Let’s count our chickens before they hatch; hell, let’s count them before the hen is even remotely interested in that cute rooster with the confident strut marching with aplomb right up to her, looking her right in her twitchy weird dinosaur eye and saying, “Girl, you want some dipping sauce to go with that two piece nugget?” (And yeah, before you ask, this chicken is charmed by this. Charmed. She’s a fucking chicken; roosters usually don’t go to the trouble of even trying to drop game let alone noticing her nuggets.)
So let’s cast a movie version of my new novel An Augmented Fourth now while absolutely no one is trying to make it a reality. Least not yet.
Thinking about adaptations of my novels is something I do as a fun mental exercise with my wife (life partner in crime) from time to time. Now you get to have the fun of being my wife, you’re welcome, Internet. Well, not all the fun.
Right out the gate, before we cast this thing we gotta talk about directing. Because you can have awesome source material (check) an awesome script (let’s assume, check) and a great cast (you will soon see, check) but if the direction is shit you might as well have made a shot for shot remake of Battlefield Earth only everyone in it is now played by either CGI blue catperson from Avatar or a racist stereotype bot from Transformers.
Naw, I’d watch that actually.
An Augmented Fourth requires someone who can handle horror, comedy, surprising pathos, psychedelic, otherworldly visuals and above all; someone who makes films that feel like rock and roll. Ladies and gents, I submit one Edgar Wright.
Hot Fuzz, Shaun of the Dead, World’s End, Scott Pilgrim, his latest Baby Driver; all prove his wide knowledge of exciting cinema and how to use music - rock music in particular - to add the crucial tincture that makes a film come alive. But beyond that, look at his TV work like Spaced and his fake trailer contribution to the Grindhouse feature titled Don’t: