Scripted reality spoof / ensemble comedy

A group of aspiring influencers, artists, “founders,” and highly confident unknowns move into a crumbling Venice Beach house after being “cast” in what they believe is the next evolution of Big Brother—a mysterious, high-stakes social experiment created by an unnamed, supposedly visionary producer. No one has actually met this producer. No one knows the rules. But everyone is absolutely certain this is their moment.

Instead, they’ve essentially checked themselves into a low-budget, sun-drenched version of a minimum-security prison… with better lighting and worse plumbing.

The house is falling apart, the rules arrive sporadically (if at all), and “production” communicates through cryptic texts, handwritten notes, and the occasional disembodied voice that may just be a speaker with a loose wire. The identity of the producer becomes an ongoing mystery, fueling endless theories within the house. Is this a genius social experiment? A viral marketing stunt? A tax write-off? Or did they all just answer the same sketchy casting call?

Inside, alliances form over cold brew and shared delusion. Rivalries ignite over fridge space, followers, and perceived screen time. Every minor inconvenience becomes a strategic crisis. Everyone performs constantly, convinced they are being watched, edited, and elevated to stardom… even as the situation grows increasingly questionable.

The confession booth—a cramped, overheated closet with a ring light duct-taped to the wall—is where the truth unravels. Here, cast members deliver wildly confident, deeply contradictory takes on what they think is happening. Each one believes they are outplaying the others. None of them can explain the game.

At its core, Venice Big House is a satire of influencer culture, reality TV, and the modern obsession with visibility. It asks a simple question: what happens when you lock a group of attention-seeking personalities in a house and tell them they’re part of something important… when they might not be?

And through Hollywood Crowd, the mystery deepens. Because someone is watching. The only question is who—and why