“Hollywood has always been a cage … a cage to catch our dreams.”

— John Huston

I just got a a call from my Hollywood agent. “You’re sitting on a gold mine, J.P. You’ve got the perfect cast for any Hollywood remake on demand. Remember,” she said, “The average citizen, Democrat, Republican or Socialist, is first and foremost a movie fan. Make it happen, kid.”

So I need to frame these guys visually. I could be very partisan, but what fun would that be? I’ll go with the old Hollywood type-casting. It’s unfair and cruel, actors hate it and it hurts feelings, but it’s fast and cheap. In other words, it’s Hollywood.

We’re all going bananas with this boring debating. We need to juice it up. Let’s play the casting game.

For example: If I were asked to recast the old “Honeymooners” show that starred Jackie Gleason, Audrey Meadows and Art Carney, it would be the easiest money I could make.

I would make a call at once to Chris Christie to play Ralph, and Hillary for the part of the nagging but smarter wife, Alice. We would have the wonderful and unforgettable Kramdens, and who for Art Carney’s Norton? Who, given the signature hat and vest, would be better than poor Jeb? I said it was going to be cruel. Remember, there are only a few players left, so we’re going to have to double cast.

If the Weinstein Co. hired me to cast a big, new movie about the infamous Spanish Inquisition, who better to cast in the role of the Grand Inquisitor of Spain, the most evil Tomas de Torquemada? The formidable Rafael Edward Cruz. Who else?

How could he turn down the chance to wear black leather and red garments, and be assisted by a darling young altar boy (Marco Rubio) in high Cuban heels, strolling into the dungeon cell of the unrepentant sinner (Rand Paul)? Of course, Rubio, as the altar boy, would steal the scene by swiping a swig of Torquemada’s holy water in the middle of the confession. Love it.

And isn’t it time for a remake of “The Music Man”? Of course it is. Americans of all political stripes love “The Music Man.”

We’re betting that soon Donald The Trump would be available and hunger for the role of Professor Harold Hill. The Donald would fit perfectly into the bandleader’s costume. Trump was born to sashay down the main street of River City, after having fleeced the kiddies of their lunch money for fake instruments. Yessir! There’s trouble in River City, and it starts with a T for TRUMP!

If I could borrow Carly Fiorina from her role as Cruella de Vil. I would love to have her beguile the Music Man as his lover, librarian Marian Paroo. Delicious.

In the enviable position of being the only woman in the game, Fiorina’d be available for a plethora of roles in a variety of remakes — for example, Desdemona to Dr. Carson’s Othello. (Remember your Shakespeare? Carson as Othello gets to strangle her with a scarf.)

I would also love to cast Carly as Darth Vader’s long dead mother in the next “Star Wars.” But there’s a greater role coming up. Be patient.

And let’s not forget that great Vermonter from Brooklyn, Bernie Sanders, who has mesmerized that 18-to-24 age bloc of kiddies who are notable for not showing up to vote. Bernie has suddenly become their favorite Gramps in “You Can’t Take It With You.” Why not?

But I think I’ve been topped. She, who still has a place in her heart for that dearest of old great movies, “The Wizard of Oz,” has submitted her own perfect remake. She’s got the perfect cast, but we’re gonna have to drag a few drop-outs back in to fill the bill.

Here’s how She sees it: Hillary as Dorothy, in darling gingham, pigtails and those Wall Street red slippers. Chris Christie filling the suit as the Cowardly Lion. Bobby Jindal in Reynolds Wrap from head to toe as the Tin Man. John Kasich, tap dancing as the Scarecrow. Lindsey Graham in adorable drag as Glinda the Good Witch, and there she is, wait for it, drum roll. All green-faced and decked out in black, Ms. Carly Fiorina, upstaging everyone as The Wicked Witch.

Wait a minute, we’re missing someone. Pull back the green curtain and let The Donald take a bow as the Great Oz, the biggest faker in childhood literature, ready for his closeup.

He’d give up the White House for the Emerald City. Grease up that yellow brick road, put that giant “TRUMP” atop the emerald towers, and roll those cameras.

Popcorn, anyone?

J.P. Devine is a Waterville writer. His book, “Will Write for Food,” is a collection of some of his best Morning Sentinel columns.