Pitch:

When I think screen entertainment, a few images are automatically conjured in my head. Images of underdog characters; of transnational travelling; of trials and tribulations and images of an all-uniting sea of urine. If at least two of these images are remotely similar to a fever-dream you may or may not have once had, then Schubert Dreaming Down the Tacuari is the film for you. However, if you can’t match these up with your subconscious, then I guess you can fuck off?

The protagonist is a Swedish plumber with a passion for Uruguayan sporting history – she is subsequently nicknamed ‘Schubert’ after Schubert Gambetta, the under-appreciated soccer player. This plumber, Schubert, travels to Uruguay to plumb the FUCK out of their pipes in a bid to salvage its subpar waste infrastructure. At the same time, she aspires to document her experiences in a book she will call ‘The Poo Fart Bum-Bum Diaries’. When she arrives though, the job proves more difficult than first perceived. She finds she is allergic to Uruguayan cuisine, has difficulty adjusting to the climate and a hot case of excitable bladder. Eventually, it is these bladder woes that kill Schubert. Whilst she is plumbing a particularly decrepit house, the floor gives way and she lands in a large pipe that has exploded open. Schubert proceeds to drown in her own wee.

On the surface, this may seem like the cosy exploits of a humble plumber. For those who think reeeaaaally deeply though, it will come across as a metaphorical propaganda film all about the overlooked issue of pesticides used on sheep and the dangers of foregoing such processes. Whatever your reading of the film, every audience member is bound to love it! I’m looking at you, arthouse crowds! Just imagine Titanic but without the boat or the love story or the problematic class commentary. Brilliant. When I think screen entertainment, I think Schubert Dreaming Down the Tacuari.

Excerpt:

INT. SCHUBERT’S APARTMENT – MORNING

SCHUBERT is sitting at a desk writing.

SCHUBERT
I should write all my experiences down. In poem form! I mean, all great art was created in
adversity…

Schubert’s imagination takes over and a number of artists from history, including VIRGINIA WOOLF, PRINCE, BUSTER KEATON, BERLIOZ, FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY and REMBRANDT, enter the room.

VIRGINIA WOOLF
I came from wealth and had support for my writing all my life!

PRINCE
My parents were musicians and encouraged my art!

BUSTER KEATON
I was brilliant for years and as soon as hard times hit, my career flopped!

FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY
? ??????? ????? ??????????!

PRINCE
You said it, Fyodor!

ALFRED HITCHCOCK steps out from the shadows.

ALFRED HITCHCOCK
Well, my greatest work was done with the least studio support and in the most stressful periods of my life…

BERLIOZ
You call that trash ‘art’?

BUSTER KEATON
Mr ‘I-Can-Only-Make-Horror-Movies’!

ALFRED HITCHCOCK
I only ever made two horror movies in a career spanning over 50 films!

FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY
?? ??????? ?? ??????? ??? ??????!

Hitchcock cowers and Schubert snaps back into reality.

SCHUBERT
Where was I? Oh yes, that’s it. There once was a plumber from Sweden… Who spoke English for box office reasons…

The ground moans. Schubert peaks into the bathroom across the way and sees the toilet shaking.

SCHUBERT
What the – ?

A crack strikes the toilet down the centre, and the floorboards open up like a mouth to hell. As the chasm widens, a loud fart screeches through the house and forcefully flings Schubert from her chair to the ground. The floor opens up closer to Schubert.

SCHUBERT
No! No! I have too much work to do! Who will save the Uruguayan waste infrastructure if not I?

Schubert tumbles into the fissure, screaming. She makes a splash upon entry. Cat Stevens’s “Father and Son” starts playing over the top of Schubert drowning in her own urine.  The artists from earlier all take turns singing, entering the scene one by one with microphones and performing to the camera.

VIRGINIA WOOLF
It’s not time to make a change…

PRINCE
Just relax and take it easy…

BUSTER KEATON
You’re still young, that’s your fault…

FYODOR DOSTOYEVKSY
????? ??????? ????? ????? ?????…

They hold hands and continue singing as Schubert screams and gurgles.

FADE OUT