Decades before American Idol promoted its cavalcade of dubious talent, 1988–The Remake had already staked out that shaky terrain. A film–within–a–film, or perhaps more accurately without–a–film, Schmidt's no-showbiz spectacle concerns an ailing librarian (Ed Nylund) who's determined to restage Edna Ferber's Showboat, but with a vengeance: "I want to bring the stench of death to the musical comedy." The filmmakers rented a large hall in San Francisco and publicized an open audition. Across the seedy stage comes every manner of whacked–out performer: a nun who does a striptease, a dancing turtle, a drag queen singing the Beatles; they are infiltrated by recognizable San Francisco performance artists. Of course, the film gets no farther than the casting call, as the "actors" rebel against this showboating scam. 1988–The Remake doesn't mock its spectacle by preying on the curious cravings of the cast; rather, it explores the function of fantasy, offering a few fond words at film's end: "Be the star in your own life."