The World O' Crap Archive

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Friday, May 30, 2014

How To Pitch A Movie If You’re A Right Wing Hack: Part II: The Klavaning!

I was pretty sure K-Lo completely covered this subject back in Julywith her “Coming Attractions with Substance” piece in Townhall. (Who can forget her pitch for the riveting biopic, Cheney!…)
He was White House chief of staff. He was secretary of defense. They thought his career was over. And then he became one of the most hated and feared politicians in the land, one heartbeat away from the presidency. But that was only the beginning. After months of the politicos’ eyeing the field, Dick Cheney surprised them all by storming in late in the race and taking the Republican nomination for president in 2008.
…at gunpoint.
But while K-Lo’s piece was in deadly — if not actually mass-murdering — earnest, screenwriter and novelist Andrew Klavan brings a puckish sense of whimsy to Hollywood’s upcoming anschluss with the liberal-run Reichsfilmkammer. In a commentary in today’s Los Angeles Times (my hometown paper, and the reason I recently bought a Hyacinth Macaw — mightiest of the parrot family, weighing in at nearly four pounds — because I wanted something that could crap on the Op-Ed page with authority) entitled “The Right Kind of Oscars, he takes us down a crazy rabbit hole where up is down and black is not allowed to vote:
Well, the writers strike is over, the Oscars will go on and, by golly, we conservatives just can’t wait to watch Hollywood pat itself on the back for another year of anti-American, anti-military, anti-traditionalist filmmaking.
“Traditionalist filmmakers,” for you rubes in Flyover Land, are those who reject the authenticity of any newfangled movie not made using William Lincoln’s patented zoopraxiscope method.
And while red-carpet anticipation is giving me the shivers, I can’t help but imagine an alternative Oscar ceremony in a different kind of Hollywood with this list of exciting best picture nominees:
“Oono.” Hilarity ensues when a 16-year-old girl finds herself pregnant and gives the baby away to a similarly unmarried neurotic so that the infant grows up to become a drug-addicted loser and dies of an overdose at 23, whereupon the hilarity abruptly stops. What struck me about this film was that Hollywood filmmakers finally ended their attempts to sanitize and glamorize the irresponsible lifestyles that are destroying their own children before the paparazzi’s very eyes. A production of Don’t Hold Your Breath Films in association with Not in This Lifetime Pictures.
Finally! Someone else who agrees with me that Juno should really just have gotten that parasite vacuumed out, rather than leaving her child to be raised by Jennifer Garner and Ben Affleck, which when you think about it is really just a slow motion, time-release abortion.
“From the Jaws of Defeat.” A hard-charging general races against time to win an unpopular war before self-serving politicians can engineer a surrender. This film became a front-runner after a moving Time magazine interview in which impassioned studio head Bernie Wattle declares, “Look, I’m just a fat little man in a suit making movies, but these soldiers are out there risking their lives to fight some of the worst enemies this country has ever faced. What kind of people would we be if we made films attacking our soldiers and their mission?”
So does Al-Qaeda have a battleship? I’m just curious about where we’re going to sign this surrender. But I have to say, the Occupation of America couldn’t be better timed. Like the Japanese after World War II, we need a conqueror to dictate us a new Constitution, since the one we’ve got now is clearly as porous as a picket fence (I mean, we can’t even tell if our Vice President is part of the Executive or the Judicial Branch — for all we know, he’s in Accounting, or IT), and like all the Axis nations, we could use a Marshall Plan to lift our war-shattered economy out of the doldrums.
“All the Prosecutor’s Men.” Journalistic heroics based on a true story. Intrepid radio talk show host Sean Hannity…
Oh, so it’s a Dali/Bunuel film, like Un Chien Andalou, or L’Age d’or
…fights for justice when the mainstream media attempt to railroad four innocent white students who’ve been falsely charged with the rape of a black woman. It’s the dialogue that wins the day here. Take the scene in which fanatical news weekly editor Chet Shallow (played by two-time Oscar nominee Phil Shallow)
…it’s little touches like this that remind you that Andrew is a highly paid professional writer!
