The Private Life Of A Psychiatrist, TV-Land, Northern Comedian and others

"L'esprit d'escalier"

Two stand-up comedians, who started as school friends (as class clowns), compete in a night-club every night. Their battle of wits gradually escalates into heated rivalry when impressing an audience matters more to them than their own personal lives (sacrificing their relationships or own health in the process). The motive is a competition to get signed as a shock DJ on a local radio. Possible ending: the winner, now famous and syndicated, recycles on air jokes from his rival who committed suicide.

Usual angles: protagonist sold his soul to succeed, clown sad in his real life, escapist entertainment, etc.. References to Tarantino, the odious H. Stern, Chris Evans / Chris Moyles,  "Talk Radio" with Eric Bogossian, "Fame"... The two main actors may be black, which would allow for references to the NYC music-hall scene, rap battles, fast delivery and verbal excellence. Comedy about communication gone mad, for example setting dialogues against monologues, a world in which protagonists are more engrossed in their own trains of thought than in what their locutors actually tell them / say / mean ...and in the process miss out on ideas communicated to them that could be of relevance or help.

Progression: first the two of them; then they are presented through their family environment; in the class room; chasing gigs in night-clubs; competing on bigger stages; finally on the radio. At the same time that the size of their audience grows, their tone and subjects get more impersonal. The one remaining ends literally alone in his studio, as opposed to what happened on stage where he was surrounded by compères, dancers, technicians, not to mention a live audience not shy on heckling.

Techniques: maybe the one ending up the winner constantly patronises the other and is the sarcastic type, basing his success on wind-ups / personal attacks. In comparison, the other protagonist may eschew these tactics, more aware of his ethical limitations when it comes to personal attack. He is more poetic, imaginative, creative, surreal ...which, of course, leaves the field open for his rival to occupy and exploit. The sarcastic one wins in the end as personal digs are more popular with audiences than puns / wit. He has based his victory on destroying his ex-friend.

With him gone, he finds himself bereft of his usual target though. He -de facto- acknowledges the other one's talent by stealing his jokes as he finds himself at a loss for inspiration, out of his usual tricks on air. This is the moment of revelation for him: not only does he miss their constructive rivalry, but he misses him on a human level (loneliness) and he acknowledges his genuine talent. By the same token, the other poet-type would never have run out of ideas, being more creative and less dependent on set conditions / designated targets.

Two sides to humour: creative and topical. A joke is about solving a problem with an unexpected solution. You can either stress the new freedom allowed once you've freed yourself from the original would-be dilemma (and reveal a brand new poetic dimension such as word-play) or introduce a new tension by re-inforcing clichés / stereotypes. Absurdists include the likes of Desproges, Devos, C. Morris, W. Self, Pessin; they are no less valid than satirists such as political cartoonist Steve Bell.  

"Do Not Go Gently Into The Night" (or "Lenny Bruce Is Not Afraid")  

Dialogue are not my forte, so the following quotes are mere indications.

The film relates an outrageous comic's ascent to fame: a woman comic, from the North of England. Outspoken, brash, a heavy drinker, rather plain physically, too honest for her own good, ultimately self-destructive. Starts in a Northern pub where, a mere punter in the crowd, she silences the fat bastard main star (possibly based on Bernard Manning and Chubby Brown). The heckler gets louder and louder, and eventually blows him off the stage. But then she turns round and returns fire on her female audience, some of whom disapproved of her language: "And don't you go all offended on me cos' I hit below the belt. I see it's alright for men, dunnit? But not for us, right? Well lemme tell you, we're all the same, sisters! I have a mouth, and I'll use it -and not just for what yous have in mind!" (it’s the men's turn to holler, this time) "Tell me, tell me truly Miss Goody-two-shoes, when you see a man, any man, do you never ever imagine what he looks like... downstairs? Huh? Tell me truly that you never think about it? See... you're no better than them bunch of pocket billiards stale breath bastards hanging onto the bar for dear life! Look at 'em, just look at 'em, the first thing they check is our arses!. Oh you don't. You don't, do you? You never entertain impure thoughts taehwards the opposite gender” (posh accent here) “well you truly are special then, you deserve a medal for accepting to live in this sick world lass!" (something along these lines that exposes possible double standards)

Her tactic: turning the table on her accusers. Word spreads about her. She becomes a bit of a celebrity, and does some stand-up in pubs, students unions, etc. (except that some PC students naturally find her “offensive”) She gets invited to a TV quiz show on a Berlusconi style channel under the promise that she won't use industrial language (has to sign a contract or risks a hefty fine); she behaves, but still manages to embarrass her sleazy host by overdoing it: "Oh my God, I can win a washing-machine! A WASHING MACHINE! What every woman dreams of in this world!", while jumping in the air ecstatically, showing her cleavage with a dirty wink (falsely discreet aside to the typical eye-candy female co-host here: "See, mine are as big as yours!") and so on.

