The Simpsons

Sorry, little dudes, we're gonna be here a while.

A truck broke down, and the cops are taking their sweet time

clearing it up.

He thinks my tummy is a mountain.

Lou, Lou, quick, take a selfie.

It's not a selfie if I take it.

He's kissing me.

Take a selfie! Take a selfie!

Oh, man, my phone's dead.

Milhouse, what am I missing in the group text?

It's awesome.

You're never gonna get caught up.

What kind of jazz you listening to, stupid or boring?

It's Marc Maron's podcast.

He does cool interviews with really interesting people.

Lame, lame, don't know him.

Lame, lame, don't know her.

Loudon Wainwright, lame, lame.

This guy interviewed Krusty?

Yeah. Hey, no, aw, that's my ear bu... Ew.

It's yours now.

Wow. That's incredible, Krusty.

I mean, really, I'm blown away.

Yeah, well, it's true. It's absolutely true.

I have a phobia... of pies.

That's so crazy because, I mean, we've all seen you get

hit in the face with pies on your show.

No, no, no, those are cakes decorated as pies.

Oh, right, so that's how you make yourself feel safe.

It's not the crust; it's the fillings.

Krusty, I got to ask you about something,

and-and I don't want you to get defensive,

but it's something you've never talked about.

Can you tell me about The Sands of Space?

Oh, no. That's off-limits, soul patch!

We could talk about the exploding milkshakes

in your Laffy Meals.

Did they ever find those kids' noses?

Okay, okay, I'll tell you about The Sands of Space,

the movie that almost consumed my soul.

Yeah, yeah, keep talking.

I'm just feeding the cats.

It all began back in the golden age of Hollywood,

the late 1980s, when high concept was king.

You'd mix two kooky words together in the title,

put a rap song at the end that explains the plot,

and bam... you're on the cover of Premiere magazine.

I had starred in the hit action buddy comedy

Good Cop, Dog Cop,

where I played a murdered police officer

who is reincarnated as his partner's pet Saint Bernard.

Five smashed squad cars, 100 exploded helicopters,

and the mayor's wife has fleas.

Turn in your badge and your collar.

You're suspended for a month!

For me, that's like seven months.

Dog Cop!

Suddenly, everyone in town

was dying to be in the Krusty business,

and I was dipping shrimp with all the big talents

I once longed to see fail.

And, of course, what the studio wanted most was a sequel.

Okay, Krusty, we've got

Good Cop, Dog Cop 2: Golden Revolver all lined up.

We, uh... who-who did the...

The two Terrys, they just turned in a great script.

Savage Sam Borgberg is all set to direct.

So when do we start?

I get it. You think I'm just some hack,

out to churn out lazy sequels for a quick buck.

Yes.

This is my next movie.

The Sands of Space?

Krusty, are you kidding me?

This is the most famously un-filmable book in history.

It made Kubrick a recluse. It-it drove Coppola to wine.

The four Jeffs tried to write a script,

but even they couldn't crack it.

When I bought this at an adult bookstore by mistake,

it changed my life.

"There's a light that shines from star to star,

from soul to soul, connecting everyone in the universe."

Wow.

It's not landing for me that the hero doesn't

refuse the quest before he accepts the quest.

Is that landing for you?

Look, I'm not drinking out of one more toilet

until you green-light this movie.

And I'm not playing a dog, either.

All right, we got a comic who wants to make

a hippie-dippie science-fiction vanity project.

Here's what we do: we humor him, and we make it dirt cheap.

We could shoot it in Mexico for nothing.

We hire a has-been to direct it

and never-wases to do everything else.

After it bombs, that clown will come scooting his butt back here

to make all the Dog Cop movies we want. Two more.

The Sands of Space was a go,

and the studio hired the least-qualified crew

they could find, including a young couple

whose love was just starting to bloom.

She was full of optimism,

and he was slightly less fat than he was going to be.

What could be cooler?

You and me working on a movie together all summer long

as production assistants.

It's so romantic.

We'll be like Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton

if they had to get coffee for everybody.

All right, everyone, saddle up for Juárez, Mexico.

That's where I shot Manhattan Mix Up.

Lost a lot of good men on that show.

Now, move it out!

Why are we stopping?

Oh, the bus has been leaking oil for miles.

Look behind us.

Those things were literal?

The Sands of Space, day one, shot one, take one.

And... action!

So barren, so alien,

yet somehow... familiar.

Hey, what the hell is this?

Cut. Cut it!

This sand is sand-colored. It's supposed to be red.

So what? Sand is sand.

Did you even read the book?

These blood dunes are all that's left of humanity

after the Rust Wars.

What's to read? It's a space picture.

Laser cars, girls with octopus arms,

zip zap glip glorp, and it's in the can.

Look, you no-talent bag of wrinkles.

Go back to whatever Toluca Lake drunk tank

they fished you out of,

because you're not getting anywhere near my movie!

Sir, I've worked in moving pictures

since they were called "stillies."

I once shot a two-hour picture in 90 minutes.

And so I say to you, in the words of Miss Lillian Gish,

go crap in your hat.

And now, if you'll excuse me,

I am going to mysteriously drown in the ocean.

As you may have heard, there's been an amicable parting of ways

with that moron director. We wish him well.

Clearly, there's only one artist close enough to this film

To direct it: me.

I know what you're thinking... have I taken on too much

by starring and directing a movie

that I was also tricked into cofinancing?

No, because this story must be told.

This is so exciting.

Krusty's got the passion and vision to make this movie great.

I have no idea how to make a movie.

I know nothing.

All these people are screwed.

And the crew gift is just a T-shirt.

Right, right, I-I get it.

In the tradition of every actor ever,

- you thought you could direct. - Directing seemed so easy.

You just hold your hands like this, then bing, bang, boom,

Annie Leibovitz is taking your portrait

in a bathtub full of milk.

Yeah, talk about pressure, though.

Man, I remember once I was filming a special

at the Laugh Basement in Tampa...

This isn't about you.

You got your ad in for Dollar Doorknob Club.

Now, let me talk.

They say in Hollywood, "Nobody knows anything."

Well, I knew a lot less than that.

What do you like for the princess's headpiece,

- feathers or scales? - I don't know, how about scales?

Oh, well, there goes the whole costume budget.

Uh, for the crew lunch,

the grips want their hot dogs boiled,

but the gaffers want them grilled.

Either way, I don't got no hot dogs, so, uh, which is it?

Do you want the space ship doors to open like,

"Zzztt-zzztt," "ppswishh" or "wahh-wahh"?

Judd Nelson won't come out of his trailer.

Christian Slater won't go back into his trailer.

How many sugars do you want in your coffee?

Stop asking me things!

Is this an official break, or are we taking a five?

Wahh-wahh.

Hmm, that poor clown man.

This movie is his dream, and it's falling apart.

Yeah, that's Mexico showbiz for you.

Oh, is nothing on this movie real?

Um, are you okay?

Okay?

I'm a total fraud who can't make a single decision.

Well, maybe you just need to start with a small one.

Like, what color should the space monster's blood be,

orange or green?

Both. Neither. I don't know!

Just close your eyes, breathe deeply,

and envision the blood. What color is it?

Orange.

There you go. You decided.