(horns honking)
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.
(laughing) 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.
(Bart groans)
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.
(gasps) This guy interviewed Krusty?
Yeah. Hey, no, aw, that's my ear bu... Ew.
It's yours now.
MARC MARON: 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.
(electric can opener whirring)
-(cats mewling) -Yeah, yeah, keep talking.
I'm just feeding the cats.
(loudly): 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!
(grunting)
KRUSTY: 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. (grunts)
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.
KRUSTY: 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.
(both moaning)
(indistinct chatter)
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!
♪
HOMER: Why are we stopping?
SKINNER: Oh, the bus has been leaking oil for miles.
Look behind us.
HOMER: 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!
(blows nose)
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. -(all gasp)
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.
(sobbing)
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.
(laughs) 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.
KRUSTY: 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?
-(screams) -Wahh-wahh.
Hmm, that poor clown man.
This movie is his dream, and it's falling apart.
Yeah, that's Mexico showbiz for you.
(grunting)
♪
(groans)
(whirring)
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.
Of course, orange! I knew I was a genius!
I did it! I directed a movie!
Well, it's just one decision.
Oh, I'm a nothing. A phony-baloney.
A no-talent. A zilch.
Just my luck to work for the only insecure person in showbiz.
You risked everything you have to tell this story.
It must be special.
Maybe I can do this with your help.
How would you like to be assistant to the director?
Really?
I need you to help me be decisive.
No, wait, I don't want that! Oh, God, which one?
-The first, the first. -You're hired.
Oh!
(indistinct chatter)
Add more dynamite.
Uh, those explosives are really close to those extras.
So? We got plenty of them.
That's why they're called "extras," right?
(Krusty grunting)
You tell that lox to go to acting school
and work there as a janitor.
Krusty loves what you're doing. Same energy, little quicker.
Tell him to sod off.
He says, "You got it, baby."
It's so much pressure. The whole movie depends on it.
Tell the story that needs to be told.
That butt double for the action scene,
that butt double for the love scene. Let's make art!
♪
Sorry I'm late,
but Krusty and I were storyboarding tomorrow's shots.
Close-up, medium, long, long, establishing, close,
POV, wide, and then-- get this-- medium.
You've been so busy with that director, I never see you.
Krusty needs me. He's under so much pressure.
You wouldn't believe how much directing dust he's sniffing.
Everyone's working hard.
We had to repaint all the sets black and white for a flashback.
We wouldn't have been able to do it
if not for all the crew powder.
Well, it'll all be worth it
when this movie touches people's hearts,
as Peabo Bryson sings the theme song over the credits.
You got Peabo?
-Well, he hasn't committed. -He's not the only one.
This was supposed to be a romantic adventure,
but whenever we have a moment alone, your beeper goes off.
Why don't we have a romantic adventure right now?
-Oh, yeah, baby. -(moaning)
(pager beeps)
(both moaning)
Wahh-wahh.
(humming a tune)
-Where were you? -(gasps)
I had to watch the dailies without you.
Greetings. Welcome.
Greetings. Welcome. Greetings.
I've been going back and forth all night. Which is better?
-Did you get one with "Hello"? -(screams)
I'm sorry, I was with Homer, my boyfriend.
Boyfriend? You can't have a boyfriend. I want you!
Krusty!
Not like a lady.
Like a "mother slash therapist slash rabbi" who xeroxes things.
Dump the boyfriend.
I believe in this movie, but I also believe in Homer and Marge.
Me, I'm Marge.
Oh, yes, Marge. Marge, I knew that.
Marge. Marge.
I'm not going to break up with Homer. He's my soul mate.
Hmm. You know what? I get it.
Your life has to come first.
Yet again, you're the only one who can set me straight.
-Thank you. -(laughs) That's all right.
It's not all right.
I'm gonna grind that boyfriend down finer
than this movie's red sand...
that I now wish was sand-colored.
-(intercom buzzes) -Send in my anesthesiologist
so I can take a nap.
Dreams or no dreams?
Surprise me.
(gas hissing)
(Homer grunts, Marge gasps)
(laughs)
Wow, it's crazy, man, right?
How narcissism and insecurity go hand in hand?
I mean, you couldn't function
because your assistant had a boyfriend.
Where does that jealousy come from?
How would I know? I fired my shrink
after I found out she was seeing other patients. Anyway...
KRUSTY: I made sure the boyfriend
had all the most dangerous jobs on the set.
I'm out of breakfast burritos.
-(overlapping shouting) -(Homer screams)
(tires screech)
Bring in the stunt dummy.
(Homer screams)
-(thud) -(Homer grunts)
Perfect. Let's get one more for safety.