Invited to the snobbish equivalent of "Question Time" to be surrounded by a clique of established politicians, she makes a big show of protesting against her presence as the token female Northerner: plays dumb and goes on about regional soap operas ("Coronation St.", "Eastenders" or "Brookside"), footballers antics (Beckham) and so on so during the debate about war in Iraq and what-not. As she multiplies her public stunts, her fame grows. …But so does misunderstanding as to her real intentions (cf. Kurt Cobain's despair at being adopted by heavy metal fans). Another prank (shot in Dogme style?) for a (radio ?) show: she comes up to people in the street and tries to sell them ten pound notes for a fiver, either looking shifty / dodgy or posing as a naive foreigner, thereby exposing parochial or xenophobic reactions. (update 2015: an American “comedian” posed as a beggar and offered money to passers-by to test their reactions; video available on YouTube)

Cut to a seemingly irrelevant scene: old, white gentlemen in expensive suits discussing a current (political or financial) problem that needs to get swept under the carpet pre-emptively before it attracts public attention; the whole discussion held in understated half-tones, unfinished propositions, hints and knowing looks (think Pinter / "Yes Prime Minister", the contrast with Karen's style could not be any more dramatic). One of them muses "Looks like we need a distraction, we plan to enforce good old plan B..." They look at each other knowingly, approvingly. One of them rings his chauffeur: "Bring me today's edition of "The Sun", will you?". They gather round to inspect the rag, stroking their chin...

At one point, the protagonist (“Karen”?) replies candidly about why she came to do stand-up comedy / pranks: "because in fact there's nothing more serious than comedy, there's a lot of work going on here, right underneath, which you don't necessarily appreciate –in fact which you shouldn’t appreciate, otherwise it would break the spell, the  illusion of incomprehensible madness, things taking a turn for the worse, the unaccountable… It's better to believe I am barkers rather than making an actual point... At the end of the day, I always think: better laugh about stuff than cry about it because, if you want to be serious and realistic for a second, it's a hell of a horrible world we live in!" "Of course" she adds after a gulp and in her thickest accent "that’s what Poshos might say but what do I know eh? I'm just a big daft cunt!" which has everyone in (reassuring) stitches.

Coming from the working class, she gets asked by a smarmy TV chat-show host what she hopes for / what she will do with her money (the kind of question that rich people don't get asked, only proles who "make it" need to be reminded where they come from). She answers that she will splash it all out on a castle in France and basically do nothing, get fat (or a similarly kind of silly answer to play up to her host’s prejudices). And so she does for real ...only to stay there for a day so that she can boast about it (i.e. owning a castle in France). She then puts it up for sale the next day. (Reference to Dennis Potter: "Of course I travel first class: I can afford it, I am not going to pretend the money saved on a train ticket, these twenty quid, will go to a charity, cos' you and I know they probably won't, as a matter of fact. Knowing myself, I'l probably piss them down n Strongbow! Or, oh, lemme pretend: I am so class-conscious, I know my place, I'll stick to the seat next to the loo and, tell you what, I'll give it all to... handicapped lesbians of the week? third world orphans?)

 Another demagogic, right-wing snide remark by a talk-show host, attacking this-day-and-age's young generation who, recently asked in a poll what they wanted to do with their lives, answered "being famous". The (already established) media personality (“Bob”) finds it risible / despicable: "They can't even dance, they don't wanna sing or work, all they want is (silly voice) BE FAMOUS! Ha!" To which she replies something along the line of: "You are absolutely right Bobby darling, kids surely don't want to end up being anything like you, that would be an outrage ...or maybe just a shame."

Her big act is to put people / her audience on the spot, calling them up on their prejudices, making them aware of their unconscious tendencies / bias / clichés. Denouncing racism scene: she records herself (hidden video camera or "live" on radio ?) going on a rant in a foreign airport: how she doesn't speak the language ("Me no speak el linguo, me British, no speak le mucho dinero, speak English capisce? En-glish, like the rest of the world."), how all foreigners ought to know English and then laughs at them for speaking it badly when the hostess / hotel staff bravely try to be polite to her despite her bad manners. She goes on about it, encouraging other travellers / British tourists to reveal their own prejudices ("Too fuckin' right, bunch of Dagos can't even speak proper" etc.) until some "laaads" passing by actually recognise her and come over to congratulate her ("Hey, you're that bird from the telly, aren't cha? You're really funny, like!" to her dismay: blowing her cover. "-Fuck off I’m working here, go away, I'm undercover!")

Scene in a bar (she is a serious drinker and feeling depressed this particular day) where she challenges some gay men, sexist in their own way: "oh aye, and I bet you lightweight can't even take two dicks up your arse! Pussy!" She ends up getting gang-raped by the incensed two guys. Tears in her eyes but defiant to the end she concludes: "Ha! And you didn't even manage to give me an orgasm!" (Vuillemin touch here.)

Denounces today's obsession with labels: walks around, deadpan, with labels all over her clothes / body, including her hair or wherever. But the joke goes deeper: flashback that reveals how she felt, growing up in her provincial town where teenagers desperately ape London's style / cachet; she was always unhip, never wearing the right clothes, not cool enough to be seen with. Her sense of frustration dating back to her terrible teenage years (a difficult time if there ever is one); now making a statement, using her fame to turn the tables on the materialistic followers of fashion.

Traditionally finishes her stage acts with Dylan Thomas' "Do Not Go Gently Into The Night".

