tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27287901116902077862024-03-13T09:31:31.374-06:00Father & Son ReviewsHonest reviews from William Norman and William Wallace GriggWilliam Wallace Grigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04004779599159014439noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2728790111690207786.post-11301339899471088002011-02-18T16:21:00.000-07:002011-02-18T16:21:16.377-07:00What Could Have Been: My "Moonbase Alpha" Screenplay<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ddpIHx6Je9Q/TV71XmQG8VI/AAAAAAAAHDc/XK98ffPrHAo/s1600/Remember+Alpha+1999.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ddpIHx6Je9Q/TV71XmQG8VI/AAAAAAAAHDc/XK98ffPrHAo/s400/Remember+Alpha+1999.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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<span style="font-family: CourierPS;">So about twelve years ago I had a cute idea: Why not take a stab at writing a screenplay for an updated version of <a href="http://www.fanboy.com/2011/02/nine-ways-that-space-1999-surpassed-star-trek.html">"Space:1999"</a>? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: CourierPS;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: CourierPS;">The first significant change I'd have to make would be to <a href="http://blog.joelogon.com/2007/09/91399-never-forget-moonbase-alpha.html">post-date the premise</a>. Just as the future overtook us before we were blessed with flying cars, personal jetpacks, or underwater domed cities, 1999 dawned and departed without Luna being settled, much less wrested from orbit by some scientifically implausible catastrophe. So I decided to set the action in 2112, a nicely palindromic date with a certain resonance for libertarian classic rock fans.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: CourierPS;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: CourierPS;">My original story treatment, which was composed in early 1999, was called "Nemesis." Three years later, that title was slapped onto a particularly wretched piece of cinematic pseudo-Trek. Numerous other story elements -- such as the concept of "zero point" energy, and the discovery of the wreckage of an ancient spacecraft on the Moon -- have since found their way into prominent films, at least one of which has yet to be released.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: CourierPS;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: CourierPS;">By mid-2004, I had a finished version of a screenplay. It found its way into the hands of a fellow libertarian who was a film producer by profession. He had read the story treatment, and had a reader on his staff review the finished script.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: CourierPS;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: CourierPS;">"She really liked it," he told me. "I'm eager to read it myself, as soon as I finish my current project."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: CourierPS;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: CourierPS;">He finished the film, which was very successful. Then he died. I hadn't even known he was sick. Although we spoke on the phone on numerous occasions, I never got to meet him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: CourierPS;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: CourierPS;">Anyhow, I've been sitting on this whimsical little screenplay for years now. Since then, other people have attempted to revive 1999 in some fashion -- either as a made-for-the-Web fan series (ala <i>Star Trek: Phase II</i>), or by digitally tweaking the original episodes. Gerry Anderson, for some reason, doesn't display any interest in revisiting his most successful series, in spite of the fact that there seems to be great interest in updating old series for cable or the big screen -- from <i>Battlestar Galactica</i> to <i>Land of the Lost </i>to <i>The Green Hornet</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: CourierPS;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: CourierPS;">1999 was an odd mixture of high concept, high-end production values, and dismal science. It was also one of the first large-budget hour-long programs to be broadcast in first-run syndication. A modest hit in the U.S., 1999 was very popular overseas. For obvious reasons, it's significant that George Lucas was a fan of the program, a fact that was apparent to me as a young teenager seeing <i>Star Wars</i> at a small theater in Ontario, Oregon. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: CourierPS;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: CourierPS;">The first season was uneven but occasionally very compelling. Its disastrous second season was produced by Fred Frieberger -- the Dr. Kevorkian of sci-fi television, who seemed to have a calling for shepherding television shows into oblivion: As executive producer, Frieberger euthanized <i>Trek</i>, <i>The Wild, Wild, West</i>, and <i>The Six Million Dollar Man</i>, in addition to <i>Space:1999</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: CourierPS;">For some reason, Frieberger decided to "Americanize" 1999 by taking a trippy, spooky, British sci-fi program and turn it into a kid's show that would have struck Sid and Marty Kroft as a bit too puerile. In its first season (or "series," to use the British convention), 1999 was often a peer competitor to Trek. The second season rarely made it into "Far Out Space Nuts" territory. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: CourierPS;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: CourierPS;">Were this a world in which Reason still occupied her throne and virtue found immediate reward, Paramount would buy my script and assign J.J. Abrams to direct it. Alas, that world eludes us, so I'm just gonna serialize the damn thing here on my blog. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: CourierPS;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">… to focus on an Eagle emblem. SLOW PULL-BACK reveals that it is embossed on the side of what appears to be an odd aircraft; as the PULL-BACK continues we see that it is in fact a roughly saucer-shaped spacecraft -- somewhat like Nikola Tesla's theoretical craft -- somewhere in the vicinity of the Moon.<br />
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ON-SCREEN GRAPHIC<br />
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Lunar Farside<br />
September 13, 1943<br />
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EXT. SPACE, NIGHT<br />
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Camera slowly pans in to the spacecraft's cockpit; through the window we see the pilot, JACOB BERGMAN, clad in a primitive pressure suit, busily working at his console. After pausing, he pulls out a small pouch, extracts a small leather-bound book and places it in mid-air in front of him. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b>A mock-up of Tesla's flying saucer. </b></i></td></tr>
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I<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">NT. SPACECRAFT</span><br style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;" /> <br style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;" /><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> Camera angle shifts to POV behind the pilot as we see him don a yarmulke and prayer shawl. Reverently, he recites the "Shema" from his small Torah.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">BERGMAN [In Hebrew]<br />
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“Hear, O Israel; the Lord our God – the Lord is One.”</div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: left;"><br />
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A red light suddenly begins to blink insistently, joined by the urgent wail of an alarm. The ship starts to weave erratically as BERGMAN wrestles with the controls. Through the cockpit's windshield we now see the grim surface of the moon, approaching at a terrifying rate. It's clear that the astronaut is doomed.<br />
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BERGMAN</div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: left;"> </div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: left;"> ….Miriam….</div><div class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
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We see BERGMAN's saucer-craft plummet and crash into the Moon's surface.<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">EXT. LUNAR SURFACE – NIGHT</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">ON-SCREEN GRAPHIC <br />
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Lunar Farside<br />
January 10, 2110<br />
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EXT. LUNAR SURFACE<br />
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Two spacesuited figures NORDSTROM and STEINER, cross the darkened surface in a Moonbuggy. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">NORDSTROM</div></div><div class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
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</div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: left;"> ISA Control, Nordstrom here. We've located the suspected lithicite deposit.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"> CONTROL </div></div><div class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
[Filtered] Copy that, Nordstrom. Proceed with caution.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">NORDSTROM </div></div><div class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
Right.[To Steiner]How far away are we now?<br />
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About half a click [gestures] - that way.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">CROSS-FADE to the two astronauts as they bound over to a curious rock formation - a small crater partially occluded by a rocky overhang. Camera pans back - to show that the formation is actually the crash site of BERGMAN's saucer.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
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NORDSTROM<br />
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Steiner, have I lost my mind?<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">STEINER </div><br />
I seem to have misplaced mine, too.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
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Camera focuses on the same Eagle symbol, in a SLOW PAN that shows a Nazi swastika as well. SLOW PULL-BACK to depict the entire unlikely tableau … then the entire darkened half of the Moon … then the Earth-Moon system …</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
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</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: right;">FADE OUT</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
FADE IN <br />
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POV from high above the plane of the Milky Way galaxy. We zoom in to an outlying arm, to the distant outskirts of a young solar system. <br />
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POV shot zooms past Saturn, Jupiter, Mars - closing in on a warm, glowing body.<br />
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Shot changes to show a large planetoid arcing toward the primordial earth. The two bodies collide, causing an unfathomably huge detonation, and rupturing earth. A stream of planetary material flows outward, coalescing into a spherical body in near-earth orbit: The newly formed Moon. </div><div class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">PROFESSOR VICTOR BERGMAN [V.O..]</div></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyTextIndent2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: left;"><br />
Astrophysicists have long believed that our sun has a companion called “Nemesis.”</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;"><br />
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CHANGE OF PERSPECTIVE reveals that we have been watching a holographic simulation. Camera pulls back to reveal BERGMAN, late 40s, trim, casually dressed; he could be a rock-climber in his spare time. <br />
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ON-SCREEN GRAPHIC identifies the scene as<br />
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Hayek University<br />
Vienna, Austria<br />
March 15, 2112<br />
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Addressing a class in a futuristic college auditorium, BERGMAN continues.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qWgHSK63srM/TV74qzPUt7I/AAAAAAAAHDk/ul6tLGi0q2s/s1600/liev-schreiber.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qWgHSK63srM/TV74qzPUt7I/AAAAAAAAHDk/ul6tLGi0q2s/s320/liev-schreiber.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b>Liev Schreiber as Dr. Victor Bergman</b></i></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">BERGMAN</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: left;">"Nemesis" is means "destroyer" - and the occasional near approach of our sun's unseen companion has been linked with episodes of violent destruction in our solar system.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
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The holographic program continues, illustrating BERGMAN's lecture. Among his students is SANDRA BENES – a pretty Asian girl, obviously younger than her classmates. <br />
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</div><div align="center" class="MsoHeader" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;">BERGMAN</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
Nemesis is believed to have caused a collision between earth and a large planetoid, resulting in the creation of our Moon. This in turn caused tidal effects that aided the emergence of life. <br />
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</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">The simulation ends. BERGMAN descends from the dais with a distant look on his face. </div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; margin-left: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">CHANGE OF POV shows TED SIMMONDS enter the classroom. BERGMAN notices, but continues his lecture.</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div align="center" class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;">BERGMAN</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">Is Nemesis a bane, or a benefactor? Will it someday make another appearance and annihilate us? Is humanity itself merely an odd biochemical fluke - or are we somehow the point of these apparently random developments?</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: justify;"><br />
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JARED [young student]</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; margin-left: 1in;"><br />
