I thought I was pretty mad when I heard that Footloose was becoming a new musical film. Oh no, that was nothing. Child's play, or rather, anger. It doesn't come close to the rage I feel now, which has made its way into my veins and numbed me to my fingers and toes.

There are some things you just don't touch, and one of them is Heathers.

The Hollywood Reporter posts that the man behind Reefer Madness: The Musical and Race to Witch Mountain, Andy Fickman, has teamed up with Reefer partner Kevin Murphy to bring Heathers: The Musical to the stage. It seems that they're currently working on the lyrics and book, and have the blessing of Daniel Waters, who has seen some of the readings. Yes, there have been readings, and to add insult to injury, the lovely Kristen Bell has been voicing Veronica Sawyer ... with Christian Campbell voicing JD, and the three Heathers reinvisioned with Jenna Leigh Green, Corri English, and Christine Lakin. (They aren't, as of now, signed on to star in the musical. So far, it's just readings.)

Some adaptations can rock the musical world, but usually when they're intimate, home-grown productions -- at least to start. I can't begin to describe the magic that is Evil Dead: The Musical. But there's a world of difference between a blood splatter fest with catchy tunes that started in a small, neighborhood theater, and an almost-straight to Broadway, lavish production of teenage suicide that thinks it will be so very.

In the words of Big Fun: DON'T DO IT.

Christian Slater is Jason Dean. Winona Ryder is Veronica Sawyer.

Heathers
is a specific and careful bubble-gum-colored world, and it just can't live in the same light on Broadway. Singing about proper use of the word myriad will send the Heathers world into the ridiculous. What, are JD and Veronica going to sing their way into strip croquet? Will Martha Dumptruck get an "I'd Like That" song? Fickman has already said: "'I love my dead gay son.' If you can get that into a song, then that is just perfect.'"

Perfect? No. Perfection would be allowing this wonderful film to exist on its own -- to revel in its art rather than try to replicate it. The white whale should drink some bad plankton and splash into a coffee table. I shudder to imagine what will become of the language...

F--k me gently with a chainsaw.

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