Her honesty costs her in the end: falls out with her boyfriends, one of them in particular who could have been good for her. She can't help joking (shades of Groucho Marx), always up for witticism with no regard for her audience: i.e. sometimes justified in her sarcasms, sometimes not. She goes so far, so frequently and so indiscriminately in her denunciations that she loses sense of proportion. An increasingly isolated figure, increasingly misunderstood by audiences who should, by rights, hate her but love her for the wrong reasons (for her inventive swearing for example, or for attacking someone they themselves they don’t approve of, such as Islamists as seen by racists). She gets invited to “compere” at her native Northern police force's Christmas dinner: they imagine she will rant about hypocritical women ("Come on, Karen, do us your number, tell us about them curtain twitching spinsters, you know the one..."), foreigners who can't speak "proper" and whatever. Unsurprisingly, she doesn't comply but, blind drunk by the end of the meal, starts instead to lecture them about brutality, racism, protecting the rich, busting joint smokers and so on. In the end, she is saved from getting lynched by a police officer (who, for one, belies the possibly hackneyed stereotypes she found herself guilty of repeating). He drags her out through the back-door as she stupidly tries to exchange punches with furious men much bigger than her.

She can't help swearing and makes the most of it; enters a local election (cf. Coluche for French president 1981 or Jello Biafra in San Francisco), making sure that her speeches and interviews are littered with four-letter words to the dismay of the broadcasters and general hilarity. Being forced to broadcast her official statements for the sake of democratic / equal representation of all candidates, the networks are made fools of, having to beep her every other word. The other (non-local) TV stations (and –2015 update: websites / papers like The Independent) get wind of this stunt and play it around the clock, thereby adding to her fame. This notoriety does not exactly amuse the other political candidates -including the left-wing one, who accuses her of stealing votes from his natural electorate. Scene in which he arranges to meet her secretly and puts it to her that the best jokes are the shortest, she'd better withdraw before she effectively plays into the right-wing establishment's hands. After trying a few jokes on him, she is shocked to discover how serious he is; she looks suitably chastened; he leaves; she instantly lights up.

More neurotic than ever, she stops sleeping with fans, since this sort only love her for her fame and wouldn't care otherwise (update: anecdote according to which Lady Gaga -allegedly- makes sure nobody she gets intimate with has any mobile phone on them). In a touching scene, she does establish some kind of "rapport" with a fellow drinker in a pub who has no idea who she is. But he has to leave suddenly and she stays on her own, drinking. Or variation: after they have a snog, the man reveals that, despite his genuine affection, he knew all along who she was and was only pretending; she feels betrayed and storms off.

Use of flashback going back to the opening scene. That night she took on the “blue” comedian and bravely rose up to him, she was feeling miserable (maybe had just been dumped and was looking for a man). That time (she decided to heckle and get on stage) was in fact secretly agonizing. But, in that moment, she grasped the fact that this woud command the male audience’s attention like nothing else ever would. And so they did; they started to see her differently. Succession of short clips showing her with a number of various good-looking men. The situation has now evolved she realises, and her putative beaus are only interested in her fame.

True to her principles, she vows only to sleep with male prostitutes from now on, to the amazement of her long-suffering impresario (a man or woman? to be decided) : "But... you could have any man you want ?!?"

More TV executives want to jump on her band-wagon and use her notoriety for their own ends (cf. Coluche on Europe 1 in the afternoon); they invite her to host a so-called irreverent chat-show ...whose scheduling gets rapidly transferred from nine p.m. to eleven to one in the morning. Among the guests (or simply the first one) is a supposedly controversial heavy metal band. After some initial bland blathering to stroke their ego, she cuts them down to size: "I mean, advocating instant justice upon paedophiles, that is sooo brave isn't it? that is sooo controversial, and I quote: "skin 'em alive" (etc.)" -they acquiesce, pleased with themselves- "Waow, it's not like something I might have read in "The Sun" oh no, it's not like something a braindead hick with no concept of the legal process and the right to defend yourself might have come up with after just a pint or ten" (etc.) -Their faces drop, and automatically start accusing her of defending paedophiles. "Only kidding boys, I was just pulling your leg -and besides, I don't fancy fifteen year old meself, they need to have some experience y 'know, some know-how, we don't want some useless five second action by a himbo who only thinks of himself, do we. Anyway." -Embarrassed laughter on the other side of the table. "I'm sure you agree with that, right?" They do, whooping the air, American style. Which she follows naturally with "Good thing you guys are not into 15 year olds then..." Sudden silence. "I mean, it wouldn't be like you to grab any opportunity and shag any groupie begging for your autograph, right? ‘Thought not. Any way, moving on seamlessly... oh yes, it's coming back to me now, I might just have one of my vid cam documents to show later, caught on your last tour about this subject" -faces drop- "Anyhow, I was saying, let's talk music yeah" -the band regain their countenance- "you guys rrrock! You are da bomb!" and so on; they fall for it "I mean, yes, you guys sound like you've invented extra-notes, no, seriously, I remember you saying that you play too fast for the human ear, right?" (true quote from the great Extreme Noise Terror) "You are proven expert masters in linking 4/7 middle-eights to tales of overwrought teen angst and all but... Yes, you have simply revolutionised the Heavy-Ballad FM cannon genre with your Third World oil guzzling stage pyrotechnics and your imaginative use of animal skin spectrums, but... tell me, honestly" -leans down towards the singer, all chummy- "how many do you go through per night? hmm.. ? What, two, three each? Do they all give head? Do you insist on taking it up the arse? -Oh, them that is, not you of course! " -They don't quite know how to react- "I've personally managed to pull three per show, three fuckin' studs with balls and all but then I'm a woman, right? I “bang like a barn door alright” to quote from one of your wonderful lyrics, and I'm not even mega-famous like you guys are, so... I'm just wondering, I'm just wondering what goes on backstage... hmm?" One of the rockers protest, just as another one chooses to brag to shut her up; she picks on it "Aaah, at last, too right matey, too fuckin' right you should give it to them anorexic bitches! cos' I mean, I mean, that's what it's all about, right? That's why we all went for it in the first place, yeah? Aaaart –it’s about getting laid, innit? It’s what Pete Townshend said, yeah? You and I know this is how it works, it's the rule of the game" (the irony being that, of course, she is sincere –as has been ascertained in previous scene) "Let's face it bozzo, the way we both look, you and I, we couldn't pull a cart!" 

