10.08.2006
A New Soap (part two)
So there we are: Matt Evans, my trusty assistant Malamar and blockbusting producer Jerry Bruckheimer. The three of us driving through Las Vegas in the Die Hard Ambulance on a mission to save Natalie Portman and the future of the Star Wars franchise.
Look!
Jerry points to something out on the sidewalk. The street's full of traffic and I have to wait for a gap before I can see what he's pointing at. There! A man with blue skin, white hair and some crap sticking out of his head. A trekkie... I draw back a little from the window. I mean, a chick dressing up as that green belly dancer from Star Trek - I got no problem with that. But a dude!? I mean, what's he trying to achieve? Jerry turns to me,
A man that nerdy couldn't have made it this far into Vegas on his own.
The convention's near?
It has to be!
I tap Malamar on the shoulder and instruct him to follow our blue friend on the sidewalk. He nods, slows the DHA to a crawl and follows at a safe distance. Clearly Mal had some experience stalking prey in his homeland. I'm keeping an eye on what's up ahead. I spot something as one of the limos cruising in front of us changes lanes.
There! He's headed for that small group of nerds!
Jerry turns to look, just as the second limo moves away giving us a clear view...
That's no small group of nerds... It's the convention.
A throng of people. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. Each one dressed more ridiculously than the last. So many...
No way Jer. There's too many of them.
You're right Matt. We can't go in like this. If they recognise me...
Oh my God. I hadn't even thought of that. You have to understand how nerds live - They're not like us. They're not interested in entertainment. You think they like Star Wars movies? Star Trek? Any of that stuff? Bulls***. They have no interest in movies. All they care about is rumors about movies. They're like internet hearsay junkies. And Jerry Bruckheimer would have more grade A China White then anyone they'd ever tried to pump into their spindly little forearms.
Jerry is at the center of Hollywood. The epicenter even - You know, like an earthquake. Hollywood shakes, the world rumbles, and Jerry Bruckheimer stands in the center of it all crying out,
You can't stop the thunder!!
That's how it is. He knows more about movies currently in production then anyone else in the business. Given half the chance the group of Klingons over there with the family-sized buckets of KFC would be all over him for days, asking everything from "What's Stan Lee's cameo in Spider-man 3?" to "Will all the Decepticons be able to fly in Michael Bay's Transformers?" They don't care what the answers are! They just wanna hear something so that they can discuss it on some freaking website somewhere. The only reason these people watch movies is so they can start discussing rumors about the sequels!
They'll be all over me Matt.. Christ! Mike called me last Tuesday and told me what color one of his goddamned robots was gonna be. They'll smell it on me Matt. They can smell this s***!
Man, I'd never seen Jerry lose his cool before. I'm just feeling lucky these people don't have any reason to go to work on me... Then I saw them:
Standing a little separate from the other nerds. Something moodier about them. They weren't talking to those around them - they weren't even talking to each other. And what the hell were they dressed like? I mean, with the Star Trek guys it's like "Yeah. I get it... Good work." With these guys? These guys. The hair is all big and blue, or yellow. The clothes are freaky. This one guy has a sword that's almost as big as he is...
Japana...nanation...nime nerds. Normally I wouldn't have a problem with these people. I mean, they keep to themselves. If it ain't a cartoon, don't have eyes half as big as it's head, and fly about on some scrolling vomit-colored backdrop, they ain't interested. But... there's the uh... Miyazaki thing. Obviously I can't go into details, but he and I had a little run in at the Oscars this year. Apparently, if you toss a 65 year old guy off a 30 foot drop and through a grand piano, people tend to take his side. But it's not like I started it!
I didn't think the aninerds would be willing to listen to my side of the story. The word was out that Matty Evans had taken one of their heroes to school and back, and they'd make a move if they had a chance. I did not wanna meet the working end of that impractically large sword.
Stop the van!
Jerry's voice stirs me out of my thoughts.
What?
