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Well yeah, SW, but on the other hand, wouldn't M Chapman have to be at least vaguely complicit in the making of a film of his (non)life story, in terms of access to his diaries and that kind of thing? It's my (perhaps incorrect) understanding that without your say-so, Hollywood can't really feed on your corpse until it's buried, in any case.
And either way, wouldn't a straight bio-pic about this be a bit needlessly offensive? However critical it was? If I was a relative of one of Ted Bundy's victims, say, it seems a pretty good bet that I'd rather that movie had not been made, really. There are important issues raised by someone like Mark Chapman's lunacy, sure, but then couldn't they be just as easily, and let's face it, far less hurtfully addressed in a (however lightly-veiled) fictional account? Isn't that, after all, one of things that fiction's basically for?
And it's not as if we're talking about the Third Reich here, that sort of unprecendented event - The plot of the Chapman film would, at a guess, be fairly straightforward, you'd have an inspirational, millionaire rock star who meant too much to his fans going into retreat to get away from them all, old film clips of the star in his prime cross-cut into shots one of his biggest supporters having a wank in the bathroom, reading Camus, buying groceries, taking ill-advised LSD then splitting up with his wife, and then buying 'a gub' ('No, it's a gun' 'Well it looks to me more like 'gub' etc) and then, at his wits end because no one's prepared to take him seriously, getting on the red eye to New York to meet, really meet his hero, finally, by which point the inevitable would seem just that.
The fact that anyone's even thinking of naming names in this, er, 'project' seems like an intense failure of imagination, never mind taste, IMVHO. |
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