Man sitting at table. Picks up banana it becomes a small handgun, he becomes a private dick, the BG is noir, we hear the dialogue. Return, He picks up an apple it becomes a hand grenade – he is a GI in the second world war in Italy with an Italian beauty hanging off his arm as he defends her and the country. He picks up his bottle of coke, it’s a Molotov cocktail and the Russian Revolution is happening. And so on.
Could be done in 30 seconds of fast shifts. Same idea repeated so possible concern with narrative arc. Would need extra time to establish his mundane life which imagination allows him to escape.
Green screen for BG. Replacement of clothes and props in real time.
Man laid up with heavy cold, much sniffing snuffling and sneezes, many snotty handkerchiefs. Much complaining. Sleep begins. He wakes, looks over at vaporiser in room. Mist alters to genie. He makes wishes. He gets wishes. Wishes turn bad. He wakes up realising not to complain about his present situation. Learns acceptance.
Too long for 30 seconds except if exposition setup fast with montage of quick establishing shots.
One moment at least
Man in his sixties with glass of red wine in hand dancing to modern music in his living room. In the background TV is on, but no sound, showing a male MP being interviewed. The dancer has had a few wines. A woman appears and dances with him as the world transforms just for a moment or two. She disappears. He sits down. He says to camera: ‘A moment like that is worth a lifetime of listening to the bullshit of politicians’.
Possible in time frame.
I have lost nothing in losing
Start on bottle of red. Move to glass. Hand takes glass out of frame. Quick montage of this repeated. Music gets him to his feet. He grabs scarf off hanger to dance with and scarf turns into A woman dressed in flowing dress of red and yellow. He asks her to stay with him forever. She says ‘In grasping the butterfly, you have killed the butterfly’ She disappears. He sits down, pours another wine and says, ‘Oh well, good while it lasted.’
Where do I end and my stories begin?
Man working at Imac. He’s into writing a great story while music is playing through his loudspeakers. His fingers drift off the keyboards onto the pine desk top as he plays the music on the pine desk ‘keyboard’ and his world enters a montage of past music of past loves and losses. He returns to his typing and we see that what he has typed has arisen out of what he has just experienced. His life and his writing are absolutely interlinked.
The Great Australian Novel
Man writing at table. He screws up page and tosses it aside. We see many screwed up pieces of paper. He is not having success. The screwed up pieces come to life and become faces with mouths that speak of a fantastic tale which unfolds behind them and then return to their screwed up existence as he sweeps them off the table into the bin. In his search for the perfect story he has missed the stories he has.
Very gloomy man is transformed into an aria-singing gondolier with active help of spaghetti and red wine.Green screen to change BG from threatening monster shapes of depression to an image of a sparkling Venetian canal. VFX to move food and wine to mouth and raise him in the air.
Alas, poor Zombie
Two people who look like zombies sitting in a dressing room.
Zed: What’ve we got?
Zedd (holding open film script): It’s dead funny. Sixty seconds screen time, thirty zombies shot in foreheads and their heads explode.
Zed: The kids’ll be screaming.
They rise to leave.
Zedd: You look dead gorgeous.
Zed: Drop dead.
Cut to Zed and Zedd being shot and their heads explode. Background cries of ‘Action’ before and ‘Cut, excellent etc’ after.
Cut to Zed and Zedd in dressing room getting changed into business suits. No zombie makeup has been removed.
Zed: Remember when films had brains rather than blew them up?
Zedd: Well, I’m off for a live liver burger with the missus and kids.
Zed: I’ve got an audition for the part of Yorick.
Zedd: Now there’s a script!
Zed: You’re dead right.
Zedd: Fantastic, drop a leg!