As 2007 draws to a close, I'm reminded that I have some essay ideas kicking around, unwritten. They didn't make it into the blahg in 2007, but since my 100-post goal has now been reached, I figure setting targets could work again in 2008.
Hence, a short list of things I'll write about in 2008:
1) Thoughts on Blade Runner, and the coming struggle to recognize the civil rights of AIs and other human-engineered intelligent life forms
2) What "Spectre of the Gun" says about violence, diplomacy and imperialism
3) the conclusion of "Journey to the Edge of Nowhere"
4) something special for the fifth anniversary of The Bleak House of Blahgs
See you next year!
Monday, December 31, 2007
Hall Full 'o Trash
The sad thing is, this is only about half of the trash I hauled away. I know I promised the film at 11, but I had to run out and renew my vehicle registration...darn sticker wouldn't stick so I had to go buy Crazy Glue. Promptly glued my fingers together in the parking lot. Eventually succeeded in placing 08 tag...glad I didn't glue it on upside down for 80.
New Year Padding Post
So very close to reaching 100 posts, a new Bleak House of Blahgs record. I feel terrible padding, but, dammit, what's a blog without pointless minutiae of interest only to myself?
I used my Future Shop gift certificates to pick up volumes 1, 2 and 3 of Warner's Camp Cult Classics collection. I can't wait to listen to the audio commentary on Queen of Outer Space. Now I can finally retire my old VHS copy.
I also bought The Bourne Ultimatum. Sylvia and I plan to watch it in lieu of going out for New Year's Eve. I'm just not up to a party this year...man, I wish I had a few more days off. Thank goodness I love my job, because it sure takes a lot out of a guy.
I used my Future Shop gift certificates to pick up volumes 1, 2 and 3 of Warner's Camp Cult Classics collection. I can't wait to listen to the audio commentary on Queen of Outer Space. Now I can finally retire my old VHS copy.
I also bought The Bourne Ultimatum. Sylvia and I plan to watch it in lieu of going out for New Year's Eve. I'm just not up to a party this year...man, I wish I had a few more days off. Thank goodness I love my job, because it sure takes a lot out of a guy.
Settlering Sylvia's Hash
A couple of days ago I picked up The Settlers of Catan and its two expansion sets (Seafarers of Catan and Cities and Knights of Catan). Jeff and Susan introduced us to the game when they came out for Michael Snyder's wedding last year, and since playing again with the geek crew a couple of months ago, I've been jonesing for my own set.
So Syvia and I played a couple of rounds two days ago; I won each game, but by just one point each time: 10-9, 10-9. Building the longest road was key to victory each time, though in the second game I caught a lucky development card, building the market for 1 victory point.
Sylvia's very good at putting together cities, though. I'm a little nervous...
So Syvia and I played a couple of rounds two days ago; I won each game, but by just one point each time: 10-9, 10-9. Building the longest road was key to victory each time, though in the second game I caught a lucky development card, building the market for 1 victory point.
Sylvia's very good at putting together cities, though. I'm a little nervous...
Moving Madness
After working all day and taking dozens of bags of trash to the dumpster (filling it to overflowing), I have saved some space in my closet and the living room. The main part of my office, however, is even more insane than usual. Film at 11...in the morning.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Symptoms of Consumeritis
Today, in the green wake of Giftmas, I've bagged and hauled away at least two dozen bags of garbage. Most of it's packaging, which I've accumulated and hoarded over a period of at least ten years. I kept the stuff mostly in anticipation of our next move, before realizing that I can just pick up some boxes a few days before the moving truck arrives.
My office is now a little less cluttered. Next, I'd like to install some new shelves so that I can properly store all my books. The mishmash of bookcases I have now is ugly and inefficient. They must go.
If anyone would like to join me at a book organizing/shelf building party sometime in the new year, just let me know. It should be amusing.
My office is now a little less cluttered. Next, I'd like to install some new shelves so that I can properly store all my books. The mishmash of bookcases I have now is ugly and inefficient. They must go.
If anyone would like to join me at a book organizing/shelf building party sometime in the new year, just let me know. It should be amusing.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Journey to the Edge of Nowhere, Part IV: All My Fading Yesterdays
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
As we drove northeast, I scanned the horizon for the smokestack I knew awaited us, a silent herald of the tiny mining town where I was born. And just before 5, there it was, belching smoke as it had for decades, as it might for decades more:
Earl poses with Flinty.
(On one occasion, we were on the lake when a severe storm hit, forcing us to land on a little island. Sean, an infant at the time, was placed underneath the boat.)
I had no idea where Grandma and Val’s house was located, but Cranberry Portage is so tiny that I only had to drive around for a couple of minutes before stumbling across it. And I discovered once again that time hadn’t waited for me. Not only had many of the town’s businesses closed, Grandma’s yard was much larger than I remember; as Val opened the gate for us so I could park, he explained that they’d bought the property next door and erected a new storage bay.
Grandma and Val.
Part 2
Part 3
As we drove northeast, I scanned the horizon for the smokestack I knew awaited us, a silent herald of the tiny mining town where I was born. And just before 5, there it was, belching smoke as it had for decades, as it might for decades more:
I don’t remember much about Flin Flon; I was very young when we moved north to Thompson. But I do have one memory, perhaps false: my earliest one.
In that memory – less real than any dream – I’m sitting on the kitchen counter, looking out the window, and there’s a cherry tree covered with blossoms. It’s sunset. I have a vague feeling that mom or dad or perhaps both of them were standing just behind me.
In that memory – less real than any dream – I’m sitting on the kitchen counter, looking out the window, and there’s a cherry tree covered with blossoms. It’s sunset. I have a vague feeling that mom or dad or perhaps both of them were standing just behind me.
A road carved through Canadian Shield bedrock, approaching downtown Flin Flon.
And that is all. I may as well never have lived in Flin Flon, for all the impact it’s had on my personal development.
But I am illogically proud of having been born there, simply because the name is so unusual, and because the origins of that name are stranger still.
Here’s the explanation, posted on a sign next to the huge statue of the community’s namesake:
But I am illogically proud of having been born there, simply because the name is so unusual, and because the origins of that name are stranger still.
Here’s the explanation, posted on a sign next to the huge statue of the community’s namesake:
I guess it makes sense that I come from a town named for a fictional character, since I’ve often felt like one myself.
Earl poses with Flinty.
A caged canoe, close to the statue.
We stopped in Flin Flon only to gas up take a few pictures. Once that was accomplished, we took a short hop south to Cranberry Portage, home of my paternal grandmother and her longtime friend, Val Head.
Here’s a recent addition to the town, a plaque explaining the community’s origins:
Here’s a recent addition to the town, a plaque explaining the community’s origins:
I have more memories of Cranberry than of Flin Flon, mainly because we visited Grandma from time to time while living in Leaf Rapids, and of course after we moved to Alberta. Grandma had an old sewing machine with a drawer that had little toys in it. There were plastic pigs, cows, some vehicles, and little ceramic houses that I later learned were Red Rose Tea premiums. These trinkets, the books I habitually carried around on such trips and comics purchased (for 35 cents!) at drugstores kept me occupied for hours; I was rarely bored, except when forced to go fishing, and sometimes not even then.
(On one occasion, we were on the lake when a severe storm hit, forcing us to land on a little island. Sean, an infant at the time, was placed underneath the boat.)
Family Food Town in Cranberry, still open for business.
I had no idea where Grandma and Val’s house was located, but Cranberry Portage is so tiny that I only had to drive around for a couple of minutes before stumbling across it. And I discovered once again that time hadn’t waited for me. Not only had many of the town’s businesses closed, Grandma’s yard was much larger than I remember; as Val opened the gate for us so I could park, he explained that they’d bought the property next door and erected a new storage bay.
Grandma and Val.
Dad had warned me that Grandma was suffering from Alzheimer’s, but to my relief she was very lucid and very pleased to see me and meet Sylvia (particularly, I think, since I introduced her as my fiancée.) In fact, I thought she was quite sharp, something I remembered from my childhood; Grandma was always pretty witty. We chatted for a while, and as the evening wound down Val set up the guest house for us, a small but comfy converted shack in the back yard.
Camping with Dad, Mom and Grandma, Suwannee River campground?
Camping with Dad, Mom and Grandma, Suwannee River campground?
We slept surrounded by kitschy but strangely comforting knickknacks, and I drifted off to sleep knowing that come the dawn, we’d be on our way to our ultimate destination. So far, nothing was exactly as I remembered it. Would Leaf Rapids, or at least the sinkhole, be immune to time’s relentless onslaught? Would I find what I was looking for?