Uproar. Some of the rockers get up to leave, maybe one knocks his bottle of beer petulantly. She then picks up her ear-piece (which she had taken off) only to hear the show's director congratulate her on her coup ...but he then adds that, sadly, transmission was lost when she got started on paedophiles. Furious, she storms off. In the corridor, one of the rockers, surprisingly level-headed / intelligent / quietly cynical, catches up with her: "You should have known Karen, you should have guessed they would cut you off, how could they let you get away with it? It's all a game this business, it’s all fake and pretend -you are just so naive, girl. You fancy yourself as some kind of avenging angel, but you're just a beginner, wayyy out of your depth -they're all only here to screw you. That's entertainment. So just enjoy the ride and play to the gallery -I know I do..."

Scene in a hotel where she masturbates; disturbed by an obnoxious caller (an over-bearing dignitary who wants to get his photo taken with the star), she accepts to meet him in the foyer where she shakes the man's hand. Scene where she argues about football (part of her act onstage, possibly): "Bowyer and Woodgate eh... What a pair of cunts! ...Couldn't even do the job properly and finish that student off. No wonder they play for Leeds. Mind you, I'm not against football, oh no not at all -it gives you guys' wives ninety minutes to go and get properly laid!"

She eventually gets married (to her agent?). A "reality TV" show sends some paparazzi to film her on her wedding night. Typically, she has chosen a low-key place, maybe a bed-and-breakfast in her local region (scene shot Dogme / video camera style). She spots the inevitable intruders who climb up the wall to her bathroom window. She pretends not to notice them and, to their amazement, urinates in a bottle in full view; they can't believe their luck and start filming. But she then turns round, flings the window open, and pours the bottle over their head.

Scene in a shopping centre, where someone thinks he recognises her: "Hey, aren't you ...?" To which she replies: "Who, her? No fuckin' way! How flattering, that fat carpet-muncher!" But her choice of words only serves to confirm the guy's suspicion, and he shouts out: "Ahmygod, ahmygod, yeees, yes, you ARE Karen, this is exactly what she would say, you are Karen and I claim my five Pounds! Hey everyone, look who we have here!" She flees the supermarket (maybe it's a maternity shop ? maybe a place where she doesn't want to be seen at...).

Ending: as she seems to get a little bit happier (maybe she has found some kind of solace with her groom), she gets shot dead in a crowd (maybe abroad). She looks stunned, and is airlifted away by helicopter, away from an oblivious crowd that hardly takes any notice of her and goes on about its business. (cf. "Garp" / Coluche's agent.)

  

References : Coluche, Chris Morris, Richard Branson signing the Sex Pistols, Jo Brand, update: Frankie Boyle, Jerry Sadowitz, Michel Houellebecq, Lenny Bruce, John Belushi; Roseanne; and so on. Songs by Alain Souchon in his usual bitter-sweet style -see : "Dandy""la Ptite Bill""Ballade de Jimmy".

Logline: the rise to fame of an outrageous, situationnist, larger than life working-class Northern woman comic whose attacks on stereotypes and prejudices are often misunderstood by her audience. Isn't her sharp tongue her worst enemy? Multiple references to true cases.

   

"The Psy (A Comedy)" or, in a logline style, “The Private Life Of A Psychiatrist  Above Suspicion”.

"Dr. Fradge", a respected pop psychiatrist dispenses on the radio some much needed advice to a male caller who is experiencing feelings of anxiety and worthlessness. Voice-over of the doctor’s soothing tones; the camera pans out to show the tough, sleazy city outside (vagrants, sex shops, off-licenses, police cars patrolling). The call ends, and so does the programme. Fradge concludes with a comforting "thought of the day". As he leaves the station (posters of him and awards on the walls), he signs an autograph for a fan and steps into a chauffeured car. The scene establishes how popular and respected he is. Everyone seems to love his common sense approach, soft voice, empathy, and understanding of the desperate –as well as those simply in need of a sympathetic ear. But privately...

The man is a tyrant to his children and is abusive towards his wife: he shouts at her for not having had his suit pressed for a radio award ceremony that evening, intercepts a letter to his teenage daughter, cracks his son on the fingers for getting his home later than six p.m. on the dot ("This is gonna hurt me more than it will hurt you, see what you make me do ?") (...)

