Martin Davis, a gifted yet uncelebrated actor trapped in the mediocrity of his circumstances. However, fate takes an astonishing twist when he miraculously finds himself in the body of an impoverished youth in the year 2003. Determined to escape the clutches of poverty and relish in wealth and stardom, Martin sets his sights on Hollywood, a city that beckons with its extravagance and promises. With his cunning intellect and a disregard for traditional morality, he embarks on a relentless quest, willing to go to any lengths to achieve his goal. As Martin navigates the glitzy yet treacherous world of showbiz, he leaves a trail of fallen adversaries in his ascent to becoming a global sensation. His journey is marked by unexpected alliances, moral dilemmas, and sacrifices that challenge the very core of his being. The story of his transformation, ambition, and the relentless pursuit of dreams, even if it means rewriting the stars. The unapologetic drive of the Martin has, and the timeless quest for fame and fortune. #Hollywood #Showbiz #America #Celebrity #Star #Reallife #Antihero
At the Hulk Mansion strip club, Martin changed into his dancing attire, stretched his body, and headed toward the backstage exit, surrounded by a group of fellow performers.
Hart, one of the performers, was brimming with excitement. "Daddy Martin, we've been eagerly awaiting your on stage debut. It's been quite a journey," he exclaimed, stepping in front of the ring stage as if addressing a vast audience. "The king is about to claim his throne!"
Martin strode forward, ignoring the enthusiastic Hart and Carrington. Instead, he scanned the side of the stage and asked, "Annie?"
Anne, a middle-aged woman from the Savannah Art Institute and a professional choreographer working with the strip club, had been hired by the crew to assist with the dance routines. She inquired, "Have you had any dance training?"
Martin replied, "When I was younger, I dabbled in disco and hip-hop, mostly for fun." It was evident that his previous stage performances were far from professional.
Annie had someone start the music. "Let's see your sense of rhythm and flexibility."
Martin moved to the beat and performed a short disco routine he had practiced in his previous life.
"Your sense of rhythm is quite good," Annie commented, approaching the stage. "However, your facial expression and movements come off as somewhat stiff."
Martin admitted, "I used to dance without any formal instruction."
Anne circled around him and noted, "You're in good physical shape. If you give me two months, I can whip you into shape, but our preparation time is quite limited."
She had discussed the matter extensively with director Benjamin. "I've designed three specific dance sequences for you."
Martin nodded. "I'm warmed up and ready to begin."
The boys from the dance group around them retreated backstage, leaving the two to focus on their work.
Anne was an imaginative choreographer. "The first section is called the Zombie Machine Gun Dance. The key is to dance as fast as a machine gun fires when the music reaches its peak."
She demonstrated by pinching her waist with both hands, twisting her hips, and shaking her rear energetically.
Martin immediately grasped the essence of the dance, which was akin to rapid machine gun fire, a familiar motif from American B-movies.
Anne gestured for her assistant to adjust the music, then instructed Martin, "Now, follow my lead." As the music played, Anne stood before Martin and demonstrated the moves while explaining, "Swing your arms, tilt your head sideways, left foot forward, right foot grounded, swing, lunge... Alright, let's do it again!"
Martin executed the steps precisely as Anne had directed.
With another repetition complete, the music was approaching its climax. Anne shouted enthusiastically, "Arch your body backward, accentuate your hips, twist your waist and hips, and sprint with maximum speed and intensity!" Martin leaned back and, in rhythm with the music, moved with exaggerated swings, as if he were confronting Kelly and Louise alone, dancing vigorously and swiftly to the rapid beat.
"Excellent!" Anne exclaimed, observing the exaggerated amplitude and rhythm of his movements. "Keep it up, just like a machine gun firing!"
As the dance concluded, Martin came to a halt, feeling not a hint of exhaustion due to his regular training and physical activities.
Anne applauded him, cheering, "You're a natural, Martin! You've essentially mastered the most crucial part of this dance."
Martin was fully committed, considering this as specialized training that would surely come in handy in the future. "Annie, let's do it again."
Anne nodded and called for the music to restart. This wasn't a musical, and the dance moves she had designed were relatively straightforward. The final film would carry an R-rating, with the dance sequences primarily focused on exuding raw, hormone-fueled allure.
To the electrifying beats of the dance music, Martin once again launched into a high-speed performance, akin to an Avenger cannon with an endless supply of bullets.
After several dance rounds, during a brief break, Annie leaned in and whispered, "Your girlfriend must be thrilled."
Bruce suddenly materialized from behind, quipping, "Don't you know? His girlfriend is Mother Earth."
Martin extended his middle finger directly backward, only to find it gently deflected. Turning to see, it was aimed at Robert's sizable head.
Robert retracted his hand, cracked open a can of Coke, and handed it to Martin, saying, "Thanks."
Martin pointed to a nearby table, instructing, "Set it down there."
Robert, feeling fatigued and not inclined to explain further, kept quiet.
Martin then introduced Robert to Anne, explaining that he would be playing the role of the club owner.
Anne remarked, "You have a dance sequence, and I'll show you the dance prototype later."
Robert raised an incredulous question, "Am I supposed to dance as well? I'll terrify the audience doing this."
Anne signaled for her assistant to retrieve the laptop, and she played an MV video featuring a graceful dancer to a French song released that spring. She offered a brief explanation, "This dance is elegant and spirited."
Martin, with a vague recollection, remarked, "The singer is Alizée from France, I believe."
Anne nodded approvingly, saying, "Exactly! It's a fantastic dance. If you perform it on stage, the impact will be explosive."
Robert wiped his sweat, stating, "That sounds impossible."
Anne countered, "Benjamin mentioned that this is a comedy, and contrast can create comedic effects."
Robert, still bewildered, inquired, "Why would this be suitable for me?"
Martin gestured at the screen and then at Robert, humorously quipping, "You both have prominent foreheads, it's a perfect match!"
Robert, his determination strengthened by the thought of his hard-won speaking role, gritted his teeth, "Alright, I'm in!"
Martin checked the time and asked Anne, "Shall we continue?"
Anne handed the laptop to Robert, advising, "Watch it a few more times."
As the dance music resumed, Martin resumed practicing the machine gun dance.
Bruce, standing alongside Robert with his hands in his pockets, watched Martin's superb moves and suddenly commented, "I now believe this lousy piece of shit outshone the producer with sheer talent."
Robert, perplexed, asked, "What do you mean by sheer talent?"
Bruce replied, "It's better if you don't know. Ignorance might be easier on your self-esteem."
In the afternoon, the first zombie machine gun dance routine came to a close. After Annie taught Robert some disassembly moves to enhance his body's flexibility, she led Martin to familiarize himself with the second dance.
"This one is a group dance," Annie described animatedly. "We call it the Dance of the Demons."
Martin remarked skeptically, "That doesn't sound quite right to me."
As a dedicated artist, Annie assured him, "You'll understand when you see it."
She shouted backstage, "Ladies, come on out!"
"Dad!"
Almost in unison, eighteen towering "ladies" in stockings rushed onto the stage, forming a circle around Martin and Annie. Led by two blondes, they swooped in while sliding and kneeling.
At first glance, it seemed like a floral spectacle!
Upon closer inspection, Martin was flabbergasted. These individuals had long wigs, prosthetic makeup, and elongated stockings, complete with furry tails.
Some of them hadn't even shaved their beards!
It was as if flowers were in full bloom.
Anne clarified, "Today is just a rehearsal."
Martin couldn't help but admit, "It truly is a chaotic Dance of the Demons."
One could only conclude that this was indeed a horror-comedy dance extravaganza.