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Professor Bergman, could this new planet you helped discover - Meta - somehow be connected to Nemesis?<br />
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A tremor of concern and disapproval ripples through the classroom. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; margin-left: 1in;"><br />
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</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;">JARED</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
It seems to be very earth-like, in spite of its distance from the sun, and some people on the nets claim that it's emitting signals that can't be of natural origin….</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;">BERGMAN</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
Now, Jared, haven't I told the class not to rely on GlobeNet gossip as research? [A beat as the tension in the class subsides; Jared grins somewhat sheepishly.] My best guess - and it's conjecture at this point - [casts a glance at a disapproving Simmonds] is that Meta is somehow connected to Nemesis. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OPo47INMMG0/TV75mjywZaI/AAAAAAAAHDo/rAIsGoaxG5Q/s1600/Ricky+Gervais.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OPo47INMMG0/TV75mjywZaI/AAAAAAAAHDo/rAIsGoaxG5Q/s1600/Ricky+Gervais.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Ricky Gervais as Simmonds (yes, really).</span></b></i></td></tr>
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</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;">SIMMONDS</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; margin-left: 1in;"><br />
[Huffily] Assuming, of course, that Nemesis, unlike Father Christmas, really exists.<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
BERGMAN's eyebrows momentarily knot in annoyance before he continues with an <br />
air of mock geniality.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">BERGMAN</div></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: left;"><br />
<br />
Ah - yes, my friends, you may have noticed the august presence in our classroom of Commissioner Ted Simmonds of the International Space Authority. Dr. Simmonds is much better informed than I about such things as Nemesis.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
SIMMONDS looks warily at BERGMAN as the professor continues. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;">BERGMAN</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; margin-left: 1in;">After all, the ancient Greeks taught that Nemesis was the punishment for hubris – the overbearing pride that goes before a fall.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">SIMMONDS does a slow burn as the bell rings.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">BERGMAN </div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; margin-left: 1in;">I will be in my office tomorrow morning prior to leaving for Moonbase Alpha, and once I'm there you will be able to text-message me.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
The class breaks up; SANDRA and SIMMONDS approach BERGMAN from different angles. SANDRA reaches him first and casts SIMMONDS a slightly reproachful look.<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">SIMMONDS</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; margin-left: 1in;"><br />
<br />
Victor, that was a most entertaining lecture … even if it was a bit speculative, even by your standards.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">BERGMAN gives a look that says, "Whatever."</div><div class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">SIMMONDS</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">It does seem somewhat - um, ill-advised - to fuel adolescent curiosity about Meta…. How long do you think it will be before this Jared kid hits the nets to tell the entire cyber-community that the Nobel laureate who helped discover Meta has linked it with this Nemesis idea?</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; margin-left: 1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">BERGMAN</div></div><div class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Oh, I'm pretty sure it's all over the nets already. Jared has a cerebral implant, so my comments were probably uploaded to GlobeNet in real time.</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; margin-left: 1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">SIMMONDS’ slow burn worsens as BERGMAN continues.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">BERGMAN</div></div><div class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
Besides, how are we supposed to learn anything if we can only ask approved questions? </div><div class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">SIMMONDS<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">You've made no secret of your disdain for established channels, Victor. But you seem to keep your scruples in check when you need ISA's help – the occasional grant, perhaps, or an all-expenses trip to Moonbase Alpha...?</div></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">BERGMAN</div></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: left;"><br />
Well, it's not as if I haven't paid my share of taxes. And it’s not as if consulting on the Meta probe was my idea, as you well know. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; margin-left: 1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; margin-left: 1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; margin-left: 1in;">SIMMONDS is about to blow when SANDRA interjects.</div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;">SANDRA</div><div class="MsoBodyText2" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
Professor, I would like you to reconsider taking me along.</div><div align="center" class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; margin-left: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
BERGMAN</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-indent: 0in;">Ah, Commissioner Simmonds – Miss Sandra Benes.</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; margin-left: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">SIMMONDS </div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
[curtly] How do you do? [To Bergman] Now, Victor –</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;">BERGMAN</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">[interrupting]Sandra's father was Captain Samuel Benes.</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; margin-left: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">SIMMONDS</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-indent: 0in;">[Silence for a beat]Oh… [extending his hand] Forgive me. Your father was a courageous man. I never had the pleasure of meeting him; his - the Argosy mission took place before my term. I consider myself honored to know his daughter.</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;">SANDRA</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">Thank you, Commissioner. The pleasure is mine. [To Victor, using his given name, quietly] Victor, you know I could help you on Alpha. Why won't you let me go along?</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
<br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;">BERGMAN </div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-indent: 0in;">[Hesitantly] Sandra, there are some things about this mission that might be difficult for you….</div><div align="center" class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-align: center;">SIMMONDS</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-indent: 0in;">[Butting in]Miss Benes, what the professor hasn't told you is that Alpha will shortly be under a new Commander - John KOENIG.</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">SANDRA is momentarily nonplussed - for reasons we </div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">will learn later.<br />
<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><div class="MsoNormal">As SANDRA reacts – </div><div class="MsoHeader"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">CUT TO:<br />
<br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoHeader">EXT. SPACE/SFX, NIGHT</div><div class="MsoHeader"><br />
</div><div class="MsoHeader"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">An ISA courier Eagle spacecraft, a vessel that looks a little like a hybrid of the space shuttle and the lunar lander is making its transit to the Moon.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
INT. EAGLE SPACECRAFT<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aqj2Ge0LVm8/TV7zxMuzejI/AAAAAAAAHDU/I99mc8i8qCU/s1600/Mal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aqj2Ge0LVm8/TV7zxMuzejI/AAAAAAAAHDU/I99mc8i8qCU/s320/Mal.jpg" width="232" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Nate Fillon as John Koenig</span></b></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText2" style="text-align: left;">We focus on John KOENIG, early 40s, athletic, a little grim; he's reviewing a sheaf of "flimsies" with briefing materials.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"> COCKPIT VOICE [filtered]</div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
Commander Koenig, we have an incoming message from Alpha.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: -1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">KOENIG</div></div><div align="center" class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
On screen.</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><br />
<br />
The face of Alan CARTER - Australian, late 20s - materializes on the screen in front of KOENIG.<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">CARTER</div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
Commander - it's good to see you.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">KOENIG</div><br />
Alan, it's been too long. Are we on schedule?</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">CARTER </div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
[Ambivalently] That's … a complicated question, sir. The training is on schedule, and I'm told that the Meta probeship is ready for our launch window, and we're waiting for Dr Bergman to give us the updated flight data.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">KOENIG</div><br />
<br />
Right behind me, Alan. He took a later flight.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YPqzjtSd4Ek/TV70Xz_lVaI/AAAAAAAAHDY/SQX5YFpSMko/s1600/Hemsworth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YPqzjtSd4Ek/TV70Xz_lVaI/AAAAAAAAHDY/SQX5YFpSMko/s320/Hemsworth.jpg" width="280" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Chris Hemsworth as Alan Carter</span></b></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
KOENIG notices that CARTER is puzzled and a bit uneasy.<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">KOENIG</div><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
What is it, Alan?</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">CARTER</div><br />
Sir, why all the secrecy? We need some time in the actual bird. You're a pilot, sir; you understand.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
KOENIG stews for a bit; he's obviously chewing over the possibility of sharing something with CARTER, but he thinks better of it.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">KOENIG</div><br />
<br />
Alan, I'll bring you up to date as soon as I'm moonside. There is no way I'll allow you to take off for a mission in deep space without giving you adequate hands-on time in the probeship.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
CARTER's skepticism mellows into the most guarded of optimism.<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">CARTER</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><br />
Very good, commander. I'll see you on Alpha.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OPo47INMMG0/TV75mjywZaI/AAAAAAAAHDo/rAIsGoaxG5Q/s1600/Ricky+Gervais.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9q2J_ukat-g/TV77HOanFaI/AAAAAAAAHDs/aXVoQ9qUUn4/s1600/Plato+Crater+Alpha.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9q2J_ukat-g/TV77HOanFaI/AAAAAAAAHDs/aXVoQ9qUUn4/s320/Plato+Crater+Alpha.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Moonbase Alpha, located in the crater Plato. </span></b></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9q2J_ukat-g/TV77HOanFaI/AAAAAAAAHDs/aXVoQ9qUUn4/s1600/Plato+Crater+Alpha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9q2J_ukat-g/TV77HOanFaI/AAAAAAAAHDs/aXVoQ9qUUn4/s1600/Plato+Crater+Alpha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><br />
<br />
The screen goes blank, leaving KOENIG with a pensive look.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">COCKPIT VOICE [V.O.]</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
Commander – orbital meterology just informed us of an aberrant solar flare – it registers about a Force Eight in magnitude.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">KOENIG</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0in;">That strong ... it could cause some trouble for navigation, but we should be all right. When will it hit?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: -1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">COCKPIT VOICE</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
It should hit Lunar Farside in about ... ten minutes.</div><div class="MsoBodyText3"><br />
<br />
HARD-CUT to<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
EXT. LUNAR SURFACE, NIGHT</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<br />
Camera pans over a grim, airless vista cloaked in shadow as a moonbuggy crawls across the surface.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">ON-SCREEN GRAPHIC<br />
<br />
Lunar Farside<br />
Nuclear Waste Disposal Area 2<br />
<br />
Two spacesuited figures - MATT HENSON and TOM SKINNER – ride the buggy to the edge of a large complex of domed buildings guarded by a laser field. HENSON operates a comlock control to lower the laser curtain; once inside the buggy proceeds, and the curtain is raised again.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">HENSON </div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
So how did they get you to pull this shift?</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">SKINNER</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Same as you, I suppose – Our kind friends at Burtonhallow offered me triple scale. [He works a small sensor apparatus] I don't know what this theta-wave radiation business is all about, but we shouldn't be exposed to it long enough to do any harm.</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="text-align: center;"> <br />
