Coming soon to Varanasi, home of the Ganges, the traditional ghat and the theory that there’s no festival like a nightly festival. The following trailers are brought to you by Kingfisher beer, negotiable prices and the letter Ƣ.
Bold – Movie title
Regular – narrator
< > Description of events
[ ] Music
” ” Character quote
<Tiny speck of light on black screen gets slowly bigger until buildings, people and rivers can be seen>
Get ready to experience one of the holiest and most traditionally important cities in the Hindu world…in the stunning realism of High Definition 3D!
<Moving overhead shot of the Ganges winding along the edge of the city, passing ghat after ghat and focusing on local life – praying, bathing, washing clothes, making puja offerings>
Feel the city in a way that has never been possible before!
<Sharply zooming in on a man facing the wall, camera stopping abruptly just before it runs into the back of his head. Hovering…hovering… finally he looks back over his shoulder, wary and annoyed, zips up his pants and scuttles off>
Listen to the sound and atmosphere of India through the majesty of Dolby Surround Sound!
<Panning across the ghats –a woman angrily beats a sodden sari against the steps, a group of monks solemnly pray before a shrine covered in flowers, candles and incense, loud scratching noise as bathing man with hands buried deep into his underwear scrubs away vigorously, suddenly looking up at camera in alarm>
It’s like you’re actually living it!
<Close up of a wiry old man facing you as he rows vigorously, panning slowly back to reveal a small boat, surrounded by water, then the river, both banks teeming with people, goats and odd bubbles>
Nothing else captures authentic Varanasi life like Imax!
<Distant shot of large crowds gathered at sunset to offer puja to Mother Ganges, close up of people attempting to navigate around an indifferent cow as it defecates in a crowded alley, handsome woman in brightly coloured sari tosses empty water bottle out of window >
Or death, the holiest part of the Hindu cycle.
<A large pyramid of wood topped by a shrouded human body is formally set alight, a large group of tourists clustered together, gripping their cameras tightly, expressions wavering between delighted and appalled, cut to dusk, crowds gone, fire down to embers, a charred body floats by, a solitary man pokes it curiously with a stick, undaunted, it bobs right back up>
Varanasi – Real India.
<Varanasi – in Imax 3D>
[Quiet, brooding classical notes meander elegantly throughout the musical spectrum]
<Elderly woman points at a spot on her glass, speaks sternly to a diffident servant in a large, grandiose dining room>
Oscar winner Helen Mirren.
<Elderly man stands regally on balcony, stares out at snow capped mountains, frowns pompously>
Oscar nominee Christopher Plummer.
<Young Indian man in jodhpurs and cap rides a horse, jumps over a low white picket fence, gallops off into a meadow, his look is impossibly happy>
That kid from Slumdog Millionaire.
<Young man slowly pulls a pile of papers out of a drawer, looks shocked, zoom to first page, large red letters, “Adoption Papers”, his eyes widen in shock, he farts quietly>
[dum dum DUM]
<Old man, old woman, young man all screaming at each other beneath a shamelessly extravagant chandelier, servant stands by with fresh champagne>
<Young man slumps under a tree, stares off into space>
<All three hugging, crying, shoulders shaking, one servant kneels wiping tears off the priceless Iranian carpet, another stands stoically by with a large armful of monogrammed handkerchiefs.>
“Deliberate.” – The New York Wines
“A slow, torturous tale of rich people’s problems. Incredible!” – The Economizer
“The sexual connection between Plummer and Mirren is electric.” – Rolling Bone
“The Colonial Son”
Get ready for the next instant Pixar classic…
<Jaunty rat in a chef’s hat flips a pancake high into the air, laughs>
[I’ll make a rich woman beg, I’ll make a good woman steal]
When Remy’s boss decides he has to use up his vacation time before the end of the fiscal period he doesn’t know what he’s going to do.
<Rat’s mobile phone rings, he digs it out of the pocket of his chef’s coat, looks at the number, looks puzzled, answers>
[I’ll make an old woman blush, and make a young girl squeal]
Until just at that moment he gets a call from his cousin in India….Ramsu Singh!
