All movies are minor miracles. But good, feature-length films...?
That's cause for immediate saint-ification.
Even if you manage to somehow bottle lightning in the form of an actual, honest-to-Pope-Francis-Good Script, you've still gotta somehow throw an entire camel so that it flies through a hundred eyes of a hundred needles that've been tossed into the air by a hundred different people at precisely the right moment. On the very first try.
And how do you pull off this miracle?
By faith, dangit! Have you not been paying attention to all this religious terminology? You get down on your ever-humbled knees in front of the massive impossibility of it all and you say, I belieeeeeeeeeeeeeeve!
And then you do it.
And so that is what we are doing.
For almost two years [TWO YEARS!] I have been developing this script with my good friend and creative collaborator, Austin Herring. In that time I have written maybe three or four drastically different drafts, and have re-written each of those drafts at least ten times. Maybe twenty.
The script that has emerged is... well, I guess it's the first of a whole lot of minor miracles that'll have to happen to make this thing work.
It's a painful, hilarious, disturbed romp through the mind of a guy who will do anything to avoid admitting the truth. It's the fusion of Austin's mind and my mind and my woman-friend's mind and a few other minds into something that none of us could have produced alone.
It's like FIGHT CLUB and THE BIG LEBOWSKI made a love-baby, and then let Austin and I raise it in our secret Brain-Dungeons of Awesomeness.
If I sound a little overly-exuberant, well... that's the faith talking. And faith is an absolute must, here. Over the next three months we've gotta line up: money, talent, locations, costumes, food, equipment, more equipment, camera people, sound people, makeup people, props people, more food, SFX people, gaffer people, production assistant people, background atmospheric-performer people, two dogs, a backpack full of (probably) fake drugs, and (of course) even more food.
But what sort of madness is this?
PINK is a dark comedy that tells the story of a tormented artist named Pink, who has just three days left under house arrest when a friend stashes a toddler's backpack full of stolen drugs in his home. With his liberation-date looming and his parole officers hovering nearby, Pink must dispose of the drugs—and a whole lot of other baggage, as well.
The movie opens with Pink lying on the floor in nothing but tighty-whities and a police tracking anklet, getting yelled at by a giant bird... and it just gets more berserk from there.
It's madness, I tell you, and by now you're maybe wondering why anyone would willingly go down this sort of red-pill rabbit-hole.
The answer is probably, "Arf!"
But if I was forced at gunpoint, I'd probably say that the reason we're doing this is love. Love of a good story, love of visual storytelling, and love of a someday audience that I think will resonate with and maybe even learn something from the emotional, thematic core of what we're trying to say: that no matter how bad your life/divorce/corpse-you've-gotta-dispose-of might be, it is always better to face a difficult reality than to retreat into a comfortable, doomed fantasy.
This is a drug-fueled story about a guy who spends way too much time under-dressed, yes, but it's also about, y'know... the human spirit.
I have absolutely no idea how we're going to pull it off.
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