There Should Be a Depeche Mode Musical Right Away
Mr. Martin Gore
The Great Band Depeche Mode
9350 Civic Center Drive
Beverly Hills, CA 90210
Dear Mr. Gore:
Take a quick break from being a music legend and crafting a new crop of SLAP BANGERS, or maybe performing your back catalog of SLAP BANGERS, to consider these FOUR simple words...
BLACK CELEBRATION: THE MUSICAL
Depeche Mode’s great. And BLACK CELEBRATION is lowkey the greatest album. The tracks of Fête Noire (I am pretty sure that’s how you say BLACK CELEBRATION in FRENCH) are radio-UNDERPLAYED yet DEEP in dark zeitgeisty Mode-JO. They SLAP BANG in just the sort of way that seems like it tells a STORY we NEED to HEAR. ERGO! There should be a BLACK CELEBRATION stage musical IN THIS VERY MOMENT.
AND! I got IDEAS for it.
SIDE NOTE: even GREEN DAY got a musical. Who ARE those guys? They just got here last WEEK. You guys invented synthesizers, and the whole DECADE of the 80’s.
I went back and watched some ’86 interviews about the themes of BLACK CELEBRATION. Lust. Isolation. Mortality. Disillusionment with modern LIFE. Urban and technological alienation. DARKNESS. Despair. Also, LUST. I think I said that before, but I want to be SURE.
That’s GOOD STUFF! Immediately, OBVIOUSLY, I’m thinking… MUSICAL!
Plotwise, it does NOT need a PLOT. But since people will be all “MWAH, what’s the PLOT?” I suppose we give them one. So, for a start, there’s no use trifling with all the other PLOT possibilities that don’t have a single APOCALYPSE in them. Gotta be apocalyptic or NO ONE even gets outta BED nowadays.
Also, it should probably mostly follow the original ALBUM flow. Start on BLACK CELEBRATION and END on BUT NOT TONIGHT, a flow that says “we ain’t goin’ quietly into that dark night, but instead will RAGE against the proverbial dying of the LIGHT.” I can’t help but sneak a couple other DMode SLAP BANGERS in there, though, because they are essential to the PLOT and also essential to the show’s overall SLAP BANGERRY.
SIDE NOTE: I’m not jockeying to direct. Or even WRITE. I’m more of an “IDEA GUY.” You should get the dude who did HAMILTON to take it from here. He’s GREAT. Me? I’m OUT right after the signature line below.
KEY INGREDIENTS OF BLACK CELEBRATION, THE MUSICAL:
A THEATER or STADIUM that looks like it’s been bombed and sort of hastily cobbled together again. We might be able to do this at WEMBLEY using HOLOGRAMS. I’d like to avoid having to bomb, and then sort of hastily and shabbily REBUILD, WEMBLEY.
A lighting system sufficient to create both a BROODING dystopian NIGHT VIBE and also the effect of full Palm Springs DAYTIME.
A set with a WORLD that’s some cross between Gattaca, Hunger Games, The Road, and Blade Runner. For whatever reason, I’m also seeing SAVED BY THE BELL.
Actors who can SING (or, I suppose, singers who can ACT, I’m not sure which is more IMPROBABLE)
A clove-scented VAPOR cloud generator that can also generate clouds of PURE oxygen mixed with (possibly or mostly legal) mood-enhancing CHEMICALS
The most KICKASS sound system in the history of stage THEATER—flirting with tectonic at times, such that spectators clutch their COJONES (that’s Spanish for BALLS) if they HAVE any and if they do NOT they should really be THANKFUL. Venue may need seismic RETROFITS. Like I say, the best way to describe the sound system is TESTICULAR.
Souvenirs and a solid WINE bar are a given (we need to MONETIZE the knuckleheads who aren’t serious about actually watching the SHOW who will be stuck in the lobby until HALFTIME)
THE PLOT OF BLACK CELEBRATION, THE MUSICAL:
Like I say, I don’t want to BORE you with details of “PLOT” or “CHARACTERS.” I’ll hit a few highlights of what may kinda OCCUR. Think star-crossed LOVERS. Super-HOT overthrowing of post-apocalyptic dystopian REGIME. Leather. Rubber. Metal. You know, a BLACK CELEBRATION.