<Rat in cargo hold of plane, sitting on his suitcase (a cigarette pack), playing solitaire on a jewelry box>
[I wanna be yours pretty baby, yours and yours alone]
Remy’s going to India!
<Rat in tweed coat and no pants joyfully hugs second rat in turban, white dhoti and no pants>
[I’m here to tell you honey, that I’m bad to the bone]
<Two rats floating on Ganges on a discarded water bottle>
<Two rats in a dark alley at a table with red checker tablecloth and a candle, sawing at a damp chicken bone>
<Two rats taking turns sucking on a holy cow’s udder, cow looks back in an irritation despite the festive yellow flowers draped around its neck>
<Two rats nip at a child’s toe, cut to child in unconscious in hospital hooked up to IV, parents look on nervously, rats peering in from windowsill, laughing, high five, then to the side, one more time down low>
[Bad to the bone!]
Is Asia ready for Ratatouille?!
<Ratatouille Goes to India>
People say that over time everything changes, even for heroes. But they also said there would never be another Lethal Weapon…
<Martin Riggs sits at a desk looking miserable, pecks away at his keyboard with two index fingers>
Sometimes the changes are small…
<Leo Getz sits across the table from a skeptical elderly couple, talking extremely quickly about the benefits of Long Term Care insurance, claiming protection against humiliation in old age>
“ So Harold, see, you’re comfortable with your 45 year old son giving you a bath twice weekly, see, I get it, it’s not weird, see, no, very modern, make sure he uses a gentle sponge, see…”
And sometimes the changes are big…
<Slowly panning across bright green, neatly tended grass, coming to rest on a tombstone, carved in large effeminate calligraphy – MURTAGH 1946 – 2007”
But when disaster strikes…
<Riggs sits on an old fashioned sofa covered in plastic, compassionately consoles an elderly woman crying into an afghan, occasionally he rubs his hand over her breast>
“Alex is sick? Is she the one who lives in Seattle?”
“No, that’s Audrey, her mom. Alexis is my granddaughter, she traveling in India.”
“How bad is it?”
“Both ends, Martin, both ends.”
“Don’t worry, baby, we’ll get the bastards.”
A true hero stops at nothing to save the day.
<Riggs’ long, grey mullet blows in the wind as he frantically shovels dirt off Murtagh’s grave, looks determined, out of breath, wobbles slightly on his old high-heeled cowboy boots, his now far too small blue jeans steadily work their way down, his ass crack gradually appears looking gloomy, exhausted>
<A 1983 Oldsmobile blows a red light, Riggs driving, Murtagh grey-faced and dazed in the passenger seat, dirt falling occasionally from his hair, the balding pate of Leo Getz pokes up from the back seat, rambles on about necrophilia>
“So you’re sure, see, absolutely sure, nobody violated your cold corpse? How can you be sure, see? My cousin Sal, he used to work at Mercy Meadows in Jersey, see, and those gravedigger guys, he says, they all do it. It’s like a club, see. Have you noticed any anal tearing?”
<Riggs and Murtagh in unison>
“Shut up, Leo”
<A small broken flower falls out of Murtagh’s mouth, and more dirt>
And it will take more than a transatlantic flight and unnecessarily convoluted visa process to keep these heroes from saving Riggs’ girlfriend’s granddaughter from a nasty case of food poisoning.
<The three walk out of the airport side by side in slow motion, occasionally dirt falls from Murtagh’s sleeve>
Get ready for the cavalry…
<Young girl vomits into a squat toilet as Riggs holds her hair>
“Don’t worry, baby, I got you.”
[When I get high I get high on speed]
<Leo mimes having have intercourse with her from behind and laughs, Murtagh spits out a bit of dirt, Riggs ignores them both, fiercely determined, suffering from mild diarrhea>
“And there’s going to be hell to pay!”
[Top fuel funny car’s a drug for me]
<Riggs holds an ancient orange robed sadhu against the wall by his throat, 9mm pistol jammed menacingly against the side of his matted grey dreadlocks>
“You’re going to tell me what she ate, Hari Krishna, or I’m going to splatter what’s left of your Hindu brains all over this ancient, historically significant wall!”