I'm telling you, your crazy boss is out to get me.
No, he's not. Krusty loves our relationship.
Every day, he says it would be a shame
if something happened to you, then laughs and laughs.
Then why are they sending me out to the middle of the desert
to find a lizard for a new scene about a space lizard?
Hmm, that does sound a little dangerous.
No, I'm sure it's super safe.
I'll see you when I get back alive.
(groans)
(wind whistling)
Here, lizard, lizard, lizard.
Who wants to be famous?
Look at all those skeletons.
Mexicans sure love Halloween.
Whoa!
D'oh! (grunts) What the...? (grunts)
♪
(groans) Wha...
Oh, I'm trapped in a ravine.
Only one thing to do: wait patiently for death.
-Dad, wake up! -(mumbles) What?
Yeah, get up, fat-ass.
Who the hell are you, talking cactuses?
We're the kids you're never gonna have
if you don't you get your lazy butt out of that hole.
And technically, it's "cacti."
-Ow! -(laughs)
Why should I climb out of here and have you?
Marge spends all her time taking care of that needy clown.
I thought I was her passion project.
You know, someday you might appreciate a wife
who's developed empathy and patience
for chubby, selfish men.
(laughs) Look at that bald guy.
(laughs) He's so bald!
I don't think we'll ever be born.
Sorry, Maggie.
Eat my thorns. (hums)
Why, you prickly...!
-(shouting angrily) -(choking)
(panting)
A casa. I'm saved.
Ay, caramba!
The Pain Lords forced me to mine every quarry on this planet,
but they never imagined I had the Love Gem all along.
And... cut.
That was amazing.
And you remembered all your lines.
Aw, thanks...
Marge.
You've helped me become what every director should be:
an amiable guy who makes everyone suffer
through his hellish process.
Homer's been kidnapped.
-(gasps) -There's a note.
(speaking Spanish)
"We have taken your blubbering coward."
(speaking Spanish)
"The ransom is $1 million
or 100 Los Angeles Raiders season tickets."
-(speaking Spanish) -"Go, Raiders."
Oh, geez, I'm sorry, everyone.
We don't have the cash to ransom that kid,
but I think I know what he'd want:
a special thanks in the closing credits
right before which kind of film stock we used.
Back to work.
No. This crew looks after its own.
We're gonna save Homer,
and I don't care how much golden time they have to pay us.
We don't have a million-dollar ransom,
but we do have one thing:
movie magic.
Powder up, everyone.
(all shouting)
-(laughs) - Ay, ay, ay! (speaks Spanish)
"Ay ay ay," indeed.
(crowd gasping)
Give us back our P.A.!
The Americans, they have weapons from the future.
Yar!
These weapons from the future, they are not real.
(imitating laser gun firing)
(groans)
Stop shooting. Stop shooting. Cut!
Okay, that's a five.
We don't have your million dollars,
but we can give you something much more valuable:
a Hollywood movie.
All we want back is the lowliest member of our crew.
We could sell it to the highest bidder at MIFED!
You have a deal.
No, no! You can't give away my masterwork.
"There's a light that shines from star to star,
from soul to soul, connecting everyone in the universe."
Be the man who believes in those words,
and let the light between me and Homer give life to our universe.
Gentlemen, the film is yours.
You're a good man, Krusty.
Only when I'm with you,
which is why I never want to see you again.
I want that, too.
I've done a lot of interviews, man, but wow.
I-I am so glad that Byron Allen canceled.
And after that, my movie career was kaput.
I was sent back to kids TV
and never cared about making anything good ever again.
Well, folks, you heard it. Who could ever forget it?
A heartbreaking story about a selfish man's one selfless act.
Do you like hot cashews
but don't have the time to heat them up?
'ShewBlasters is disrupting the heated nut business.
If the 'Shew heats, eat it!
(Krusty groans)
-BART: Mom! Dad! -You guys never told us
you worked on a movie together.
So that's why you've been wearing
that crew jacket all these years.
That crazy movie? Oh, man, that was a long time ago.
We were just kids.
What was it like?
Well, working on that movie set
turned out to be a lot like our marriage.
Long days, stupid fights you don't remember,
but damn good breakfasts.
A good breakfast can get you through a lot.
But what happened to the movie? Did Krusty ever see it?
I don't know. I guess we'll never know.
(light buzzing)
The love crystal is whole once more.
The prophecy is fulfilled.
(laughter)
-What? Why are they laughing? -They think it's a comedy.
(groans) It was supposed to show how we're all connected.
Look around, man. Maybe it did, maybe it did.
If you think this is closure, you're nuts.
CREW GUY: Wahh-wahh.