Three buddies with less-than-zero prospects get their big break when they're cast by a cult in a biopic that is short on production but LOOOONG on cult. It's a match made in a Heaven where the clouds are cigarette smoke, the angels wear hot pants, God is a day-drinking egomaniac, and a lot of people might die. The buddies will have to kiss dreams goodbye to have any shot at saving their friendship and their lives.

SYNOPSIS:

A compound in the SoCal desert. BART STANTON (31) stands onstage half-naked, small bits of latex dangling from his fire-red hair, facing a saucer-eyed audience of Septuagenarian Cultists holding flutes of poisoned champagne & bags of cash. Bart toasts: “to the next billion years...” BOOM! An ice cream truck bursts through an upstage wall. GENE PORTNOY (32) leans out the driver side and says, “get in!” CRUNCH! The truck slams into a wall, its rear axle collapsing.

One week ago: 1980's Hell's Kitchen. Bart and his two pals are outta work, outta money, and about to be out on their asses. Something's gotta change. Bart needs to focus, be strong, stop trying to be a people pleaser. He needs to be a tiger. Through a boozy fluke, they get the low-down on a call for a blockbuster biopic of the Founder of a cult. Bart tries he new MO. It works! They are cast! Bart is the lead! They're snatched away to the SoCal compound. But the aroma of this flick carries subtle notes of “in-house shitshow”. It's written, directed, produced (and key-gripped) by DANIEL MASTERY (57), the cult's incurably puffed-up acting leader; and crewed by his eccentric, abused flunkies. Daniel has placed all his eggs (and money) into this basket, hoping to remake himself into a Hollywood force.

There's hazing. There's Kremlin-level intrigue involving cult members. There's a love interest with a member of cult royalty. Bart's pals start to sour. Not Bart: this is the dream they've used to justify every moment of their shitty New York existence! Bart severs himself from his pals, even as the production grinds into disaster. Blinded by his dedication, Bart doesn't see that Daniel has dumped this vanity turd of a film in order to nudge him into a darker plot line: one with no cameras, but plenty of Heaven's-Gate-type finality. There will be guns. There will be car chases. There will be a ice cream truck with a 40-gallon drum of lube. Bart may have to give up some things he thought he wanted in order to become the person he wants to be.