"Scrappy Underdog Cinema"

One of the mainstays of movies from the 80's was the 'scrappy underdogs triumph against all odds' type film. It was a degradation taken from as far back as Frank Capra's films about the 'little guy' who bucks the 'system' so's the 'average joe' could get a 'fair shake'. What kicked it into high gear, I imagine, was the movie, 'National Lampoon's Animal House', which single-handedly created a new sub genre of filmic comedy. This was inevitably a broad 'slobs vs. snobs' comedic scenario. Porky's, Porky's II, King Frat, Caddyshack, the list goes on and on. With a little drama, it's morphed into the 'plucky outsider triumphs against all odds to fulfill his ku-huh-ray-zee dream' type film. "The Astronaut Farmer", being the most recent example.

The problem is, in the real world, the activities the protagonists enact would land them in jail, at best. At worst, they'd be dead. Consider the light comedy trope of the ridiculous man seeking to win the heart of the beautiful woman. The outlandish stunts he would pull to gain her affection would label him an unbalanced stalker in the real world. And in the Mel Gibson weepie, "The River", where Mel portrays a struggling farmer trying to save his land from the local bank, wouldn't he be better off just selling the farm and moving to the city? I understand the underlying reason for all these films, to give us a sense of hope and triumph against what seems to be an unfair system. But I can't really enjoy a film, if at the end of the day, I find myself rooting for the 'system'...

Nonetheless, here's a couple of examples of "Scrappy Underdog Cinema" from a couple of as-yet-unproduced (hint, hint, Hollywood!) screenplays I've written. Enjoy!

From "Camp Kemoshaga Crazies II" The tag line: "It would be a summer camp no one would forget!"

The setup: Gruff-but-kindly former hippie 'Weed' Gallager is the long-time owner of the rustic-but-run-down Camp Kemoshaga. He has just been offered a buyout from the rich, snobby owners of the rival summer camp across the lake, Snobbingworth Estates. He is currently announcing the deal to the misfit camp counselors under his employ: Zack Brody, the self-proclaimed leader of the Kemoshaga Krayzees, with his can-do attitude and his hip, rebellious streak implied by his backwards-facing baseball cap and Ray-Ban sunglasses; Yoshi Tamura, Japanese foreign exchange student and computer whiz; Tyrone "Fruity" LaChance, homosexual African-American; Phillip "Piggy" Porksworth, fat kid; and Finster "Pipsqueak" Matherson, short guy from Brooklyn with a chip on his shoulder...

("Weed" has entered the head office, where the ragtag misfits are all ready gathered. Zack is reclining in Mr. Gallager's chair, sneaker-clad feet on his desk, smoking a Camel and reading a 'girlie' mag, for he is a 'rebel' who marches to the 'beat' of a somewhat different 'drum. Tyrone is hysterically trying to separate Finster from pounding on Yoshi, who has just comically misinterpreted an innocuous comment by Tyrone to tell Finster that Yoshi is engaging in sexual intercourse with Finster's mother. 'Piggy' is in the corner, obliviously stuffing his face with meats and cheeses.)

Weed: Well, boys... It's the end of an era here at Camp Kemoshaga... I've just signed the deal that hands the camp on which we stand over to those fellows at Snobbingworth Estates.

Zack jumps to his feet, outraged.

Zack: What? Mr. G, are you serious? After all this time, you're just gonna roll over?

Weed: Well, Zack...(chuckles sadly) They offered me two-and-a-half million dollars for it! I mean, really, this land we're on is only worth half a million, at best!

Tyrone lets go of the scruffs of Finster and Yoshi, at which point Finster bowls Yoshi over and one of Yoshi's shoes flies up into frame.

Tyrone: My goodness! I'll have to move back home and work with Father at the (gulps anxiously) furniture warehouse!! Oh, heavens! (Tyrone begins to 'fan' himself with his hands.)

Piggy: (grunting mournfully) Yuh-yuh mean no more barb-b-ques! (begins sobbing loudly, between bites of meat and dairy product)

Weed: (Making placating gestures) Boys, boys... It's okay, it's all right... With the money they gave me, I'll pay you off for the whole summer ahead! Me and Meadow can retire to Florida! Don't you see? It's all worked out for the best!

