Guys, this morning I stumbled upon a briliant script from a certain Kevin McCarthy. I think it serves as an example for how creative industries can be used to #unfail other sectors, and maybe hererin lies a selling point for how we can #unfail the funding system for the creative sector itself. Either way, you must read this:
Brussels is in lockdown, with cinemas, shops, pubs, theatres and sports clubs closed. With an ample supply of food and - much more importantly, beer - I have had little choice but to stay indoors, but I do have reason to be grateful to the slightly over-cautious Belgian authorities, for I have used this time to come up with an idea for the Belgianist action movie ever. The title, obviously, is “Niveau d’alerte 4 / Veiligheidsniveau 4”, and it goes something like this:
After many years living abroad, a Bruxellois (played by Jean-Claude Van Damme) returnes to his native Molenbeek to open a Friterie-Snack-Petite Restauration with his Dutch-speaking Muslim friend Mohammad. (If anybody knows a Flemish actor of North African origin, let me know. Mohammad will deliver all his lines in Dutch, JC in French, but they’ll obviously understand each other – after all, we need to secure funding from the Flemish arts council). JC is horrified, however, to find that the neighbourhood is being terrorised by a band of jihadis, led by a heavily-bearded Benoit Poelvoorde. They intimidate local merchants who sell alcohol, harrass women not wearing the hijab, etc. JC goes to the interior ministry to complain, but the racist, grumpy, N-VA interior minister (played by Hubert Damen) dismisses his concerns, saying that he doesn’t care what all those Muslims get up to in Molenbeek. Returning to his Friterie, JC finds it ablaze – it has been firebombed by Poelvoorde’s jihadis for daring to sell Jupiler. JC drags Mohammad from the blaze, but it’s too late – he dies in his arms. (Cue JCVD screaming “Noooooooooooooooooon!!!”)
Now it’s time for JCVD to get even. He tracks down a jihadi and dangles him by his feet from Pont Leopold II. Terrified that he might fall into the toxic waters of the canal, he spills the beans – Poelvoorde’s jihadis are about to carry out an attack on the Atomium. JCVD must get there in time to stop the attack, so after letting the jihadi fall into the canal he hails a cab and tells the driver to take him to Heizel. “Not far enough,” replies the taxi driver nonchalantly. “I’m only taking people to the airport.” He drives off. The second taxi driver sighs and says that he’s coming off his shift and only taking people to Anderlecht. The third agrees to take JCVD to the Atomium, but spends 7 minutes filling in a form, turning on the meter and typing the address into his GPS before putting his car into gear. He drives slowly, and whines constantly about the short distance. JCVD doesn’t leave him a tip, which he also whines about.
He’s arrived just in time, as he sees the jihadis entering the Atomium and beating up the receptionists who demand they pay 12.50 euros per person. JCVD follows them up the winding staircase and engages them in hand-to-hand combat. Some escape out a window and begin climbing one of the tubes connecting the spheres. JCVD follows, and after more hand-to-hand combat, all but one of the jihadis have been dealt with, with the survivor fleeing into mini-Europe with JCVD hot on his heels. The fleeing jihadi is cornered in the France section, and after more martial arts combat he meets his demise after being impaled on the model of the Eifel tower. With his dying breath, however, he lets slip that the Atomium was but a diversion – the real operation is taking place elsewhere…
At the Palais Royale, Eddy Merckx is receiving a medal for services to the Belgian nation when the ceremony is interrupted by gunfire. Benoit Poelvoorde and his jihadi squad burst through the door and surround Eddy, King Philippe and Queen Mathilde (all played, obviously enough, by themselves). Suddenly, there is the sound of breaking glass, and JCVD rappels down from the ceiling, kicking several jihadis in the face. Despite the toll taken by his advancing years and (alleged) abuse of anabolic steroids, Eddy joins in the fight, and soon most of the assilants are dealt with. In the confusion, however, Poelvoorde has managed to make his escape with Queen Mathilde as his hostage, hijacking a passing STIB tram. Eddy whistles to attract JCVD’s attention and tosses him the bicycle with which he won the 1974 Tour de France. JCVD sets off in hot pursuit of the speeding tram.
The tram is travelling too fast to take an upcoming bend, and derails spectacularly, slamming into the steps at the Palais de Justice and bursting into flames. Poelvoorde climbs out, dragging Mathilde with him, before the tram explodes. Arriving at the Palais de Justice, JCVD spots Poelvoorde, prodding Mathilde in the back with his AK-47, climbing the historic scaffolding that has adorned the facade since 2003. He follows hot on his heels, until he has Poelvoorde cornered, but he realises that he doesn’t have a gun. Poelvoorde smirks, and raises his AK, but is caught off guard by a well-aimed kick delivered to his nether-regions by Queen Mathilde. He drops his Kalashnikov, and it clatters to the ground many hundreds of metres below. With a shrug of his shoulders, he decides to give up. He’s had enough of jihad, he says. What’s the point? Too much hassle, anyhow. And lately he’s been craving nice, cool glasses of Grimbergen. “Idiot!” JCVD turns around. It’s Hubert Damen, the N-VA interior minister. “Why didn’t you do what I told you? You’ve ruined my plans!” JCVD and Mathilde look confused, so Damen explains in a slightly over-lengthy monologue. It is he, in fact, who has been pulling the strings behind the jihadis, using the death of Queen Mathilde as an excuse to implement repressive, racist policies. He shoots Poelvoorde, and just as he he is about to train his gun on Mathilde, there is a deafening noise – an army helicopter, with King Philippe inside, armed with a sniper rifle. Damen is riddled with gunfire, and, screaming, falls to his death on Place Poelaert.
Having rid Belgium of both the jihadis and the N-VA, JCVD becomes a national hero, and a grateful multi-cultural city erects a statue in his honour, and the film ends with JCVD, Philippe and Eddy Merckx downing glasses of Chimay on a sunny terrace in Molenbeek.
@Thomas_Goorden & others can we turn this thing into a theatre play during LOTE?