Knowing the human mind, he uses his skills to manipulate those working for him such as his secretary, his producer, etc. Afterhours, he frequents low-life (foreign) prostitutes whom he originally met while helping them; takes out his frustrations on them, safe in the knowledge that nobody would believe their claims.

An analytical mind, he is able to analyse his own actions and detail the scenarios being enacted as he mentally / physically abuses social inferiors (for ex. a waiter in a coffee shop –but discreetly, of course). Never losing an occasion to study the human mind, he actually makes notes for himself about the various situations encountered: the action undertaken, the logical way to solve it, what a doctor would advise a victim in such a case, and so on. His thoughts he records on his personal dictaphone (which enables the audience to access his thoughts ...and introduces the concept of a hard copy that may come back to haunt him at a later stage during the story). Some of these observations get recycled during his comforting radio sermons. In other words, they are put to good use ...for victims of precisely similar emotional blackmail! For ex. when a woman calls about her abusive husband, he quotes from memory. (...)

Meanwhile, an (unseen) maniac trawls the bad neighbourhoods of the town hurting prostitutes. A police investigation gets under way after an illegal immigrant girl gets beaten so hard she ends up in a coma.

Back to the main storyline featuring the psychiatrist's public life / radio career. He may get contacted on his radio-show by someone who possibly is the maniac, asking for spiritual guidance after "having done something... really bad to a real nice girl (...), how I can (he) ever repent?" Dr. Fradge, maybe unaware of the crimes or not, gives solace to the caller as a competent doctor would / dispenses the usual platitudes. A detective, fan of the good doctor himself, catches the show and hears their exchange. (...) The detective gets in touch with the station; they direct him to Fradge's producer who directs him to Fradge's secretary, who in turn passes several messages to the doctor but Fradge finds various excuses not to talk to the policeman: ever growing suspense (will the cop finally corner him or not) and an indication that Fradge may secretly be the sadist. (...)

As the psychiatrist's social elevation continues (...) he increasingly feels the need to take out his repressed / inexpressible impulses on someone. He enters into a sustained S and M relationship with a prostitute whom he pays to dominate and abuse. He actually gets inspired by the methods used by the maniac, and repeats them onto her. (At this stage, doubt must arise in the audience's mind: is he merely re-enacting what the other man has been doing... or is there no other man at all, in which case he has been the psychopath all along?) Their encounters get more intense, following in frequency straight after the new (board / company / local meetings) social occasions he has to attend. He confides in her, during one of his sadistic sessions, that she is "the only one (he) can talk to, the only one (he) can open up to (and so on)". Which she gradually uses to her advantage to turn the table on him. (...) She knows who he is, even though she pretends not to (he described himself as a waste product businessman). He develops some sort of addiction to / despondency on her (venting his secret pent-up frustrations).

The more sugary his magazine columns / radio "thoughts of the day" are, the more savage their encounters become -but she is anything but stupid. The woman needs the money (maybe for a false passport, maybe to bring her family over). She only pretends to fall under his spell and –in fact- starts giving as good as she gets. She has noticed that he is paranoid about getting scratches on his well known face, for instance. (...) He strangles her one night, blind with rage as he realises that his secrets / defences have been totally penetrated by this "nobody" who is now trying to use them against him: blackmailing him for money in exchange for his public reputation.

(...)

Meanwhile, the policeman is still trying to contact him (regular near-escape scenes where Fradge leaves the radio station eight before the policeman arrives, etc.). 

The cop eventually catches up with him, as a dishevelled Fradge turns up at this office out of his mind after murdering the prostitute. The psychiatrist is convinced that his double life has been uncovered, and is ready to own up to everything -but when the cop finally meets him in his spotless office (climactic scene during which Fradge undergoes a dozen extreme emotions), it turns out that it is to thank him! He thanks him for the precious advice he gave which led to the fresh arrest, during the night, of a suspect befitting the description of the killer. Fradge is stunned, thanks the detective who leaves (who remembers "Oh yeah, I believe you had something to tell me... ?" -"Er... no, no, nothing important, never mind."). No relief: as he wins (i.e. escapes justice), he loses (is tortured by his conscience). (...)

  

Comments. The starting idea was simple, let’s imagine a character torn apart between his public life and his secret personality, and more precisely between the public good he performs (i.e. his undeniable good deeds) and his true evil nature, his secret deeply flawed personality. The big question being: So what if a great public figure were –privately- a nasty individual? Would his personal shortcomings matter when balanced with the good he genuinely generated? Of course, it would be nice -literally perfect- if someone was blameless on all fronts ...but that is rarely the case. And in a way, doesn't altruism sometimes stem from private frustration: as if a person was trying to compensate for his own feelings of inadequacy? Put another way: think about (pros and cons) dialectics: only the third part (resolution) matters. Various examples to be incorporated in the story.

The contrast / tension / principle on which this story is based could be said to be a reversal of "The Watcher", where a “nobody” embarked on a positive secret mission. I thought: who better than a psychiatrist or a doctor as a do-gooder? And what better public figure than an influential agony aunt / mass-media radio psychiatrist?

