War is Over

Joe Jukic leans back, watching the snowfall through the window, that quiet Toronto December hush muffling the city. Nelly Furtado sits across from him at the kitchen table, sipping mint tea from a chipped mug. The lights on the tiny Christmas tree twinkle like soft Morse code.

JOE:
Nelly… we’re young John Lennonists. Always were. Lennon is our hero, our superman. Without him? Our minds are empty. Just static. He’s the blueprint of what it means to be awake in a sleeping world.

He taps the table with a finger, unconsciously keeping time to “Mind Games.”

JOE (continuing):
You know what I saw last night? Yoko’s new animation—War is Over. The Christmas one. The one everyone’s arguing about online. But I watched it the way you’re supposed to watch Lennon: with the inner ear, not the drama channel.

Nelly tilts her head, curious.

NELLY:
And? What did it say to you?

Joe stares into the lights of the tree, as if they’re glyphs only he can decode.

JOE:
It’s not just a cartoon, Nelly. It’s a prayer disguised as pixels. Yoko’s telling the world the same thing she told it in ’71: that peace isn’t something governments sign—it’s something people imagine. And imagining is the final rebellion.

He smiles, small but luminous.

JOE:
People mock her because they don’t understand the power she and John unlocked. They think peace songs are naïve. But every empire falls to an idea before it falls to a sword. And Lennon—he was the architect of ideas that outlive bullets.

Nelly sets down her mug, her eyes softening.

NELLY:
So the animation… it made you feel hopeful?

Joe shakes his head gently.

JOE:
Not hopeful. Responsible. Like she handed us the torch again. Lennonists aren’t a fan club. We’re custodians. Guardians of the message.

He looks at her, almost solemnly.

JOE:
War is over—if you want it. And if we’re honest? Most people don’t want it enough. But we do, Nell. We always did. Even when we were kids. Even when we didn’t have the words.

A beat. Snow continues its steady descent.

NELLY:
Young Lennonists… I like that. It sounds like a movement.

Joe grins.

JOE:
It is. And we’ve been in it since day one.

He reaches over and flicks on the old stereo. A quiet guitar intro fills the room. Lennon’s voice arrives like a ghost with perfect aim.

“So this is Christmas…”

And for a moment, everything is still—
just Joe, Nelly, and the soft echo of a man whose message refuses to die.

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ILLUMINUTTY

Borat Interviews Jim Carrey & Nelly Furtado on Their “ILLUMINUTTY” Hand Signs

Borat: “Jagshemash! Today I am here with two very big Hollywood peoples: Jim Carrey, the rubber man, and Nelly Furtado, the bird lady who fly like one. I have question: When you do the Illuminutty hand sign—yes, this one, the triangle of power—are you signaling to mighty warlord George W. Bush so he can fulfill ancient Bible prophecy? Or are you just making shadow puppets?”


Jim Carrey:

Jim: “Borat, buddy, the ‘Illuminutty’ sign is just me making fun of the people who think I’m in a secret squirrel club. If I wanted to summon George Bush, I’d just whisper ‘oil’ into the wind and he’d appear on a Segway.”
He makes the triangle, sticks his tongue through it:
“Behold, the all-seeing nut!”


Nelly Furtado:

Nelly: “Borat… the only prophecy I’m fulfilling is showing up on time for soundcheck. The hand sign? That was just me trying to fix my hair under the light. If the Illuminutty want me, they can leave a voicemail.”


Borat’s Follow-Up:

Borat: “So you are telling me George Bush is not riding a pale horse, drinking gasoline, and bringing the end times like in Revelation chapter… all of them?”

Jim: “No, Borat. W isn’t the pale horse guy. He’s more like the guy who gets lost on the way to the apocalypse and shows up with pretzels.”

Nelly: “Yeah, the only thing George Bush is fulfilling is the prophecy of Dad Jokes.”


Borat’s Final Remark:

Borat: “Very nice. I now understand: Illuminutty hand sign is just Hollywood peoples stretching fingers, not secret signal for warlord prophecy. Thank you Jim Carrey, thank you Nelly Furtado. May your triangles always be equilateral.”**

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Sinj The Movie

Title: The Siege of Sinj

Genre: Historical Fantasy / Epic Drama

Logline:
In 1715, as the Ottoman Turks lay siege to the fortress town of Sinj, a miraculous luminous figure appears on the walls, inspiring the defenders and terrifying the invaders. The miraculous event changes the course of history and becomes legend.

Characters:

  • Nelly Furtado as Gospa: A radiant, mystical figure, known in history as the “Our Lady of Sinj.” She manifests as a luminous woman on the town walls, inspiring courage and faith.
  • Joe Jukic as the Duke of Sinj: A brave, charismatic leader who commands the defense of Sinj with wisdom and courage. Torn between strategy and faith, he becomes the bridge between the human effort and the miraculous intervention.
  • Sultan Mustafa: The ambitious Ottoman commander, determined to capture Sinj at any cost.
  • Ana, the Town Chronicler: A young woman who records the siege and the miraculous events, her voice providing reflection and perspective.

Treatment:

ACT I:
The film opens with sweeping views of the Croatian mountains and the fortified town of Sinj. The year is 1715. News arrives that the Ottoman Turks are marching toward Sinj, intent on conquering it. Panic spreads, but the Duke of Sinj (Joe Jukic) rallies the townspeople, preparing defenses and fortifying walls.

