jeriendhal | Strange John Cleese dream

Dreamed of a John Cleese movie that doesn't exist, with him playing the manager of a huge Dunston Checks In style hotel, who is the sort of uptight stereotypical British neat freak perfectionist that he can play in his sleep. Not quite Basil Fawlty insane, but a major prick. Does things like have his faithful minion shift a vase five centimeters to the right ("That's CENTIMETERS! Not INCHES!") so the protagonist, a bellhop at pepetual war with him, can smack into it as he comes tumbling down the stairs. He also fills the lobby with hoitie-toitie classical music, Mozart, Bach, Beetoven, which Our Hero, the Hip Hop/Rap/Disney Tie-in Singer lover, loathes, especially since it's all the boring pieces designed to lull guests to sleep.

The bellhop spends most of the movie avoiding abuse, but every scene he also manages to shift a little something that Cleese's character doesn't notice, setting up a massive Rube Goldberg wave of destruction that nearly brings the hotel down at the climax.

Just before he starts it though, he hooks his i-pod up to the lobby PA system, and starts playing the music he downloaded the night before with the help of his girlfriend, Aaron Copland's Fanfare for the Common Man.