Plots within plots. Red herrings (is he the killer, is he not?). Twists and progression: from an originally simple “domination” fantasy, the character descends into a complex slave-and-master relationship (first twist) with a prostitute which, in turn (second twist), leads to her demise (third twist) when she eventually gets the upper hand on him.

Topics: persuasion, psychology, rhetorical skills...

Needless to say, the story isn't about psychiatrists.Running joke: parallel with "Frasier" whose main actor would be great for the part.

A film for Neil Labute or Todd Solonz. Soundtrack: It's Immaterial "Driving Away From Home"; Low Fidelity Allstars "Warming Up The Brain Farm" (opening credits ?).

Loïg Allix-Thivend copyright April 2002. 2015 PS: ....and then you hear about what Jimmy Savile got up to all these years!

Abstract: "Frasier" meets "Happiness" meets "American Psycho". A popular and benevolent radio psychiatrist is a private tyrant who abuses women and may be a prostitute killer on the loose. A detective, drawing inspiration from the psychiatrist's own profiling, is on the case.

“110 %” or "After The Break" or "TV Land" 

Start: black screen, a voice urgently asks: "Are we on air yet? Are we on air?". An ecstatic square jawed, suntanned, broad-shouldered presenter announces a scoop to come: "Brace yourselves folks, cos' I have some news that will blow your socks off, coming up rrright up" and so on. His scoop turns out to be a football result: the local football team has won a match abroad. The details become increasingly trivial: the tournament in which the match took place is ongoing, the team has only maximised its chances to qualify for the second round by one goal. The commentators in the studio exchange high fives and remind the audience that this victory augurs well / reflects positively on the team's owner ...who happens to be the channel's boss. (Wink to the camera.) Back to the reporter who has cornered a player: auto-congratulations all round and less than penetrative questions, to which the footballer responds with all the available chichés (pundits' usual catch-phrases and clichés such as "giving 110 % for the team", "obviously, we always knew it woz gonna be a difficult match, we made things difficult for ourselves" and so on).

Opening credits.

During the entire film, another small screen at the bottom right corner continually plays another film that provides a balance to the main action. Parallel to the main plot covering the media empire, we see reportage footage of beggars, prostitutes, police harassment, demonstrations and so on, including shots that can and actually will be used later on the major part of the screen, when the focus of interest coincides / becomes relevant.

Self-celebratory clip from the TV channel: "Watch Channel SunLight; when you're watching SunLight, at least you're not in front of the box! And now -right after a few words from our sponsors- the rest of our award winning programmes! From the channel that brought you "Tears And Roses" (clip here of a handsome yet forbidding looking doctor and a virginal nurse, both of them with their arms typically crossed around their chest), "Fear Factor Max"(some terrified contestants scream and beg for mercy to the delight of a white trash audience, a Robbie Williams lookalike as the sleazy host), not to forget "Girls Past Midnight" gents! (strategically placed blurred shots of clearly bored cuties supposedly pouting in their underwear), comes..." (bombastic music) "Flash 25 / 7!!!" Deafening music, half-way between disco and heavy-metal. Another ecstatic announcer opens his news bulletin with the news of the football team's victory, repeating most of what we've already heard. "And next, some news from the presidential palace..."

Cut to the studio backstage: one-take travelling shot that takes in people running about clutching mobile phones and pieces of paper; security goons in uniforms; a couple of girls shivering in their flimsy dresses having a quick smoke before coming on, suddenly all smiles; a suited assistant passing by, who slaps one on the bum and so on; all the way leading to the technical area where smoking editors call the cameras and launch video segments. During one such interval, the presenter snappily reminds the directors not to close-up too much on his blistered lips. Someone asks about "today's demonstration". "Nah, won't have time for it, only if Bonzo freezes up again!"

Starting from a close-up of a TV screen, a zoom-out reveals some sharp-dressed men keeping an eye on the news in a plush office.

The leader signs a few papers, casting a weary eye at the screen. Smokes a cigar, continues signing documents, until the football victory is mentioned again. "Aha !" he turns up the sound: more of what we've already seen and heard twice. "And now, some international news" the presenter continues. The leader switches off the telly and questions one of the men in his office (who turns out to be the security minister) about an opponent's case. "Something needs to be done about him." Then he rings a gorgeous young woman and gives her a communiqué to read, which he has just read through and approved. She is the government's spokesperson, and instantly sets off to read it to the media stationed outside on the steps of the impressive looking palace.

Panorama / zoom: the story takes place in a sunny country (palm trees), swarming with security goons herding cameramen away / keeping a group of opposition journalists off prescribed limits. These ones insist on asking the official about demonstrations that took place earlier during the day, which the Prime Minister didn't mention in his bulletin. The government-approved "journalists" simply laugh at the questions, grab copies of the official speech; phone their editors / secretaries to relay them verbatim.

CUT: the film stops, freeze-frame for two seconds as if there were a technical problem ...and a laughable, sexist ad for a "revolutionary" washing powder appears (fictitious product ...or genuine one); then another one for car insurance, that presents cars as red phallic objects. What would make it even better would be to insert real ads. It would not only be fun, but would illustrate the point ...and might work wonders for the film's budget!

