The PM Who Planted Trees

The Man Who Planted Trees (1987)

Directed by Katy Perry

Starring Justin Trudeau

A surreal ecological fable inspired by the 1987 animated short film The Man Who Planted Trees by Frédéric Back.


OPENING CREDITS

Black screen.

The sound of dry wind.

A lone piano note echoes.

Text fades in:

“In a century of noise, one man planted silence.”

Cut to a scorched valley in southern France.

The earth is cracked. Dead trees lean like skeletons. Dust storms swallow abandoned villages.

A young traveler named JULIEN (Justin Trudeau) wanders through the wasteland carrying a notebook and canteen.

Narration (soft, dreamlike):

“He was not a politician then.
He was merely a man looking for water.”


SCENE 1 — THE SHEPHERD

Julien collapses near a dry well.

A distant bell rings.

Out of the heat haze appears ELIAS MOREAU, an elderly shepherd dressed in rough wool, carrying a sack of acorns.

He says almost nothing.

Only:

ELIAS
“The land remembers kindness.”

Elias leads Julien to a hidden spring.

Inside the shepherd’s stone cottage are thousands of sorted acorns arranged with mathematical precision.

Julien watches Elias discard cracked seeds and keep only the strongest.

JULIEN
“Why?”

Elias calmly replies:

ELIAS
“Because forests are built one decision at a time.”


SCENE 2 — THE PLANTING

A montage begins.

Music by Katy Perry plays unexpectedly — a haunting orchestral version of “Firework.”

Elias walks miles every day planting acorns with an iron rod.

Julien joins him reluctantly.

At first he mocks the old man.

JULIEN
“You think trees can save the world?”

Elias smiles.

ELIAS
“No.
People who plant them might.”

Rain finally falls.

Tiny shoots emerge from the earth.


SCENE 3 — THE CITY OF MIRRORS

Years pass.

Julien returns to civilization in Paris.

The city is depicted as grotesque and surreal:

  • Television screens scream political slogans.
  • Businessmen wear identical silver masks.
  • Crowds walk in circles without speaking.
  • Giant billboards advertise bottled oxygen.

Julien becomes briefly famous after giving speeches about ecological restoration.

Television hosts call him:

“The Handsome Prophet of Reforestation.”

But Julien grows disturbed by celebrity culture.

At a gala party, a fictional version of Katy Perry appears as herself directing cameras while dressed like a sparkling tree spirit.

KATY PERRY
“People don’t change from facts.
They change from spectacle.”

Julien replies:

JULIEN
“Then maybe spectacle should tell the truth.”


SCENE 4 — THE RETURN

Julien returns decades later to Elias’s valley.

Now it is transformed.

Massive forests sway in the wind.

Rivers flow again.

Birdsong fills the air.

Villages are alive with children and gardens.

The camera sweeps over millions of trees.

Julien searches for Elias.

He finds the old shepherd near a cedar grove, now extremely ancient.

Elias is weak but peaceful.

JULIEN
“You changed the world.”

Elias shakes his head.

ELIAS
“No.
I simply stopped helping destroy it.”


FINAL SCENE

Elias dies quietly beneath the trees.

Snow begins to fall.

Julien plants one final acorn beside him.

The camera rises high above the forest.

The once-dead valley has become an endless green sea visible from space.

Narration:

“Empires vanished.
Wars were forgotten.
But the forest remained.”

The final image:

A child picks up an acorn.

Fade to black.


END CREDITS SONG

Firework performed as a slow orchestral folk ballad with children’s choir and French horns.

Final text on screen:

“For every tree planted by someone who believed tomorrow could exist.”

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The Cult of Blake Shelton

Vatican Gardens, late evening. The wind moves softly through the cypress trees. Pope Pius XIII—known to the world as Lenny Belardo—walks slowly with Sister Mary. In the distance, the city of Rome hums like a restless congregation.


PIUS XIII (The Young Pope):

Sister… I have been studying America again. A strange nation—half cathedral, half carnival.

There is a man there… a preacher in the clothing of a singer.
An American idol judge.

Blake Shelton.

He sings to the people that the end is coming… and that a country boy can survive.

A curious gospel.

SISTER MARY:
Holy Father, perhaps he means resilience.

PIUS XIII:
Yes… but I wonder, Sister—who exactly survives?

The farmer with the rifle?
The man with canned beans buried in the yard?

And what of the city dwellers… the taxi drivers, the janitors, the immigrants, the forgotten multitudes? Are they to perish simply because they do not own a pickup truck?