…snarls, “This narrative is about race and gender. The facts don’t matter.” To which our square-jawed hero snaps back, “This is journalism, chucklehead. The facts are supposed to shape the narrative, not the other way around.” I mean, this stuff just crackles.
So does bubblewrap, but I’m not sure I can watch someone sit there and pop the stuff for two hours.
“Clayton Michaels.” A chemical corporation that employs thousands of people, enhances agriculture and protects millions from disease is nearly destroyed by money-grubbing lawyers who smack it with a bogus billion-dollar lawsuit. Most interesting here was the statement by the filmmakers that they “committed to this project because we were tired of feeding our families with corporate paychecks while making movies about how evil corporations are. This more honest depiction of the benefits of capitalism seemed to restore some of our integrity.”
“Also, Union Carbide slipped us a cool mil to finish the film after everyone who had ever walked by their plant in Jaffna, Sri Lanka spontaneously combusted.”
“The Hours and Hours and Hours.” An apparently committed lesbian reveals her true yearning to become a wife and mother.
I don’t see where the drama comes in. All she needs is a turkey baster and a trip to Vermont…
She gets married, devotes herself to her husband and two kids and looks back at 80 to find she’s lived a happy and fulfilling life. OK, this one was a bit slow for me, but I did enjoy the scene in which the heroine’s executive sister returns from yet another business trip and declares, “I feel so empowered!” before bursting into hysterical sobs.
Again, I don’t see the tragic potential here — hysterical sobs are common enough. For instance, if everyone who read the above paragraph and decided that Andrew needed a good cock-punching actually bothered to deliver it, he’d be feeling as empowered as all heck right now.
“Good Night, Uncle Joe.”
Oh you’re not really gonna go there, are you? Jesus Christ on a Sybian…
In the 1950s, a dogged congressional investigator hunts down a screenwriter who’s been propagandizing and organizing in support of a Soviet regime that has murdered millions of people.
Screenwriters were The Most Dangerous Game back then, and tracking them down often involved exhausting trips into the wilds of Ciro’s, the Trocadero, and the Coconut Grove before finally running your prey to ground at the bar in the Mocambo.
In this groundbreaking work, Hollywood finally takes responsibility for the many filmmakers who gave propaganda and financial and organizational support to one of the most repressive and homicidal governments in history.
Cyrus Nowrasteh, of The Path to 9/11 is the first up against the wall…Lionel Chetwynd, of DC 9/11: Time of Crisis is in the on-deck circle…
The ad line, “Ideas Matter,” says it all.
“If It’s Mattel, It’s Swell,” says just a bit more, however…
Of course, we’ll have to wait until Oscar night to find out who the winner is — or until hell freezes over, whichever takes longest.
Remember folks, these are the kinds of jokes that only a professional conservative writer can provide. For a complete transcript of this column and its many humorous japes, write to “The U.S. Government Guide to Mummery, Tomfoolery, and Monkeyshines, Pueblo, CO, 81001.
Posted by scott on Sunday, February 17th, 2008 at 1:40 am.

29 Responses to “How To Pitch A Movie If You’re A Right Wing Hack: Part II: The Klavaning!”

. . .Accounting, or IT . . . I figure him for HR (not that there’s anything wrong with that).
I’m a bit staggered at the list of people Andrew appears to hate.
Cyrus Nowrasteh, of The Path to 9/11 is the first up against the wall…Lionel Chetwynd, of DC 9/11: Time of Crisis is in the on-deck circle…
don’t forget “United 93″ and “24″ for good measure
Jesus Christ on a Sybian…
was that when he said “Father, into Your hands I commit my spirit?” aka “oh my god I’m coming?”
Wow. I mean, it was awful but then he just…kept going. Wow.
yeah, his “riff” on Juno confused the heck outta me, too.
If there was any movie plot that the right to life/fa (fetus adopters)could embrace, it would be Juno, wouldn’t it?
