Logline: After a bizarre neurological incident, a chronically anxious office worker’s inner monologue splits into a chorus of relentlessly optimistic, jingle-singing personas—forcing her to confront the trauma she’s been “fine and dandy” about for decades.
Iris takes a leave of absence. She sees a neurologist (nothing physically wrong) and a therapist who specializes in dissociation. The Dandies don’t disappear—they fuse . Ifeelmyself Fine And Dandy 1
One Tuesday, while correcting a spreadsheet error (row 4,004, column F), she feels a “pop” behind her left eye. Suddenly, a small, tap-dancing version of herself in a vaudeville suit appears on her keyboard, singing: “Oh, the data’s misaligned / But I’m feeling fine and dandy! / Got a twitch behind my mind / But I’m feeling fine and dandy!” The Dandies don’t disappear—they fuse
Iris pauses. Smiles slightly. Says: “I’m… feeling myself. Fine. And dandy. But today, mostly just fine.” / Got a twitch behind my mind /
Psychological Dark Comedy / Surreal Drama Tone: Eternal Sunshine meets Severance meets Bo Burnham’s Inside – with musical numbers that are both catchy and deeply unsettling. Feature Outline Part 1: The Cracking IRIS (30s) is a data entry specialist at a bland corporation. Her life is a gray cube farm, beige sweaters, and silent commutes. Her catchphrase—to colleagues, her mom, her empty apartment—is always: “I feel fine and dandy!”
She walks to the breakroom. A colleague asks, “How are you?”