds, sir?
KIRSCHTORTE: [grins] Then I'll claim all the credit for myself.
When I came to put this in an email, my sigmonster came up with the following:
Are you OK? Can you play bass?
-- unknown driver, upon hitting Jamie Zawinski with his car door.
Smartarse random number generator.