What was I looking for?
Click here to read Part V.
What was I looking for?
Click here to read Part V.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
More Wii Fun
Sylvia and I bought Sean a Wii Zapper for Christmas, so the family spent much of the afternoon gunning down clay pigeons, skeletons and vultures. I was surprised by how much my parents got into it. But perhaps I shouldn't have been too shocked; one day, while I was watching Jesse James Meets Frankenstein's Daughter, mom came downstairs, looked at the onscreen action and said, "He has a sucking chest wound. Why isn't there pink foam coming out of his mouth?"
Mom's a stickler for realism.
The Bun Toss
One of mom's delicious homemade buns got a little burned on the bottom, so rather than let it go to waste, Sean and I invented a new game. I'm not sure what I expected to happen, but taking a hard bun to the throat wasn't it. Mom even took the pictures - our parents sure put up with a lot.
Wii-Ouch
On December 23rd, Sylvia and I went to Sylvia's parents' apartment for a very tasty holiday dinner (for the record, a delicious grill-it-yourself meat/vegetable/bread selection). We brought over the Wii, and during an intense round of bowling, Sylvia's mom whacked her thumb but good on the coffee table - badly enough for a trip to the hospital the next day. Fortunately no bones were broken, but a splint was required.
Here are some more Wii Warnings:
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Civilization IV Coincidence
Yesterday, as I was playing Civilization IV, I instructed my capital city to start construction of the Eiffel Tower, one of the game's World Wonders. Just a couple of turns later, a Great Engineer appeared in my capital. That in itself isn't unusual, but the engineer turned out to be
Eiffel himself! Never before have I used a Great Engineer to actually build the work he's known for; only rarely do my Great People appear anywhere close to their historical time periods, let alone in the nick of time to actually work on their own projects.
Naturally, I forgot to take a screenshot. :-(
Eiffel himself! Never before have I used a Great Engineer to actually build the work he's known for; only rarely do my Great People appear anywhere close to their historical time periods, let alone in the nick of time to actually work on their own projects.
Naturally, I forgot to take a screenshot. :-(
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Having the Time of Your Life
While on my way to pick up Sylvia from work yesterday afternoon, I caught this image of Dancing Guy.
Dancing Guy has been hanging around 178th street for months, bopping like wild every time I've spotted him. He wears headphones, spins around, jerks his head up and down, snaps his arms and legs out wildly, presses the crosswalk button to cross the street, dances across it, bops for a while at the other corner, and repeats the process.
I thought it was just a summer phenomenon, but yesterday I realized that a little thing like winter isn't going to stop Dancing Guy's groove. Rock on, brother! Don't let them tell you you can't.
On a similar note, there's another music lover in my neighbourhood. I see this guy in my rear view mirror sometimes, playing the harmonica while he's driving his jeep. He really gets into it, too - from the way his body moves, he must be stamping one of his feet as he plays.
People are awesome.
Friday, December 21, 2007
This One Never Gets Old
I believe I've written of my sheep joke in the past. You remember - I was out at the Olive Garden with a bunch of friends for Tony Longworth's birthday. He ordered swordfish, took a bite and said it tasted like sheep, to which I said, "You can always send it baaaa-ck." Cue appalled stares and zero laughs.
Well, last night, at the Alberta Liberal Caucus staff holiday party, my hour came 'round at last once again. We were gathered at Langano Skies, an Ethiopian restaurant on Whyte Avenue. Kelly had pre-ordered our meal, asking for "anything but lamb." She reiterated the request to one of the owners, who came by to visit our table.
Of course, I couldn't resist this golden opportunity. I caught Kelly's attention and said, "So you're saying that if any lamb shows up on our table, you're going to send it baaaaa-ck."
I got a couple of actual laughs this time, so the joke is clearly improving with age.
Well, last night, at the Alberta Liberal Caucus staff holiday party, my hour came 'round at last once again. We were gathered at Langano Skies, an Ethiopian restaurant on Whyte Avenue. Kelly had pre-ordered our meal, asking for "anything but lamb." She reiterated the request to one of the owners, who came by to visit our table.
Of course, I couldn't resist this golden opportunity. I caught Kelly's attention and said, "So you're saying that if any lamb shows up on our table, you're going to send it baaaaa-ck."
I got a couple of actual laughs this time, so the joke is clearly improving with age.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Who, Disguised as Earl J. Woods...
Last night I dreamed that I was the Prime Minister. I was standing in the middle of my opulent mansion when my security chief phoned and said that she'd discovered an assassination plot against me. She wanted to move me to a remote location until the threat had passed.
This news disturbed me greatly, not because I was worried about the threat, but because
a) the nation needed me to do my job, and
b) being Prime Minister was just my secret identity; I was actually a superhero.
I spent the rest of my dream trying to convince my security chief that she was needlessly worried. I woke up before learning who won the argument.
This news disturbed me greatly, not because I was worried about the threat, but because
a) the nation needed me to do my job, and
b) being Prime Minister was just my secret identity; I was actually a superhero.
I spent the rest of my dream trying to convince my security chief that she was needlessly worried. I woke up before learning who won the argument.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Another Unfinished Masterpiece: Pipe Maniac
Many years ago, Jeff and Susan and I started work on Pipe Maniac, the sequel to Toilet Chase. (We envisioned a trilogy; the third film would have been called Flush Point.)
Here's the unfinished screenplay:
PIPE MANIAC
THE SCRIPT
A SCREENPLAY BY
Earl J. Woods
and
Jeff J. Shyluk
with
Susan K. Neumann
based on characters created by
Ron Briscoe,
Earl J. Woods,
Susan K. Neumann,
and Jeff J. Shyluk
TEASER
FADE IN: the Bleak House of Blahs, scene of the terrible events of TOILET CHASE. It is a beautiful summer's day.
VOICE-OVER: IN THE BEGINNING, man sought to conquer the elements. Earth, Air, Fire, Water--human hubris demanded that all of these mighty forces be bent to his every whim. And thus civilization advanced, and lo, indoor plumbing was invented. But with these bold new advances, there came dangerous precedents. Nature, her patience strained to the breaking point, snapped--and went wack-o!
CUT TO low-angle shot of a toilet; cue ominous music, strobe lights, etc. Many quick cuts of scenes that allude to events in TOILET CHASE: plunger thrusting into toilet, man stepping on rake, spoonful of beans being forked into mouth, etc. V.O. continues.
VOICE-OVER: Enter: technology. Man's foolhardy attempt to harness the deranged power of a planet he no longer controls. Technology, warped, twisted, turned against him, the foundation of the classic conflicts: Man vs. Man; Man vs. Nature; Man vs. Toilet. This is the cautionary tale of mortals who dared to steal fire from Prometheus--
SECOND VOICE-OVER: But it was Prometheus who stole fire from the gods!
CUT TO: SHOT OF PROMETHEUS LYING PRONE, IN A POOL OF BLOOD. HE'S GOT A BURNING STICK IN HIS HAND; ANOTHER HAND REACHES INTO THE FRAME AND SNATCHES IT AWAY. CUT TO LOW-ANGLE VIEW OF CLOUDS.
GODS (VOICE-OVER): PROMETHEUS! WHERE IS THE FIRE?
PROMETHEUS: I don't know! Some guy conked me out and took it!
GODS: A LIKELY STORY! WHY SHOULD WE BELIEVE YOU? YOU'RE SPENDING ETERNITY CHAINED TO THIS ROCK! VULTURES WILL EAT OUT YOUR ENTRAILS! THE SUN WILL BAKE YOU! NEVER AGAIN WILL YOU FEEL A COOL DRAUGHT OF WATER TRICKLING DOWN YOUR THROAT!
PROMETHEUS: Argh!
FADE TO BLACK.
SECOND VOICE-OVER: Oh.
FIRST VOICE-OVER: I say again, this is the tale of foolhardy mortals who stole the sacred flame from Prometheus and lost the chance to win a better tomorrow; who sold their birthright to the nether gods of waste and sloth. Mortals who flushed their dreams...down the toilet.
CUT TO overhead spinning shot of a flushing toilet; music swells, sound effect of flushing, etc. FADE OUT. FADE IN to spinning shot of camera emerging from a different toilet; TRACK down hallway, up stairs, and outside, to LONG SHOT of RON on street, looking pensive, waiting for someone. TRACK to MEDIUM shot of RON.
CUT TO LONG SHOT of a red car coming down the block. It halts in front of RON. JOHNNY B. CRAPPER and CONSTANCE (CONNIE) VIRGIN step out. RON moves forward, shakes hands with each of them.