This column of his came out one day late. Obviously, he intended this to be his Bitterest Day piece.
If there was any movie plot that the right to life/fa (fetus adopters)could embrace, it would be Juno, wouldn’t it?
That’s only true if you assume that they hate abortion because it kills babies. If you assume that they hate abortion because it allows sluts to decide what’s best for themselves, you can suddenly see why they’d hate Juno.
Good grief! She makes Dick Cheney seem like the undead Jason Voor–
“An apparently committed lesbian reveals her true yearning to become a wife and mother…”
He wants to make “The Ann Heche Story”?
A more general question, for anyone who can answer:
Why are wingnuts so painfully, wretchedly bad at writing humor columns, especially satire? Why does every attempt they make to be funny fall so far off the mark, it might be drifting through space, circling Pluto?
How about Blasto: a fetus, which is about to be terminated, escapes from the murderous abortionist, and raises himself on the mean streets of LA, where he learns martial arts and commando skills. After his comatose buddy’s feeding tube is pulled, he goes to seek revenge on those who killed his blastocyst brothers and sisters. Note: Blasto is to be played by a diminutive CG generated Silvester Stallone.
True, it’s more action/adventure then Oscar material — but certainly just as plausible in Klavan’s bizzarro world
Bill S., they’re convinced that if they include all the propaganda talking points, the humor will take care of itself.
a Hyacinth Macaw — mightiest of the parrot family, weighing in at nearly four pounds
Your macaw is less than half the weight of an adult kakapo. That is all.
Well, yeah, the idea of making Joe McCarthy a heroic figure IS freakin’ hilarious, but not for the reason this jackass thinks.
And what exactly is a “committed lesbian”? Does he think lesbianism is something women sign up for, like the army? Or maybe it’s an ideology like, Christianity or communism?
I assumed he meant a lesbian committed to her partner… but in retrospect I was giving him way too much credit.
I’m also trying to figure out how being raised by a single parent automatically results in the child turning into a drug addict. There are plenty of drug addicts who come from two-parent families.
Hell, there are plenty of drug addicts who are created by their two parents staying bitterly and hatefully together “for the children”. Andrew’s a fucking moron. I haven’t seen any of the movies he’s mocking, you know that? I’m guessing Andy hasn’t either, but apparently he cares a great deal anyway.
I’m going to go watch the Discovery Channel where, in about an hour and twenty minutes, Bob Costas will explain that certain reptiles grind up their food in special stomach chambers with the use of gastropods. Makes me laugh every time. Way funnier than Andrew.
What’s also unintentionally funny is, he tries to imagine what a good script would be like, but he’s too shitty a writer to pull it off. Did he actually READ what he wrote, and think it was clever?
Oh, gosh. I was raised by a single parent, which means I must be a drug addict. Lord help me, it’s got to be the tea… they’ve been secretly putting drugs into my tea all these years which is why I drink it EVERY DAY…
“An apparently committed lesbian reveals her true yearning to become a wife and mother…”
Yes, this premise is so genuine, because being a “lesbian” and “a wife and mother” must be mutually exclusive.
Why are wingnuts so painfully, wretchedly bad at writing humor columns, especially satire?
Put it this way: you know at the end of the movie “Carrie” when Sissy Spacek thinks she’s the prom queen, but it’s all just an unimaginably cruel prank, and those assholes dump a bucket of blood all over her and then the whole gymnasium laughs at her? Well, when Andrew Klavan watched that movie, he was laughing too.
And that’s why conservatives don’t get humor, Charlie Brown.
Conservative he isn’t, barely to the left of Himmler is more like it. A biopic paean to Joe McCarthy, Jesus, I thought only Anne Coulter was that sick and twisted.
“Oh, so it’s a Dali/Bunuel film, like Un Chien Andalou, or L’Age d’or…”
Dali and Bunuel fell out before L’Age D’or was shot. Dali was not present during filming and the only image in the film which was his idea is the shot of the man walking through the park with a loaf of bread on his head, passing a statue of a man with a loaf of bread on his head. The rest is pure Bunuel and all the better for it.