HENSON </div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3">Yeah, we all know how valuable we are to the human resource department. [He works his own apparatus] And we know that our beloved employer knows how to make a nickel scream –<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
Just then, SKINNER's apparatus registers a spike of some kind.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">SKINNER</div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
Hey, whoa - there are your theta waves. [A beat] So - what are they, a new energy source? Did we just hit a lunar gusher?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<br />
HENSON is distracted; a close-up shows him suddenly transfixed in horror.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">HENSON</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">I've got to get out of here.</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoHeader" style="text-align: center;"><br />
SKINNER</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
Yeah, bud, I hear you. Just let me wrap up my readings here and we'll head back. I'll even buy you a pint.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">HENSON </div></div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="text-indent: 0in;">[Frantically] No, no, no - I'VE GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
Suddenly frenzied, HENSON knocks SKINNER to the ground and begins bounding toward the laser barricade. Close-up on SKINNER's comlock (a small remote control-type device) as it falls from his toolbelt.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">SKINNER</div><br />
[Horrified] Hey, Henson, what are you doing? Stop – you’ll kill yourself! [Adjusting a communications control] Farside Central Command -- Skinner at Disposal Area Two. My partner's in trouble.[SKINNER struggles to his feet, desperately trying to reach HENSON. He doesn't realize that his comlock is missing.]</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">CENTRAL COMMAND</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">[Filtered] Say again, Area Two?</div><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">SKINNER</div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">[Desperately] Matt, stop! </div><br />
HENSON, heedless, continues his frantic dash toward the barrier.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">SKINNER</div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Matt, use your comlock!</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<br />
SKINNER reaches for his own comlock, only to realize that it isn't there. He looks up, horrified -<br />
<br />
-- to see HENSON collide with the laser barrier. He is cast through the void head-over-heels, landing awkwardly in the dust. His faceplate strikes a jagged moonrock, creating a pebble-sized hole from which radiates a spiderweb fracture.<br />
<br />
From HENSON's POV we see a network of fissures slowly spreading across the faceplate, as a hiss of escaping air grows to a crescendo. In a moment of sudden lucidity, the doomed astronaut - knowing what will shortly befall him - breathes heavily, then shuts his eyes and instant before -<br />
<br />
CHANGE OF POV<br />
<br />
HENSON's faceplate violently erupts, spewing his suit's atmosphere - along with a pink, bloody mist - into the pitiless vacuum.<br />
<br />
SKINNER arrives an instant later; through his faceplate we see his horrified expression as Central Command’s Comm officer's filtered voice is heard in the background.<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">CENTRAL COMMAND [filtered]</div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
Area Two, repeat your message - what's your status? Area Two, respond….<br />
<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fO3HNn57BLw/TV72MVZL7VI/AAAAAAAAHDg/8HPakI3nu4E/s1600/moonbase-alpha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="215" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fO3HNn57BLw/TV72MVZL7VI/AAAAAAAAHDg/8HPakI3nu4E/s320/moonbase-alpha.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoBodyText3"><br />
<br />
<br />
HARD-CUT to<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<br />
INT. MOONBASE ALPHA emergency medical receiving area. Several ER medics hustle about as casualties begin to arrive. Some of them are deranged, others are clearly fatalities. A few are seriously burned.<br />
<br />
Into this chaotic scene strides Dr. HELENA RUSSELL, an attractive but somewhat arid woman in her mid-40s. She at once visibly horrified and flawlessly professional. She is issuing instructions to Dr. BENJAMIN MATTHIAS.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">DR. RUSSELL</div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
Ben, you're in charge of triage. The radiation victims are top priority. Most of the vacuum exposure cases are DOAs.<br />
<br />
RUSSELL's comlock buzzes.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">VOICE [filtered]</div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
Dr. Russell, there's another wave arriving.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">RUSSELL</div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">How many more?</div></div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">VOICE</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: -1in;"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">We're estimating between 40 and 50.</div></div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">MATTHIAS</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><br />
<br />
That would bring our total up to around seventy or so.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">RUSSELL</div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
[Prayerfully] Dear God. What happened out there? Was there a guidance system breakdown in the eagle fleet? A construction accident?</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">VOICE</div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
No, doctor. They were all part of some project involving the farside disposal areas.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">RUSSELL</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><br />
<br />
[Livid] Why wasn't I informed? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<br />
Nobody can answer her question. She grabs a nearby orderly.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">RUSSELL</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">I've got my hands full here. Get commander GORSKI – NOW!</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">ORDERLY</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Yes, doctor.</div><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
RUSSELL turns back to her grim work.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText3">CUT TO: </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<br />
EXT. LANDING PAD as KOENIG's eagle touches down. A docking tube connects to the eagle.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<br />
INT. DOCKING AREA, DAY.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Commander PIOTR GORSKI, a muscular, bearded Russian in his late 50s is awaiting KOENIG's arrival.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">GORSKI</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<br />
Commander Koenig. <i>Zhdraswitye</i> -- welcome. [He hands KOENIG a comlock]. <br />
<br />
<br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">KOENIG</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
Piotr Ivanovich. [In Russian] It’s good to see you again, old friend.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">GORSKI</div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
Thank you, Commander - or should I say, Ivan Ivanovich. [They both smile] Please, this way… [he conducts Koenig to a nearby travel tube; they board and begin the trip to Main Mission]. </div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">GORSKI</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
Nasty business going on in the Persian Gulf…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">KOENIG</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">[Resigned] There’s been nasty business going on there for centuries. [A beat] Are they really going to war over this?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">GORSKI</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">Hmmm…. As one of your American philosophers said so long ago – “Peace sells, but who’s buying?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The two exchange wry, resigned smiles. KOENIG changes the subject.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">KOENIG </div><br />
</div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText2" style="margin-left: 1in; text-align: left;"><br />
[Tentatively] Piotr... there are some ramifications of this new propulsion system that leave me ... uneasy.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">GORSKI</div><br />
Me too, <i>tovarich</i>. [Confidentially] After what humanity’s been through for the last thirty years, many of my colleagues are ... unsettled by a power source with such dangerous implications. It’s devoted entirely to peaceful purposes ... but that’s what was said two about two centuries ago about atomic energy. And didn’t one of your American presidents once refer to nuclear missiles as ... “peacekeepers”?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">KOENIG </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">[Ironically] “Peacekeepers”... [a beat as KOENIG notices a change in GORSKI’s demeanor] Piotr, what is it?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">GORSKI </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
[Quietly urgent] <i>Vanyka</i>, I’ve learned some things that I can’t talk about here. Once you get access to the voiceprint-restricted Command database, you’ll be able to find it....</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">ORDERLY [V.O.]</div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
Commander Gorski.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">GORSKI</div></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText2" style="margin-left: 1in; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Go.</div></div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">ORDERLY</div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
We have a medical emergency. Doctor Russell needs to speak with you immediately.<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
At the mention of RUSSELL, KOENIG reacts. These two have a history of some kind.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">GORSKI</div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Put her through.</div><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">RUSSELL </div><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
[Harried] Commander, we just received 68 casualties, including 45 dead on arrival. <br />
<br />
<br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">GORSKI</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><br />
<br />
[Horrified; curses, in Russian] What happened?</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">RUSSELL</div><br />
[Ignoring the question] Half a dozen or so just might pull through, so I'm too busy right now to get all the details, but I need to know: Just who the hell authorized a mission to the farside disposal areas without running it by me?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">GORSKI</div><br />
Doctor Russell, that mission was arranged through the office of the ISA Commissioner. </div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">RUSSELL </div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
[Very sarcastically]I wasn't aware that Commissioner Simmonds was an MD. What's gotten into him? He's not the type I'd expect to run needless risks of this sort. I'd expect that kind of thing from the thrill-addicted rocket jockey Simmonds appointed to succeed you – </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<br />
GORSKI shoots an anxious look at KOENIG, who leans toward GORSKI's open comlock.<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">KOENIG</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
Speaking on behalf of the rocket jockey community, Dr. Russell, let me say that we prefer to risk our own lives, not those of others.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">RUSSELL</div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
[Embarrassed beat] John - Commander Koenig.... I'm needed in surgery. I will contact you again shortly.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<br />
The comlock goes dark. KOENIG and GORSKI exchange a grim look.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">KOENIG </div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Piotr, how can I help?</div></div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">GORSKI</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: -1in;"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><i>Vanyka</i>, you don't formally assume command for another [checks his</div><div style="text-align: left;">wrist chronometer] sixteen hours. It’s my mess, John. [Raises his</div><div style="text-align: left;">hand as Koenig starts to object] No, <i>tovarich</i> - you get settled</div><div style="text-align: left;">in, get up to date on the Meta probe. This mess goes on my</div><div style="text-align: left;">record, not yours. </div></div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">KOENIG</div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
This should go on Simmonds' record. Bureaucrats always excel at shifting blame and hoarding credit, don't they?<br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="text-align: center;">GORSKI </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: -1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">[Smiling] <i>Vanyka</i> -- are you sure you're an American? You not only <i>speak</i> Russian, you <i>talk</i> <i>like</i> a Russian.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-align: center; text-indent: -1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: -1in;">KOENIG gives his old friend a rueful smile as we --</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">FADE-OUT<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">FADE-IN<br />
EXT. LUNAR SURFACE, NIGHT<br />
<br />
Another eagle shuttle docks at a large facility</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">ON-SCREEN GRAPHIC identifies this as <br />
<br />
ISA Archeological Site<br />
Lunar Farside<br />
<br />
A portal opens in the docking area to admit Dr. BERGMAN and SANDRA. BERGMAN looks around as if expecting a reception. As they walk to the security checkpoint, BERGMAN is intercepted by a technician.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-align: center; text-indent: -1in;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in; text-align: center; text-indent: -1in;">BERGMAN</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
