Battle Royale: The Celebrity Edition
The other day Red and I were discussing a movie we both love, Battle Royale. For the uninitiated, this is a Japanese film set in the near future where, as a method to control a rebellious youth population, a class of students is selected at random, kidnapped and taken to an island where they must fight one another to the death. Only one can emerge victorious and the rest will die. They all are made to wear special electronic collars that are set off if they stray too far past certain boundaries on the island. When triggered, the collars will explode, killing the kid who is wearing them. Despite this grisly premise, it has a lot of humor and is pretty damn brilliant. There was a vastly inferior, overly fast-paced sequel made that I could barely sit through. But the first one is fucking awesome. I highly reccomend it.
So anyway, we were discussing this fine piece of film when it occurred to me that it needed to be remade here in the good ol' US of A (since all we do now is remake movies, especially ones that were 100x better in Japan). But - and this is where the important difference comes in - it would not be a fictional tale. The movie would be called Battle Royale: The Celebrity Edition. Like the fictional youth population of the-not-so-distant-future Japan, our nation's celebrity population is out of control. Paris Hilton, Nicole Richie, The Olsen Twins, Lindsay Lohan, Tom Cruise & Katie Holmes, Denise Richards, Heather Locklear & Charlie Sheen, and the list goes on and on. It's getting to the point where talentless, closeted, anorexic, insane, clothes whores are taking up so much space that celebrities with actual talent who can justify their existence on this planet are all but ignored in favor of the shenanigans of the vapid and STD-riddled. And while it's tempting to line them all up and shoot them, why not get a little entertainment out of it and give them all one last chance to appear onscreen before they are wiped off the planet forever?
And remember, one of them gets to stay. Whichever one wants fame badly enough, whichever one is hungry enough for the spotlight - and that could be a tough call with the likes of Nicole, Mary-Kate and Ashley all vying for the top spot - he or she will be the one to win the Battle Royale! And it doesn't have to stop there. Like the movie, this is something that could happen often and at random. One day Mischa Barton could be sipping a mimosa at a chic L.A. eatery and the next thing you know she's on the island fighting for her life against Ryan Cabrera, Ashlee & Jessica Simpson and several American Idol cast members. Think of the glee Felicity Huffman would feel as she watched Terri Hatcher, Nicolette Sheridan and Eve Longoria hauled away, screaming for their lives (I'm leaving Marcia Cross off of that list because she is clearly a Preying Mantis and will eat my head). Sarah Michelle Gellar may have to deal with the loss of her beloved Freddie Prinze Junior, but I'm sure it's exhausting having to be the only talented one in that couple. And heaven help anyone if Shannen Doherty ever ends up on the island, because you know that bitch will be the last, blood-drenched one standing. Jennie Garth, I'm looking at you.
And it doesn't have to stop there. The music world could use a good housecleaning as well. Why, I can imagine entire theme editions like "Battle Royale: The New Country Edition" where Alan Jackson, Martina McBride, Brad Paisley, Shania Twain and that annoying woman who sings all those songs about being a redneck have to slaughter one another for the chance to be the only one who can sing their canned, lifeless music. On "Battle Royale: Derivative Bands Edition" we can watch The Killers, Interpol, Panic! At The Disco, and The Bravery combat one another to see who is left to continue on making watered down, soul-crushing, "new wave" music. There will be a lot of smeared makeup on this one, not for the faint of heart.
As you can see, the possibilites are endless. Within a few years we could level the useless celebrity quotient by massive amounts. We could have a celebrity clearcutting the likes of which would startle McDonald's and Burger King combined. And future generations of wannabes would have a warning: this could happen to you. Don't send that audition tape to Star Search. Don't dream of what The Mickey Mouse Club could do for you. And forget reality television. It will be all but outlawed - a crime punishable by death with no chance for even a Battle Royalle to save you. All reality shows that is except for Project Runway and America's Next Top Model, each season of which would conclude with the deaths of all losing cast members so as to save us from whatever they may try to foist upon us in the future.
I will be pitching this idea to all the major networks, so don't even think of stealing my thunder, bitches. My shit is copyrighted up the ass.