I goddamn loath M. Night Shyamalan. Not like I hate J.J. Abrams and Joss Whedon, for genius abused. No, I hate Shyamalan for genius avoided. M. Night has the potential to be the greatest B movie director of all time. Its something that Brian and I talked about a little while ago that has stuck in the deepest place in my craw, because I kinda love B movies and his premises are perfect for the medium. So I've taken it upon myself to right this wrong and set the world right... re-imagining his movies as intentionally bad, instead of just depressing. Starting with The Village
The actual premise of this movie is an 18th century village is accosted by weird fucking werewolf monsters. The twist is that the monsters are really the village elders in costumes who founded the village to escape modern life and exercise their creepily elaborate history professor social experiment. In my version its an 18th century village being accosted by weird fucking werewolf monsters, but the twist is that the werewolves are actually the village elders in bad wigs, who founded the village to escape actual werewolves and exercise their creepily elaborate history professor sexual fantasies. Then at the end M. Night could get torn apart amidst a poorly choreographed werewolf/ history professor blood orgy. Actually, the whole movie could just be Shyamalan being slowly torn apart by people in tweed jackets and furry gloves and I'd pay to see it.
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