WTF Friday ~ A Tambourine, A Screenplay, And Prince
Just when I thought my screenplay was finished, my Muse, who is like a shark in the fact that she never sleeps and hasn’t met anything she won’t eat, suggested that we open our film with the song “Let’s Go Crazy” by that artist who was known as Prince—then the symbol—then Prince again..
Just so you know, her suggestions are more like directives. Softer than outright orders, but hey, who are we kidding, they’re really not open for negotiation.
But still, it’s me…I argued.
“What? What are you saying?” I quizzed the silly ghost who was harping on the fact that it would be a kick-ass opener. A real sit-up-straight-in-your-seat moment.
Well, no argument there, but…
“Just imagine it” she’d say, and I would—vividly—with goosebumps and all—but not without some reservations.
Now don’t get me wrong, I LOVE that song and I’m bat-shit crazy about Prince.
In the 1980’s he was more than the soundtrack of my life. I adored everything about him. I even thought the acting was GOOD in the movie and I subsequently wore the grooves smooth on my Purple Rain album.
But my Muse? SHE is someone from another generation, someone more likely to suggest Nina Simone or Nat King Cole.
Certainly not Prince. Never Prince.
So I questioned her judgment on the relevance of that song at that particular moment in that movie of that subject matter—which is life after death.
During one particularly strenuous argument that I was making about Prince being someone who NEVER licensed his songs out to anyone—for anything, she actually reassured me.
“It’s not your job to worry about that stuff”, she insisted. “None of that will be an issue when the time comes. Besides, why are you arguing? You love that song!”
One day at the gym after that song had interrupted the podcast I was attempting to listen to five times in a row, I heard her voice.
“Hey, you wanna know why this song is so perfect? Did you listen to all the words?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Really? Do you know EVERY word?”
“Maybe… Do you?”
“Sing it for me”, she demanded, testing me.
As I sang the words out loud that morning at the gym with the music blasting in my ears, I suddenly realized, ‘Shit, I’d better shut up because people are staring AND OMG, the bitch is right! This song is all about death and life…and life after death… and… OMG! Who knew?!’
So of course argument over and into the screenplay it went.
FADE IN: [SONG] LET’S GO CRAZY – PRINCE, THE REVOLUTION
EXTERIOR. DAY. CEMETERY
The screen is black. Slowly we see the top of a coffin as the camera pans up to show an overview of mourners, graveside, all in black.
[SONG] “Dearly beloved,
We are gathered here today
To get through this thing called life
Electric word life
It means forever and that’s a mighty long time
But I’m here to tell you
There’s something else —
The after world.
A world of never ending happiness
You can always see the sun, day or night
So when you call up that shrink in Beverly Hills
You know the one, Dr. Everything’ll Be Alright
Instead of asking him how much of your time is left
Ask him how much of your mind, baby
‘Cause in this life
Things are much harder than in the after world
In this life-
You’re on your own.”
EXT. DAY — WIDE SWEEPING AERIAL SHOT – MULHOLLAND DRIVE, LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
The camera follows Mulholland Drive while the music plays and the credits roll until we see a Red Fiat Spider convertible sports car with the top down racing along this winding mountain road.
Ironically enough, I spent a majority of March marinating in all things Prince (there’s another Prince song that closes the film), something I haven’t done since my twenties; changing things around, re-writing and wondering whether or not he would approve of the use of his songs inside our material.
During this time I remembered The Tambourine.
A good friend of mine had absconded with one of Prince’s tambourines after working the sound on an impromptu concert two years ago. As the story goes, (and I will believe this until the day I die), it was the actual one that Prince played himself that night.
After I peed my pants, did my spazzy happy dance, and squealed the high-pitched scream of a twelve-year-old girl—I hung it in my “office” as one of my most prized possessions.
Holding it in my hands in March, I consulted with the tambourine (you know, like you do), and the answer came to me loud and clear (and was accompanied by some tambourine rifts just for good measure).
I felt that if he read it—he’d get it.
No need for that after today. The artist known as Prince has gone to the great concert in the sky and knowing what I know about the after world (that it’s a freakin’ free-for-all, y’all), I can rest assured of the fact that my bossy little friend has a back-stage pass—no wait, she’s with the band —and she has cornered the poor guy and is telling him our story. Which means that in due time she will hammer out any and all of the details for our licensing agreement. Mark my words.
Because that’s what they do in the afterlife, they keep doing all the things they loved.
But I can’t help wondering…did she get a head’s up for his departure from this mortal coil in advance? In other words, did she know he was coming? Was she at the arrivals gate?
For someone of a completely different generation, she seemed REALLY sure of herself about all things Prince.
WTF?
Anyhow, I suppose that’s for her to know–and me to find out…eventually. And when I do, you guys will be the next ones to know.
Carry on,
xox
This is the tambourine. I know. So cool!
