Something to dwell on: “Talking Babies” is it’s own genre. Look Who’s Talking, Look Who’s Talking Too, Baby Geniuses, Look Who’s a Baby Genius Too: Superbabies, even those commercials that are for auto insurance I think. PEOPLE LOVE TALKING BABIES! That is to say, people that you’ll never meet love talking babies. Maybe they all live in Middle America. Maybe they live on the moon. But they sure as hell don’t live anywhere near me, because I have never in my life met anyone who’s a fan of talking babies, much less someone who is not completely repulsed by the idea of a talking baby. But they’re out there. In droves. Scuttering around in the dark like so many cockroaches, ready to feast on talking baby movies.
I’ve got a genre pitch for you weird-minded freaks who like talking baby movies: movies where ADULTS act like BABIES. Let’s see how you like sitting in the theater for 90 minutes (or, hell, let’s be honest to our era, two hours and forty five minutes) watching adult human beings defecate in their pants while drooling, occasionally wailing for no discernable reason, putting car keys in their mouths, and being totally incapable of taking care of themselves at-freaking-all. How does it FEEL? How does it feel to have the tables TURNED? I’ve got treatments for two different franchises ready to go: Look Who Is Incapable of Basic Human Expression, and Grotesque Adult Imbeciles. I’m eagerly anticipating my millions.