It’s the year 2008.
You come back from the office, tired, hungry. It was a lousy day: five more people from got fired because of the worsening economical situation; The IDF started attacking Gaza on Saturday, and you’re refraining from opening your mailbox, to actively miss the expected notice. You drop your tattered briefcase at the far end of the room, and find yourself sinking onto the couch, and turning the television on, just to run away from everything.
Commercial break.
You switch channels.
The News: the anchor lady is flirting with the weatherman. It’s going to be cold and rainy, and yet, they are smiling, and you curl up in the sadness the smell of the upcoming storm carries with it into the room, and their smile is so perfect, too perfect, and you switch channels again but everything is too perfect, the reality show as well, sponsored by the company from the commercial, hosted by the weatherman, and in your heart everything is upside down, you look around you and everything is in disarray, broken, there’s a war going on, dammit. You switch the channel, but instead of something changing on television, something changes in you.
It’s the year 2018.
Your son’s photography, sitting next to the citation he received after he got killed, breaks in your hand because you suddenly got scared, and your finger cuts. It was 2008 a moment ago, and suddenly you’re here, and your bereavement is already stuck inside you, built-in, and all the channels on television show the same thing: the PM says he dropped the bomb on the Gaza Strip. Sweat is streaming down from his forehead, like the blood from your finger. He manages to whisper that he’s resigning from Office, before passing out. This special broadcast was brought to you by the IDF Reality Channel: Death, LIVE. The uniforms of the soldiers are adorned with ads. You’re son’s photography, stained by your blood, also shows: he’s wearing the Advil Helmet on his head, and the Nike special Military shows. A teardrop sprouts in the corner of your eye, or at least you’re trying to produce one, but now they’re advertizing the new drug they invented to fight crying, after so many soldiers, people, got killed and it was impossible anymore, and you remember you haven’t got any truth left in you, to cry out. You are simply left to stare in awe at your window, opened in your heart. You reach out for it, and it sucks you inside, and -
It’s the year 2033.
You’re old, but handsome; your age is sponsored by the medicine company that invented Notion Surgery: instead of the old Plastic Surgery, a special chip implant transmits the image of how you’d like to look like to the brains of the people around you. You look at the mirror. You look just the same as in 2008. But you have no son, and there’s no country anymore, only territories occupied by more and more commercials. You have to eat, a lot, and watch pornography, just so that you’d feel something, anything. You hear from outside another governmental video ad, speaking about the new plague, and how it’s important to take the pill every day, to avoid depression. A glimpse of something catches you from the corner of your eye. You turn to face the window and see her, the anchor lady from 2008, so beautiful. She looks at you from the hundreds of signs outside your house, calling you to come, to purchase, to undress with her in a bath of Coca-Cola, to fuck her with the new body you downloaded on the internet last night.
“Come,” she whispers from outside.
You turn to her. One leg in already out. And here’s the other. You belong to her now.
You fall down… and crash on the living room couch: It’s the year 2008. You see your tattered briefcase at the far side of the room, hear the news coming from the neighbors’ television. Your finger is already sitting on the remote – but at the last second you decide against it. Something tells you there’s another way. You get up, head straight for the desk, and start writing.
In the end, it’s a script. You call it: “The Great Fiasco of the Last War“. You need to find a way to make it now. You look ahead, into time, into the years you’ve visited and are yet to come.
You know exactly who to turn to.

This is a rough sketch for the Hospital’O'Mat – the automatic medical services vending machine located at every Israeli mall and capable of giving medical services, from simple plague checkups to actual child delivery. Oh, and It can be also be bribed into giving blowjobs.

Designed by Eitan Vineshtock.

This is another view of the uniform of the soldiers from the script, WIP. Soon the full design will be posted here, and Eitan, the designer, will explain exactly how things are going to work. Stay tuned!

Rockingauctions.com is a site which gathers special eBay auctions from around the world and posts them in a special spot – and guess what – our characters auction was elected to get there!

Click the link to see:

http://www.rockingauctions.com/2007/09/name-film-character-after-you.html

You can now download (on the left sidebar) a new sample from the script, and this time it’s one of the musical numbers from Tamir’s and Tsafrir’s show about their sons’ deaths in The War: it shows Tamir as an IDF representative showing up at Tsafrir’s house, when he comes to bare him the message of the death of his son. While Tsafrir’s pain breaks him apart, Tamir tries to convince him how great it is that his son died: he will now receive payments from the TV reality show "War – LIVE!", showing reruns of this most spectacular death. And anyway, in nowadays Israel, it’s really expensive to have kids…

Israel. The year 2,018. The government finds it hard to finance the ongoing war and turns to the big corporations for help. The agreement is clear: the army’s uniform are from now on decorated with commercial ads for their supporting corporations; a special "publicity core" is established, it consists of cameramen and soundmen who follow and document army activities and broadcast it in the biggest reality show ever: "War – LIVE!".

This is the first sketch for the uniform design. If you’re affiliated to any kind of company who would like to use this great platform, here on the site and in the film itself, for placing your ads, and at the same time contributing to an important idealistic cause – you are most welcome to contact me about it at ido@thegreatfiasco.com.

After the interview on radio 99fm, in which they got the actor I wanted for the leading role on the air to speak to me about the script, I called him, delivered the script to him – and today I got an email back:

Shalom Ido,

First let me tell you that I was very excited that you have chosen me to play a leading role in your film.

I read the script, and I think it’s a very important film, the idea is excellent, to make a musical out of The Big War, especially when you see only yesterday on the news a scene which looks as if it was taken from your script: an over motivated lieutenant is on a mission to capture Palestinian terrorists and decided to get creative – together with his soldiers they kidnap a Palestinian’s taxi and start creating chaos everywhere.

I have a feeling that the time jumps in the script, which are excellent, are still not quite clear visually. I felt the script is very verbal, I understand you focused on the song lyrics, some of which are very good, for example the song Tsafrir sings about the Israeli PM’s constipation.

The characters are fascinating, of course – they need further development.

I would be extremely happy to see this project moving into action.

Good luck!

Eli Gornstein.

As promised, you can now make a dream come true and name one of the characters in the film after you!

I’ve opened up an ebay store at ebay, in which you can pick up your own character and name it after yourself – from main characters, to people walking in the street! (currently only main and sub-main characters – more will be added tonight).

Download the characters catalogue HERE, and then enter THE STORE – and make your dream come true!

Yet another one – this time for the IDF radio station ("The Last War"…). Went along great!