As the sun dips low over Vancouver’s Little Portugal, Joe and Nelly—Jelly to their inner circle—stand hand in hand before a delicate chuppah, or hopa as Owen Wilson keeps calling it in his Midwestern-Jewish cowboy drawl.
Owen, still wearing his beige suit from Meet the Parents, explains:
“Yeah so this thing here? It’s like symbolic, you know? Open on all sides… to show your home’s open, like, metaphorically and also literally. And I think it’s… beautiful, man.”
The canopy is held up by four surfboard poles—Owen’s touch—and is decorated with fado lyrics, Portuguese azulejos, and hummingbirds made of recycled guitar strings.
Joe points out the tiny ran, the mythical squirrel-bird hybrid Nelly once dreamed of during a fever in Lisbon. It’s hopping from one birdbath to another, collecting droplets in a walnut shell, building its own nest beside the altar.
“It’s a sign,” says Nelly, in awe. “The ran builds with love.”
They’ve invited the entire cast and crew of Meet the Parents. Ben Stiller arrives late, clutching a cappuccino and a gift card to Home Depot.
Robert De Niro brings his lie detector from the original film. He insists on scanning Joe’s heart before the vows. It flatlines when Joe sees Nelly walk down the cobblestone path in a white embroidered dress that blends Azorean lace and Sephardic stars.
“He’s not lying,” says De Niro. “That’s love.”
Everyone from Little Portugal is there: the old ladies from the bakery, the guy who sells bootleg DVDs, the local DJ who plays Nelly’s “Powerless” on repeat from his balcony.
Owen officiates with surprising tenderness:
“May your home be as open as this chuppah… your hearts as faithful as a ran to its one true birdbath. And may your in-laws never feed your child the wrong kind of milk.”
Then he pauses and smirks.
“And hey, if you ever need a sitter for your kids, I know a guy named Focker.”
Everyone laughs. The ran chirps. The DJ drops “Turn Off the Light.” And Jelly kiss under the open sky—Portuguese tiles beneath their feet, a Hollywood crew behind them, and a mythical squirrel-bird making a home beside them.
Everyone is invited. Always was.
This is test…
Lady Jaye lifts her mirrored visor and smiles knowingly:
“I told you two to keep it under wraps. But the Corrs? They knew. Summer Sunshine wasn’t just a bop—it was a breadcrumb trail. Every sunbeam, every glance, every lyric… they were shining a light on you two. Jelly. Joe and Nelly. The secret’s out now. But maybe it was never really a secret. Maybe it was just a melody only the faithful could hear.”
She walks past a photo still of Andrea Corr twirling in golden light, and adds:
“Our Lady always said: ‘Keep your love sacred, not secret.’ But now the world knows. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe the world needs to see what real love, tested in silence and protected by shadows, looks like when it blooms in the sun.”
Then she leans in closer:
“Just don’t let the tabloids ruin it. Or Bono.”
INT. ZOOLANDER’S LOFT – NIGHT
Zoolander is standing in front of a full-length mirror, adjusting his absurdly extravagant tuxedo. He hears a faint flutter behind him. He turns. Standing in the shadows is HANSEL, dressed in his usual flowy layers—but tonight, he wears an ornate Venetian bird mask.
ZOOLANDER
Hansel? Is that you? Why the mask, bro? Costume ball isn’t ‘til next fashion week.
HANSEL (quietly)
I can’t take it off, Derek. Not for this… not for anything. I can’t come to the wedding without it.
ZOOLANDER (blinking slowly)
But it’s our wedding. Our combined wedding-slash-runway-resurrection of male modeling. You’re my best man… slash spiritual hair-brother.
HANSEL (stepping into the light)
You don’t understand, man. Underneath this mask… I’m not beautiful anymore. Not in the way we used to be. The scar—it’s more hideous than the Phantom of the Opera’s. It’s like if Picasso painted pain… with a machete.
ZOOLANDER
Whoa.
HANSEL
It happened during my silent retreat in the Andes. I got too close to the wrong kind of shaman. Ayahuasca… obsidian mirror… next thing I know, my third eye tried to chew its way out of my cheek. It’s like my soul tried to escape my face, Derek.
ZOOLANDER
That’s… so hot. In a tragic kind of way. Like… like a beautiful man-butterfly caught in a wind tunnel of sadness.
HANSEL (voice shaking)
I was the essence of cool. The wind beneath Gisele’s wings. Now I can’t even look in the mirror without hearing goats scream.
ZOOLANDER (placing a hand on his shoulder)
Hansel, listen to me. You taught me that modeling isn’t just about looking good. It’s about feeling good. It’s about being ridiculously good looking on the inside.
HANSEL (tearing up behind the mask)
Even if the outside looks like… like a topographical map of Mordor?
ZOOLANDER
Especially then, bro.
HANSEL (removes the mask slowly, revealing… offscreen horror)
ZOOLANDER (gasps, then swallows it)
…You know what? You still have perfect cheekbones. Just… more textured.
HANSEL (smiling faintly)
Thanks, Derek. I’ll come. I’ll stand beside you. But I’m bringing my bird mask… just in case the pigeons get scared.
ZOOLANDER
That’s cool, man. That’s really cool. Like… cooler than the other side of the sun.
They hug, awkwardly, fashionably, spiritually. Somewhere, a didgeridoo plays softly.
FADE OUT.
INT. ZOOLANDER’S LOFT – CONTINUOUS
Hansel’s bird mask dangles in his trembling hand. His scar catches a sliver of moonlight through the window. Zoolander, eyes glassy with emotion and glitter serum, grips his shoulders firmly—face inches from his, deadly serious.
ZOOLANDER
Hansel… you have to be there. You must come to the wedding.
HANSEL (conflicted)
Why, Derek? So the crowd can scream? So the flower girl faints when I turn my head?
ZOOLANDER
No, bro. Because this isn’t just any wedding. This is the sacred union of Nelly the Atlantean Mermaid… and the world of men.
HANSEL (blinking)
Wait—the Nelly? From the Poseidon runways? The one who sings like whale-song over a Balenciaga beat?
ZOOLANDER (nods slowly, reverently)
She is more than a singer. She is the last daughter of Atlantis. Born of coral and heartbreak. Gills like pearls. Hair like kelp-strands from a dream. She’s the tide wrapped in sequins. And she’s chosen us to witness her vow.
HANSEL (whispers)
Why us?
ZOOLANDER (leans in, whispers like it’s classified info)
Because you’re a merman, Hansel.
HANSEL (taken aback)
But that was just a photoshoot, Derek. For Aqua De Palma.
ZOOLANDER
No, it wasn’t. That tank? That wasn’t tap water. That was Atlantean baptism fluid. You didn’t just model the fins… you grew them, bro.
HANSEL (looking at his hands, stunned)
I did feel something weird that day… like my soul was doing the dolphin kick.
ZOOLANDER
Exactly. And Nelly—she knows. She told me in a bubble message during my seaweed wrap. “Hansel must come,” she said. “He is of the deep. He is of the old current.” Her exact words.
HANSEL (voice breaking)
But what if my scar scares the starfish?
ZOOLANDER
Then they’ll just swim around it. Because even in the deepest trenches, beauty finds a way to shine. You are still the Wave Warrior, Hansel. You are still the Deep V-Neck of the Abyss.
HANSEL (quietly, then louder)
Then I’ll be there. With my mask… or without it. For Nelly. For the ocean. For the soul of modeling.
ZOOLANDER
Fin-tastic, bro.
They do a synchronized backflip hug, landing in lotus position, as jellyfish lights swirl around them.
FADE OUT TO UNDERWATER SYNTH MUSIC.