RON: Mr. Crapper, I presume?
JOHNNY: That's right. I'm Johnny B. Crapper. This is my girl, Connie Virgin.
RON: I'm Ron Briscoe. I hear you wanna buy a toilet. (He shifts uncomfortably.)
CONNIE: That's right. We hear you've got one for sale.
JOHNNY: We just moved here into town--and our new house needs a toilet bad!
RON: That's rough. These new city toilet safety bylaws are murder--everyone in town was forced to replace their old toilets with these new city-approved models. Problem is, they cost a mint. Black market toilets are cheaper, but don't come crying to me if the toilet cops catch you with a hot shitcan.
JOHNNY: We gotta have a toilet, man. I don't care which one. It's just gotta be cheap, and if you're selling, we're buying. I'm tired of pissing into the sink every morning.
CONNIE: And it's real rough on the dishes.
RON: Okay. Step inside....and we'll make a deal.
FADE TO BLACK.
ACT ONE
FADE IN: Shot of bathroom that is obviously undergoing renovations.Close in on TOILET,with eerie music, and then TRACK behind TOILET to reveal JOHNNY. End music. JOHNNY twists a wrench in behind the toilet, as though finishing a long, arduous task.
JOHNNY: Well, that's that. May I present--our new toilet!
CONNIE: Thank goodness! A real toilet, not just a hole in the ground. It is looking so beautiful, it seemed like I would never see that sight again! Johnny, I think you missed a piece of the toilet here in the box. It looks important, don't forget to attach it.
JOHNNY: I know, just hand me that pipe and the wrench, babe.
CONNIE: Oh Johnny, you always say the sweetest things. I love you!
JOHNNY: I love you too, Connie, and someday soon perhaps we could get married and you can be my Mrs. Crapper.
CONNIE: That would make me so happy, Johnny!
JOHNNY: Once we get our feet on the ground, it'll happen, babe. If we hadn't gotten this toilet so cheaply, our wedding day would be a long way off.
CONNIE: And with my new job at city hall--
JOHNNY: --everything's coming up roses, now. Nothing can stop us! (turning wrench) Look out, world--here comes Johnny B. Crapper!
(Close shot of wrench slipping. Pipe comes loose in Johnny's hand, and he trips back, knocking himself in the forehead with the pipe.)
JOHNNY: Arrrgh! (JOHNNY dances about in pain as a horrified CONNIE looks on. He slips and falls headfirst into the toilet bowl, then goes limp.)
CONNIE: Johnny! Oh, no! The blood! There's so much blood!
(She reaches in to pull JOHNNY'S head from the bowl. Of its own accord, the toilet suddenly flushes; REACTION SHOT as CONNIE recoils, holding JOHNNY close. CLOSEUP of swirling blood in flushing toilet, with Hitchcockian music. FADE OUT.
CONNIE (V.O.): Well, at least we got our money's worth--the new toilet works.
FADE IN. High angle shot of JOHNNY in bed, a bandage wrapped around his head. He comes to with a moan. CONNIE enters frame, touching JOHNNY's face tenderly.
JOHNNY: What happened?
CONNIE: You had an accident. It's not too bad. (Pause.) I have to go to work now. Don't try to go anywhere--just relax. Keep that ice pack on your head. I'll be back soon.
Exuent CONNIE.
JOHNNY: My head...spinning. I wonder how long I was out for?
(Looks at clock. CUT TO shot of clock on wall, hands spinning crazily, with eerie 2001 choral music, sound fx. Music continues through scene. JOHNNY reacts to clock, lies back in terror. TOILET flushes off-camera. JOHNNY'S eyes dart wildly. He gets up and trance-walks to the bathroom. CUT TO close shot of toilet, surrounded by an eerie blue glow. The bloody pipe is on the toilet lid.
TOILET: Take the pipe, Johnny. Take the pipe.
REACTION SHOT of JOHNNY.
JOHNNY: I...must...take...the...pipe.
INSERT of JOHNNY'S hand, reaching out for the pipe.
TOILET: This is the pipe you're looking for.
JOHNNY: This is the pipe I'm looking for.
TOILET: Move along.
JOHNNY: Move along. Move along.
Low angle of Johnny staggering away, pipe in hand, mumbling. CUT TO:
THE OFFICE OF ELVIS D. KING, up-and coming city councillor. KING is sitting behind his desk, an unlit pipe stuck between his teeth, examining a file folder. INSERT of folder: it reads "T-1000 OMNICOMM WASTE DISPOSAL UNIT", and sports a schematic.
KING: My hour approaches. The hand on that clock is the cold hand of destiny, come now to lead me into a new era--my era.
SOUND: Knock on door.
KING: Enter.
MARIO and LUIGI, KING'S goons, enter.
KING: Ah, Mario, Luigi; my most trusted assassins--I mean, assistants.
MARIO: We heard you had a job for us, King.
KING: Boys, I have a plan that will make me a very rich and powerful man--and you two are coming up the ladder with me.
LUIGI: What kind of plan, King?
KING: Maybe you've seen the news of the city manager's sewage report--the one that shows that all of the city toilets have to be replaced with new, more efficient models.
LUIGI: Yeah. We heard of that.
KING: The city manager is a good friend of mine. He doctored the report for a cut of what promises to be a very profitable operation.
MARIO: You mean that the report's a fake? I don't need a new shitter?
KING: No, but you're going to get one, and so is everyone else in the city--and you're going to be buying it from Omnicomm Industries.
LUIGI: Never heard of 'em.
KING: You're looking at the 100% shareholder, men.
MARIO: Huh?
KING: I'm going to sell three million toilets at 500 bucks a shot. That's a cool 1.5 billion dollars.
MARIO AND LUIGI: Holy shit!
KING: The new T-1000 series toilet is a new, more efficient toilet--according to the sales brochure, it uses less water, it's self-cleaning, and it's environmentally friendly. These toilets are all state of the art--state of the art of bullshit. (He shows M & L a blueprint.) As you can see here, they actually use 50% more water, flush 25% slower, and add 100% more effluent to our rivers. They can push poop about as well as a 90 year old Parkinson's patient.
LUIGI: Hey, wait a minute--I just bought one of those!
KING: Dolt! Everyone must buy one! It's the law! Imbecile! I'm painting you the big picture while you idiots fumble with finger paints!
MARIO and LUIGI worriedly examine their fingers.
KING: (sighs) What the public doesn't know is that the T-1000s have the most sophisticated bugs that money can buy--
MARIO: Bugs!? You mean like silverfish?
LUIGI: Tapeworms!
KING: I mean listening devices! And surveillance cameras. When you know what a man does in the bathroom when he thinks he's by himself, you know what he is capable of in the outside world.
Disgusted REACTION SHOT of MARIO and LUIGI.
KING: No, no. When you can see what people are reading on the toilet, when you can hear what they listen to on the radio while they shower, when you know what couples talk about in the morning--that's when you can devine their very thoughts, and that is the key to real power. Very soon, I will have my fingers on the pulse of this city--and my eyes and ears in every toilet bowl.
More dubious looks from MARIO and LUIGI.
KING: I'm serious! This will work--and the plan is already in motion. The city council privy chambers are already home to a full complement of my new T-1000s. Already my seats of power occupy the seats of power! Allow me to demonstrate.
KING motions the thugs over to his computer terminal and taps a few buttons.
KING: There--the mayor himself!
MAYOR (V.0.): 1, 998 (flush)...1, 999 (flush)...2, 000! (flush) Hey, whaddaya know--it works!
KING: Getting elected Mayor may be easier than I thought. In any case, men, most of the city's toilets have already been replaced, but there are a few stubborn holdouts who are fighting the new law. The most irritating of these malcontents are the owners of the Heartbreak Hotel--you know, the one down at the end of Lonely Street. (Who names these places, anyway?) I want you to go and convince the manager that the new toilets will be very good for his business...and his health.
MARIO: Otherwise, it'll be Legbreak Hotel--
LUIGI: --at the end of Hospital Street. We catch your drift, King.
KING: Go, now--and do my bidding. (He hits intercomm button.) Miss Virgin, will you come into my office, please?
MARIO and LUIGI begin to leave. On their way out, they pass CONNIE VIRGIN, who happens to be KING'S secretary.
MARIO: Hey, Connie--you got a sister named Mary? (snickers)
CONNIE (seriously): Why yes--do you know her?
MARIO and LUIGI do a double take; exuent.
KING: Connie, I'd like you to make 3, 000 copies of this report, and type up my nephew's English essay. The topic is Hamlet. Personally, I think the kid shoulda kakked himself and let his uncle rule Denmark. What'd he have against him? There was a man with some cojones! He saw his opportunity and took charge!