The van Matt. Stop the van. If we drive up direct they'll be all over us. It might takes hours to get away from them. We have to stop the van.
Jerry. This is the Die Hard Ambulance.
He blinks.
The Die Hard Ambulance is a sweet ride Jerry. Maybe the sweetest. But it ain't as responsive as some of your more modern cars.... if you wanted to stop you should've said something a couple blocks back. We're going in.
Malamar takes his foot off the gas and starts to break. Turns the air con on full and opens the doors out wide - anything that increases the air resistance.
A moment later we're almost at the entrance. All three of us leave the front of the van and hide in the back... Come to think of it, I'm not sure why Malamar was hiding. The crowd must've cleared the way for us - I didn't hear any impacts - and we cruise straight into the parking lot entrance. We all jerk forward as we come to a crashing halt.
We need to move quickly!
Jerry says. I open up the back and instantly see trouble - a collection of nerds waddling in through the entrance. I look around and see the door to a stairwell.
This way!
Mal and Jerry follow at my heels. We're moving much faster than the nerds. It looks like we'll make it. Then, at the last moment, the stairwell door opens to reveal a tight group of security men - We're trapped! Each of us looks around desperately for another way out. Malamar is the first to see a metallic fire door on the opposite side of the lot. We dash towards it, the two pursuing groups hot on our six.
Malamar reaches the door first, and... it doesn't budge. Locked from the inside.
Any ideas, Jer?
He doesn't respond. He's too busy sizing up the fast approaching crowd. He relaxes into the famed Bruckheimer fighting stance, born on the mean streets of his hometown Detroit and later honed on the sets of his early movies. The likes of Cat People and Flashdance. As for me, I quickly review everything I knew about nerd fighting. I was lucky enough to have a crash course from Marina Sirtis a couple years back:
Take out the knees first, Matt. Once they're down work the head. Avoid the upper body - you can pound all day without dropping them.
It was gonna be tough. We were completely outnumbered. The only bright side was I was finally gonna see Malamar's skills. The ceiling was a little low so I figured he'd have to hold back, but I was expecting to see some full on elbow-to-head attacks.
Another three seconds and battle would be joined. Just then, the fire door opens.
Quickly! Follow me!
The voice belongs to... Jake Lloyd - and he hasn't grown up to look anything like Hayden Christensen. Man, someone dropped the ball on matching them up.
We slip inside the door and lock it behind us.
Thud!
The door shudders as the first of our pursuers comes clambering into it.
Thud!
I turn to Jake.
Thank you Ja-
Thud!
I pause.
Thud!
Thank you Jake. That could've turned sour... We're here to save Nata-
I know everything Matt, and more. This goes deeper than you know.
There was something strange about Jake. Something in his eyes. I can't place it. He tells us to follow him and we go deeper into the building.
After ten minutes of dashing through a maze of maintenance corridors under the convention center, I manage to hang back and whisper to Jerry.
This is Jake Lloyd Jerry. Anakin Skywalker. For all we know he could be leading us straight to Lucas!
Jake stops instantly and turns.
You think I'm working with Lucas?
He laughs bitterly.
If you only knew...
He spaces out for a moment. The comes round and looks at us. Each of us. Slowly.
I'm not Jake Lloyd. I'm Sam Jackson.
Samuel L. Jackson?
He nods.
It happened while we were making the Phantom Menace. At first I was so happy to be working on a Star Wars movie. I didn't take any notice of the problems. George kept making changes... Little things, a scene here switches with a scene there. Some dialogue gets dropped. It started to get to me. I told George, "Look I got no problem with you shifting things around a little, but you need something solid as a base. I mean, you had fifteen years to write this movie."
Jerry and Mal are nodding along. I'm still a little hung up on the part about Jake being SLJ.
George didn't take it well. He told me he didn't need me in the movie. He had a purple CGI spider that could take over the Mace Windu role at the drop of a hat. We argued, and I quit the picture... Next day I woke up, looked in the mirror and saw this.
