Mike MacIntosh lives and works in Hollywood. In his spare time he allows underprivileged children to touch his beard.
I used to love art house indie movies. My first script was an indie film [I thought it was great. It was terrible]. Anyway, I used to watch indies and A), want to write them because they’re real films, not Hollywood nonsense, B) relate to the protagonist because he was just like me, and C) want to date the girls.
These girls were so adorable! Just free spirited, beautiful souls with lots of sadness, but big hearts. It was my dream to find one of these girls, maybe visit her at her studio apartment that’s decorated in Japanese kid’s toys to see how her latest abstract about the fragility of innocent was coming along, or trek into the woods and build our own secret club house where we’re the only two members, or go to a park where her and I could dress as spies and pretend we were staking out the squirrel’s activities for the government. You know, all that interesting, quirky, and most certainly realistic stuff people do in these movies. The important part of this entire paragraph is [go back and read the first three].
These quirky indie girls that we speak of and adore? They’re not real. They don’t actually exist in real life and when they do, they’re not charming and quirky; they’re weird and crazy. I once had a girlfriend who wouldn’t read the last 10 pages of any book. She said it was because she always knew that however the author chose to end it, it would always be disappointing. At the time it was cute and interesting. It made me think about how life can be that way sometimes. Of course in hindsight, this trait has a root buried deep in a psychological problem. For the record, I broke up with this girl after a drunken rampage where she called me a faggot and said she hated my family. It was super quirky of her.
Here’s the premise to the new Gus Van Sant film:
Protagonist Enoch Brae is a 17-year-old funeral crasher, drawn to attending strangers’ memorials after losing both his parents. At one of them, he meets the beautiful, tomboyish Annabel Cotton, a 16-year-old with Six Months to Live. Love then blooms among the gravestones as “the moon looks on knowingly and sympathetically.
Enoch, get as far away from this girl as you can. RUN! Once you do that, change your stupid name. It sounds like a creature from the Dungeons & Dragons Monster Manuel.
Here’s a hilarious sketch my buddy did (re: Indie films):Vodpod videos no longer available.