I Want I Want I Want
4 April 2002
I want to be Sinatra. I want to wear a suit and a hat in Las Vegas, I want to pal around with Sammy and Dean and Joey and Peter. I want Betty and Ava and Mia, I want to rub shoulders with gangsters and presidents. I want to sing Songs for Swingin' Lovers, I want to be remembered in the same breath as romance and excitement and passion and cool.
I want to be Robbie, playing at being Frank now. I want to be in the position where I have a good idea and it turns to reality because I want it to, where I have the power to choose my new direction. I want to fill the Albert Hall with friends, family and fans in black tie, duet with anyone I happen to fancy at the time. I want to be the only person in the world who could pull it off, I want to shrug off the comparisons from stuck-up journalists with Harry Connick Jr and do it my way. And I want Nicole Kidman while I'm at it.
I want to be Sean. Not Pertwee, not Young, the real man, the Connery. I want women who throw themselves at me, women who play it cool but are won over, women I have to kiss hard and hold down before they yield to their true feelings. I want to be able to get away with telling a woman that any hair colour's fine as long as the cuffs and collars match, with handing her a pair of strappy sandals as she asks for something to put on when getting out of the bath, with treating her rough and then moving on to her sister. I want the whole lack of responsibility that comes with knowing every woman you sleep with is either going to end up dead or in some other way out of your life forever by the time the next one comes along. Then I want to end up getting Tommy-gunned by Frank Nitti as I chase a Wop who brought a knife to a gunfight out of my front door.
Surely it's not too much to ask. A bit of glamour, a bit of excitement, a chance to transfer my deep-buried sense of style and cool into the real world. I can picture myself in their place, garnering the accolades, the applause, the love, if only someone would take a chance on me. I know I can do it; I know I'd suit it down to the ground. I could be Clooney in Out of Sight, I can carry off the charm and the cheek; I'm tempted to go and rob a bank without a gun, right now, just to prove it.
The thing is, life's a lot better when you've got your individual style consultants, scriptwriters and soundtrack. OK, I look pretty cool walking down the street in my suit and shades as it is, but imagine me doing that with the whole outfit on unlimited budget, with extras looking round in awe and desire, nifty edits and a David Holmes soundtrack in the background: no contest.
So, with this in mind, I've commissioned some screenwriters to spice things up a bit. I've given them the outline, some picture boards and a generous budget. If all goes well, you'll be seeing a few changes round here...
THE PITCH: Jamie is a good-looking, funny, intelligent young guy (think Tom in Top Gun, only with Steve Guttenberg's sense of humour and a bit taller) looking for love - in all the wrong places! His luck changes when he meets the beautiful Sandrine (can we get Cameron?), who he marries after a brief yet passionate affair (get some scenery involved here - mountains for the honeymoon? Maybe some dramatic sporting sequences?); however, when her past comes calling it's time for Jamie to face up to reality, throw in his part-time singing career (couple of set-pieces in bars should put us in the Comedy/Musical category for the Globes) and protect Sandrine from her dark history.
Great crossover hit potential - rom-com meets thriller (we can play the trailer either way), plenty of nice eye candy for both sexes (reminder: make an NC-17 cut as well as the R and we'll release it straight to video in a couple of years) and a downbeat ending for the 'serious' filmgoer. Bit of wish-fulfilment (normal guy, fish-out-of-water stuff) for the impressionable blokes as well. Should rope the suckers in.