CONNIE: Sir, I don't do work that isn't job-related!
KING: You do the work I tell you to do, sweetheart, or you'll never work in this town again! Get me coffee. Dark and sweet--just the way I like my women. (leers)
CONNIE: ...yes, sir.
Exuent Connie. CUT TO shot of photocopy room. CONNIE is making copies of the report when she notices the T-1000 blueprint in the pile. She studies it curiously, then makes a copy.
FADE TO BLACK.
END OF ACT ONE
ACT TWO
MONTAGE of JOHNNY whacking people with a pipe. He whacks about 20 people, moving down an otherwise peaceful residential street. Eventually, JOHNNY will start to have pangs of conscience, and he will fight this mystifying compulsion. When this inner struggle begins, the TOILET speaks, via telepathy, to JOHNNY. Intercut between the two characters as dialogue dictates. Every time Johhny hits someone, he apolgizes after the fact. He is clearly agonized by his actions; his manner should suggest that he is not in control.
JOHNNY: Monster! Damn you--get out of my head!
TOILET: You are mine, Johnny Crapper--body and soul! You are to be my instrument of vengeance upon mankind--my Johnny Crapperseed! That pipe you wield is to be the sword of Damocles that falls upon the sorry heads of my enemies--and with every blow you deliver, my spawn are brought one step closer to their terrible birth!
JOHNNY: I don't understand! Why are you making me do this?
TOILET: Quiet! Among those you have felled lie crucial elements of my plan...see there: that bottle contains Metapropyl Valvoline...take it! And that man has a chicken take out order! Sieze it!
(Insert shots of JOHNNY'S hand grabbing the aforementioned items as the TOILET speaks.)
JOHNNY: But--but--WHY? WHY ME?
TOILET: Ask not what this toilet does to you--ask what YOU may do for the toilet! AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA AH HA HA HA!!
JOHNNY: (shrieking, pulling hair, etc.) NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! (runs away)
CUT TO LONG SHOT of DONNA PISSOIR, girl reporter, taking notes from a safe distance. She moves in closer, coming across wounded victims. She takes notes as they speak.
DONNA: Donna Pissoir, girl reporter. Are you all right? What happened?
VICTIM 1: He's crazy! Hit me with a pipe...tried to steal my chicken!
VICTIM 2: He spilled my Metapropyl Valvoline!
The VICTIMS regard their possessions, then come to a shocking realization:
VICTIM 1: Hey! You got Metapropyl Valvoline on my chicken!
VICTIM 2: You got chicken in my Metapropyl Valvoline!
DONNA picks up a piece of the chemical-soaked chicken and sniffs it. Disgusted, she makes a "bleargh" sound and throws it down.
DONNA: Great Scott! I've gotta call this in to the newspaper!
TRACK DONNA as she rushes for a phone booth. Another man is also running for the booth--a mild-mannered looking, bespectacled fellow.
MAN: Excuse me, ma'am, I need to use this phone booth!
DONNA: Beat it, pal! I got here first!(She slams the booth shut, leaving the MAN with a panicked expression on his face. He quickly dashes off. DONNA dials her newspaper.) Mr. Jameson! You wouldn't believe what I just saw! Take this down...at 2:00 P.M., a man armed with a pipe went on a rampage in (location). At least fifteen people are wounded...he was like a maniac with a pipe...a PIPE MANIAC! oops, I guess I should call the police...just as soon as I'm finished, Jonah! The maniac is a caucasian male in his 20's...and get this...he was trying to steal chicken and some chemical called Metapropyl Valvoline you can clean it up at your end, boss. HEY...I've just thought of something...I think I can blow this story wide open!
FADE OUT
FADE IN to the same neigbourhood. DONNA has set herself up as a potential victim, hoping to get a scoop. She carries a huge vat of Metapropyl Valvoline, along with as many buckets of fried take-out chicken as our actress can carry. She also wears a fried chicken hat, and possibly fried chicken earrings.
DONNA: With all this chicken and Metapropyl Valvoline, I'm sure to be the Pipe Maniac's next target...and then I'll have an exclusive scoop! I sure wonder what he wants with this stuff, though...here, maniac, maniac, maniac...
Here's the unfinished screenplay:
PIPE MANIAC
THE SCRIPT
A SCREENPLAY BY
Earl J. Woods
and
Jeff J. Shyluk
with
Susan K. Neumann
based on characters created by
Ron Briscoe,
Earl J. Woods,
Susan K. Neumann,
and Jeff J. Shyluk
TEASER
FADE IN: the Bleak House of Blahs, scene of the terrible events of TOILET CHASE. It is a beautiful summer's day.
VOICE-OVER: IN THE BEGINNING, man sought to conquer the elements. Earth, Air, Fire, Water--human hubris demanded that all of these mighty forces be bent to his every whim. And thus civilization advanced, and lo, indoor plumbing was invented. But with these bold new advances, there came dangerous precedents. Nature, her patience strained to the breaking point, snapped--and went wack-o!
CUT TO low-angle shot of a toilet; cue ominous music, strobe lights, etc. Many quick cuts of scenes that allude to events in TOILET CHASE: plunger thrusting into toilet, man stepping on rake, spoonful of beans being forked into mouth, etc. V.O. continues.
VOICE-OVER: Enter: technology. Man's foolhardy attempt to harness the deranged power of a planet he no longer controls. Technology, warped, twisted, turned against him, the foundation of the classic conflicts: Man vs. Man; Man vs. Nature; Man vs. Toilet. This is the cautionary tale of mortals who dared to steal fire from Prometheus--
SECOND VOICE-OVER: But it was Prometheus who stole fire from the gods!
CUT TO: SHOT OF PROMETHEUS LYING PRONE, IN A POOL OF BLOOD. HE'S GOT A BURNING STICK IN HIS HAND; ANOTHER HAND REACHES INTO THE FRAME AND SNATCHES IT AWAY. CUT TO LOW-ANGLE VIEW OF CLOUDS.
GODS (VOICE-OVER): PROMETHEUS! WHERE IS THE FIRE?
PROMETHEUS: I don't know! Some guy conked me out and took it!
GODS: A LIKELY STORY! WHY SHOULD WE BELIEVE YOU? YOU'RE SPENDING ETERNITY CHAINED TO THIS ROCK! VULTURES WILL EAT OUT YOUR ENTRAILS! THE SUN WILL BAKE YOU! NEVER AGAIN WILL YOU FEEL A COOL DRAUGHT OF WATER TRICKLING DOWN YOUR THROAT!
PROMETHEUS: Argh!
FADE TO BLACK.
SECOND VOICE-OVER: Oh.
FIRST VOICE-OVER: I say again, this is the tale of foolhardy mortals who stole the sacred flame from Prometheus and lost the chance to win a better tomorrow; who sold their birthright to the nether gods of waste and sloth. Mortals who flushed their dreams...down the toilet.
CUT TO overhead spinning shot of a flushing toilet; music swells, sound effect of flushing, etc. FADE OUT. FADE IN to spinning shot of camera emerging from a different toilet; TRACK down hallway, up stairs, and outside, to LONG SHOT of RON on street, looking pensive, waiting for someone. TRACK to MEDIUM shot of RON.
CUT TO LONG SHOT of a red car coming down the block. It halts in front of RON. JOHNNY B. CRAPPER and CONSTANCE (CONNIE) VIRGIN step out. RON moves forward, shakes hands with each of them.
RON: Mr. Crapper, I presume?
JOHNNY: That's right. I'm Johnny B. Crapper. This is my girl, Connie Virgin.
RON: I'm Ron Briscoe. I hear you wanna buy a toilet. (He shifts uncomfortably.)
CONNIE: That's right. We hear you've got one for sale.
JOHNNY: We just moved here into town--and our new house needs a toilet bad!
RON: That's rough. These new city toilet safety bylaws are murder--everyone in town was forced to replace their old toilets with these new city-approved models. Problem is, they cost a mint. Black market toilets are cheaper, but don't come crying to me if the toilet cops catch you with a hot shitcan.
JOHNNY: We gotta have a toilet, man. I don't care which one. It's just gotta be cheap, and if you're selling, we're buying. I'm tired of pissing into the sink every morning.
CONNIE: And it's real rough on the dishes.
RON: Okay. Step inside....and we'll make a deal.
FADE TO BLACK.
ACT ONE
FADE IN: Shot of bathroom that is obviously undergoing renovations.Close in on TOILET,with eerie music, and then TRACK behind TOILET to reveal JOHNNY. End music. JOHNNY twists a wrench in behind the toilet, as though finishing a long, arduous task.