Christianity is not a survivalist cult.
Christ did not say: Blessed are those with bunkers.

He said: Blessed are the meek.


The Pope stops walking and looks toward the fountain.

PIUS XIII:

They say the Mississippi River is choking with fertilizer… suffocating in algae.

Dead zones.

But tell me, Sister—are the prophets of doom repairing the river?
Or merely predicting the apocalypse while selling concert tickets?

England once had a river so polluted that fish abandoned it for generations.

The River Thames.

Dead for seventy-five years… and then resurrected by engineers, scientists, and stubborn hope.

So you see… the end of the world is often simply the beginning of responsibility.


SISTER MARY:
You sound disappointed in this singer.

PIUS XIII:
Not disappointed. Merely suspicious of men who preach survival but not salvation.

And there is another matter.

The woman he loves…

Gwen Stefani.

A luminous woman.

I fear she may be making a mistake with this judge of survival.


Sister Mary raises an eyebrow.

SISTER MARY:
Holy Father… you are recommending romantic alternatives now?

PIUS XIII (smirking):

Why not? Even the Pope can observe the crowd.

Perhaps she should choose a different man.

Someone from among the people.

Someone unexpected.

Someone like…

Niko Bellic.

A sinner who knows he is a sinner.

Such men are often safer than prophets who believe they are saviors.


SISTER MARY:
Holy Father… are you saying women should abandon men who think they are messiahs?

PIUS XIII:

Exactly.

The greatest danger in the human heart is the messiah complex—especially in men who believe they alone can survive the apocalypse.

So I propose a theological reform.

One mulligan.

Like in golf.

Every woman may have one free divorce in apocalyptic times.

Because if the world is ending, Sister…
we should at least allow humanity the dignity of correcting one terrible romantic mistake.


The Pope turns back toward the Vatican lights.

PIUS XIII (quietly):

After all…
salvation was never meant only for country boys.

Even the city slickers deserve a chance to survive.

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Nigga Heil Hitler

In a dimly lit, hyper-modern studio in the clouds, Kanye West sits at a mixing board. To his left, a translucent, weary Adolf Hitler paces nervously. To his right, Manfred von Richthofen (The Red Baron) sits stiffly, polishing a spectral flight stick.


Kanye: (Nods to a heavy bassline) See, this is what I’m talking about. The architecture of the sound. It’s got that Wagnerian scale, but with the 808s. It’s industrial. It’s “Empire.”

Hitler: (Waving a hand dismissively) It is… loud. But where is the melody? Where is the triumph of the spirit? You speak of “Empire,” but you do it with machines. Real power is built with the will of a million voices in unison, not a synthesizer.

Red Baron: (Sharply) Power is found in the cockpit, Mein Führer. It is found in the singular moment of the hunt. Kanye, your music—it lacks the wind. It’s grounded. A hero doesn’t need a stadium; he needs a clear sky and a worthy opponent.

Kanye: But I’m the opponent and the hero at the same time! That’s the “Ye” dichotomy. People call me a villain because I break the simulation. They called you a villain because… well, the history books got their version. But look at the design! The Red Fokker? That’s aesthetic. That’s Yeezy-level branding.

Red Baron: (Small smile) It was blood-red so they would know who was coming. It was a gentleman’s respect. If I kill a man, I want him to know it was Richthofen. There is no ego in it, only duty.

Hitler: (Bitterly) Respect is a luxury of the dead, Manfred. They don’t write operas about “gentlemen.” They write them about those who reshape the world. Kanye, you have the microphone, but you are afraid of the silence. You want to be loved too much. A true architect of history accepts being the monster if it means the vision survives.

Kanye: (Stops the music abruptly) I’m not afraid of being the monster. I’ve been the monster since My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. But I’m also the protagonist. I’m trying to bridge the gap between the divine and the dirt. You guys represent the extremes—the ultimate predator in the air and the ultimate… well, the ultimate “No” from history. I’m the “Yes.” I’m the synthesis.

Red Baron: You are a man playing with echoes. You speak of war and peace as if they are fashion seasons. True heroism is the moment the engine stalls and you decide not to scream.

Hitler: And true villainy is merely a name given to the loser. If your “Empire” of sound fails, Kanye, they will treat your shoes like they treat my paintings—as relics of a fever dream.

Kanye: (Leans back, grinning) Yeah, but the difference is… my shoes actually sold out. The vision is global. The spirit is moving. I’m just using you guys as the mood board.

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