"I love the smell of Naipaul in the morning. It smells of... victory." New Literary Remakes of Old Illiterate Films.
The Big Bukowski - After having been successfully sued for copyright infringement by "the other" Lebowski, "the Dude" Lebowski changes his family name to Bukowski... with hilarious consequences. Most of the action in the film takes place in a badly-lit dive inhabited by barflies who -time and time again- refuse to go home at closing time. A cautionary tale, rilly.
The Grapes of Roth - The tale of a deprived family being forced to face a drought in rural Oklahoma during the Great Depression. Of course, John Steinbeck's creation - the Joad family- is slightly altered so as to include the lasciviously Rothian Nathan Zuckerman. Expect explicit scenes of masturbation and ejaculation every five minutes, or so. But done tastefully, surely.
Dial M for Murdoch - A Hitchcockian thriller starring Iris Murdoch as either the protagonist, the antagonist, or some other character. A terrifying whodunnit. Was it the butler? Or was it the Judith Butler? Or the big bad wolf? Or the big bad Virginia Woolf? We all know -after all- that someone is afraid of Virginia Woolf. We simply don't know who.
Rimbaud: First Blood - Arthur Rambo -or, for that matter, Joe Rimbaud- is back from either Vietnam or Abyssinia and encounters a certain amount of trouble when he meets the local sheriff. Guns, guns, guns. And a tiny bit of French symbolist poetry here and there, perchance?
Wilde At Heart (or should it be The Wilde One?) - A rather Lynchian take on the life and works of Oscar Wilde. Or a Brandoesque biker gang, with homoerotic undertones and allegorical poems. I don't know. So... either cars or bikes. But a lot of Wilde. Ooooh, yeah.
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