Best Australian Comedy Writing

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Best Australian Comedy Writing Page 18

by Luke Ryan


  Does it feel good being better than a chimney sweep, Mary? A chimney sweep whose name is Dick Van Dyke?! He literally has the words ‘penis’ and ‘lesbian’ in his name. Don’t kick a man while he’s down. That’s probably why he’s a chimney sweep: he got bullied at school, then had to leave when he was ten. Even if we call him by his initials it’s still insultingly prophetic, as anything Dick Van Dyke made after Diagnosis: Murder probably went straight to DVD.

  3. The song ‘A Spoonful of Sugar’

  By 2025, it is estimated that five million people in the UK will have diabetes. Get current, Mez. Kids are dying.

  4. She’s a liar

  It’s pretty clear that Mary is a witch. She flies in on a talking umbrella. She slides up the banister to the children’s room. She has a magical carpetbag. Let’s be real about this. Broom = umbrella. It’s a matter of accessories. They were well and truly out of the ‘witch-burning years’ in 1910, so why not come clean with it? Because Mary Poppins is a liar. Or maybe she’s just deluded. ‘I am kind but extremely firm.’ Well, she’s half right. I’ve slept on concrete softer than Mary Poppins.

  5. The carpetbag of bottomless disappointment

  Okay, picture this: you have a bag that can travel anywhere in the world with you. You can put whatever you want into it, and it will never get full. What do you take?! A Shetland pony? The cast of Cirque du Soleil? A fully-functioning TARDIS? No. Mary Poppins, the most boring woman in the world, brings a hatstand, lamp, mirror, hand mirror, measuring tape and an interior plant. What a party animal. Never trust a woman who wants to get down with a ficus. More so, one who travels with a full-length mirror and a hand mirror? No one even MENTIONS the fact that she packed them without bubble wrap. That’s pathological! But Mary’s mirror obsession makes total sense because …

  6. Mary is a certified narcissist

  Getting ready to leave the house, Mary stops to check herself out in the mirror (a house mirror, not her travel mirror, or her hand mirror – ugh). I mean it is her favourite view. Why wouldn’t she get one more eyeful of Chez Mez before she has to gaze upon those dreary twerps she’s contractually obliged to entertain? So, there she is, just singing along merrily (Mary-ly?) to herself and giving spoonfuls of sugar a bad name, when her reflection takes on a life of its own and starts to sing out a call and response, as if she’s some sort of operatic Fatman Scoop. (‘If you got short hair make nooooise !’) Mary is delighted that her mirrored self has joined in on an afternoon harmony … and why not? That’s one more Poppins in the world. She’s already had a warble with a sparrow, so why not croon along with her own haunted reflection? (She will literally do anything to avoid having to engage with those kids.)

  But what happens when you encourage even the shadow of an egomaniac? Like Gremlins fed after midnight, they get out of control. So it’s all well and good that Mez is ready to walk off and leave, but her shadow-self stops her dead by breaking out into a 100 per cent unnecessary vocal solo. It ain’t over till the hat lady sings. You created this monster, Mary-ah Carey – you deal with it.

  7. Hypocrisy, thy name is Poppins

  After showing the children how to clean up via the miracle of percussion, then having a duet with herself in the mirror, Mary turns around and gives the kids a bit of ‘don’t be all day about it, please’.

  I’m pretty sure you’re the one holding up proceedings, ding-dong, not the six- and eight-year-olds who just want to love you.

  That’s the great thing about Mary having magical powers: she can move the goalposts whenever she likes. Nearly every bit of advice Mary dishes out is contradicted minutes later. Take this sentence:

  ‘Never judge things by their appearance. I’m sure I never do.’

  Then a scene or two later she’s pulling this shit out:

  ‘Let me look at you. Well, you’re not as turned-out as I’d like.’

  This from a woman who’s wearing a hat covered in plastic flowers, indoors! It’s England, babes, you don’t need a hat anywhere.

  8. Everyone loves to laugh. Except Mary.

  I tell you what, for someone so universally cherished, Mary Poppins sure does hate having a good time. The problem is, she thinks she’s a hessian sack of fun. Here’s Mary responding to the children’s wish list for a better class of nanny:

  ‘Item one: a cheery disposition. [Pause] I am never cross.’