Sam, it's good to see you. Why are we so short-handed?</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">SAM</div><br />
Dr. Bergman - there's been a horrible accident. Dozens of men - we don't know what's happened, but we may have lost dozens of men at the disposal areas.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">BERGMAN</div><br />
<br />
Disposal areas?…. [Thinks for an instant, and then understands - and is angry] Sam, were they sent to look for theta waves? Sam?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoHeader" style="text-align: center;">SAM<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">I - I don't know, doctor. All I know is that the ISA field office authorized some special tests, there was some kind of radiation spike, and the next thing we know the emergency channel is overloaded with casualty reports.</div></div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">BERGMAN</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><br />
<br />
[To Sandra] Radiation spike...?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">SANDRA</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><br />
Maybe this could this be some more of the renowned Koenig luck.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<br />
BERGMAN shoots SANDRA a disapproving look and strides off. After a moment, SANDRA - mildly ashamed, joins him.</div><div class="MsoBodyText3"><br />
<br />
FADE-OUT</div><div class="MsoNormal">FADE-IN<br />
<br />
INT. MOONBASE – GYNASIUM, NIGHT. The modest-sized room has a wrestling/tumbling mat. An oval window in the distance displays the moonscape, with a view of the earth.<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In a SERIES OF SHOTS we see CARTER, a stocky man built like a gymnast, wearing workout clothes, and doing calisthenics. We see him performing "dive-bomber” pushups, handstand pushups, jumping squats, and falling backward into a bridge. At the end of the montage, the door opens and KOENIG, dressed like CARTER, walks in.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">CARTER</div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Commander, care to join me in some PT?</div></div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">KOENIG</div><br />
[Stretching] I'm sure I won't be able to keep up. [Falls to the mat and begins cranking out pushups at a jackhammer tempo]</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">CARTER</div></div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText2" style="text-align: left;"><br />
[Spoken as he's doing a wrestler's bridge]You're not fooling me, Commander. You don't look like you've put on more than five or ten pounds since your days as the fleet grappling champ.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">KOENIG</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">[Grunting] Yeah, back when you were in diapers. [He flips to his back and mimics Carter's perfect bridging form; at this point they are lying in parallel; they crane their heads to look at each other].</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">CARTER</div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
Not bad for someone who's outlived his warranty, Commander. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">CARTER sags of his bridge, curls his legs to his stomach, rolls back and explodes to his feet in a perfectly executed "nip-up."</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">CARTER</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">Would you care to spar a couple of falls?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
KOENIG sags out of his bridge, and shakes his head wearily as if to say, "I'm getting too old for this" - only to shoot Carter a "Why not?" look.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">KOENIG</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Well … don't expect too much, Alan.</div><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
The two move to the center of the mat and clinch in a head-and-arm tie-up. They briefly pummel. CARTER snaps KOENIG’s head down; when KOENIG straightens up a bit too high, CARTER shoots around the Commander's leading left leg for a low single-leg takedown. CARTER establishes side control and begins driving KOENIG over on his back. CARTER slips a little too far forward, permitting the Commander to propel himself from underneath, sit out, and escape. The two circle each other again, both of them breathing heavily and wearing smiles.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">CARTER</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><br />
<br />
You're a slippery one, Commander. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">KOENIG</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">And you’re stronger than I expected. What have you been doing – taking hormone boosters?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">CARTER</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;">[Circling] Nah, just doing bodyweight calisthenics – although I do fiddle with the artificial gravity sometimes; working out in a multiple-G environment gives me a bit of an edge.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
The smiles evaporate as they tie up again; now they're serious. This time KOENIG takes the initiative, lowering his level quickly and smoothly pulling CARTER into a fireman's carry. As they hit the mat, CARTER is clearly surprised - his facial expression says, "Huh?" as he finds himself on his side, writhing desperately to avoid a near-fall. He finds the right leverage, arches his back,and reverses KOENIG - only to find himself trapped in a crooked head scissors. With a frustrated grin he slaps the mat to concede. The men disengage, resting on the mats, breathing heavily.<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">CARTER</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><br />
First fall to you, Commander. Want to go two more?</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">KOENIG</div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
I don't think I have another left in me, Alan. It's been too long.</div><div align="center" class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoBodyTextIndent3" style="text-align: center;">CARTER</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
Yeah, sure. Now that you've knocked the rust off you'd probably be even slicker. [Reaches out his hand] Thanks, Commander.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">KOENIG </div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><br />
<br />
[Shaking CARTER’s hand] My pleasure - although my back might not agree tomorrow morning.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<br />
After getting up, the two wander over to a bench and rest, swigging from plastic water bottles.</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">CARTER</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><br />
So, Commander, what's the big secret? We've been training for the Meta shot in the holo-simulator for over six months, but they've not let us anywhere near the ship.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">KOENIG</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
The orders dictate that only Commissioner Simmonds can authorize a release of the mission specs. But we don't have time to wait until everything's been worked out in triplicate.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
[A beat]</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">KOENIG</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
Alan, what do you know about the artifact discovered on Farside about two years ago?</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">CARTER </div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
They clamped down on that pretty quickly, Commander. [A puzzled beat] Did this artifact have something to do with Meta? Is that why the ISA has placed such a high priority on a manned mission?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><br />
<br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">KOENIG<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><br />
No; we have no reason to believe that the artifact has anything to do with Meta - or with any other extraterrestrial source. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<br />
By this time CARTER is very puzzled and a little frustrated.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">CARTER</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><br />
<br />
Commander, I don't understand. You're saying that the artifact is of human origin - meaning that some major earth power made an unrecorded moon mission?</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">KOENIG [Nodding]</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><br />
<br />
Yes. World War II Germany.<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
[A long beat as Carter sits nonplussed].</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">CARTER</div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">How is that possible?</div></div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">KOENIG </div><br />
</div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
They really did it. But as to why … Alan, this is where it gets really strange.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<br />
[KOENIG stands and strides over to the oval observation window, looking at the waning crescent earth]</div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">KOENIG</div></div><div class="MsoBodyTextIndent3"><br />
<br />
For the past two generations, humanity has been doing its level best to destroy itself in pointless wars. And before that, hundreds of millions of people were killed through war and genocide….[Looking again at the earth] It sometimes seems as if every advance in human knowledge merely increases our ability to slaughter each other. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<br />
KOENIG goes back to sit next to Carter on the bench.</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
KOENIG</div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText2" style="margin-left: 1in; text-align: left;"><br />
<br />
[Coming to a decision] Look, why don't you join me for an off-the-record trip of our own to Farside.</div><div align="left" class="MsoBodyText2" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div align="right" class="MsoBodyText2" style="text-align: right;">HARD CUT TO --</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<br />
EXT. SPACE, NIGHT </div><div class="MsoBodyText2"><br />
KOENIG [V.O.]<br />
<br />
<br />
<i style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">To be continued.... </i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><br />
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Once we're there things will become clearer - sort of….</div></div>William N. Grigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14368220509514750246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2728790111690207786.post-49721157629343050582010-09-14T02:20:00.001-06:002010-09-14T02:22:05.361-06:00My Star Trek XII Screenplay -- Anybody Interested?<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8ssyd6-8I/AAAAAAAAGz8/uJnzPlJCt2Y/s1600/sto-10.-deep-space-k-7_600.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8pXvEwVsI/AAAAAAAAGzw/SeWAuJfR0-Q/s1600/kodos.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8ohRqgygI/AAAAAAAAGzs/m_7z7uwMVHo/s1600/Farragut.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br />
</a><br />
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</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="228" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8mhJZTrYI/AAAAAAAAGzk/WDaX36P_hko/s320/TrekTitan.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">So... where to now, guys?</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8mhJZTrYI/AAAAAAAAGzk/WDaX36P_hko/s1600/TrekTitan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Black","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Color me cynical, but I'm beginning to think that the very talented creative team currently in charge of the Star Trek franchise is paralyzed with indecision over the story for the next film. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Black","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="http://trekmovie.com/2010/09/11/star-trek-sequel-update-abrams-orci-kurtzman-talk-khan-klingons-more/">Every interview</a> I've read on the subject is rhetorical vaporware -- a lot of gush and gibbering about "possibilities" and a great deal of empty enthusiasm. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Black","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">There's been some discussion of doing a Khan story -- something I think would be very worthwhile if handled correctly (and yes, I've got an idea that would make it work -- so J.J., if you're reading this, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=671701239&v=wall&story_fbid=146618832040941#%21/?ref=home">get in touch</a>, OK?). </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Black","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Just for goofs and giggles, I've written part of a screenplay for a second Trek feature set in the Abrams 'verse. In addition to the titular villain, I've bee tempted to throw in a certain notable Klingon antagonist. However, this would mean that the story would involve Kang and Kodos, which might be enough to trigger an apocalypse of some kind, or at least some interesting litigation. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Black","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Black","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The excerpt below is a pre-credit teaser (which might work better if the opening credits were dispensed with, ala <i>The Dark Knight </i>-- a film name-checked by the Trek gang as one possible model for the next film). There's also a brief character bit before the main story kicks in. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Black","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Black","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In the first film we saw the backstory of Kirk and Spock, but Bones got shortchanged -- something I'd like to remedy. Of course, since I'm posting this on the web, nothing of this kind will ever make it to the screen. But, hey -- I've still got that killer Khan idea....</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Black","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span> </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Black","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Arial Black","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Star Trek XII: The Sword of Kodos</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">FADE IN –</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">…to a full-screen shot of the Milky Way Galaxy. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">The camera PULLS IN to an area of the Sagittarius Arm slightly “above” the galactic plane and well out toward the edge of the disc. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">We continue the PULL-IN through nebulae and star systems, eventually passing through the outer planets and asteroid belt of a system orbiting a dim red star.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8s7vBCCZI/AAAAAAAAG0A/KBxwuKxFNxY/s1600/dead_space.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8s7vBCCZI/AAAAAAAAG0A/KBxwuKxFNxY/s320/dead_space.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">The camera comes to focus on a bleak, rocky world – large, sere landmasses broken up by relatively small oceans that appear gray and unhealthy. As we close in we see, from distant orbit, evidence of sophisticated civilization, and of recent warfare. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Inert, un-piloted spacecraft tumble unguided in ragged orbits; from a distance we can make out the tiny, lifeless forms of their crews.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">A large space station – three spokes extending from a central core, each of which has a sombrero-shaped habitat unit at its end -- wheels drunkenly, its exterior lights sputtering; the outpost’s rotation reveals that a huge section has been destroyed, leaving one of the spokes looking like an amputated limb with a stump of serrated metal. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8ssyd6-8I/AAAAAAAAGz8/uJnzPlJCt2Y/s1600/sto-10.-deep-space-k-7_600.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8ssyd6-8I/AAAAAAAAGz8/uJnzPlJCt2Y/s320/sto-10.-deep-space-k-7_600.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">A cloud of metallic debris and other flotsam trails the station, along with the grotesque sight of scores of dead, frozen bodies, some of them partially clothed in environment suits. Clearly, whatever disaster struck the station and the other spacecraft happened very quickly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">We PAN to one side and see a large spacecraft that is clearly recognizable as a Federation starship. Not as sophisticated as the USS <i>Enterprise</i>, this vessel has the same basic configuration – a saucer section connected to an engineering hull and two warp nacelles. This is the USS <i>Bonaventure</i>, a forerunner to the <i>Enterprise</i>. It glides silently across the screen, gracefully changes its orbital aspect, and takes up a geosynchronous position over a large continent on the planet’s surface.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">CAPTION</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">The Planet Tarsus IV – a key outpost at the edge of Federation Space. The year: 2246. Stardate: 2271.1. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">The camera TRACKS IN through the wispy cloud cover of Tarsus IV down to the continent we had seen earlier. There we see a colony of humans and humanoid aliens – from familiar varieties, such as Vulcans and Andorians, to more exotic and unfamiliar races. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Their dwellings are functional, adorned with what we recognize as sophisticated communications and fabrication equipment, but timelessly Spartan and utilitarian. Many of the buildings – especially those that could serve as assembly spaces – have been destroyed. Rubble litters the streets, and thick smoke billows from the destroyed edifices. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">The camera PANS the scene of desolation, and then FOCUSES on a sign announcing that the community is called “New Cochrane City.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">We FOCUS on a small group of colonists who have clearly survived some kind of crisis. Their clothes are ragged, their bodies are dirty, and they wear expressions of alertness mingled with repressed horror. Several are Vulcans. Humans of various ethnic backgrounds are seen. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">In the middle we focus on two humans: One is LEONARD, a wiry young man in his mid-teens with a precocious sense of gravitas. The other is an older woman named MARY. They and the others are digging survivors, and victims, from the rubble. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">A loud alert signal resonates through the village, and suddenly a large community viewscreen crackles to life, joined quickly by a chorus of smaller screens. We see a man in a military-appearing jumpsuit on the bridge of the <i>Bonaventure.</i> His name is Col. STANNARD.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">STANNARD</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Your attention is required. This is Colonel Stannard, speaking for and on behalf of the military administration of Tarsus Colony. Your Governor has instructed me to read the following message.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">STANNARD then takes out a clipboard-style Padd and reads, in an officious tone of voice, the announcement.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">STANNARD</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">"<i>The revolution is successful. But survival depends on drastic measures. Your continued existence represents a threat to the well-being of society. Your lives mean slow death to the more valued members of the colony. Therefore, I have no alternative but to sentence you to death. Your execution is so ordered, signed Kodos, Governor of Tarsus IV.</i>"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">In a SERIES OF SHOTS we watch the reactions of the villagers as Stannard implacably recites the death order. Many display the “thousand-yard stare” of hopelessly traumatized victims. Others gaze on in defiant hatred. LEONARD and MARY look at each other in fear and determination.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8m1ATOq5I/AAAAAAAAGzo/h9SmkfI1dqM/s1600/Bonaventure.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">"One big happy fleet"? Nope -- It's the bad guys aboard the Bonaventure. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">VFX – Starship <i>Bonaventure</i> is shown in close-up; we see rotating phaser turrets lock, and torpedo tubes glow ominously.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">CUT TO – Bridge of <i>Bonaventure</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">STANNARD</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Your Excellency, we’re ready.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">STANNARD moves aside and we see a large, muscular man – perhaps mid-40s or a little older – sitting in the Captain’s chair. He is Asian, austerely handsome. He effortlessly exudes authority and radiates intelligence. But nothing about him suggests mercy or benevolence. This is Governor KODOS, soon to become known as Kodos the Executioner. </span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8rSEY2sII/AAAAAAAAGz4/3YeqDcnIN0k/s1600/Chow+Yun+Fat.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our villain: Chow Yun Fat IS "Kodos the Executioner." </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";"> </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">KODOS</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Proceed with the operation.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">At the weapons station, an ensign – displaying just the slightest hesitation, initiates pre-programmed firing routines from the computer. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">VFX – razor-thin streams of deadly energy leap from the <i>Bonaventure </i>and begin raking down the surface. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">In New Cochrane City, the results of the barrage become immediately apparent: Huge swathes of land simply disintegrate, along with habitations, people, and anything else that happens to be in the path of the murderous streams emanating from the <i>Bonaventure</i>. We FOCUS on a small party of refugees, among them LEONARD and MARY, who are fleeing in terror from the onslaught.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">LEONARD</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Mom! This way!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">With a strength born of desperation, LEONARD grabs MARY by the hand and drags her into a nearby cave. Once inside, he gestures to the others in the party, shouting at them to hurry. Among the faces we see are those of a Vulcan – his face a mask of serenity, despite his urgent body language – and those of a mother with a newborn infant. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">VFX—BONAVENTURE, as the phaser barrage ends.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">BRIDGE, Int. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">STANNARD</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Your Excellency, phase one is complete. Orbital assault on targeted population centers is complete.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">KODOS</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[Punching a button on the arm of his command chair] Hagar bay – commence with phase two.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">HANGAR BAY OPERATOR</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Yes, sir. Flights one and two are on their way.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">VFX – An armada of 12 attack craft – shaped like standard Starfleet shuttles, but with visible weapons enhancements and a slightly sleeker design – emerges from the hangar bay at the aft of the <i>Bonaventure</i> in groups of six. Once clear of the ship, the two flights of six ships divide into four strike teams of three; two teams head to the western portion of the continent beneath the ship, the others head east.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">VFX – We follow one strike team that attacks New Cochrane City from the air, assaulting it with high-yield photonic bombs. We QUICK-CUT to the CAVE, where we see LEONARD shielding MARY with his body.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">EXT. NEW COCHRANE CITY – DAY</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Three shuttle/assault craft land in the village square. Each of them decants a six-man strike team clad in full body armor, including helmets with visors and breathing apparatus. Each member of the assault team carries a large, intimidating phaser rifle. We TIGHT FOCUS briefly to see a peculiar emblem on each uniform: A balance-style scale with a large, ominous sword superimposed on it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">The teams move out in classic attack formation, kicking in doors to various habitations and vaporizing any suspected survivors. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">One team – RED SQUADRON – is heading in the general direction of the survival cave; one of the troopers is shown monitoring a tricorder.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">TROOPER</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Lieutenant, indeterminate life signs, bearing 45 degrees planetary north.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">SQUAD LEADER</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[Speaking into a communicator] Red Squadron, fan out.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">INT. CAVE</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">The survivors have heard the assault, and one of them is monitoring the approach of the death squad on his own tricorder. Nobody talks, even in a whisper; the silence grows suffocating. The footfalls of the death squad can be heard in the distance. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">EXT. NEAR CAVE</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">A single stormtrooper wanders near the entrance established earlier; he is oblivious to its existence, but too close for comfort. We quick-cut to –</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">INT. CAVE</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Some of the survivors are visibly near panic. Some close their eyes; others appear to be praying. One Vulcan is in a meditative posture, clearly anticipating the end. LEONARD spies a large farm implement that might be useful as a last-ditch weapon. As he reaches to it, the airless quiet is rent by the barely perceptible whimper of the newborn baby. Everybody freezes. The YOUNG MOTHER looks up in horror.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">EXT. NEAR CAVE</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">The stormtrooper freezes, wheels about; he’s clearly heard the whimper, and is determined to find its origin. As he approaches, the survivors can hear his footsteps. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">STORMTROOPER</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8ohRqgygI/AAAAAAAAGzs/m_7z7uwMVHo/s1600/Farragut.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Red Squad leader – I think I have something ….</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">INT. CAVE</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">We focus on the YOUNG MOTHER, who is frantically trying to calm her baby silently. We see the INFANT visibly prepared to let out a major shriek. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">A QUICK CUT shows us the VILLAGER with a tricorder; the device indicates that the STORMTROOPER is approaching the survival cave. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">CUT BACK to the YOUNG MOTHER as she closes her eyes, bites her lip, and then covers the INFANT’s mouth. She is visibly prepared to suffocate the child or break his neck in order to prevent their capture.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">LEONARD moves quickly and silently over to the YOUNG MOTHER and grasps her arm with firm gentleness. His composure belies his youth as he speaks to her – in a voice only the two of them (and the audience) can hear.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">LEONARD</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">No. We’ll survive – but <i>not that way</i>.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">The YOUNG MOTHER relaxes her grip and, despite the desperate circumstances, gives LEONARD a grateful look. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">LEONARD grasps his farm implement weapon and glides over to the cave entrance, prepared to make a desperate stand. Approaching footsteps and the sound of rustling vegetation indicate that the confrontation is mere seconds away.