You can’t tell me you’ve never imagined a movie about your life. We’ve all entertained the idea of some hot actor playing the role of “me,” so just admit it since I’m giving you the opportunity.
What we often don’t fantasize about, however, is what that soundtrack of that movie would be.
I can’t watch a film whose soundtrack I don’t vibe with. Music, for me, is one of the most important aspects of a cinematic experience — it sets the tone of a story, making you feel something that humans aren’t capable of portraying.
Soundtracks are also more important to plot development than I think our brains give credit. For example, the entire “Shrek 2” movie goes hard as f—- because it, undisputedly, features the best soundtrack of all time. And that’s not just my opinion — that’s scripture.
Second, movies that don’t have soundtracks are a completely different experience, which just reinforces the leverage music has over emotions.
I learned this after putting on a historical drama when I couldn’t sleep one night. I anticipated conking out within seconds, but no. Instead, I didn’t sleep an ounce because I was so tense. The absence of music made the movie feel like real life, and there was some crazy stuff going down in whatever universe it was.
As you can tell, said-movie resonated with me deeply.
But let’s talk about my movie’s soundtrack. While I’d want to load it with the hard verses of street rap I work out to and cherish, I live in a suburb. I’m in college. Nothing happens to me. I buy coffee at the same place every day and take a shower before bed. This movie would be super boring.
I’m also self-aware enough to know my shortcomings, and oh honey, I’ve got enough to go around. That said, music will be a crucial vehicle in translating my mental instability so the audience can have an authentic picture of who I am. If anyone walks out of the theater thinking, “Wow, what a force. I feel uplifted and inspired,” this movie deserves a three out of ten on IMDb in terms of accuracy.
Our film will take on a day-in-the-life narrative. If we started at birth, everyone would be bored or depressed until I turned, like, 19, and then they’d be confused and depressed. That was my experience, at least.
With my current existence and the repetition of pandemic life in mind, we want this film to be simultaneously monotonous and chaotic. I wake up at 5 a.m. from lawless energy. The biopic begins with Kanye West’s “Father Stretch My Hands Pt. 1.”
Kid Cudi’s pre-hook says, “Beautiful morning, you’re the sun in my morning,” which is a lyric involving the morning. So that. But overall, you’re suspicious as to where the beat’s going to go, and that is exactly how I feel the second I wake up, realizing I have to exist yet again.
Next are a frantic coffee run and an intense cardio workout. “Dirrty” by Christina Aguilera is sexy and upbeat, which is how I envision Natalie Portman portraying me in this scene. But after the hype montage, the endorphins crash and so will Portman. She’ll crash hard.
It’s time to hit ‘em with that cringe “Whatcha Say” transition, which is enough to send anyone into a deep hole of contemplative hell, aka me no later than 10 a.m.
I’m pretty stable and productive for the next few hours as I distract myself from reality with work. A rapid-fire lineup of the depictions showing me simply existing, and you can let your imagination break it down, includes, “Run This Town,” “Sittin’ on a Fence,” “Unpretty,” “If I Die Young,” “Big Girls Don’t Cry” and “I Am a God.” And then when my boyfriend — who will play himself in the movie, because he’s conveniently an actor — Leonardo DiCaprio calls to chat, the audience will hear “Thinkin Bout You.”
The evening is when I reflect on the day and my entire existence, so “Free Fallin’” by Tom Petty feels like a good backdrop to Portman spiraling again. Then, I have ridiculous insomnia which prevents me from reaching REM sleep, so we’ll leave our audience in a more confused state than they entered in with “Margaritaville.” Because I want everyone to suffer with me.
I think that satisfies my creative mission of portraying confusion and calamity through a musical score. And if you disagree, it’s time to get your head checked out.
Catch me at the Academy Awards.