  I don’t know if Mary understands words. The absence of anger is not the presence of glee. That’s like being asked, ‘Do you love animals?’ and responding with, ‘I’ve never drowned one.’

  And the Sheriff of Frown Town represents the badge at every turn. At one point in the film, Mary receives an important phone call. By which I mean a dog named Andrew barks a message at her (Andrew: classic dog name), and she completely understands. Of course she speaks dog. Apparently Uncle Albert (never been mentioned before, still don’t know who he is) is in a terrible state, and when they arrive at his house he’s literally flying around his ceiling in fits of hysterical laughter. What seems to be the problem? That the old man is enjoying himself. Sure, he’s levitating, but nobody seems particularly bothered with that. Hey, guys, last time I checked, PEOPLE DON’T FLY!

  Like any serious disease, Uncle Albert’s laughter becomes infectious, and the next thing you know, Bert, Jane and Michael are caught giggling up in the air. As you can imagine, Mary is steaming at the carpetbag about this (see previous self-analysis: ‘I am never cross.’ LIAAAAAAR). Maybe she was worried someone would actually piss themselves with laughter and she’d be stuck, staring from the ground …

  9. The endless mind games

  At the end of the film, she denies any of the madness ever happened. This is called gaslighting, Mary, and it’s a technique used by bullies to make others feel insecure and crazy. It’s undermining and abusive. Put that on your CV, dipshit! ‘MARY POPPINS: NOT SAFE FOR CHILDREN!’

  10.That scene where she measures the height of the children

  Even by this stage in the film, it is clear that Jane and Michael have succumbed to Stockholm syndrome and are desperately in love with their captor. Mary Poppins rushes through their tape measurements, both children getting something to the effect of ‘your father never loved you’. (Historically, Mr Banks was a neglectful father, so I’m not far off.) Then Mary gets to the grand prize that she’s been waiting for: herself. She looks at the tape measure, acts faux-embarrassed, but then still somehow musters up the courage to read out her findings:

  ‘Practically perfect in every way.’

  You know what, Mary Poppins? If you’re so perfect how come you’re in your thirties and you’re still babysitting?

  And there you have it. A beat-by-beat breakdown of why Mary Poppins, beloved nanny, is actually a bona fide arsehole. Next movie night, my niece deserves something better, more uplifting … maybe that lovely Nemo film. You know, the one about the dead mother and the abandoned son … or maybe Beauty and the Beast, where the woman is held hostage until she learns to love her kidnapper … You know what, maybe I’ll just teach my three-year-old niece how to knife fight? Might be less damaging.

  BEN POBJIE

  Diary of a

  Respected Actor

  ❛Before I left Spielberg’s office, he whispered in my ear, ‘I hate movies. I always have.’ Didn’t know what to say.❜

  September 18

  Lunched with Martin Scorsese and Thelma Schoonmaker. Scorsese seemed distracted, continually batting away imaginary moths. Thelma had to tell him several times to stop sniffing his veal. They told me they had a great role for me in their next movie. They want me to play a sassy mummy in the NYPD. Am not sure about this; don’t want to get typecast.

  September 21

  Spent all day reading scripts. One in particular caught my eye, a Civil War story. Very good dialogue, only problem is script is only six pages long and has no characters. Might need polishing. Called Akiva Goldsman and left message with his personal slave asking Akiva to call back.

  Septem
ber 22

  Akiva called back but insisted on speaking to me in Russian, and the conversation went nowhere. Dropped round to Bill Goldman’s place, but he tried to shoot me. Have decided to polish script myself. Main thing is to introduce protagonist early and develop the themes of familial loss and ingrained prejudice. Also, change setting from 1950s Egypt to 1863 Virginia in order to make the Civil War themes more authentic.

  September 24

  Today I went to the theatre. Wandered around for a while, but was unable to find the door. Went home again. Cried. Cut myself. Felt better. It reminded me of my old days at NIDA, when we would rehearse all day and then go drinking all night, and completely forget to go to the theatre to perform the play. I was there eight years and never once got onto a stage. I used to feel bad about this, but a few months back I ran into Hugh Jackman, and he told me he’d never been on a stage either – he uses a system of mirrors to project an image of himself. ‘I do all my acting in a van outside the theatre,’ he chuckled. Later he made me promise not to reveal that he is still alive.