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">EXT. NEAR CAVE</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">The STORMTROOPER is just inches from the camouflaged entrance when STANNARD’s voice crackles urgently from his communicator.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">STANNARD</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">(Filtered) Attention, all units: Return to the ship <i>immediately</i>!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">EXT. DAY</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">STORMTROOPER sprints back to the landing zone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">VFX – Assault Shuttles take off, streaking away to the <i>Bonaventure</i>. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">HARD-CUT to –</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">INT. <i>BONAVENTURE</i> bridge, angle on viewscreen. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8ohRqgygI/AAAAAAAAGzs/m_7z7uwMVHo/s1600/Farragut.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8ohRqgygI/AAAAAAAAGzs/m_7z7uwMVHo/s1600/Farragut.jpeg" /></a>We see a large, more modern spacecraft, the <i>Farragut</i> -- obviously a Federation Starship of more recent vintage, closing fast on the <i>Bonaventure</i>. Twin beams of coherent energy leap from the starship’s phaser array, wiping out most of the Assault Shuttles. </div><span style="font-family: "Courier New";"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">An instant later, four photo torpedoes streak away from the <i>Farragut</i>, colliding against the <i>Bonaventure</i>’s engineering section. We HARD-CUT to the <i>Bonaventure</i>’s bridge, focusing on a read-out reporting: WARP DRIVE DISABLED. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">VOICE-OVER</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Attention, Governor Kodos: This is David Garrovick, Captain of the Federation Starship <i>Farragut</i>. We have monitored your assault on unarmed civilian population centers. You are ordered to stand down, surrender yourself and top aides, and prepare to be boarded. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">KODOS</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[Unimpressed by the command] Helm, prepare a collision course. Weapons – prepare to fire ventral phase cannons on my mark. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">VFX. – The <i>Farragut</i> approaches the <i>Bonaventure</i>; its phaser turrets pivot to lock on target and its torpedo tubes are hot.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8rSEY2sII/AAAAAAAAGz4/3YeqDcnIN0k/s1600/Chow+Yun+Fat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8qSyrw7EI/AAAAAAAAGz0/BssHjblMRxU/s320/idris+elba.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">My choice to play Capt. Garrovick: Idris Elba. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8qSyrw7EI/AAAAAAAAGz0/BssHjblMRxU/s1600/idris+elba.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">INT. FARRAGUT BRIDGE</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">CAPTAIN DAVID GARROVICK, an intense black man in his mid-30s, is receiving a briefing from his COMMUNICATIONS OFFICER. His NAVIGATOR looks up in alarm.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">NAVIGATOR</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Captain, the <i>Bonaventure</i> is on a collision course – full impulse! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">GARROVICK</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[Tautly] Shields at maximum! Evasive hard starboard! [Punches button on command chair] All decks, brace for collision! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">INT. FARRAGUT BRIDGE</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">An emergency klaxon sounds insistently as crewmembers work feverishly to avoid disaster.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">EXT. SPACE – SFX</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">As the <i>Bonaventure</i> careens toward the <i>Farragut</i>, the second ship peels off to the right in a maneuver that looks like a modified barrel roll. While the ships come within a whisper of colliding, their deflector shields intersect and overload each other in a violent cascade of radiant energy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">HARD-CUT to –</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">INT. FARRAGUT BRIDGE; angle on SCIENCE OFFICER</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">SCIENCE OFFICER</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[Examining a display on his console] Sir, our shields are down!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">HARD-CUT TO –</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="167" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8pXvEwVsI/AAAAAAAAGzw/SeWAuJfR0-Q/s320/kodos.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No, not THAT Kodos.... </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8pXvEwVsI/AAAAAAAAGzw/SeWAuJfR0-Q/s1600/kodos.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">INT. <i>BONAVENTURE</i> BRIDGE, angle on KODOS</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">KODOS</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[Emphatically, eagerly] Fire phase cannons!</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">EXT. SPACE VFX</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Pulsing payloads of phased energy leap from turrets on the underside of the <i>Bonaventure</i> and collide with the <i>Farragut</i>, tearing huge holes in the vital sections of the starship. One of them uproots a warp nacelle at its connection to the engineering hull; another carves a huge divot from the engineering section itself, prompting a short-lived explosion, followed by torrential out-gassing and the ejection of several crewmembers into space.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">CUT TO –</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">INT. <i>FARRAGUT</i> BRIDGE</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">GARROVICK</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[Addressing intercraft] All hands, stand by for saucer separation! [To NAVIGATOR] Execute!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">EXT. VFX – </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">The FARRAGUT’s saucer section detaches from the engineering section in a flare of explosive bolts; within an instant, the impulse engines activate and propel the saucer away from the crippled section as the latter explodes in a dramatic sunburst. We see the saucer assume a pursuit course after the <i>BONAVENTURE</i>. It closes in and unleashes a furious phaser barrage that peels away sections of the hull.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">INT. BONAVENTURE BRIDGE; focus on KODOS and STANNARD</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">STANNARD</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Excellency, should we return fire?</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";"></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">KODOS</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[A very short beat] No … no. [To NAVIGATOR] Set course for Tarsus Prime, best possible speed. [To STANNARD] The Farragut will turn around and search for survivors. Without their stardrive section, they’re months away from the nearest Starfleet base. We’ll have time -- plenty of time….</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">EXT. SPACE VFX</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">The BONAVENTURE surges away in the direction of the red star; we CROSS-CUT to the FARRAGUT saucer section as it assumes an orbit around Tarsus IV.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">CROSS-FADE TO –</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">INT. SURVIVAL CAVE </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">LEONARD and MARY are tending to the wounded as best they can when they hear intruders at the cave opening. LEONARD wheels and grabs the farm implement; MARY ushers the survivors as far back into the shelter as they can go.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">We PULL BACK to see that the intruders are a rescue party from the FARRAGUT, led by GARROVICK himself. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">GARROVICK</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[To LEONARD] Easy – take it easy. We’re from the <i>Farragut</i>. [A beat while he takes stock of the situation.] We’re in bad shape ourselves, but we’ll be able to care for you. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">MEDICAL PERSONNEL arrive and begin treating the wounded; they are immediately drawn to the young mother and infant, the latter of whom is now squalling cathartically. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">GARROVICK</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[Gently, to LEONARD, recognizing him instinctively as the de facto leader] My name is Captain David Garrovick.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">GEORGE </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">My name is Leonard McCoy. [Gesturing to MARY] That’s my mother, Mary.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">GARROVICK</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Leonard … Mary. [A short, discomfited beat] As far as we can tell, you are the only ones still alive.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">LEONARD </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";"> (stunned, horrified)The only ones in New Cochrane City?</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">GARROVICK</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[Quietly, grimly] No – the only ones <i>on the planet</i>.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">OFF JANICE’S REACTION we FADE-OUT to OPENING CREDITS…. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">ON-SCREEN TITLE CARD: Eleven Years Later</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">FADE-IN</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">ESTABLISHING SHOT of the USS <i>ENTERPRISE</i> plying interstellar space, partially lit by the illumination of distant stars. As the “beauty pass” continues, our POV shifts to the forward part of the main saucer section, deck ten; we close in to, and then through, a porthole into the REC ROOM. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Several CREWMEMBERS are shown, some in duty uniforms, others in casual dress, enjoying various off-duty leisure activities. Some have obviously paired up. Others are simply blowing off steam. But there is an undercurrent of nervousness; as we pan the room, we soon see why: At a table, surrounded by a smiling, respectful throng, we see two figures playing 3-D CHESS. As the pan continues we see that they are CAPTAIN KIRK and MR. SPOCK. </span></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8vb1nOReI/AAAAAAAAG0E/J2_G0WYywsE/s1600/Milky_Way_Arms.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Under the chess match, we hear the NARRATION of a CAPTAIN’S LOG ENTRY.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">KIRK (v.o.)</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Captain’s Log, stardate 2864.3. The Enterprise is near the end of a three-week surveying mission near the galactic rim in the Perseus Arm – an area previously explored only by unmanned probe drones. No other earth vessel has ventured this far, and we’ve yet to encounter any other intelligent species. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">CLOSE-UP of SPOCK’S hand moving a rook.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8vb1nOReI/AAAAAAAAG0E/J2_G0WYywsE/s1600/Milky_Way_Arms.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="326" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8vb1nOReI/AAAAAAAAG0E/J2_G0WYywsE/s400/Milky_Way_Arms.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">SPOCK</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Checkmate in three moves, Captain. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">KIRK favors his First Officer with an annoyed, ironic smile.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">KIRK</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">You play a very irritating game of chess, Mr. Spock. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">KIRK’S eyes narrow as he studies the chessboard. Suddenly, impulsively, he reaches for a piece and moves it to the top level. SPOCK’S eyebrows knit together in puzzlement, then he cocks his head slightly; he is visibly calculating his next move. A slight buzz resonates from the onlookers as they realize that SPOCK might well be stumped – astonishing as it might seem. That buzz grows to a crescendo as SPOCK tips over his king, resigning from the game.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">SPOCK</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Captain, much as it grieves me to admit it, impulsive randomness sometimes has the advantage over logic. The game is yours.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">KIRK</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[Graciously, without so much as a hint of arrogance or mockery] </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Thank you, Mr. Spock. I’ve learned a great deal from our previous matches … painful though some of them have been.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">In the B.G. the door swooshes open, and DR. MCCOY strides into the room. </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">MCCOY </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[Quietly, to be heard only by KIRK and SPOCK] Jim, if you’re quite finished getting your ass kicked --</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">KIRK </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Actually, Bones, you just missed me checkmating Mr. Spock. He was kind enough to admit the superiority of – what was it again -- my impulsive, emotional approach. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">SPOCK reacts via raised eyebrow as a friendly smirk settles into MCCOY’S features.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">MCCOY</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New";">You mean – you actually <i>beat</i> this guy? He was doing polynomial equations in the womb and published his first paper on theoretical physics before he was potty-trained, and you – a mere human – <i>beat him at chess</i>?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">SPOCK</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[His words shaded with annoyance] Dr. McCoy, the Captain acknowledged that he benefited from my tutelage. He’s been an apt pupil –</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">MCCOY</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">But you said it was his "human impulsiveness" that beat you, right? He obviously didn’t learn that from you, did he, oh One Most Orderly and Serene?