[My heart, my heart, kickstart my heart!]
<Leo Getz punches sadhu in the groin, he crumples in pain. Riggs and Getz laugh. Murtagh wobbles unsteadily, stares vacantly and a bit of dirt falls from his ear to his shoulder>
[Always got the cops coming after me]
<Riggs blocks a potentially lethal slap from a small woman in a blue sari and flings her over his shoulder into the Ganges, pumps fist in the air, Leo trips a passing monk and laughs, Murtagh falls down the steps, a puff of dirt comes out from under his tweed jacket>
[Gotta custom built bike doing 103]
<Riggs and Leo walk toward the camera in slow motion, Murtagh draped over Riggs’ shoulders, a temple explodes behind them in the distance, Riggs passes close to an old beggar, kicks him in the ribs>
[My heart, my heart, kickstart my heart]
Lethal Weapon 5: Delhi Belly
<A middle-aged man with neatly parted hair behind a desk in a cozy den, works away at a laptop, head tilted back to see through the reading glasses perched halfway down his nose>
Husband. Father. Home owner. Investment banker. Credit card holder. Weekend gardener. Recreational bowler. Larry Burbank was living the American dream.
<Larry, wearing sunglasses, navy golf shirt and pleated Dockers smiles, waves at neighbour, climbs into dark blue minivan, continues smiling for no discernible reason>
[I’m walking on sunshine, whoah oh, I’m walking on sunshine]
Until, one day, he wasn’t. What causes a man to leave his life behind? To suddenly give up everything he’s ever worked for? Everything he’s ever wanted? A man who one day looked in the mirror and asked himself:
<Larry shirtless, overweight, thinning hair disheveled, leans on the bathroom sink, stares at his reflection, looks slightly vexed, vaguely disgusted>
“Is this all there is? Shouldn’t there be more to life? Is that much stomach hair normal? Why am I not allowed to beat my children?”
[dark, ominous piano]
And so begins Larry’s epic search for answers…
<Larry squeezed into the middle seat on a plane, nervously tidying hair, eyes red and afraid, small sweat stains spreading out from the underarms of his short-sleeved button up>
[Leeeaaving, on a jet plane, don’t know when I’ll be back again…]
Little did he know, until he booked his flight, that his quest for the meaning of life, the secret of peace and the key to serenity would take him to the furthest reaches of the subcontinent, into a remote monastery, into intense training as a monk in the Brotherhood of Shiva.
<Larry with a shaved head and long orange robe, grinning sheepishly as he begs for alms from a woman whose home cost roughly the same as his gym membership back home>
The monastery. A life of self-denial, self-deprivation. He’s never been happier, more content. He doesn’t think life can get any better than this…..until he meets:
“William. William from Wales.”
“Lawrence. Lawrence from Dallas. America. Nice to meet you…. William from Wales.”
<Camera pans back showing lingering stares, crooked, uncertain smiles twitching at the corners of their mouths, William licking his lips inappropriately >
[And even as I wander, I’m keeping you in sight]
And so begins a triumphant journey toward self-realization and forbidden love…
<William gently holding Larry’s face in his hands>
[On a cold dark winter’s night, and I’m getting closer than I ever thought I might]
That will shatter all their preconceptions about love…
<A smiling Bill holds the bedroom door open, waves Larry inside>
[Cause I can’t fight this feeling any more]
<Larry lying on the bed on his stomach, looking back hesitantly at William disrobing at the foot of the bed>
[I’ve forgotten what I started fighting for]
And brutally aggressive sodomy.
<close up of Larry screaming in agony/ecstasy, just the faintes glimpse of fingers tangled in his hair roughly pulling his head back>
[And if I have to crawl upon the floor, come crashing through your door]
But can their newly discovered man love coexist with their vows to an ancient, deeply conservative religious sect? India, monasteries and the American dream will never be the same again.
<Camera follows two orange robed figures strolling along the ghat, holding hands and playfully shoving, William points at something on Larry’s chest, Larry looks down, William’s hand comes up to hit him in the chin, they both laugh, William slowly reaches for Larry’s cock>
[Baby, I can’t fight this feeeeling aany more]