  September 30

  Woke up with renewed energy. Tomorrow is the start of principal photography on Hammer of Love. Am extremely excited about this film. Feel I may be a chance for an Oscar. Hilda disagrees, says the story makes no sense, but I think if I play it with subtle nuance I can make it work. Am slightly concerned that the real MC Hammer may not like my portrayal.

  October 1

  First day of shooting was a disaster. Began with climactic harpoon battle atop Taj Mahal scene. First shot of the day, the cameraman exploded. We lost half a day getting new cameraman, and then Jennifer Lawrence wouldn’t come out of her trailer. She said the Cobra Queen costume makes her look fat. I agreed, loudly, and was scolded for being unhelpful. Retired to my own trailer to sulk and read Dianetics. There’s a lot of good common sense in there. Called my agent, demanded a box of insulin. She told me I’d misunderstood the book. Fired her on the spot.

  October 4

  We have solved the problem of the ambiguous ending. Now, instead of Hammer taking Wendy for a helicopter ride over Florence, he shoots her. Racial tension is thereby much more effectively conveyed. The different ending was my idea. Am very proud of myself. In the evening did more work on Civil War script. Have decided to make main character gay and Finnish. Was unsure of whether to go through with this change, but Albert Finney told me to ‘trust my instincts’. Must see more of Albert; he always cheers me up, and has some high-grade heroin.

  October 8

  Jennifer is a nightmare to work with. She insists on carrying her Golden Globes around at all times in huge saddlebags attached to her hips, including when on camera. She tells the director to ‘edit them out with CGI’. She has also made a unilateral decision to give the Cobra Queen a severe lisp. I no longer have any idea what she is saying in our scenes together and have to improvise. Was told off in embassy ball scene for improvising kicking Jennifer in the neck. Sulked for an hour, then felt bad and apologised to entire cast and crew and took them out for pancakes. Jennifer ate seventeen pancakes by herself, then burped on everyone. The woman is a disgrace.

  October 15

  Location shooting in Scotland for several days, doubling for Morocco. I will be glad when this film is finished. It has taken a lot out of me. My own script is progressing well, and is practically writing itself since I put in the speedboat chase. Today is Jennifer’s last day on set, and we will all be thankful when she is gone. Her bad behaviour caused the complete abandonment of the Nazi spy subplot, and the movie is now more focused on the love triangle between Hammer, Wendy and Joan Jett. Jennifer has insisted on a best boy credit. I think this is a mistake. Tried to kill her in Scotland, but the gunpowder got wet.

  October 16

  Last night made love to Jennifer over and over again. The greatest night of my life. In the morning she was gone, leaving only a note scrawled in lipstick on my foot: ‘BEWARE’. This is typical.

  October 23

  Finished shoot for Hammer of Love with animatronic dinosaur scene. Director decided movie would be funnier if MC Hammer starts out as white but has to pretend to be black to avoid Mafia. See his point, but was unaware movie was a comedy. Huge wrap party held at the Governor’s Mansion, without the Governor’s knowledge, so we had to be extremely quiet. Were almost discovered when Maggie Gyllenhaal vomited in the dining room, but the Governor blamed his dog. Much fun had by all. Also finished the Civil War script, which is now over eight hundred pages long and in Hebrew. Extremely pleased with it.

  October 24

  Woke up feeling bloated. Called my rabbi to ask whether I should try paleo. He told me he wasn’t my rabbi. Feel strange.

  October 26

  Emailed Joan Allen to find out whether she wanted to go out with me. She emailed back saying yes. Then on IMDB, found out that I had actually wanted to ask Jane Lynch. Very embarrassed. Emailed Joan Allen again to say I had a bad head cold. Turns out she finds this very sexy. There is no way out!

  October 31

  Went to Kevin Smith’s Halloween party, as usual. My costume (Cary Elwes in Twister) was a huge success. Ended the night on back of a flatbed truck with Bradley Cooper while he listed all of the football games he’s ever seen. Just before he got off the truck, Bradley gave me a large baby. ‘I think he’s better off with you,’ he said, and leaped into the darkness.

  November 2

  Bumped into Reese Witherspoon at McDonald’s. She’s looking well. She was most agitated about the insufficient number of napkins she had been given. Showed her the napkin dispenser, for which she declared herself ‘eternally grateful’. She said she would love to star in my Civil War movie, as the avaricious pearl diver. I asked did she know anything about pearls? Reese said she didn’t, but she had an uncle who bred ostriches, which were ‘kind of the same’. I cannot help but admire her optimism.

  November 3

  Phone call from Dustin Hoffman, complaining about my negative review of Tootsie in the LA Times. Explained to him that Tootsie came out in 1982 and I am not a critic, and he apologised very graciously. Explained he had become a little scatterbrained since being run over by Renee Zellweger. Said I knew the feeling. We reminisced about the time we jumped Tobey Maguire outside Grauman’s and spent the night making him kiss tramps at gunpoint. Dustin asked if he could play General Lee in the Civil War film – I said he’d be perfect, but I would have to figure out a way to get Kathy Bates fired first. He suggested spreading a rumour that she is a Muslim. I said I’d think about it. He made disturbing kissy noises down the phone before hanging up. I wonder if he’s alright.

  November 5

  Met with Harvey Weinstein to secure financing for Civil War script, which now has the working title Suck My Dixie. He said he’d stump up six billion of his own money, as long as he could have final approval on grip selection. He also suggested Azealia Banks to direct ‘to give it that old-world art deco feel’. Didn’t say anything as I didn’t want to risk the six billion. He asked me for a lift home as his car was in rehab. I was happy to oblige, obviously.

  November 6

  Rang Harvey Weinstein’s office to go over detail on contract. Weinstein remembered nothing of our meeting. After some confusing conversations, discovered I actually spoke to Harvey Fierstein, who has been in a hospital for the criminally insane for three years. Regretting giving him that lift.

  November 7

  Police came to house asking about Fierstein. I told them I had never heard of him. They told me confidentially that they weren’t actually police officers, but escaped murderers. I lauded their initiative and gave them a drink. While we were celebrating, real policemen showed up. We all had a good laugh. I am now under arrest for the kidnap and murder of Harvey Fierstein.

  November 8

  Lawyer convinced judge to drop kidnapping charge in exchange for a role in my next movie. Thought this was a good deal, but it turned out the agreement specifies the judge must play a giant super-intelligent shark. Could
be a problem in the Civil War setting. But I can’t go to jail – the last time I was in there, I was the target of several hurtful remarks.

  November 9

  Spent all day in meetings with Spielberg, trying to convince him to direct the Civil War film, now provisionally titled The Shark Who Burnt Atlanta. He finally agreed, but insisted that John Williams compose the score and George Lucas provide catering services. This seems reasonable. Before I left Spielberg’s office, he whispered in my ear, ‘I hate movies. I always have.’ Didn’t know what to say.

  November 10

  There are sixty-one messages on my phone from Spielberg, all begging me to save him from the deadly illusions that plague his soul. Slightly embarrassing.

  November 11

  Did not get a wink of sleep. Spielberg spent whole night throwing pebbles at my window and screaming, ‘Release me from my celluloid prison, put an end to the imaginary picture-people who wish to kill me.’ Especially awkward as I was in bed with Emma Stone. She told me not to worry because it happens to all men, but I doubt this, to be honest.

  November 12

  Received a telegram asking for my advice on the development of new, all-female Ghostbusters film. Quite delighted to find that the rumours about Paul Feig communicating only via telegram are true. Now in a dilemma: would be a dream to work on Ghostbusters, but telegram strongly implies that Paul wants my advice because he believes me to be a ghost. Should I disabuse him and risk losing the opportunity? Headed next door to ask Sally Field what she thought, but she was in one of her moods and stabbed me in the neck quite hard. Definitely one of those days I’m glad I divorced her.

  November 17

  BuzzFeed is reporting that Russell Crowe and I are father and son, but you have to take out a paid subscription to find out which of us is which. On principle I don’t pay for news, but I confess I am curious. Had lunch with Russell: he’s not sure either.

 

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