PRELUDE:
Important! Theater lights cut with NO warning at 8:06pm (because album released in ’86!). Screw anyone not in their SEATS—I hate people who dally in the lobby getting their THIRD Chardonnays. Lights flicker in that unsettling way that seems like the entire municipal power GRID is failing. Everyone sits in darkness for FIVE minutes wondering if its intentional or an actual blackout. Somewhere in the distance a broken TOY piano plays a demented foreshadowing refrain of BUT NOT TONIGHT. Tinkling is slowly subsumed by the growing thunder of the intro to…BLACK CELEBRATION. The title track.
Holy SHIT, this ain’t CATS, kids! It’s about to get real. This first few minutes is so good you could end right NOW and it’d be worth the $480 nosebleed ticket. People may flee never to return. GOOD!
ACT 1
Scene 1: BLACK CELEBRATION DROPS
The city gathers for a compulsory ritual celebrating control, order, technological “PROGRESS.” Dread hums beneath the spectacle. Two LOVERS lock eyes across the crowd, sensing something forbidden (‘cuz love IS). Massive public square. Soviet brutalism, Tokyo-glowing screens, holographic propaganda, citizens marching in choreographed patterns. This is SO 1984 meets 1986. In 2026+. Audience, SLACKJAWED.
Scene 2: WE ARE ALL FLIES ON “THE MAN’S” WINDSCREEN
A sterile, glass-walled chamber with mechanized lifts and screens broadcasting executions to the MASSES. Death normalized through public spectacle, framed as civic hygiene. Pretty grim but HEY, you ever seen what happens to FLIES on windscreens?
Scene 3: NO QUESTION IT’S LUST
Rooftop with cracked concrete, overgrown WEEDS, discarded furniture. Skyline dominated by looming skyscrapers and flickering billboards. The LOVERS’ LOVE blossoms in the midst of dystopian nightmare, driven by urgency NOT trust. Desire becomes their form of rebellion. Super HOT, right?
SIDE NOTE: If you don’t do this I’m taking this right to Nine Inch NAILS I’m pretty sure they did a couple albums that copied most of this and the probably have all the leather and CHAINS and stuff we need.
Scene 4: STRANGELOVE PEOPLE ARE STRANGE
Dimly lit warehouse, pulsing neon tubes and mechanical sounds ECHO; shadows of other lovers and dancers flicker against walls. Love turns consuming, destabilizing as our LOVERS cling to each other, risking all to feel something real. STRANGELOVE isn’t on BLACK CELEBRATION but it’s a SLAP BANGER and its risky erotic heartbeat reframes love as compulsion and resistance. DUH.
Scene 5: SOMETIMES WE QUESTION EVERYTHING
Small, crumbling apartment filled with candles; outside, the CITY hums and DRONES. They sing SOMETIMES idly in the quiet aftermath, imagining a gentler life untouched by fear or surveillance. In some way, the simplicity of the DREAM terrifies them more than violence ever did. Because BORING, right? Hey, I noticed the word “QUESTION” shows up on this album a TON. WHY?
Scene 6:IT DOESN’T MATTER. OR DOES IT?
Cold server room filled with blinking lights, wires, humming machines; the GLOW reflects faces. One Lover reveals his complicity in sustaining the REGIME up to now, the other insists that LOVE can begin in broken places. Then I realized… it doesn’t MATTER. It’s like on reality TV, people always think they can FIX people.
Scene 7: TIME IS TICKING
Hidden underground bunker, metallic walls covered in maps, screens, cables; air vibrates with urgency and TENSION. The resistance accelerates its halfass PLAN to collapse the regime’s central network. The LOVERS must choose between their mission or escaping and preserving their LOVE. Clock’s-a-TICKIN’.
Lights go up abruptly it’s “HALFTIME”. You read that right. Half. GEEZUS, the clowns out in the lobby that spent Act I getting soused on chardonnay really BLEW it.
ACT II
Scene 8: STRIPPED. LITERALLY.