Zack: Don't worry, Mr. G! Our campaign of wacky hi jinks and youthful vandalism's against those highfalutin' rich snobs will surely make them realize the error of their ways! C'mon, gang! We've got to fill some water balloons with our urine to ruin that fancy summer bash they're no doubt having right now!

The underdog camp counselors rush en masse out the door, whooping and cheering.Weed throws up his hands and heads to the phone. He begins to dial...

Weed: Oh, what's the use? Hello, police?...

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Another excerpt here is from "Time Beats", the thrilling saga of an offbeat young professor's valiant struggle against the hidebound fuddy-duddys who wish to subvert his earth-shattering discovery...

The setup: Young renegade physics professor Dr. Jonathon Hathaway is meeting with the grant committee of his university. The grant committee meets in a dusty old office with high ceilings and sunlight streaming in ominously through the blinds. They are all old men in flannel suits. One is perhaps drinking tea. Appearing before them is the energetic young Doctor Hathaway, who's presenting his thesis on time travel. He is clad in a sport coat, chinos, and white tennis shoes, to offset the staid, conservative dress of the board members...

Grant committee member #1: Well, Dr. Hathaway...(chuckles indulgently) Seems you've got the physics department all a-flutter with this-this...(waves hand impatiently) 'theory' of yours...

Dr. Hathaway: Yes, sir... And I assure you, sir, that what I have is no mere theory! (Hathaway confidently begins to remove some papers from his battered old briefcase) Fellow professors, learned colleagues... I, Doctor Jonathon Hathaway, have discovered time travel!

There is some grumbling and grunts of disbelief amongst the grant members.

Grant Committee member #2: Dr. Hathaway...This is preposterous! You come to us with-with talks of 'time travel'...What scientific evidence do you have to support this-this premise? Hm?

Dr. Hathaway smiles indulgently.

Dr. Hathaway: Gentlemen, I believe, that with the proper funding, I can masturbate myself through the time/space contin-

The next shot shows Dr. Hathaway being thrown onto the street by security guards. He is in front of the building where the grant committee meets. He has his chinos down around his ankles and a glassy look in his eyes.

Dr. Hathaway: YOU SONS-OF-BITCHES!! YOU'LL BE SORRY YOU THREW ME OUT!! WHEN I GET THE NOBEL PRIZE NEXT YEAR, YOU'LL ALL BE-

He is interrupted by a melodious car horn. Hathaway looks around as he pulls up his chinos, to see a limousine parked nearby. A chauffeur opens the passenger door, beckoning. Hathaway is fastening his belt as he approaches, looking into the limo door cautiously.

Limo passenger: Hello, young man! Step into my, heh-heh, office!

Hathaway enters the limo to see an elderly man in a natty business suit pouring two tumblers of scotch. He has a beard and long, silver hair reaching to his shoulders, but combed neatly back. He smiles at Hathaway and offers him a tumbler.

Limo Passenger: Well, Dr. Hathaway! So we finally meet! I'm quite an admirer of your work!

Hathaway: (suspiciously taking the tumbler) Who are you?

Limo Passenger: (chuckling) Let's just say we have a lot in common, you and I! I'm a bit of a dreamer, bit of an, oh, eccentric, you might say... Unlike yourself, the fates, as you see, have been quite kind to me!

Hathaway: I-I'm sorry, but-what?

Limo Passenger: Let me guess, Hathaway! Those old coots at the university won't fund your 'time travel' experiment, will they?

Hathaway: (disheartened) Er-no. No, they won't. They all laughed at me and threw me out!

The old man chuckles, finishes his scotch, and claps Hathaway's knee.

Limo Passenger: Well, what would you say to some, er, 'outside' financial assistance to your noble endeavor?

Hathaway: (excited) What? Really? Oh, sir, thank you! You don't know what this-

Limo Passenger: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'll give you five bucks for a hand job, kiddo.

Cut to Hathaway looking bewildered.