JOHNNY: Well, that's that. May I present--our new toilet!
CONNIE: Thank goodness! A real toilet, not just a hole in the ground. It is looking so beautiful, it seemed like I would never see that sight again! Johnny, I think you missed a piece of the toilet here in the box. It looks important, don't forget to attach it.
JOHNNY: I know, just hand me that pipe and the wrench, babe.
CONNIE: Oh Johnny, you always say the sweetest things. I love you!
JOHNNY: I love you too, Connie, and someday soon perhaps we could get married and you can be my Mrs. Crapper.
CONNIE: That would make me so happy, Johnny!
JOHNNY: Once we get our feet on the ground, it'll happen, babe. If we hadn't gotten this toilet so cheaply, our wedding day would be a long way off.
CONNIE: And with my new job at city hall--
JOHNNY: --everything's coming up roses, now. Nothing can stop us! (turning wrench) Look out, world--here comes Johnny B. Crapper!
(Close shot of wrench slipping. Pipe comes loose in Johnny's hand, and he trips back, knocking himself in the forehead with the pipe.)
JOHNNY: Arrrgh! (JOHNNY dances about in pain as a horrified CONNIE looks on. He slips and falls headfirst into the toilet bowl, then goes limp.)
CONNIE: Johnny! Oh, no! The blood! There's so much blood!
(She reaches in to pull JOHNNY'S head from the bowl. Of its own accord, the toilet suddenly flushes; REACTION SHOT as CONNIE recoils, holding JOHNNY close. CLOSEUP of swirling blood in flushing toilet, with Hitchcockian music. FADE OUT.
CONNIE (V.O.): Well, at least we got our money's worth--the new toilet works.
FADE IN. High angle shot of JOHNNY in bed, a bandage wrapped around his head. He comes to with a moan. CONNIE enters frame, touching JOHNNY's face tenderly.
JOHNNY: What happened?
CONNIE: You had an accident. It's not too bad. (Pause.) I have to go to work now. Don't try to go anywhere--just relax. Keep that ice pack on your head. I'll be back soon.
Exuent CONNIE.
JOHNNY: My head...spinning. I wonder how long I was out for?
(Looks at clock. CUT TO shot of clock on wall, hands spinning crazily, with eerie 2001 choral music, sound fx. Music continues through scene. JOHNNY reacts to clock, lies back in terror. TOILET flushes off-camera. JOHNNY'S eyes dart wildly. He gets up and trance-walks to the bathroom. CUT TO close shot of toilet, surrounded by an eerie blue glow. The bloody pipe is on the toilet lid.
TOILET: Take the pipe, Johnny. Take the pipe.
REACTION SHOT of JOHNNY.
JOHNNY: I...must...take...the...pipe.
INSERT of JOHNNY'S hand, reaching out for the pipe.
TOILET: This is the pipe you're looking for.
JOHNNY: This is the pipe I'm looking for.
TOILET: Move along.
JOHNNY: Move along. Move along.
Low angle of Johnny staggering away, pipe in hand, mumbling. CUT TO:
THE OFFICE OF ELVIS D. KING, up-and coming city councillor. KING is sitting behind his desk, an unlit pipe stuck between his teeth, examining a file folder. INSERT of folder: it reads "T-1000 OMNICOMM WASTE DISPOSAL UNIT", and sports a schematic.
KING: My hour approaches. The hand on that clock is the cold hand of destiny, come now to lead me into a new era--my era.
SOUND: Knock on door.
KING: Enter.
MARIO and LUIGI, KING'S goons, enter.
KING: Ah, Mario, Luigi; my most trusted assassins--I mean, assistants.
MARIO: We heard you had a job for us, King.
KING: Boys, I have a plan that will make me a very rich and powerful man--and you two are coming up the ladder with me.
LUIGI: What kind of plan, King?
KING: Maybe you've seen the news of the city manager's sewage report--the one that shows that all of the city toilets have to be replaced with new, more efficient models.
LUIGI: Yeah. We heard of that.
KING: The city manager is a good friend of mine. He doctored the report for a cut of what promises to be a very profitable operation.
MARIO: You mean that the report's a fake? I don't need a new shitter?
KING: No, but you're going to get one, and so is everyone else in the city--and you're going to be buying it from Omnicomm Industries.
LUIGI: Never heard of 'em.
KING: You're looking at the 100% shareholder, men.
MARIO: Huh?
KING: I'm going to sell three million toilets at 500 bucks a shot. That's a cool 1.5 billion dollars.
MARIO AND LUIGI: Holy shit!
KING: The new T-1000 series toilet is a new, more efficient toilet--according to the sales brochure, it uses less water, it's self-cleaning, and it's environmentally friendly. These toilets are all state of the art--state of the art of bullshit. (He shows M & L a blueprint.) As you can see here, they actually use 50% more water, flush 25% slower, and add 100% more effluent to our rivers. They can push poop about as well as a 90 year old Parkinson's patient.
LUIGI: Hey, wait a minute--I just bought one of those!
KING: Dolt! Everyone must buy one! It's the law! Imbecile! I'm painting you the big picture while you idiots fumble with finger paints!
MARIO and LUIGI worriedly examine their fingers.
KING: (sighs) What the public doesn't know is that the T-1000s have the most sophisticated bugs that money can buy--
MARIO: Bugs!? You mean like silverfish?
LUIGI: Tapeworms!
KING: I mean listening devices! And surveillance cameras. When you know what a man does in the bathroom when he thinks he's by himself, you know what he is capable of in the outside world.
Disgusted REACTION SHOT of MARIO and LUIGI.
KING: No, no. When you can see what people are reading on the toilet, when you can hear what they listen to on the radio while they shower, when you know what couples talk about in the morning--that's when you can devine their very thoughts, and that is the key to real power. Very soon, I will have my fingers on the pulse of this city--and my eyes and ears in every toilet bowl.
More dubious looks from MARIO and LUIGI.
KING: I'm serious! This will work--and the plan is already in motion. The city council privy chambers are already home to a full complement of my new T-1000s. Already my seats of power occupy the seats of power! Allow me to demonstrate.
KING motions the thugs over to his computer terminal and taps a few buttons.
KING: There--the mayor himself!
MAYOR (V.0.): 1, 998 (flush)...1, 999 (flush)...2, 000! (flush) Hey, whaddaya know--it works!
KING: Getting elected Mayor may be easier than I thought. In any case, men, most of the city's toilets have already been replaced, but there are a few stubborn holdouts who are fighting the new law. The most irritating of these malcontents are the owners of the Heartbreak Hotel--you know, the one down at the end of Lonely Street. (Who names these places, anyway?) I want you to go and convince the manager that the new toilets will be very good for his business...and his health.
MARIO: Otherwise, it'll be Legbreak Hotel--
LUIGI: --at the end of Hospital Street. We catch your drift, King.
KING: Go, now--and do my bidding. (He hits intercomm button.) Miss Virgin, will you come into my office, please?
MARIO and LUIGI begin to leave. On their way out, they pass CONNIE VIRGIN, who happens to be KING'S secretary.
MARIO: Hey, Connie--you got a sister named Mary? (snickers)
CONNIE (seriously): Why yes--do you know her?
MARIO and LUIGI do a double take; exuent.
KING: Connie, I'd like you to make 3, 000 copies of this report, and type up my nephew's English essay. The topic is Hamlet. Personally, I think the kid shoulda kakked himself and let his uncle rule Denmark. What'd he have against him? There was a man with some cojones! He saw his opportunity and took charge!
CONNIE: Sir, I don't do work that isn't job-related!
KING: You do the work I tell you to do, sweetheart, or you'll never work in this town again! Get me coffee. Dark and sweet--just the way I like my women. (leers)
CONNIE: ...yes, sir.
Exuent Connie. CUT TO shot of photocopy room. CONNIE is making copies of the report when she notices the T-1000 blueprint in the pile. She studies it curiously, then makes a copy.
FADE TO BLACK.
END OF ACT ONE
ACT TWO
MONTAGE of JOHNNY whacking people with a pipe. He whacks about 20 people, moving down an otherwise peaceful residential street. Eventually, JOHNNY will start to have pangs of conscience, and he will fight this mystifying compulsion. When this inner struggle begins, the TOILET speaks, via telepathy, to JOHNNY. Intercut between the two characters as dialogue dictates. Every time Johhny hits someone, he apolgizes after the fact. He is clearly agonized by his actions; his manner should suggest that he is not in control.
JOHNNY: Monster! Damn you--get out of my head!