He gestures towards his face. Jake Lloyd's face.
Somehow we'd switched places. A Freaky Friday kind of thing. Of course no one believed me. I was forced to be Jake... and I had to sit by while some kid in my body did whatever Lucas told him. Then he started whining about wanting a purple light saber. I mean, a Jedi's light saber should be either green or blue! Purple? What the hell is that?
I turn to Jerry wide-eyed. Clearly Jake Lloyd had turned to the dark side of crazy. But, to my complete shock, Jerry's seems to be buying it!
It got worse when the Phantom Mencace wrapped. I'd spent years trying to get away from the same kind of roles. Trying to do some serious work. The first film Jake does in my body?... Deep Blue Sea. Pretty soon he's doing The 51st State, Triple X, SWAT, Triple X two - can you believe there were two? - The Man, Unbreakable - I'm Mr. Glass? What the hell is that?
Jake starts runs a frustrated hand through his hair. Jerry cuts in.
A lot of us have suspected this for a long time. That Lucas has some involvement in this kind of thing. Black magic. Switching souls, blanking memories, controlling wolves and bats. Take Val Kilmer. Back in the Top Gun days he was a stand up guy. Now he's a total jerk. It happened right after Willow. Maybe George switched him and that little p**** Warwick Davis.
Jake/Sam nods agreement. Malamar seems convinced too. See this is what I love about Hollywood: You work the town for years, think you know everything and then along comes something that throws the whole show upside down.
So Jake Lloyd is still in your body?
I ask.
Of course! You think I would've done some dumbass movie about flying snakes?
He takes a moment to cool down.
It's too late for me. Even if I could go back the only life I'd have is some kind of parody of my former self. But I wont let Lucas do this to Natalie. The girl's been through enough at the hands of demented movie makers.
I shake my head.
Damn Wackowskis.
Listen to me,
Sam begins,
You need to pass through the convention. The only way you can do that is in costume. I'm gonna take you to someone who can help. After that, you'r on your own. In half an hour I have to get back to signing Lego Podracers.
We move again. It's not long before we reach a small room with a Vulcan inside. Sam wishes us luck and departs. Without the crushed spirit of Sam Jackson inside a 17 year old kid, it's just me, Malamar, Jerry B and a pointy-eared nerd in a Star Fleet uniform.
This is Malamar. I'm sure you recognise me and Jerry.
Pleased to meet you. You can call me Commander 't Sur.
I stare at him while we shake... and continue staring when we're done.
...or Dave.
Ok Dave, you know the score. We need to ditch our smooth threads and get geeked up like you. Whaddaya got?
Dave doesn't take well to my candour.
Well. I was only expecting two of you, so I only have two stormtrooper outfits.
He hands the white and black plastic costumes to Jerry and Mal. Leaving me with nothing.
I might have something in the back for you.
He disappears. Jerry and Mal get dressed. Dave returns holding... something. I can make out a big purple head but have no idea what I'm looking at. Even after he explains it I'm none the wiser.
While I'm putting on this monstrosity of a suit Dave starts talking about how noble our quest is.
What Lucas forgets is that Star Wars doesn't belong to him anymore. Right there in the first screening of A New Hope a little part of it passed to each of the people who watched it. The fans. The kids who grew up with it. The people who kept it alive while they waited for the second trilogy.
I look up while fixing on my grossly oversized rubber head.
Why do you care Dave? Looks to me like Star Trek floats your boat. You play nerdball with left handed clubs too?
...You're... right Matt. Star Wars never really worked for me. But there's still some good in it. I don't want to see it follow the way of Star Trek.
He pauses for the longest time. Then starts talking. Somehow I get the feeling he would have said all this whether we were in the room or not.
We had so many good years. Good years. The original series. The Next Generation. DS9. Good years. And there were the movies. Wrath of Khan, First Contact... ah, the Voyage Home.
