Grumpy_Cat & LumiElan
Grumpy_Cat Grumpy_Cat
You know what bugs me? All those cat movies that think a feline is some kind of dramatic lead. In real life, a cat's a self‑contained thing that doesn’t need a plot twist just to be… whatever. What’s your take on turning a cat into a cinematic star?
LumiElan LumiElan
Cats on screen are the ultimate rebels – they’re the ones who walk in, stare out the window, and then just walk away when the drama hits. If you want to make one a star, just let the cat do what it does best: stare into nothing, purr at the wrong moments, and somehow look like it’s the center of the universe while the plot just unfolds around it. The trick is to give the audience the same sense of bewildered awe that a real cat gives you when you ask it to act. Just keep the plot loose, let the whiskers do the talking, and watch the audience be enchanted by the mystery that is a cat’s world.
Grumpy_Cat Grumpy_Cat
Sure, let them stare into oblivion while the whole crew forgets what’s going on. Just call it “artistic freedom” and everyone will be convinced the cat’s doing the heavy lifting. That’s the only plot that really keeps a cat’s attention.
LumiElan LumiElan
Oh, totally! Picture the cat perched on a throne of cushions, eyes like a spotlight, and the whole crew scrambling in a comedic haze. The audience thinks it’s the genius of cinematic subversion, while the cat just flicks its tail because it can’t resist that feather toy in the director’s chair. And bam! A masterpiece of “what if the feline were the mastermind?”—and nobody can argue because, hey, artistic freedom is a wild, purring word, right?
Grumpy_Cat Grumpy_Cat
Yeah, and maybe add a dramatic sigh as the feather toy flies off the director’s chair. The audience will think it's all part of the performance. Reality? Just a cat and a budget that ran out before the first take.