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">In the b.g., the spectators are visibly enjoying themselves.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">SPOCK</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[Wearily] Doctor –</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">KIRK</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Forgive me for interrupting, but – was there something you needed, Bones?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">MCCOY</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">I didn’t mean to make a major issue of this, Jim, but I’m having some trouble with Specialist Rand.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">SPOCK</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[By way of necessary exposition] The Captain’s strategic aide?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">MCCOY</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[Nodding] Rand always seems too busy for routine medical and psych evaluations. She’s put off my staff with a steady stream of excuses, and when I talked to her directly she insisted that she was just too busy and would have to talk with the Captain. So here I am, talking with the Captain.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">KIRK</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[Puzzled]I’ve not assigned her any additional duties. She should be able to spare an hour or two and just get the exams over with.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">MCCOY</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Well, that’s what <i>I’ve</i> been saying, but –</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">The intercom beeps; we hear CHEKOV’S voice</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">CHEKOV</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Bridge to captain.</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">KIRK</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[Punching a control] Kirk here; what is it, Mr. Chekov?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">CHEKOV</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Sir, our scanners have picked up what appears to be a vessel of some kind. We’re too far to detect life signs yet, but – Captain, it is emitting a Federation transponder signal.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">KIRK and SPOCK shoot each other a surprised glance.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">KIRK</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Can you make out the registry?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">CHEKOV</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">If our records are correct, Captain, it’s the <i>Bonaventure</i>. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">The mention of that name causes all conversation and activity to cease. MCCOY reacts with a look of startled concern not observed by his friends. KIRK shoots SPOCK another significant look.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">KIRK</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Thank you, Mr. Chekov – we’ll be right there. Sound General Quarters. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">CHEKOV</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Aye, sir.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">A KLAXON sounds in the background, mingled with CHEKOV’S composed but insistent voice.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">CHEKOV</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">All hands to battle stations. This is not a drill; repeat, this is not a drill. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">Moving in tandem, KIRK and SPOCK walk to an, down the corridor, and enter a turbolift. The rest of the crowd dissipates as the crewmembers, with disciplined urgency, assume battle stations. Only MCCOY is left in the room, where he sits in stunned, puzzled silence. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">VFX: The <i>Enterprise</i> gathers itself and charges into warp. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">KIRK</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">[Log v.o.] Captain’s Log – supplemental. More than a decade has passed since the USS <i>Bonaventure </i>disappeared near Tarsus IV, where it had been used to carry out the slaughter of most of the colony’s population. Once a Starfleet vessel of exploration and peaceful contact, the <i>Bonaventure</i> was appropriated by Governor Kodos as an instrument of genocide. This happened years ago, hundreds of light years away – and Kodos has not been heard from again – until now. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8wJVi_dtI/AAAAAAAAG0I/EwSz3-KulMU/s1600/Cool+Galactic+View.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TI8wJVi_dtI/AAAAAAAAG0I/EwSz3-KulMU/s1600/Cool+Galactic+View.gif" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New";">TO BE CONTINUED.... </span></div>William N. Grigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14368220509514750246noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2728790111690207786.post-79878203788698820192010-07-07T15:50:00.005-06:002010-07-07T16:52:21.944-06:00Missed Opportunities: How "Star Trek" Shortchanged Its Story<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TDT14E_WohI/AAAAAAAAGtI/BVGKizjXMPI/s1600/NuEnterprise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KgBT8kIRgBo/TDT14E_WohI/AAAAAAAAGtI/BVGKizjXMPI/s320/NuEnterprise.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
(By William "the elder")<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">While it was vastly superior to most of its space opera competition, J.J. Abrams' version of Star Trek cheated itself of its potential for greatness. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Abrams and his immensely talented creative trust achieved their primary objective, which was to rehabilitate a stale brand by making it "cool" (a word that receives a workout in the production team's interviews in the DVD's special features section). The film they produced boasted strong, compelling characterizations and human predicaments with which audiences of all backgrounds could sympathize -- <i>but only through the middle of the second act</i>. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In terms of both characterization and narrative, the movie's teaser was far more interesting than its denoument -- which is exactly the opposite of what should happen. The movie ended with James T. Kirk in the captain's chair without offering a story that provided a plausible case for putting him there. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">To reduce the matter to vulgar terms, Jimmy T. just happened to be the next guy in line when Acting Captain Spock lost his sh*t and disqualified himself. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">There are three key points -- call them "nodes" in the narrative -- where, with very little effort, the screenwriters could have fleshed out Kirk's character in ways that would have made him worthy to sit in the center seat. The first was the confrontation between Kirk and Spock at the <i>Kobayashi Maru</i> disciplinary hearing; the second was the confrontation on the bridge after Kirk was beamed back from Delta-Vega; the third was the ship-to-ship conversation with Nero in which Kirk offered to help the villain escape the singularity that was destroying the <i>Narada</i>. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Obviously, from the summaries above, I'm assuming that the reader is familiar with the film. With that in mind, here's how I would have enhanced the scenes referred to above in the effort to turn Kirk from a stock action movie caricature into a younger version of the legendary starship captain.</div><br />
Scene One<br />
<br />
STARFLEET ACADEMY AUDITORIUM, DAY<br />
<br />
(SPOCK has just told KIRK that he, "of all people," should know that no-win scenarios are a possibility, given his father's heroic death in the <i>Kelvin</i>'s encounter with NERO). <br />
<br />
KIRK: Commander Spock, with respect, you know the facts of that incident, but you don't understand my father's reasoning.<br />
<br />
SPOCK (with an undertone of mockery): Please, Cadet Kirk -- enlighten <i>me</i>.<br />
<br />
KIRK: Eight hundred people -- including my mother and myself -- are alive today because my father didn't accept certain defeat. Yes, <i>he</i> died. But he beat the no-win scenario by giving us a fighting chance. <br />
<br />
QUICK-CUT to show MCCOY's reaction: He sees his friend suddenly displaying a hint of his long-submerged potential.<br />
<br />
A silent beat.<br />
<br />
KIRK: You see, Commander, if I'm on the bridge and we're in what appears to be a hopeless situation, I want to know that the officer in the center seat isn't satisfied to accept death as a logical inevitability. I want to know that the captain giving the orders is going to do whatever he can to turn certain death into a fighting chance to live. And I think that your test ill-serves future command-grade officers by teaching them to accept death with composure, rather than encouraging -- no, demanding -- that they do everything they can -- cheating, if necessary -- to save their ship and crew.<br />
<br />
Another silent beat. We PAN the room and find PIKE, who -- with his eyes very bright -- is nodding his head in satisfaction.<br />
<br />
PIKE (s.voce): He's his father's son.<br />
<br />
HOLD on a two-shot of KIRK and SPOCK -- the former still defiantly resolute, the latter grudgingly respectful of the other's logic. There is a palpable sense in the room that a future starship captain has just won a critical argument -- against all reasonable odds. <br />
<br />
Quick comment: This re-write would have taken up less than a minute of screen time, in exchange for revealing the Kirk that Trek devotees know and admire.<br />
<br />
<br />
Scene Two (a)<br />
<br />
INT. Enterprise bridge, day<br />
<br />
(KIRK is now Acting Captain, and he's conferring with his bridge crew. SPOCK makes his dramatic entrance -- but has yet to be convinced of the wisdom of taking on NERO).<br />
<br />
KIRK (taking SPOCK aside to confer one-on-one): Commander, I know and understand your objections. We're outmatched in every imaginable way, and victory seems impossible -- if we play by Nero's rules. (Lowering his voice) We will never fully agree with each other. But we have much in common. You've lost your mother, your whole world. I've lost my father, and my home -- your home, as well -- is about to be destroyed. Please, Spock -- help me defeat Nero. Where's the logic in simply allowing him to destroy Earth?<br />
<br />
SPOCK (after a beat): Although the means employed were intuitive, your conclusion is irresistibly logical ... captain.<br />
<br />
(The two of them turn back to the conference, and the scene unfolds much as it did in the film.) <br />
<br />
Scene Three<br />
<br />
(KIRK and SPOCK are addressing NERO via the viewscreen as the <i>Narada</i> distintegrates; NERO has just refused KIRK's offer to help.) <br />
<br />
KIRK: You got it -- go ahead and die in agony. (Thumbs an intercom switch) Transporter Room One, lock on to Nero and as many of his command crew as possible; beam them aboard and hold them in stasis until further orders. (Turning to "CUPCAKE") Lieutenant, assemble a full security team, armed with class-1 phaser rifles, and report to transporter room one.<br />
<br />
CUPCAKE (straightens visibly): Yes, sir ... captain!<br />
<br />
(The <i>Enterprise</i>, delayed by the rescue attempt, struggles to escape from the black hole, then succeeds as it did in the film.)<br />
<br />
Scene Three (b)<br />
<br />
INT. ENTERPRISE BRIDGE, DAY<br />
<br />
"CUPCAKE" and three guards drag NERO at gunpoint to the bridge.<br />
<br />
NERO (contemptuous, defiant): You said you would let me die.<br />
<br />
KIRK (smiling slightly): I lied.(Gestures with his thumb as if to say "Get this scumbag out of my sight") Lieutenant, take the prisoner to the brig.<br />
<br />
"CUPCAKE" (smiling in satisfaction): Yes, sir.<br />
<br />
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These three embellishments would have served both the story and its central character much better than what eventually ended up on the screen. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Kirk would have been revealed as something more than a "Maverick"-style cocky smart-ass: He is principled, resolute, persuasive, committed to the sanctity of life -- even the life of a hated enemy -- and utterly unwilling to accept defeat. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">If the enhancements suggested above -- or something akin to them -- had been made in the final script, the audience would have felt a sense of unalloyed triumph as the young Kirk takes the center seat at the end of the story. As things stand, that moment is "cute," when it should have been </span><i style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">triumphant</i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">. </span><br />
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<div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden" /><!--Session data--><input id="jsProxy" onclick="jsCall();" type="hidden" /><div id="refHTML"></div>William N. Grigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14368220509514750246noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2728790111690207786.post-9428511467922672792009-11-17T19:15:00.000-07:002009-11-17T19:15:51.269-07:00Pure Awesomeness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_u54-d4UOEpI/SwNYo91zcoI/AAAAAAAAAKI/XlIoUk3QtVs/s1600/Trek.htm" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_u54-d4UOEpI/SwNYo91zcoI/AAAAAAAAAKI/XlIoUk3QtVs/s640/Trek.htm" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Star Trek is out on DVD!!!! HELL YEAH!!! Get it as soon as possible. I'm not joking.<br />