I still can’t wrap my head around the Sean Hannity film. That’s just…
I don’t have the words…
(where’s Anntichrist S. Coulter when we need her?)
Although if they’re casting the movie, they could get that inflatable pilot from “Airplane”-it looks exactly like him, only there’s more substance between its ears.
“An apparently committed lesbian reveals her true yearning to become a wife and mother…”
wait, didn’t they make “Mary Cheney, Mary Cheney” already?
Ooh, how’d I miss this:
“…Hollywood filmmakers finally ended their attempt to sanitize and glamorize the irresponsible lifestyles that are destroying their own children…”
Followed by this:
“…the mainstream media attempt to railroad four innocent white students who been falsely charged with the rape of a black woman…”
Does anyone else detect a certain cognitive dissonance in those two quotes?
wait, didn’t they make “Mary Cheney, Mary Cheney” already?
It was the sequel to “Etheridge Tonite”…
Jesus fucking christ, that is the saddest thing I have ever read. I mean it to. Just when you think the culture warriors could not get any sorrier…for fucks sake, this guy makes Medved and Libertas look good!
I’m around, Bill, I’ve just been in lurker mode for a while now. I didn’t even know that I’d be missed.
You have, Annti. Deeply.
Oh, Scott.
You’ll think me maudlin and narcissistic for saying so, but that means the world to me. It’s not often that I ever feel like I’ve actually been missed by ANYBODY, especially considering the raving pack of lunatic sociopath motherfuckers what spawned me and the damage that they hath wrought (and continue to inflict unto this very day). I just felt… kinda outdated, edged-out by people who were stealing my schtick and making a far greater impression with it, like I was never here in the first fucking place.
Between that and Sheri disappearing from my life, it just go to the point that, since nobody was responding to any of my comments anymore, to where I felt like I’d overstayed my welcome by quite a long time. Maybe it was all just in my head, but I do miss Sheri so much. She’s one of the first real friends that I made in the blogosphere, and when she disappeared on me, it really really hurt. I wish that I knew why, but since she doesn’t talk to me anymore, how am I supposed to know what I did wrong?
So thank you, and Bill. I know that it’ll never be like it was when we were at the old salon site, that Yosef and Preznit and I will never get those old Chuck E. Cheez gags going again, but I do know that Bill will always want me around, because we can almost always make one another laugh. There’s been an assload of really horrible negative shit going on in my so-called “real life” lately, so maybe I’m just hypersensitive (who, me? Quelle suprise!), but I dunno, I just felt like I fell through a hole in the Wo’C space-time fabric of the Wo’C cosmos. MIA but nobody noticed.
Does any of this make any fucking sense? I’m sleep-deprived and overmedicated (the drugs don’t work anymore, I’ve been on the plateau for over a month) because I’ve been overextending myself with helping a dear friend move her foster animals and belongings (and she’s such a packrat and so housework-challenged that she makes ME look like a highly-organized neat-freak!), and my spine surgeon does not approve, but sometimes, shit just HAS to get done. She’s got over 20 foster-cats, a dying bulldog, a senile Siamese with bowel issues, 4 other dogs, six cats of her own, a fish that was rescued from Katrina and a bird who doesn’t like anybody, so it’s not like I could just say, “Gee, I’d LOVE to help, but y’know, I’m just SOOOO fucking busy up here…” Y’know? She’s done more for me than any other person in this state since my Nannie died, and has been a real and true in-person friend to me when NOBODY in this entire fucking PARISH can stand me. How do you say no to anyone like that?
So if you can forgive my overlong babbling and super-medicated idiotic ramblings, I hope that some of this meant something. And thank y’all, Scott and Bill. I love y’all and will never forget how good y’all have always been to me. Remind me to send you a great picture of my Biddy kitteh, enjoying the hell out of my lovely Wo’C mug!

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