TOILET: You are mine, Johnny Crapper--body and soul! You are to be my instrument of vengeance upon mankind--my Johnny Crapperseed! That pipe you wield is to be the sword of Damocles that falls upon the sorry heads of my enemies--and with every blow you deliver, my spawn are brought one step closer to their terrible birth!
JOHNNY: I don't understand! Why are you making me do this?
TOILET: Quiet! Among those you have felled lie crucial elements of my plan...see there: that bottle contains Metapropyl Valvoline...take it! And that man has a chicken take out order! Sieze it!
(Insert shots of JOHNNY'S hand grabbing the aforementioned items as the TOILET speaks.)
JOHNNY: But--but--WHY? WHY ME?
TOILET: Ask not what this toilet does to you--ask what YOU may do for the toilet! AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA AH HA HA HA!!
JOHNNY: (shrieking, pulling hair, etc.) NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! (runs away)
CUT TO LONG SHOT of DONNA PISSOIR, girl reporter, taking notes from a safe distance. She moves in closer, coming across wounded victims. She takes notes as they speak.
DONNA: Donna Pissoir, girl reporter. Are you all right? What happened?
VICTIM 1: He's crazy! Hit me with a pipe...tried to steal my chicken!
VICTIM 2: He spilled my Metapropyl Valvoline!
The VICTIMS regard their possessions, then come to a shocking realization:
VICTIM 1: Hey! You got Metapropyl Valvoline on my chicken!
VICTIM 2: You got chicken in my Metapropyl Valvoline!
DONNA picks up a piece of the chemical-soaked chicken and sniffs it. Disgusted, she makes a "bleargh" sound and throws it down.
DONNA: Great Scott! I've gotta call this in to the newspaper!
TRACK DONNA as she rushes for a phone booth. Another man is also running for the booth--a mild-mannered looking, bespectacled fellow.
MAN: Excuse me, ma'am, I need to use this phone booth!
DONNA: Beat it, pal! I got here first!(She slams the booth shut, leaving the MAN with a panicked expression on his face. He quickly dashes off. DONNA dials her newspaper.) Mr. Jameson! You wouldn't believe what I just saw! Take this down...at 2:00 P.M., a man armed with a pipe went on a rampage in (location). At least fifteen people are wounded...he was like a maniac with a pipe...a PIPE MANIAC! oops, I guess I should call the police...just as soon as I'm finished, Jonah! The maniac is a caucasian male in his 20's...and get this...he was trying to steal chicken and some chemical called Metapropyl Valvoline you can clean it up at your end, boss. HEY...I've just thought of something...I think I can blow this story wide open!
FADE OUT
FADE IN to the same neigbourhood. DONNA has set herself up as a potential victim, hoping to get a scoop. She carries a huge vat of Metapropyl Valvoline, along with as many buckets of fried take-out chicken as our actress can carry. She also wears a fried chicken hat, and possibly fried chicken earrings.
DONNA: With all this chicken and Metapropyl Valvoline, I'm sure to be the Pipe Maniac's next target...and then I'll have an exclusive scoop! I sure wonder what he wants with this stuff, though...here, maniac, maniac, maniac...
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
I Love My Job
I do a lot of writing at my job, but I'm not always stuck behind a desk. Recently I organized the creation of a festive message video from my boss, Alberta Liberal Caucus Leader Kevin Taft, and his wife, Jeanette Boman. Today we shot the footage and, as you see here, posted it on YouTube. Originally I thought we'd shoot indoors, a sort of fireside chat deal, and it was scripted. But Kevin wanted something more genuine and spontaneous, and he was correct. Everyone connects with the season and with their community in different ways; for Kevin and Jeanette, a nice skate on their community rink is one of the reasons they love living in Alberta. (I can still take credit for the idea of having them skate into the shot.)
My script may not have been greenlit, but I did get a little thrill when I was asked to hold the boom mike for one take. (Sadly, not the take you see here.) Now that's what making movies is all about!
Monday, December 17, 2007
Pod People
About a decade ago, Allan and I drove down to Cranbrook for Jeff and Susan's wedding. It was a great event, with some really boppin' music, and of course the bride and groom looked swell.
But what I remember most is our arrival at our lodgings, at the local community college. The rooms were arranged in modules called "pods," and Allan found this strange. He pointed to the signs, snickering at the unconventional nomenclature: "Look at this...pod one, pod two..."
So naturally when we reached our room, I had to quip, "Open the pod bay door, Al." Allan rolled his eyes, but I got a laugh from Steven.
(For those who need the joke explained, "Open the pod bay doors, HAL," is a famous line from 2001: A Space Odyssey.)
But what I remember most is our arrival at our lodgings, at the local community college. The rooms were arranged in modules called "pods," and Allan found this strange. He pointed to the signs, snickering at the unconventional nomenclature: "Look at this...pod one, pod two..."
So naturally when we reached our room, I had to quip, "Open the pod bay door, Al." Allan rolled his eyes, but I got a laugh from Steven.
(For those who need the joke explained, "Open the pod bay doors, HAL," is a famous line from 2001: A Space Odyssey.)
Skulking Toward Bethlehem
Late one evening, when I was living in Lister Hall (the third or fourth year), most of the denizens of our floor, Main Kelsey, were gathered in the lounge, watching a horror movie.
I wasn't one of them. I was in my room, probably playing a computer game or perhaps using my 1200 baud modem to read one of Edmonton's electronic BBSes - perhaps the USS Bonaventure, or Freedom. Perhaps I was even finishing some coursework. Whatever I happened to be doing, I was chugging down a Coke, and when I finished, I left my room, empty can in hand.
A large plastic trash can served as the floor's recycling bin. I saunted down the hall, not noticing how eerily quiet it was, nor how rapt was the attention of my friends upon the pale, glowing orb that was the television. No one noticed my unconsciously stealthy approach.
Without a thought, I tossed my empty soda can into the nearly full recycling bin - and the clatter of crashing cans was so loud, or perhaps so unexpected, that everyone in the lounge leapt upwards, shrieking as one, male and female alike, united in terror. My eyebrows popped up as I took a startled step backward, and everyone turned toward me, some holding their chests, others rolling their eyes in a mix of exasperation and relief. "Jesus CHRIST, Earl!" was a common refrain.
"Sorry," I muttered, retreating to my room. I never did ask which movie they were watching.
I wasn't one of them. I was in my room, probably playing a computer game or perhaps using my 1200 baud modem to read one of Edmonton's electronic BBSes - perhaps the USS Bonaventure, or Freedom. Perhaps I was even finishing some coursework. Whatever I happened to be doing, I was chugging down a Coke, and when I finished, I left my room, empty can in hand.
A large plastic trash can served as the floor's recycling bin. I saunted down the hall, not noticing how eerily quiet it was, nor how rapt was the attention of my friends upon the pale, glowing orb that was the television. No one noticed my unconsciously stealthy approach.
Without a thought, I tossed my empty soda can into the nearly full recycling bin - and the clatter of crashing cans was so loud, or perhaps so unexpected, that everyone in the lounge leapt upwards, shrieking as one, male and female alike, united in terror. My eyebrows popped up as I took a startled step backward, and everyone turned toward me, some holding their chests, others rolling their eyes in a mix of exasperation and relief. "Jesus CHRIST, Earl!" was a common refrain.
"Sorry," I muttered, retreating to my room. I never did ask which movie they were watching.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Simply Red, Simply Unreadable
In response to those who very kindly let me know that the red and white colour scheme was too much, I've tried to create something a little more muted. Thanks very much for the feedback!
Also - the Quatermass logo was hand-lettered? I should have known.
Also - the Quatermass logo was hand-lettered? I should have known.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
The Terminator: Grim and Timely Visions
The following essay was written for Professor Klovan's Int. D. 300 (Film Studies) class, circa 1987/88. It is presented here warts and all, as written by the 18 or 19 year old Earl J. Woods.
Los Angeles, AD 2029. The machines have “risen from the ashes of the nuclear fire.” The sky is a black veil shrouded in fog; light flashes only intermittently, and when it does flash, it means death for an endangered species: Homo Sapiens. The landscape is a collage of twisted wreckage and human skulls. Unliving dreadnoughts of metal and electricity crush the bones under their treads, hoping to find living men so that they may be crushed as well. Overhead, the all-seeing patrol aircraft sweep the ruined plain for the last remnants of humanity, like exterminators hunting cockroaches. But cockroaches are tenacious…
So begins James Cameron’s The Terminator, a grim vision of the future. Cameron does not describe his future world with words; rather, he lets the camera, the filmmaker’s brush, paint the picture. If we examine the visual style of the film, one of Cameron’s major themes becomes clear: improper use of technology, combined with a dangerous thirst for power, could contribute to mankind’s ultimate downfall.