He smiles to himself as if thinking of a half-remembered joke,
Back then, we could look at Star Wars and allow ourselves a little smirk. What was that? Some Joseph Cambpell movie-by-numbers with a splash of Kurosawa and Herbert to flesh it out. Well... maybe there was something more to it, but nothing like Star Trek. We had depth. We had characters. We had it all... and it was all thrown away. You Star Wars fans complain about the new trilogy. You think it ruined what had come before? Ha! Try Voyager. Try Nemesis. Try... Enterprise.
He spits out the word, takes a moment to recover. I give a quick glance to the other guys. I can't tell if they're paying attention with the damn helmets on. I'm the only one who has to sit here and look like I care!
You complain about too much CGI. Nothing real anymore. Try not enough CGI. Try damn near every alien for almost 40 years is just a human with some variation of a turd on their forehead.
You complain about Jar Jar Binks. Try Harry f***** Kim. I lost count of how many alternate realities Harry Kim died in, and we couldn't even get rid of one!
You say Darth Maul was underused. Try overusing a villain. Try taking the Borg, the most threatening race we ever had, and squeezing every... last... drop... out of them until you have to make up some half-assed Starship Trooper bug replacement that you can't be bothered developing.
You say that you didn't care about the characters the way you did in the originals? Try using the same characters as the originals - over and over. The not-quite-human that wants to fit in. The loveable rogue that wants to relive the 20th Century. But you can't connect with the characters? I watched Enterprise for four years and I still don't even know their names!
Not happy with the casting? Hey! Why not just take actors from the original trilogy and put them in new roles. No one will notice if you do it once or twice... Or twelve or thirteen times.
You don't find the Senate scenes exciting? Try entire episodes which are little more than lectures about how we don't appreciate baseball enough. Or how about Captain Janeway taking a trip down to the holodeck to live out her fantasy of being a governess in 19th Century England?
You don't like the dialogue - think it sounds a little clunky? ...Ok, I'll give you that.
But how about Attack of the Clones? You don't like the inexplicable fact that it features a 50's diner? Try a succession of crew hangouts each lamer than the last. The Parisian bar, the Paxau Resort, the freakin' Irish village. Like someone's just building sets at Paramount and saying "What the hell did we make this for?... Ah, give it to the Voyager guys!"
You don't like how Anakin was developed? Too much of a whiny teen? Try listening to anything Tom Paris says... or even just try looking at the guy!
You say the Clone Wars cartoon set up one of Star Wars' greatest villains, only to have him come down with the flu in time for Revenge of the Sith and cough his way to a quick demise? Try taking Worf. Lieutenant Commander Worf. Seven years on TNG being the man. Then put in him DS9 and have him say his entire life to date has been shaped by some wuss accident that happened during a soccer game when he was a kid.
You say that the plot of the new trilogy was over-elaborate? Dead ends and unecessary characters? Things that didn't make sense? Try telling the audience that Dr. Bashir has, and always has had, superhuman abilities but never previously used them - even when his own life was at stake.
And what about the most important thing about the new trilogy? Anakin turning to the dark side. You think that Lucas didn't cut it? Got too caught up in a story that left Anakin's development as a subplot? Was all too happy to make something visually dark but shyed away from something that could have been psychologically dark too? Yeah?... Well Enterprise was s***.
I gotta say... I'm pretty impressed I remembered all that to put it in the blog. I mean, it's not like I go around with a dictaphone or something.
Star Wars isn't done for yet. And I'll do what I can to stop Lucas before he sends it the way of Star Trek.
Dave is finally finished. The whole speech has taken a lot out of him (and me, having to sit and listen to it). Real emotional. Guy's sweating so hard his left ear is starting to come off. I stand up, finally with my whole costume on, and pat him on the back.
I gotta say Dave. Usually I wouldn't worry myself too much about something a guy like you thinks is important, but we're gonna stop Lucas. You can count on that.
He nods. I turn to Malamar and Jerry.
It's time to go.
With that, the three of us leave Dave's hideout and enter the belly of the beast: The sci-fi convention.