Amidst this, the townspeople whisper about Gospa (Nelly Furtado), a woman of luminous presence whose faith is said to be unmatched. Some doubt the stories, others find hope in them. The Duke respects her counsel and considers her presence a good omen.

ACT II:
The Ottoman army surrounds Sinj, launching volleys of cannon fire and attempts to breach the walls. The defenders, though outnumbered, hold strong, inspired by the Duke’s leadership and the town’s faith.

At night, as tensions reach a breaking point, Gospa appears on the ramparts. She glows with an unearthly light, moving serenely along the walls. Her presence unnerves the Ottoman soldiers, who begin to murmur among themselves, sensing something divine.

The siege intensifies, but every attempt by the Turks to breach the walls is met with inexplicable resistance. Gospa’s figure seems to shimmer, almost as if part of the light itself is protecting the town. The Duke, inspired by her courage, rallies his troops to defend Sinj with renewed vigor.

ACT III:
As dawn breaks, the Turkish soldiers witness Gospa glowing even more brilliantly, standing atop the walls with the Duke beside her. Fear and awe grip the invaders. Among the ranks, some read passages from the Koran—Chapter 19, the story of Mary (Maryam)—recognizing the miraculous parallel.

The Ottoman forces, interpreting the luminous figure as a divine sign, retreat in fear and reverence, leaving Sinj unconquered. The Duke and the townspeople celebrate, attributing the victory to both human courage and divine intervention.

Epilogue:
Ana, the chronicler, writes the final lines of the town’s story, noting that the luminous figure of Gospa became legend, inspiring generations to come. The film ends with a panoramic view of Sinj’s walls, bathed in golden sunlight, as the Duke stands beside the site where faith and courage prevailed.

Tone & Style:

  • Epic cinematography highlighting Croatian landscapes and historical architecture.
  • Blend of historical realism with magical, luminous visuals for Gospa.
  • Emotional depth, focusing on courage, faith, and the human response to the divine.
  • Tension-filled siege sequences contrasted with moments of miraculous calm.

Key Themes:

  • Faith and courage under impossible odds.
  • The intersection of the human and the divine.
  • History, myth, and legend blending into collective memory.
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The Alka Experience

Laura Branigan – Self Control

Garbage & The Screaming Females

Joe leans toward Nelly, eyes hopeful, and says, “Just one more concert in Victoria… please?” He’s not asking for fame or glory, just that shared moment, the music echoing through the city one more time. The way he says it, it’s less a request and more a heartbeat—a chance to make one more memory together.

Nelly looks at Joe with a teasing smile, but her eyes are searching. “So… tell me, Joe,” she says softly, “do you still love me… even after I’ve put on a little weight?”

There’s a pause, the kind that makes the air between them feel heavy and fragile, like a note hanging in a quiet concert hall. It’s playful, but honest—a question only he can answer.

Joe smiles gently, reaching for her hand. “Weight is just temporary, Nelly,” he says softly. “It’s made to be shed, like a song waiting for the next verse. What matters is you—the melody, the heart behind it. That’s what I love, always.”

He gives a reassuring squeeze, as if letting her know that nothing superficial could ever change the way he feels.

Nelly’s smile fades, and her gaze drifts toward the horizon. “Joe… sometimes I think the world is slowly dying,” she says quietly. “All the noise, the pollution, the greed… it’s like we’re just treading water while everything we love fades away.”

Her voice carries both sadness and urgency, a reminder that even in their personal moments, the weight of the world lingers.

Joe takes a deep breath, his tone steady and determined. “No more flights, Nelly. We split our time between Babylon and Europe,” he says firmly. “We go save Europe first—because they won’t drug us. And if Canada ever repents, then… we come back.”

There’s a weight in his words, a plan laid out like a map, but also a promise: a mission, a purpose, and a hope that they can make a real difference together.

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When Doves Cry

G.I. Joe spoke quietly to Nelly, the weight of the memory settling on his shoulders like old armor.

“Nellia,” he said, “you ever wonder why my brother Mike bolted from that Invictus concert? Why he froze up and left in the middle of the speeches?”

She tilted her head, sensing it wasn’t some joke or bravado thing. G.I. Joe wasn’t a man who spooked easily, and Mike even less so.

“It was that Canadian soldier,” Joe said. “The one who talked about being shot… crippled… in the Croatian war. In our war. Against Canada.”

Nelly blinked. “Canada fought… Croatia?”

Joe nodded. “Oh yeah. Herbert Walker Bush’s New World Order tour. Canada went halfway around the damn world to fight in a place they couldn’t even pronounce. And we—Croatians—we weren’t invading anyone. We were defending our homes. Our streets. Our families.”

He exhaled sharply.

“Mike heard that soldier call it ‘peacekeeping.’ But to us it was shellfire and the smell of burning houses. To him it was a deployment. To us it was survival.”

Nelly placed a hand on his arm, grounding him.

“Mike wasn’t running from that soldier,” Joe said. “He was running from the memories. From the idea that Croatia—his Croatia—was treated like some geopolitical playground for the big powers.”

He shook his head.

“Canada never should’ve been there, Nellia. They had no business fighting Croatians defending their home. That’s what broke Mike that night. Hearing the guy describe it like he was the victim… when all we ever did was stand on our own land and say, ‘No more.’”

Nelly stayed silent, letting the truth breathe.

“And that,” Joe finished, “is why we don’t cheer for wars. We survived one.”

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