Since 1996, veteran indie producer, writer, and lyricist Jack Lechner and his wife Sam Maser have penned witty parodies of the Oscar and Independent Spirit nominees, with each film set to a different popular tune. (The Spirits have even incorporated the songs into their show.)
When Jack and Sam sent out their lyrics for 2006, they also announced that 10 years is, apparently, all we're going to get: "It’s been a wild ride, but after 100+ songs, we’re pretty close to running out of workable tunes that most people know...As it is, Sam has to remind Jack every year that most people aren’t familiar with -- or can’t sing -- anything from
Sweeney Todd. We hope the news of our Oscar card retirement will be greeted with a loud sigh of disappointment rather than a loud sigh of relief, but hey, we’re not there to hear it anyway."
Here is the last installment. Enjoy.
Brokeback Mountain(to the tune of “Climb Every Mountain”)
Climb Brokeback Mountain
And you will see
Cowboys with a certain
Ambiguity
On Brokeback Mountain
So lush and green
They do what Roy Rogers
Never did on screen
They’re still roping cows
And they’re still herding sheep
But they’re not very still
When the sheep are asleep
Climb Brokeback Mountain
But if you do
Don’t be homophobic --
Cowboys need love too!
Capote(to the tune of “Goldfinger”)
Capote!
He’s a guy
So tiny and limp of wrist
But here’s the twist --
He’s a coyote
Out for prey
And if you’re his trusting source
You’re his main course!
When four murders occur on a farm
He arrives on the scene, full of charm
Folks in Kansas think
He’s warm and human
‘Til they’re in a book
By Truman
Capote
Like the pair
Of murderers he’s cajoled
His blood is cold
The town has been rolled
Bought and sold
The story is told
And controlled
By Truman for gold
His blood’s cold!
Crash(to the tune of “Mame”)
What makes Los Angelenos berserk?
Ra-ace!
What makes a cop behave like a jerk?
Ra-ace!
What makes a thug restrict him-
Self only to attacks against the white?
What makes his wealthy victim
Afraid of getting burgled ev’ry night?
What keeps a locksmith out of a job?
Ra-ace!
What makes a film director a snob?
Ra-ace!
What thought is omnipresent
In ev’ry interaction ev’ry place?
If it’s not all you think about
You ought to see a shrink about
Why you’re not on the brink about
Ra-ace!
Good Night, and Good Luck(to the tune of “Tomorrow”)
There’s nobody now
Like Murrow
Standing up to power like Ed Murrow
Used to do
The way that his brow
Would furrow
Framed by cigarette-smoke chiaroscuro
That’s gone too
He delivered a blow
To Joe
McCarthy
Other journalists fled
But Ed
Said no
Oh --
There’s nobody now
Like Murrow
No TV reporter and no bureau
Can compare
To Murrow
To Murrow
They’re knee-high
To Murrow
Those robots with blow-dried hair
To Murrow
To Murrow
If they were
Like Murrow
They wouldn’t be on the air!
Munich(to the tune of “Everybody’s Talkin’”)
Everybody’s squawking at me
All I did was make a movie
About the Arabs and the Jews
Arabs call me racist
Jews say I’m a traitor
I hear them nightly on Fox News
But still the film got nominated
So the hell with them
All this controversy
Boosts our gross
Ev’ry time I get talked about
Someone buys another seat
Ev’ry shouting match makes me
Less morose
Everybody’s squawking at me
All I did was make a movie
That pissed off both sides of the fight
But my critics prove with each sound bite
That I got it ri-ight
Grizzly Man(to the tune of “Hey There”)
Hey, bear
You with the fur and the claws
I’d like to come and live with you
Despite Alaska’s laws
Hey, bear
Though you could rip me in two
I’ll give a silly name to you
And introduce my dame to you
Though I’m an actor
I haven’t worked in some years
Why did I push the world away?
I lost a part on Cheers
When it’s hungry, a bear
Will even eat its brother
So if I keep trying to pretend
That you’re merely a harmless friend
Chances are I’ll go in one end
And out the other
King Kong(to the tune of “Theme From The Monkees”)
Here he comes
Stomping down the street
Crushing various people
Under his big feet
Hey, hey, it’s the monkey
Think we’ve seen the monkey before
This one’s more expensive
And goes for ninety minutes more
Back home on his island
He was the jungle king
Getting by in Manhattan
Is quite another thing
Hey, hey, it’s the monkey
Or maybe I should say the great ape
He’s always been a gorilla
But this time he’s the proper shape
Hey, hey, it’s the monkey
He ends the movie deceased
But it wasn’t the airplanes --
No, it was beauty killed the beast!
March of the Penguins(to the tune of “Heart of Gold” by Neil Young)
I want a mate
I just can’t wait
That’s why I’m marching through Antarctic cold
My instinct tells me
To copulate
It keeps me marching through Antarctic cold
For a bird to hold
Our single files now
Go on for miles now
But I’m still marching through Antarctic cold
We’ll rest our legs soon
And lay our eggs soon
‘Til then we’re marching through Antarctic cold
For a bird to hold
The Squid and the Whale(to the tune of “Happy Together”)
SHE:
Enough of me and you
We’re through
The way that you pontificate
Makes me irate
The love I used to feel for you
Has turned to hate
We’re crappy together
HE:
I never slept around
Although I could
While you had an affair for years
Right in the hood
And worst of all, my books are bad
And yours is good
We’re crappy together
HE:
If I did more chores and made money, would you
Still be my wife?
SHE:
Can’t you find some worshipful bunny to screw
And leave my life?
BOTH:
Now our boys
Aren’t acting cool
Our older son is plagiarizing like a fool
Our younger one is playing with himself at school
They’re crappy together
We’re crappy together
At the end of our tether
So crappy together
So crappy together
The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada(to the tune of “That’s Entertainment”)
The end
Of the life of your friend
Comes about
With a shot from a lout
But he’s found
And dug out of the ground --
That’s disinterment!
When you
Find the scalawag who
Killed your pal
You proceed to corral
Him and then
Set him digging again --
That’s disinterment!
Although there’s an odor whenever you sniff
You force him on horseback to carry the stiff
Down to a town by a cliff
Where you ask for “Estrada”
And ev’ryone answers “nada”
At last
You uncover the past
And the land
Of your buddy, and stand
By his grave
And let go of your slave
Your friend’s in the earth
I hope it was worth
His disinterment!
©2006 S.A. Maser & Jack Lechner
# posted by Matthew Ross @ 2/23/2006 11:48:00 AM
Comments (0)
