Now that The Hunger Games is breaking box office records, one thing's for sure: The CW is going to be racing forward with its TV version of Hunger Games, called The Selection. We can only hope it goes as amazingly bonkers as The CW's answer to Twilight, The Vampire Diaries. Plus if you consider Arrow to be The CW's version of Batman Begins, only with bows and arrows, then soon half the network's biggest shows will be unofficial movie adaptations.
But why stop there?
Here are some more movies that The CW could turn into teenage soap operas, complete with pouting, random subplots, and nutty love triangles.
All images by GlitteryGin20 on Flickr/Creative Commons.
Why hasn't this happened yet?? Except that in this version, Snape is a serial killer, who licks people's ears until he causes cerebral hemmorhage, every time he drinks Polyjuice Potion, and then has a convenient blackout. And Hermione is a moody but generous beauty who has literally no short-term memory, and thus easily forgets about all the times that Harry gets tanked up on butterbeer and sleeps with half the girls on the quidditch team. The big love triangle is between Hermione, Harry, and Neville, who's incredibly hot and frequently shirtless, and has a Patronus shaped like a big white wolf/tiger hybrid. Oh, and Dumbledore is actually openly gay.
What would be great about a TV version of this movie is, you could really delve into the mythos and create more and more layers of cray-cray bullshit about the legend of the Black Swan from Swan Lake — and what if Tchaikovsky was actually a were-ocelot who was trying to uncover a dark ancient power from before recorded history? Plus every one of the supporting cast of ballerinas, directors, and theater critics would have to have a dark secret, including drug addiction, a mysterious scheme to force the ballet company to join Michael Flatley's Riverdance — which in turn is revealed to be a Druidic scheme to raise a Celtic foot-eating goddess — and an addiction to huffing floor wax. The first season could have a very special episode about bulimia. The mom could be played by the mom from American Horror Story season one.
No, wait. Hear me out. Sure, this movie didn't exactly conquer the box office the way free-market principles and self-reliance are destined to conquer the world — but it has a loyal following, and like Twilight, it's based on a popular book. And you could easily see it becoming a hot teenage soap opera — Hank, a young 17-year-old entrepreneur who owns his own steel company but can't afford a shirt wants to create new rails using his fancy new high-tech metal. But Dagny, the sexy teenage railroad heir, is torn between Hank and Wes, the hot rebellious young socialist who wants to use Hank's money to help those less fortunate, and is also a serial killer. Oh, and a teenage Allen Greenspan has a subplot in which he experiments with wage and price controls... in bed. (Because "wage and price controls" turns out to be a form of bondage and sadomasochism. It's symbolic, OK?) Oh, and John Galt turns up in person halfway through the first season, and he's played by one of the stars of One Tree Hill, as a sexy older man.
Rise of the Planet of the Apes
There are some things that humans were not meant to experiment with. Like sex. And drugs that make you dance crazily to My Morning Jacket. And weird hair dye and gothy interior decor with lots of dark picture frames and candles. Oh, and then there's also the whole thing of experimenting on apes to help cure Alzheimer's and incidentally turn them super-intelligent. Why are a bunch of teenagers in charge of important biomedical research? Because they're teenage prodigies, and they also have mad acoustic guitar skillz. Eventually one of the apes goes to live with some of the kids, and learns to copy their handwriting, so he can forge a love letter from the hot-but-mean dark-haired girl to the surfer-looking dude, making the good-natured blonde girl jealous. The ape also swipes people's cellphones and sends racy text messages, causing immense relationship angst and at least one ill-advised hookup. Oh, and he annihilates the human race. Eventually. In like season five.
X-Men First Class
Jumpsuits! So many jumpsuits. A group of teenagers are gathered together in a cool mansion, where they learn to control their mutant powers and ranging hormones and jealousy and stuff. Acoustic guitar music is piped into every room of the mansion at random hours, and everybody's secondary mutant power is crying on cue. Magneto, played by one of the guys from Dawson's Creek, is a sexy older dude who secretly has a thing for one of the X-girls but also keeps running off to hunt Nazis, and cause various historical events from the early 1960s. Every week, his love interest demands that he choose between her and causing the Cuban Missile Crisis, or the Bay of Pigs, or the end of the Algerian War of Independence.
Sucker Punch and/or Inception
I was trying to think about how The CW could make a racy-but-weepy soap opera out of either of these movies, and then the answer seemed obvious — you have to combine them. Given that none of these shows would be officially sanctioned TV adaptations, any more than The Selection is officially a Hunger Games show, taking some liberties is probably a good idea, akin to filing off the serial numbers. So what you do is keep the central conceit of Sucker Punch — that the deeper you go into the layers of dreams or fantasy, the sluttier everything appears — and marry that with Inception's main premise, about a group of hot young "dream thieves" who go into people's subconscious to steal secrets or occasionally plant an idea. They go inside a sexy dream, and then inside that sexy dream, they go inside a downright raunchy dream, and the rarely-visited third level of dreamspace is basically a night at Dockside Dolls, after the free steak-and-egg buffet is already cleaned out. The love triangle is between the Ellen Page character — who's nerdy and serious in real life but looks like a sexy schoolgirl in dreamworld — and the Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Tom Hardy characters. Oh, and at the end of every episode, someone gets randomly lobotomized.
This movie had the genius idea to put the Smurfs into present-day NYC, which means only one thing — Smurf/Gossip Girl crossover! Of course, you couldn't call them "Smurfs," because this is an unauthorized knockoff, so they'd have to be elves or something. Instead of hooking up with Dr. Horrible and the OCD girl from Glee, these little critters wind up on the Upper East Side where they become the latest fashion accessories for a group of beautiful rich people — and then the kids discover that squishing the Smurfs releases their rejuvenating essence, and all bets are off. I picture lots of threesomes between the bitchy blonde girl, the Abercrombie-looking dude, and the sassy redhead girl, while they're all sucking down Smurf juice and cackling. Also, Gargamel is played by one of the guys from High School Musical and he's a sexy brooding wizard with dark eyes that hide sexy, sexy secrets.
Or Clash of the Titans, really. You could combine them. But a "Greek mythology" show really is crying out to be the next thing on The CW's roster, due to all of the totally loony myths you could mash up and combine. It would be like "Ovid Gone Wild." The Bacchae episode alone would be a ratings smash, complete with dismemberment orgies and stuff. What The Immortals did that was brilliant, though, was take the essence of Greek mythology — hot, half-naked gods, clairvoyant chicks who lose their gift when they have sex, demigod heroes, rabbit helmets — and discard everything else. Only by being completely untrue to the source material can you be true to what you feel about the source material. You could also throw in a healthy dose of Percy Jackson and have the demigods be preppy kids in the early 21st century — or you could have it be ancient and film it in the one part of Canada that looks like Ancient Greece, complete with gladiators and Socrates and angry sweaty sword fights and the birth of Democracy. It's a story that has everything. The mean-but-secretly-nice dark-haired girl with a wild streak could be Antigone. Or Iphigenia. It writes itself.