Examination begins with the above-mentioned opening scene of The Terminator. The landscape is obviously oppressive; all is dark and foggy, obscuring, by implication, thought and freedom as well as vision. The robot tanks smash what freedom does exist with searing lasers or crushing, ponderous weight. The masses of skulls squashed by these machines represent “the masses” that exist in our world today; that is, the basically ignorant, apathetic general public. The skulls, like the masses, do not fight back. Only the living fight back. This is true in the literal sense in 2029; today, the politically dead masses do not fight against oppressive elements in our society. Eyes in the sky search for human rebels as well, alluding to today’s guardians of the status quo. The way the mechanical Big Brother moves in the film is interesting; it sweeps back and forth, methodically, covering all of the territory but missing some important details: the human freedom fighters. Perhaps Cameron sees himself as one of these people, fighting against closed-minded studio executives.
The conflict, then, would seem to be simple: man vs. machine, once again. However, not all of the machines in the film are bad; in fact, the humans need machines to win their battle. The conflict is actually “well-meaning” man vs. “power-hungry” man. Reese, Sarah and the police captain represent intelligent, well-meaning man. The Terminators and the other mechanical monsters of the future represent today’s noncreative, anti-individual persons, taken to the extreme. Mechanized, rigid bureaucrats are replaced by real machines – very efficient.
The action in the present begins with a low-angle shot of a familiar piece of 20th century hardware: a garbage truck. The normally innocuous vehicle is made to appear large and threatening, a harbinger of impending doom. In fact, the truck is harmless; it is being used to a good purpose, keeping the city clean. The implication is that even the most innocent of machines is vulnerable to corruption. There is a cute tidbit in this scene: as the lightning flashes and Reese appears in our time, the garbage truck’s motor fails. This is a tip of the hat to the UFO movies of the 1950s. It is also an allusion to the prevailing attitude in those films: preservation of the status quo through faith in the government and the United States Armed Forces.
Shortly after this scene, both Reese and the Terminator search for the mother of mankind’s savior: Sarah Connor. Man and machine use one of the most prevalent products of today’s information technology, a phone book. Once again, technology is a two-edged sword. Reese uses it to find and help Sarah; the Terminator uses the phone book to find and kill her. Later, both hunters jump-start a car to assist in their search, and the same logic applies. When Reese steals his vehicle, large machines are again presented as tainted tools. Reese observes two construction cranes, lit in the same manner as the garbage truck seen earlier. The parallels between present-day building machines and future destroying machines are quite obvious; actually, Cameron almost beats his audience over the head with this parallel, as the cranes dissolve into hunter-killer drones. The present scene is a fenced-off construction site, suggesting entrapment. These machines are unable to escape their misuse.
There are parallels between Sarah and the Terminator as well. Both wear dark glasses, each for a diametrically opposed reason. The Terminator wears the glasses to disguise his nonhuman reality. Sarah wears the sunglasses to protect her vision, both literally and figuratively. It is not her eyesight that actually needs preserving, but her hard-as-nails outlook on life, her tough pragmatism. Sarah’s bedroom is littered with technology, but she uses it to positive ends. A blow dryer is fairly harmless, used properly. Sarah uses it properly, as she is in firm control of the machines she uses. Her friend Ginger, however, lets technology control her. Ginger’s walkman is playing constantly, connected directly to her brain, controlling her mood, and, often, her actions. Ginger’s misuse of the walkman causes her death – the blaring music allows the Terminator to catch her unawares. In contrast, technology serves Sarah – the TV bulletins warn her that a killer is on her trail.
It must be noted, however, that the corrupted technology is far more emphasized in the film. Sarah’s own answering machine, normally a faithful servant, gives away her location. The computers that rule the world of 2029 are a perversion of the Strategic Air Command/NORAD defence system, manufactured by Cyberdyne Systems. Cyberdyne is presumably a capitalist enterprise, part of the money/power hungry military industrial complex. Another example is the police psychologist’s use of technology. He uses video equipment to look down upon Reese not as a patient to be helped, but as a research project to be exploited. The high angle of the camera, looking down on Reese, makes him look inferior to the technology.
Reese tells Sarah that the Terminator pursuing them is a new model – the 101. 101 is the room number of the torture/interrogation room in George Orwell’s 1984, yet another allusion to the dangers of power thirst combined with available technology. In an even more frightening development, Reese reveals that many humans have identification brands. In the film, the brand is seen as a stark red mark of numbers and lines. The audience is immediately reminded of today’s Universal Product Codes, one of the most common symbols of our consumer society.
Cameron makes another grim comment in the form of a scene in the human rebel camp. A group of children gather ‘round the TV set, much like children do today. IN 2029, however, the television is but an empty shell used only to house a fire for warmth. The implication is that trust in television has led mankind back into the stone age.
Distrust in technology is a pat answer to the problems of adjustment in our changing world for many people. Cameron does not succumb to the easy answer of condemning machines – he suggests only that we learn to control them. For, at the end of the film, Sarah is able to kill the Terminator only with the aid of a friendly industrial robot. The unswerving road Sarah follows into the storm indicates that our destructive future is inevitable, but she does drive a tough machine into it: a Jeep Renegade. Perhaps we can survive the unpleasantness ahead, if we are very, very lucky.
Professor Klovan wrote, "There is much to admire in this neatly presented and well-written essay: the explanation of "101," the paragraph on parallels, and generally, the high level of insight. However, in the first section of your discussion, you tend to be stretching the film's allegorical implications to the limit. It's difficult to accep that we should see the cyborg as a kind of "bureaucrat" (p. 2), or that the failing garbage truck motor is a comment on "preservation of the status quo through faith in the government and the United States Armed Forces (p.3)(!). Overall, this reveals a superior level of understanding, but there are a number of little things which leave the reader wondering.
B"
Los Angeles, AD 2029. The machines have “risen from the ashes of the nuclear fire.” The sky is a black veil shrouded in fog; light flashes only intermittently, and when it does flash, it means death for an endangered species: Homo Sapiens. The landscape is a collage of twisted wreckage and human skulls. Unliving dreadnoughts of metal and electricity crush the bones under their treads, hoping to find living men so that they may be crushed as well. Overhead, the all-seeing patrol aircraft sweep the ruined plain for the last remnants of humanity, like exterminators hunting cockroaches. But cockroaches are tenacious…
So begins James Cameron’s The Terminator, a grim vision of the future. Cameron does not describe his future world with words; rather, he lets the camera, the filmmaker’s brush, paint the picture. If we examine the visual style of the film, one of Cameron’s major themes becomes clear: improper use of technology, combined with a dangerous thirst for power, could contribute to mankind’s ultimate downfall.
Examination begins with the above-mentioned opening scene of The Terminator. The landscape is obviously oppressive; all is dark and foggy, obscuring, by implication, thought and freedom as well as vision. The robot tanks smash what freedom does exist with searing lasers or crushing, ponderous weight. The masses of skulls squashed by these machines represent “the masses” that exist in our world today; that is, the basically ignorant, apathetic general public. The skulls, like the masses, do not fight back. Only the living fight back. This is true in the literal sense in 2029; today, the politically dead masses do not fight against oppressive elements in our society. Eyes in the sky search for human rebels as well, alluding to today’s guardians of the status quo. The way the mechanical Big Brother moves in the film is interesting; it sweeps back and forth, methodically, covering all of the territory but missing some important details: the human freedom fighters. Perhaps Cameron sees himself as one of these people, fighting against closed-minded studio executives.
The conflict, then, would seem to be simple: man vs. machine, once again. However, not all of the machines in the film are bad; in fact, the humans need machines to win their battle. The conflict is actually “well-meaning” man vs. “power-hungry” man. Reese, Sarah and the police captain represent intelligent, well-meaning man. The Terminators and the other mechanical monsters of the future represent today’s noncreative, anti-individual persons, taken to the extreme. Mechanized, rigid bureaucrats are replaced by real machines – very efficient.
The action in the present begins with a low-angle shot of a familiar piece of 20th century hardware: a garbage truck. The normally innocuous vehicle is made to appear large and threatening, a harbinger of impending doom. In fact, the truck is harmless; it is being used to a good purpose, keeping the city clean. The implication is that even the most innocent of machines is vulnerable to corruption. There is a cute tidbit in this scene: as the lightning flashes and Reese appears in our time, the garbage truck’s motor fails. This is a tip of the hat to the UFO movies of the 1950s. It is also an allusion to the prevailing attitude in those films: preservation of the status quo through faith in the government and the United States Armed Forces.