Empty streets and crumbling factories; wind blows dust and debris while the neon GLOW fades in the distance. The LOVERS flee the city, shedding identities, functions, and fear as surveillance falls away. Without structure, they rediscover themselves as human BEINGS rather than roles. A REBIRTH.
Most importantly, the full frontal NUDITY in this scene ensures the viral social media publicity we so desperately NEED. Green Day had ZERO nudity, as far as I know.
Scene 9: HERE IS THE HOUSE
High-rise with shattered windows and exposed pipes; candles, old furniture, murals of human FACES create warmth amid DECAY. They retreat to a fragile sanctuary amidst chaos. Intimacy becomes defiance as they decide their comfort is shallow and short-lived unless they ACT.
Scene 10: BLASPHEMOUS RUMOURS BROADCAST
High-tech broadcast tower atop a skyscraper, cables dangling, lights flashing. Wind whips as their images and the regime’s atrocities play across the city’s SCREENS. All-time #1 DMode SLAP BANGER (I know, also not on Fête Noire but I need it for the PLOT and for the SLAP BANG) signals the existential breaking POINT. Faith in systems, FATE, even LOVE is nearly destroyed before the LOVERS choose each other. The pivotal scene that sharpens the stakes and DESPAIR.
The LOVERS risk their lives to commandeer the city’s central broadcast tower, exposing the regime’s crimes and lies to MILLIONS. The song underscores the tragedy and absurdity of the world: leaders LIE, faith fails, yet their courage sparks the first flickers of rebellion among citizens. A state-orchestrated “safety initiative” kills innocents and is broadcast as PROGRESS. Public faith collapses into grief, rage, bitter LAUGHTER at the idea of divine or ideological meaning.
Heavy.
Scene 11: WORLD FULL O’ NADA
Streets littered with overturned vehicles, flickering billboards, and wandering citizens beginning to reclaim AUTONOMY.
Scene 12: DRESSED IN BLACK
Rooftop of a towering skyscraper at NIGHT, wind whipping against them. Below, the city’s NEON grid seems both oppressive and distant.
A giant cloud of nostalgic CLOVE cigarette VAPOR wafts across the audience. Not sure why, just feeling’ it.
Scene 13: NEW DRESS
Streets bathed in the pale light of DAWN. Citizens walk freely, peeling off uniforms, turning off devices, reclaiming space. The REGIME collapses fully as citizens embrace freedom, inspired by the broadcast and the LOVERS’ defiance. Screens go DARK, and the streets fill with real HUMAN connection.
Scene 14: BUT NOT TONIGHT. IF EVER.
Wide-open rooftop terrace overlooking a softened, waking CITY. Gentle sunlight and the sound of WIND replace screens and ALARMS. Morning arrives softly, imperfect but free of ritualized despair. LOVERS walk forward together, knowing that choosing each other was the most radical choice possible.
The ROOF of the theater (or Wembley, if that’s where we do this) slides open to reveal the SKY. The theater lights create the effect of daylight, using specialized lighting powerful enough to offset the effects of Seasonal Affective Disorder at SCALE. The clove machine is now pumping PURE oxygen and traces of maybe LEGAL pharmaceuticals into the audience—I suggest a bit more research into BOTH legal and medical matters here.
FADE OUT. Whole city is singing that BUT NOT TONIGHT refrain. So is the AUDIENCE. They are now on low doses of something like MDMA. They are feeling really, really GOOD that is for SURE.
STANDING O.
Jumping, singing, standing O.
Audience walks out of the theater, parades around the block singing, walks back in and makes you do the whole show AGAIN. Many have DISROBED by now.
Morons still in the lobby ordering chardonnays, who CARES, we make huge MARGINS on that stuff. The real fans are inside, SOBER. Except for whatever’s in the VAPOR.
Anyway, think about it.
Fragile Like a Baby In Your Arms,
PHINEAS BLING
PS: YES, you CAN be in it. I envision you as The Chancellor. Sort of the Big Brother who’d be omnipresent, like that guy in the APPLE ad that gets the hammer thrown at him. Except! No HAMMER this time.