The film starts again, mid-way through a sentence from the last scene. Off to the newspaper in question via a telephone line (as in Kieslowski's "3 Colours Red") . The paper is also clearly owned by the PM (his smiling, suntanned photo everywhere; a signed photo of his hangs in the editor's office). The editor is currently weighing up the option of featuring the football team on the front page against the half-clad lovely named "Jo d'Anne". One of his colleagues, the showbiz editor, moans that she's already been on 3 times this week, and he needs the space to promote his latest project: a teenage boy-band that needs exposure as part of their "time managed 3 week plan for chart domination". He suggests he can even pretend that one of them is gay, they won't sue as "the Company" owns them.

They take the matter to another "teen editor", a barely articulate bimbo who explains to the chief editor the difference between Jo d'Anne and other pin-ups, and what the new boy-band could bring to the equation, as opposed to another teenage girl-band: at this stage, the film features a series of stereotypical shots and risible videos of the various teen "stars" mentioned, boys and girls (all arms crossed, cleavages, pseudo-innocent faces blowing bubbles, school uniforms, little white socks and other super-heavy innuendoes). "'They all on our label, though?" the big boss asks. "Of course they are, boss" he is told: both boys' and girls' bands have been manufactured by theTV series "Pop School" and "Star System". "Oh yes of course, don't have time to watch TV meself see...". Someone remarks that, in view of the recent death of one the Prime Minister's aides, "Maybe, our lovely Jo d'Anne could be... shelved back for a couple of days until such time". The group of spineless yeah-sayers opine and multiply “Great idea / I was totally about to say that” approvals. It might come across as a lack of respect ...even if the circumstances of the leader's aide's death raise a few sarcastic smiles around the room. Two minions whisper: "Oh yeah, totally dispespeckful for someone who –er- wink wink". In the end, looking bored with the whole thing, the editor decides to go for the football victory. The topless page 3 will be in black and white as a mark of respect and relegated to page 5.

Travelling shot. The camera follows a messenger leaving the editor's office, the newspaper floor, and then down into the lobby where security guards read the house red-top paper. They're having a conversation about the pin-ups featured: "Wouldn't mind having a bit of that!" "Nah mate, you want Geri Lou, now she's a real snapper, look at that!" replies the other.

Meanwhile, the messenger gets them to sign off some form, carries a package out of the building, gets on his bike, leaves the opulent enclave. He is now in the street.

SMALL SCREEN. What is being shown meanwhile: telenovelas, hysterical rock video-clips, advertising for teen boy / girl bands; weathergirls in bikini; news with a bunny pointing up or down (according to the news item); and so on.

Caught in the traffic, the bike messenger passes by abusive sweaty motorists, has to climb onto the pavement to make progress, and in the process barely avoids driving over beggars / homeless in their cardboard boxes; passes by prostitutes. He reaches an imposing building: the national Post Office. He signs a few more forms to pass the heavily armed guard, locks his bike and enters the building with his package. Waits by a lift. Two teenage girls gravely discuss pseudo-controversial "Lolita" starlets featured in their "people" magazines: "Do you really think she's, like, done it? I know she's a slut but... Daz is like thirty years old or something -eww! Even if he's like her producer, whatever, that's like... totally gross." "My Dad says he'd give her one ...but just to check if she's still a virgin, ha ha ha!"

Graffiti in the lift. Depressed looking, overworked office workers join him as the floors go by, each of them reading the same sort of daily tabloid with similar pin-ups on the front page. Finally, the messenger reaches his floor, signs a few more forms and delivers his package. Two cleaners discuss the latest rumour: "Says here them bolshies have tried again only the other day! Our Prime Minister eh... ain't there any respect left in this shit-hole! 'Happened in the beauty saloon he always goes to, it says -you know the one "Maxi Nova" did an article on, yeah?” “Sure I do” “Anyways, apparently that lot had booby-trapped his tanning salon thingy” “No way!” “Yes way man, that's what I read!" "But, but, 'snot what I read, I heard they tried to electrocute him at his dentist, when he had his teeth beautifully redone last week!" The messenger takes charge of another package, signs for it, and leaves. He goes to the toilets; some kids sniff glue in the background. Revolutionary graffiti on the wall : "L.A.T. is coming for you!! Power To The People!!" (Other LAT graffiti are glimpsed throughout the film.) Leaves the building. Waiting for traffic, he sees colourful punks pose for tourists in the street. Caught in a traffic jam, he flashes a badge to the police who are busy hassling motorists, batons in hand. The cop checks his badge, looks suitably impressed, extends his hand, the messenger slips him a banknote, and they let him go through.

A logo suddenly appears and covers the whole screen; loud, cheery music. A hugely jawed, suntanned, coiffured hunk: "All our apologies for inarrupting this programme, but we have grrreat news to bring you here, and from all of us at Channel SunLight." Goes on to present the football team's victory which we already know about. Cut to another, equally weirdly suntanned, older presenter: "That's right Mike, and the mighty blues have now a terrrrific chance to go through and qualify for the (European Cup) semi-final; who knows then, they might go all the way to meet the filthy (racial epithet here) and nick it, this is our year!" Smiles all round: "this was a SunLight excllllusive!"