Shortly after this scene, both Reese and the Terminator search for the mother of mankind’s savior: Sarah Connor. Man and machine use one of the most prevalent products of today’s information technology, a phone book. Once again, technology is a two-edged sword. Reese uses it to find and help Sarah; the Terminator uses the phone book to find and kill her. Later, both hunters jump-start a car to assist in their search, and the same logic applies. When Reese steals his vehicle, large machines are again presented as tainted tools. Reese observes two construction cranes, lit in the same manner as the garbage truck seen earlier. The parallels between present-day building machines and future destroying machines are quite obvious; actually, Cameron almost beats his audience over the head with this parallel, as the cranes dissolve into hunter-killer drones. The present scene is a fenced-off construction site, suggesting entrapment. These machines are unable to escape their misuse.
There are parallels between Sarah and the Terminator as well. Both wear dark glasses, each for a diametrically opposed reason. The Terminator wears the glasses to disguise his nonhuman reality. Sarah wears the sunglasses to protect her vision, both literally and figuratively. It is not her eyesight that actually needs preserving, but her hard-as-nails outlook on life, her tough pragmatism. Sarah’s bedroom is littered with technology, but she uses it to positive ends. A blow dryer is fairly harmless, used properly. Sarah uses it properly, as she is in firm control of the machines she uses. Her friend Ginger, however, lets technology control her. Ginger’s walkman is playing constantly, connected directly to her brain, controlling her mood, and, often, her actions. Ginger’s misuse of the walkman causes her death – the blaring music allows the Terminator to catch her unawares. In contrast, technology serves Sarah – the TV bulletins warn her that a killer is on her trail.
It must be noted, however, that the corrupted technology is far more emphasized in the film. Sarah’s own answering machine, normally a faithful servant, gives away her location. The computers that rule the world of 2029 are a perversion of the Strategic Air Command/NORAD defence system, manufactured by Cyberdyne Systems. Cyberdyne is presumably a capitalist enterprise, part of the money/power hungry military industrial complex. Another example is the police psychologist’s use of technology. He uses video equipment to look down upon Reese not as a patient to be helped, but as a research project to be exploited. The high angle of the camera, looking down on Reese, makes him look inferior to the technology.
Reese tells Sarah that the Terminator pursuing them is a new model – the 101. 101 is the room number of the torture/interrogation room in George Orwell’s 1984, yet another allusion to the dangers of power thirst combined with available technology. In an even more frightening development, Reese reveals that many humans have identification brands. In the film, the brand is seen as a stark red mark of numbers and lines. The audience is immediately reminded of today’s Universal Product Codes, one of the most common symbols of our consumer society.
Cameron makes another grim comment in the form of a scene in the human rebel camp. A group of children gather ‘round the TV set, much like children do today. IN 2029, however, the television is but an empty shell used only to house a fire for warmth. The implication is that trust in television has led mankind back into the stone age.
Distrust in technology is a pat answer to the problems of adjustment in our changing world for many people. Cameron does not succumb to the easy answer of condemning machines – he suggests only that we learn to control them. For, at the end of the film, Sarah is able to kill the Terminator only with the aid of a friendly industrial robot. The unswerving road Sarah follows into the storm indicates that our destructive future is inevitable, but she does drive a tough machine into it: a Jeep Renegade. Perhaps we can survive the unpleasantness ahead, if we are very, very lucky.
Professor Klovan wrote, "There is much to admire in this neatly presented and well-written essay: the explanation of "101," the paragraph on parallels, and generally, the high level of insight. However, in the first section of your discussion, you tend to be stretching the film's allegorical implications to the limit. It's difficult to accep that we should see the cyborg as a kind of "bureaucrat" (p. 2), or that the failing garbage truck motor is a comment on "preservation of the status quo through faith in the government and the United States Armed Forces (p.3)(!). Overall, this reveals a superior level of understanding, but there are a number of little things which leave the reader wondering.
B"
Friday, December 14, 2007
Colour Me Blood Red
Does this new layout hurt your eyes? Speak now, or forever endure white text on a blood red background!
If anyone knows the font used for Quatermass and the Pit, please let me know.
If anyone knows the font used for Quatermass and the Pit, please let me know.
Tool or Weapon?
I'm listening to the audio commentary on 2001: A Space Odyssey. Gary Lockwood, who plays astronaut Frank Poole in the film, says something interesting about the famous sequence in which a prehistoric ape-man flings a bone into the air after using it to kill some rivals. As the bone falls to earth, Kubrick jump-cuts to a spaceship or satellite in freefall around the globe.
I always assumed that the sequence was illustrating the evolution of tools; crude club to sophisticated spacecraft. But according to Lockwood, the craft in the shot is a missle-carrying satellite, an orbital weapons platform. In his words, it's a "weapon-to-weapon shot."
Of course, just because Lockwood was in the movie doesn't mean that he's correct about Kubrick's intentions, but his insight is almost certainly more valid than mine. It certainly adds a more pessimistic flavour to the film.
I always assumed that the sequence was illustrating the evolution of tools; crude club to sophisticated spacecraft. But according to Lockwood, the craft in the shot is a missle-carrying satellite, an orbital weapons platform. In his words, it's a "weapon-to-weapon shot."
Of course, just because Lockwood was in the movie doesn't mean that he's correct about Kubrick's intentions, but his insight is almost certainly more valid than mine. It certainly adds a more pessimistic flavour to the film.
Still Nearly Famous
Many years ago, when I was working on If Your Parents Split, one of the actors presented me with a button that read, "I'm Nearly Famous." I was 15 at the time, with not a lot of self-esteem, and the gesture really gave me a lift.
I'm nowhere near famous, of course, but I remembered the button when an aquaintance told me today that this blahg came up on his Google News alert a couple of times. I didn't have a chance to ask him the context, but I thought it was pretty cool regardless.
I'm nowhere near famous, of course, but I remembered the button when an aquaintance told me today that this blahg came up on his Google News alert a couple of times. I didn't have a chance to ask him the context, but I thought it was pretty cool regardless.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Another Old Favourite
While we're on the subject of old computer games, I have to mention Claim Jumper, a cutthroat two-player contest for the Atari 400/800.
One player was the green cowboy; the other, the pink cowboy. The pink cowboy could drop snake eggs, which grew into snakes the green cowboy had to avoid; conversely, the green cowboy carried tumbleweed seeds, which grew into tumbleweeds to foil the pink cowboy.
The object of the game for each player was to get your gold from the assay office to the bank. Of course, your competitor would be shooting at you all the while; if you were hit, you'd wind up in the hospital. If the green cowboy ran into a snake, he'd freeze for a couple of seconds; if the pink cowboy hit a tumbleweed, he too would be frozen.
It was a very simple game, but the anguished cries of rage and frustration it caused were a sight to behold. (My cousin Darwin often went apoplectic.) The game rewarded dirty tricks like lurking outside the hospital and shooting your friend over and over, every time he tried to escape. And the sound effects seemed to mock your predicament; when shot, the computer would squeak "ooo-weee-ooo" cheerfully, for example.
My brother and I played this game so much that eventually the cartridge wore out, and there was much mourning. The link above takes you to the original designer's webpage, and he's very graciously offered the game for free play. Sadly, I haven't been able to get the Atari 800 emulator to work on my PC. Perhaps one day...
One player was the green cowboy; the other, the pink cowboy. The pink cowboy could drop snake eggs, which grew into snakes the green cowboy had to avoid; conversely, the green cowboy carried tumbleweed seeds, which grew into tumbleweeds to foil the pink cowboy.
The object of the game for each player was to get your gold from the assay office to the bank. Of course, your competitor would be shooting at you all the while; if you were hit, you'd wind up in the hospital. If the green cowboy ran into a snake, he'd freeze for a couple of seconds; if the pink cowboy hit a tumbleweed, he too would be frozen.
It was a very simple game, but the anguished cries of rage and frustration it caused were a sight to behold. (My cousin Darwin often went apoplectic.) The game rewarded dirty tricks like lurking outside the hospital and shooting your friend over and over, every time he tried to escape. And the sound effects seemed to mock your predicament; when shot, the computer would squeak "ooo-weee-ooo" cheerfully, for example.
My brother and I played this game so much that eventually the cartridge wore out, and there was much mourning. The link above takes you to the original designer's webpage, and he's very graciously offered the game for free play. Sadly, I haven't been able to get the Atari 800 emulator to work on my PC. Perhaps one day...
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