A couple of days ago [at time of original posting], the Chicago Tribune ran the results on a poll of readers asked to select “The worst movie title ever.” The winner (loser?) was “Can Hieronymus Merkin Ever Forget Mercy Humppe and Find True Happiness?”
Well, OK – I guess. That’s a perfectly good bad title.
But “worst movie titles” are not what this blog is all about — at least not when the Trib gets it in print first. No, indeed. Instead, I submit, for your inevitable approval, a nominee for (cue majestic music) the Best Movie Title Not Already Used.
Actually, that “nominee” business is just an artifact of polite, but patently false, modesty. This is clearly the apotheosis of movie titles possible in the contemporary era – or, as my old business partner would habitually append to every declaration, “at this point in time and space.” (Was there a better movie title in 1634 in Constantinople? Will there be a better one in 2412 on Alpha Centuri? I don’t think so, but … )
And, it fits every type of movie imaginable.
Further, in an altogether characteristic efflorescence of altruism, I am offering this nonpareil title, along with the attendant fame, glory, and cultural immortality, to the cinematic community, requiring nothing in return — except the money. Just send me all the money. Hey, Spielberg, that means you. And you too, Altman. All of you. I’m not fooling around. Continued perusal of this posting is a declarative indication of the reader’s agreement that all the money goes to me, and we’ll have none of those Hollywood accounting tricks.
Sorry about that, but one has to be firm with these movie folks.
So, get ready. The best movie title not already used is
The true genius, of course, resides in the realization that the most important element in creating a movie these days is not finding a great plot, casting the characters perfectly, hiring sufficient star power, or signing the best director. These aspects are, in fact, properly viewed as components of the one crucial process that is essential to a movie’s success: The Marketing Campaign.
There is a cliché in the advertising biz that an outstanding ad “writes itself.” That notion takes on new meaning when the promotion reads:
This movie IS “Two Thumbs Up”
The variations are too easy:
Critics agree that this movie is “Two Thumbs Up”
(Heck, it would be worth making this movie just to watch the successors of Siskel and Ebert endure the literary contortions of writing and rewriting copy in their inevitable but ultimately unrequited attempts to write reviews that would somehow prevent this kind of ad.)
And there is the ultra-simple version:
See this movie – “Two Thumbs Up”
Finally, for emphasis:
Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up.Two Thumbs Up. Two Thumbs Up.
In fact, my sole ongoing concern is that I haven’t figured out the name for the sequel an adoring public is sure to demand:
- Two More Thumbs Up
- Two Thumbs – Still Up
- Keep Those Thumbs Up
- This Makes A Total Of Four Thumbs Up
I’ll keep working on it.
Save me an aisle seat. Or not. Whatever.