Broken Frontier

I want you to picture this with me: Benicio Del Torro as Lord Fanny. Brendan Gleeson as Tom O’ Bedlam. A resurrected Andy Warhol as John-A-Dreams. "We’re all famous for 15 minutes, man." Maybe Jack Nicholson as Barbelith. I wonder. It wouldn’t be another Matrix. Matrix was The Invisibles, The Invisibles would not be the Matrix. Instead of Milk Duds at the movie, people would be required to drink Magic Mirror and snort LSD. Can you snort LSD? Anyways, it’d be a three hour movie, divvied up in a trilogy. Released every two years starting in December 11, 2008. That way the third one’ll be 12/22/12. Isn’t that when they come back? When Jack Frost saves us all?

I try to remember when I read all collected volumes. All mind-benders, like Pan playing backwards on his flute--nymphs dancing backwards. Maybe that’s how they’d play the film: backwards. Would people see this movie? Does it deserve to be a movie? Or should it remain a counter-pop, anti-clean lettered, panel-by-panel trash-culture wad of consuming ultra-information. Chaos theory, panel-by-panel. Grant Morrison as King Mob. Do you need acting lessons nowadays? I read the seventh bastard of a book--the most confusing one if ya ask me--all in one sitting today, as I laid in bed, watching nothing on the TV. Angelina Jolie as Jolly Roger. Scary but efficient. Halle Berry as Boy? Nah. Not enough iron in her blood. Sucked in Catwoman.

Directing. Who would direct this bad boy? Spielberg? Nah, to pretty. Scorcese? Nah, to gritty? The Wachowskis? Haven’t they already? Heh. Lots of CGI in this movie. Lots and lots. We’ll of course need to see the Archons and their razor-filth, Barbelith, the Satellite-Placenta that saves us all, Quimper...Danny DeVito as Quimper. Perfect. Who would write it? Morrison? No. For true Hollywood, you need to not involve the original; surgically remove and replace with anti-writer. Hmm...maybe the guy who wrote that really good movie. The one with Steve McQueen. Oliver Stone, perhaps?

You couldn’t take your grandmother to this movie. Too much cursing, screwing, savaging, etc. Grandmother on crack, it’d be. Danny DeVito as Quimper and Desade. DeVito is Desade. Shit. I’m a genius. Then comes the marketing, toys, sex toys, posters, DVDs, VHS, video games, happy meal toys, desktop images, illegal downloads. Where people get really, really rich. Morrison would be richer that Sir Miles. Then we’d all be living in The Invisibles, right? Julianne Moore as Ragged Robin. Boo-ya, cinnamon rings.

I would own a pose-able Lord Fanny doll. One you could make-up, make-down, put on the desk in your nice little cubicle for your boss to see. Corporate Man has tranny doll as ambiance-generating-machine. Like Zeus using a light bulb for electricity.

Jim Lee as Mason Lang. We need some of our own in this movie. Frank Miller as the Harlequin. Miller in leather. New look, coming at you! With or without the vinyl fedora, Mr. Miller? "With, please". Okay, just this once. Soundtrack from all ages. Brit-pop, spliced with Icelandic ambiance. Sigur Ros screwing John Lennon, and having a baby that has gramophones for ears. And a steel drum where ankles should be. Walking on the soundtrack of life. Dionysus is on our side, Freddie-dear. Hmm...Lady Edith. Edith Manning. Rachel Weisz as Edith Manning. Young, not old. Old will be CGI-machine that smokes hash.

The Harlequinade: Jack Kirby, Stan Lee, and Frank Miller. Sir Miles would be John McCain. Prince Henry would be Jack Frost. Lots of violence and nudity, of course. First date movie. People would get a blank badge with a free bag of popcorn on admission. The intro scene would have one of Rian Hughes colored bombs exploding, from the confusion and explosion, the letters "The Invisibles" would form from the flotsam. Each movie of the trilogy would be around 3 hours, max. Morrison would be forced to explain all of his drug-induced shamanic musings before each movie started. Q&A baby! And you’re invited.

The voices of the Archons would be: Warren Ellis, Neil Gaiman, Mark Millar, Garth Ennis, and Alan Moore. All resonating with hatred, uber-unreasoning hate. Bass sounds that thump our collective ass in rhythm. Everyone would blog about it. NC-17 posters gracing the streets of Manhattan, London, and The Bardo—all promoting the movie. 5-D glasses are optional; smoke machines when the Archons appear, hidden stage-left.

Brain hurts now. I want royalties and dancing women when this movie/concept/hybrid-Cthulu (bastard) hits big. Viral campaign, invisible cell phones. The Invisibles would be a cash Hindu cow, Hollywood. Just ask Morrison and the Wachowskis. The Invisibles, coming at you!