The film starts again. The messenger passes by various situations. In one of them, two working-class people discuss the latest TV / sport sensation, missing out the police in the background beating up a homeless. He gets back to the massive media building through the usual guards who sign him in, barely paying attention, as they discuss “bloody hippies / junkies”. He delivers his confidential package. Disappears from the screen.

Backstage in the studio, a starlet rehearses how to make her entrance, loosens her bra so that it will fall off accidentally when she extends her arm to greet the presenter. The few skirmishes witnessed earlier during the road traffic congestion make the -sensational- headline on tonight's news edition. The editors also discuss how to increase the number of pin-ups to counter that pesky subject of growing social unrest outside: "the oldest trick in the book".

At this point, the boss turns to one of his right-hand men, a coked-up director of programme who's come up with the perfect idea: he has prepared a pilot for a would-be satirical TV show with puppets, supposedly critical towards the government ("See? we're democratic!") inventing for the occasion some trivial affliction supposedly characterising the Prime Minister (like a faint stammer), which every sketch complacently concentrates on: seriously bad clip to follow. Meanwhile, the starlet accidentally drops her bra live in the background. One or two more scenes, then someone brings the parcel to the Programme Director: it explodes.

SMALL SCREEN: the last, third part of the movie as shown on this alternative story-telling device will have been intermittently showing bespectacled intense young men busy plotting in smoky backrooms, only to be interrupted by a bloody police raid. One of the students escapes and manages to lose his pursuers in a favela. He then makes his way to a building where he puts the last touches to a parcel (i.e. the one that will explode later) which he packs up carefully; he writes the address on top, takes it to someone for inspection. His accomplice turns out to be the motorbike messenger. They take it to a counter at the post office. The timing of the last sequence must correspond to last until after the explosion occurred on the big screen, so as to explain where the bomb came from / what the running messenger sub-plot was about.

Possible style. The reality outside: filmed reportage style with camera on shoulder, in tortuous one-shot takes (cf. Fellini's "Ginger E Fred" or Altman's opening "Player" scene), as if to suggest that this is what happens rather than gets polished / manufactured / re-edited as in the other TV channel world. In contrast, the scenes inside the TV / recording studios are staccato style edited, convey the idea of endless retakes. Use of actual re-takes in the case of a presenter perfecting his tone of voice or a starlet "accidentally" dropping a piece of clothing several times until she gets the sequence perfect. Contrast between the two screens: manic scenes of demonstrations shot with camera on the shoulder vs. slick show, smoothly shot, lit, and edited with silky voiced presenter.

I once had an idea for a first-person narrated book (Brett Easton Ellis style) that would depict a day spent in front of the telly by a totally passive consumer unable to distance himself from the comfort products, appealing multinational brands, junk food, endless advertising, loud colours, stage managed bimbos, virile athletes, mind numbing popstars, and constant entertainment rammed down his throat.

Genuine anecdotes should be easy to find in the world of show business, infotainment, telenovelas, etc. A simple couple of days spent watching Italian, Brasilian, American, Japanese, cable TV would be all it takes for valuable documentary research. The government spokesperson being a beauty queen: genuine find by Lech Walesa in Poland.

The soundtrack could be fun to work on and feature parodies of genuine products: a job for the KLF? The Crass flexi disc love-song single could also feature. In fact, all the parodic segments should be a scream to shoot (cf. recent efforts by Chris Morris, AdBusters, YesMen...). 

Genuine outrageous ads would make for a great addition: sexist ones from the 50s or 70s.

Based on the realisation that the world is multi-faceted, all sorts of thing happen at the same time ...and may ultimately be related. Owning a country mass-media does not guarantee complete control over its population: dissidence still exists, and those not drugged in complacent celebrities worshiping may be using their time more constructively.

Idea that could be exploited more fully: just as the security guards fail to do their job properly as they themselves have got too numbed / dumbed down by the brain-rot fostered upon them by their employer, other instances of come-uppance could happen.

(And now for some hilariously dated remark harking back to the days when people used to go and watch movies in cinemas!) The use of the constant parallel actions: an additional incentive for audiences to come and watch the film several times, so that they can concentrate on the other story which they might not have devoted too much attention to in the first place (cf. “Timeline” or “The Simpsons” opening titles). The DVDs format could provide the ability to only play one of the two stories (on a slightly different subject, there exists, if I understand it correctly, a special DVD version of “Memento” that plays the story in chronological order).

 A manic political comedy. Based not just on Berlusconi, but also Putin, Latin America, TF1, and other genuine references: universal plight of “dumbing down” media / “false consciousness” of the proletarian audience who get side-tracked into caring about manufactured would-be scandals involving starlets or soft drug use.

As many genuine anecdotes as possible should be made use of. On the same wavelength as "NBK" or Robert Altman's ambitious labyrinthine ensemble pieces. Footage shot in Lars Von Trier's "The Kingdom" / reporting mode. Copyright Loig Allix Thivend, April 2002 (did I know about Figgis's “TimeCode” then? I can't remember ...may have seen it at the time. Or not.)

Abstract: a savage parody of "infortainment". One day in a Latin / South American country, ruled and brainwashed by a media mogul who controls the mass media and ignores growing social unrest. "Kentucky Fried Movie" meets "TimeCode".