It doesn’t take much effort to imagine what the brainstorming session might have been like that led up to the movie The End of Oak Street.
Picture a group of screenwriters, producers, studio heads and/or maybe even a director or two, sitting around a table, soy-milk lattes in hand, all vying to come up with another potential blockbuster – one that will help pay off the mortgages of their respective houses in the Hollywood hills.
“So,” a studio head says, “what have we got?” “How about a family in crisis?” a screenwriter replies. “Been done already,” a producer counters. “No,” the screenwriter replies, “this one is different. Well, not TOO different. But not your usual storyline either.” “Go on,” the studio head says.
“Ok, so, you have this family,” the screenwriter says. “A dad, a mom and two kids, a son and a daughter, both in their early teens. They live in a standard American neighborhood, maybe somewhere in the Midwest – maybe, say, Michigan.” “Stop right there,” another producer says. “I’ve seen this movie.”
“No, wait,” the screenwriter says, “What if we – stay with me here – have the neighborhood invaded by, get this, dinosaurs.” The studio head perks up, suddenly interested. “What like, say, Jurassic Park meets Neighbors?”
“Yeah, kinda,” the screenwriter says. “See, we introduce the family, maybe dad’s delivering pizzas at night because he doesn’t want wifey to know that he’s been laid off from his day job. Wifey, meantime, is discontent. She’s a frustrated artists of some sort, maybe a writer. Whatever, she spends a lot of time in the basement, alone. The couple clearly isn’t getting along.”
“What about the kids?” the studio head asks.” “Standard stuff,” the writer says. “The boy is being targeted by a neighborhood bully, while the girl feels left out because she isn’t popular.” “Oh,” says the studio head, growing excited, “like a Stand By Me meets Mean Girls.” “Only with dinosaurs,” the screenwriter adds.” “Yeah, dinosaurs,” the studio head says. “Wait, how do they come in?”
“We’ll come up with some sort of time-warp scenario or whatever,” the screenwriter says. “The key is that one day, maybe after a big storm, suddenly, the family – in fact the whole neighborhood – is full of every kind of killer dinosaur our CGI guys can bring to life.”
“I’m beginning to see what you mean,” the studio head says. “We can tease things out, kind of like Jurassic World Dominion meets The World’s End.“ The screenwriter looks at him quizzically and says, “The World’s End is a zombie flick.” “Who cares?” the studio head says. “Zombies, dinos, they’re all the same. As you say, our CGI guys will make it so that we can use anything. Even flying sharks. Kind of like Ordinary People meets Sharknado.“
The studio head is on a roll. “Yeah, yeah, I know Anne Hathaway is hungry to get some action-movie money. And Ewan McGregor is mooning over not getting anymore Star Wars callbacks, so I can get him, too. We’ll fill the kids’ roles with nobodies. They come cheap, you know.”
“There’s only one thing I haven’t quite figured out,” the screenwriter says. Lost in thought, the studio head doesn’t answer. “How do we end this thing?” the screenwriter muses. “I mean, the dinosaurs show up, and we can finesse that part – weird things happen, right? – but then there has to be some sort of point. Maybe, it’s all brought on because of climate change or aliens or some government experiment gone wrong.”
“Point?” the studio head says. “You want to make a point? Please. We just want to fill the seats, not go on some sort of political rant. What’s important is that we leave things mysterious. Threatening and scary but mysterious. That way, if this thing sells – and I’m beginning to think it will – we can always come back with a sequel.”
“So, no killing off any family member,” the screenwriter says. “No way,” the studio head says with emphasis. “Not unless you can work some way to bring them back. Like Suburbia meets Alien Resurrection.” “I’ll work on it,” the screenwriter says.
“We’re gonna make millions,” the studio head whispers to himself. “Millions.”