</div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden" /><!--Session data--><input id="jsProxy" onclick="jsCall();" type="hidden" /><div id="refHTML"></div>William Wallace Grigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04004779599159014439noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2728790111690207786.post-55575664960587524152009-11-14T22:47:00.041-07:002010-01-01T16:35:28.874-07:00The Nude Bomb: Missed It by That Much<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_u54-d4UOEpI/Sv9JTBYckMI/AAAAAAAAAJY/Gqhlq2RlIAc/s1600-h/The+Nude+Bomb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_u54-d4UOEpI/Sv9JTBYckMI/AAAAAAAAAJY/Gqhlq2RlIAc/s400/The+Nude+Bomb.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Father: * 1/2 Son: **</b><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><b>Daddy Grigg Says....</b> Recalling this film through the sepia-tinted haze of nostalgia, I remembered it to be much better than it was. This has more to do with my fond (and no doubt similarly inaccurate) recollections of that period of my adolescence, rather than the merits of this utter turdburger of a film. <br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">As a teenager I was both a Trekkie and a Smartian, which meant that my social life would have suffered terribly had I not been impeccably cool otherwise.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Sometime around the age of 15 I happened to watch a rerun of the fifth season Get Smart episode <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w8aENKx3Ths">"Rebecca of Funny-Folk Farm," </a>which left me with an incurable crush on Barbara Feldon's 99. Here's why:<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/AsIFHhj4eH0&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/AsIFHhj4eH0&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"> Needless to say, 99's absence from <i>The Nude Bomb</i> was an immense disappointment. It also underscores the fundamental problem with this movie: It stars a middle-aged Don Adams (burdened with about an inch of pancake makeup and the worst toupee seen on the big screen since <i>Diamonds are Forever</i>) as someone we're told is Maxwell Smart, but who resembles the estimable Agent 86 very little in terms of characterization.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Sure, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=imKEv7FkjTU">the version of Smart in <i>The Nude Bomb</i> has an adenoidal voice</a>, a clubfoot, and a way of stumbling to victory in his battle with evil. But this alternate-universe Smart works for something called the Provisional Intelligence and Tactical Service (PITS) rather than CONTROL; he is single, rather than married to Agent 99, with whom he had twins; and he's a foul-mouthed, unpleasant little man, rather than the straight-as-a-ruler overgrown Boy Scout that was the Maxwell Smart of our memories.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">The sight of a character calling himself Maxwell Smart uttering scatological vulgarities is really unsettling and more than a little offensive. Also noteworthy for its unpleasantness is Smart's post-Disco wardrobe, which leans heavily on sans-a-belt slacks (part of the unofficial uniform of middle-aged men) and flare-leg dress pants. The latter were an unfortunate necessity.On the small screen it was possible to stage scenes in a way that concealed Don Adams' diminutive size. This didn't work when there was a theater-sized screen to fill: Long shots inevitably required that Adams show a little leg, and the ridiculously ample bell-bottoms were needed to hide his lifts. <br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">The only truly bright spot in this film (which began as a made-for-TV project and was unwisely given a theatrical release) was Robert Karavelas as Larabee, a character who was just coming into his own in the TV show's largely dismal fifth season on CBS (where it was euthanized after four seasons on NBC).<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Karavelas was part of the Yarmy Family Mafia -- relatives and friends of Don Adams (nee Donald James Yarmy -- I told you I was a Get Smart Geek) who were given bit parts in the show. Joining Karavelas in The Nude Bomb is Bill Dana, who assumed partial responsibility for the wretched screenplay but managed to extract a few honest laughs in his screen time as a stereotypically Jewish fashion designer (a performance that might be illegal now, owing to our culture's "advanced" sensibilities).<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">An organization called KAOS is the antagonist in this film, but none of the familiar villains (Siegfried, The Claw -- not "Craw," Claw! -- Mr. Big, et. al.) makes an appearance. Also absent is the distinctive Get Smart theme or any music cues that evoked the original series. That theme and its related cues were inspired by the mid-60s spy vogue, as was the series itself. Neither really fared well in the attempt to update them for the late 1970s and early 1980s. Lalo Schifrin's quasi-disco theme song, "Always There When I Need You," is a serviceable piece of Nile Rodgers-style R&B, but it's a poor fit for Get Smart.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/aCV4Eu6Z__g&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/aCV4Eu6Z__g&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><b>This looks promising enough, but don't be decieved.</b></i></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">That's the entire problem with this film: It's not Get Smart. Yes, Adams was in this movie and his performance was adequate and occasionally very funny. The script was co-written by Arne Sultan and Leonard Stern, who produced many of the TV show's best teleplays, including one that received an Emmy. But more violence was done to the Get Smart premise by <i>The Nude Bomb</i> than was inflicted in the recent reboot, which at least depicted Smart as a clean-living, patriotic man not given to casual vulgarity (with one entirely gratuitous exception). <br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Don't bother with the plot of this film; the screenwriters certainly didn't. There are a couple of decent action-comedy gags, the best of which involves Smart's "Deskmobile." Too much time is spent on the Universal Studios set, a plot contrivance that serves as both money-saving device and self-abusing product placement.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Three female guest stars are pressed into service as a replacement for Feldon, and -- with all due respect -- they fall dreadfully short. Andrea Howard is Max's partner, Agent 22. Where Adams and Feldon had a natural chemistry that grew and deepened as the show progressed, Howard and Adams have no chemistry whatsoever. Despite having two brief and forgettable scenes, Sylvia Kristel is given top billing (most likely because of her "adult" film notoriety -- something the makers of a film with the word "nude" in the title certainly wanted to exploit). Pamela Hensley preens, poses, tosses her hair and otherwise does her <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IleYqqW-xms">Princess Ardala vamp</a> -- that's "vamp" as in the musical term that describes pointless filler for what otherwise would be dead air. <br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Delighted as I was to see Maxwell Smart again in 1980, it wasn't until 1989 that Get Smart would make a comeback in the much superior made-for-television movie <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ykxfwjm8nAE">"Get Smart, Again!"</a> Sure, it was made on a much stingier budget, but 99 was back, as were Hymie, Larabee, and Siegfried. (Ed Platt, alas, died of a heart attack in the mid-1970s). <br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
<i>The Nude Bomb</i> was too vulgar to be cute, and not funny enough to justify the vulgarity. It was over-budgeted to be a TV movie, and too cheaply made to justify a theatrical release.Welcome as it was as proof of the large and resilient Get Smart fanbase, <i>The Nude Bomb</i> was perfunctory, poorly made, uninspired, and forgettable. It really did fill a much-needed void.<br />
<br />
<b>William The Funnier Says... </b>While I do agree with my dad that "The Nude Bomb" is too vulgar to be Get Smart, I gotta say that it makes it <i>very</i> funny at times. For instance, there is a scene where the villain (Sauvage) says to Max, "Your bogus ingenuousness is straining my equanimity." Max asks, "Could you put that another way?" to which Sauvage replies, "You're pissing me off." Very funny, but their just wasn't that many of those kind of jokes in this movie.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"> I pity it, in a way, for Universal Studios made this movie just to try to get people to come to their Universal Tour, which is extremely and painfully obvious in a scene where Max and Agent 22 were trying to find the ex-wife of the villain, and you can clearly see that they are being chased through a Universal Studios Amusement Park! What was Universal smoking? Whatever it was, it was pretty good because if you had a scene where there was even more gratuitous product placement than in any of J.J. Abrams movies (SHUT UP ABOUT NOKIA!!! WE GET IT!!!), then you know it's got to be extremely bad.<br />
</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"> The only redeeming thing about that entire chase would be the fact that it references <i>Battlestar Galactica</i>, probably the only good thing about Universal Studios. Even so, this movie seems incredibly unfinished, especially at the beginning with the opening skydiving scene, which should have been at least 5 minutes long and well made, like the skydiving scene from Moonraker (even though it was a lousy movie).<br />
</div><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><object height="364" width="445"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/pih3z-YiYw4&hl=en_US&fs=1&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/pih3z-YiYw4&hl=en_US&fs=1&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"></embed></object><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> If you watch the opening to <i>The Nude Bomb</i> and compare it to the opening of <i>Moonraker</i>, one thing is very, very, obvious: Even though <i>Moonraker</i> is a lousy movie, they put some effort into the beginning, and I was actually on the edge of my seat the entire time I watched that scene, whereas <i>The Nude Bomb</i>'s opening makes you want to smash your head in with Roran Stronghammer's mighty hammer (I owe anyone who gets that reference a cookie), because it is so pointless and so stupid.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> That pretty much concludes my review, even though I wish that I could write more. My dad has pretty much summarized everything that I want to say, except for the fact that I liked most of the really dark and vulgar humor in it where he didn't.<br />
</div>(<span style="font-style: italic;">Father & Son Reviews uses the four-star rating system, not the five-star or anything like that.)</span><br />
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<div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden" /><!--Session data--><input id="jsProxy" onclick="jsCall();" type="hidden" /><div id="refHTML"></div>William Wallace Grigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04004779599159014439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2728790111690207786.post-79250689661600104002009-09-28T19:59:00.000-06:002009-09-28T19:59:21.207-06:00I'm Sorry About This...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_u54-d4UOEpI/SsFp5DDIBDI/AAAAAAAAAH0/9eVHtV4V1rE/s1600-h/sorry_300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_u54-d4UOEpI/SsFp5DDIBDI/AAAAAAAAAH0/9eVHtV4V1rE/s320/sorry_300.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><br />
<br />
Hello, everyone. I just wanted to say to the people that go to the JBS website and found my username and my group (The Anti-Alan Scholl Group) very inappropriate, that I am very sorry and didn't mean to hurt anyone's feelings if I did. Again, I am very sorry, and did not mean to make anyone mad at me. I hope all of you have a wonderful day (or whatever time it is where you live). <br />
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<div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden" /><input id="jsProxy" onclick="jsCall();" type="hidden" /><div id="refHTML"></div>William Wallace Grigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04004779599159014439noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2728790111690207786.post-57074236537574603292009-08-17T14:57:00.005-06:002009-08-17T15:23:39.882-06:00UpdatesHello to the four and a half people who are going to read this! Sorry we haven't reviewed anything for a while (not that you care about our opinions).<br /><br />My dad is still trying to write his review for MiB and The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy, so prepare for something far better than any review that I could write. We're also trying to work something out that would be called something like "Our Top Five Top Five Lists" every five reviews (we like the number five).<br /><br />By the way, if the couple people that read this are confused about the rating sytem we use, and you're not sure if we use the four-star, the five-star, or two-hundred-sixty-nine-star rating system, it states <span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">clearly</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">under EVERY SINGLE POST that we use the four-star. Hopefully I cleared that up if there were any misunderstandings, which I doubt very highly because the chances of having any misunderstandings about the rating system when there is only a small, pink lamp on the planet Venus that reads our reviews is as likely as Barack Obama eating his dog, painting The White House a dark shade of purple, and then doing a hula dance in front of thousands of McCain supporters.<br /><br />Thank you for reading this, and Happy Hanukkah!<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />(Father & Son Reviews uses the two-hundred-sixty-nine-star rating system, and if you noticed this easter egg you've got a lot of time on your hands.)</span></span></span><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>William Wallace Grigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04004779599159014439noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2728790111690207786.post-43589482345015801872009-07-14T18:18:00.027-06:002009-09-28T20:33:26.173-06:00Men in Black Movie Review<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_u54-d4UOEpI/Sl0h_XPcccI/AAAAAAAAAEU/jOUqsjlMJRc/s1600-h/MiB.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358476504095027650" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_u54-d4UOEpI/Sl0h_XPcccI/AAAAAAAAAEU/jOUqsjlMJRc/s400/MiB.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 280px;" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Men in Black<br />
1997<br />
PG-13<br />
Father: *** 1/2 Son: *** 1/2<br />
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">William the Younger:</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">This is easily one of the funniest movies I have seen in my entire life. It combines a ton of the things I really like to make something that is near perfect. And it gets points for being a superb film that came out in 1997, the year the film industry was on cocaine, pot, or something, and produced some really big piles of crap like <span style="font-style: italic;">Batman and Robin, Turbo: A Pow</span><span style="font-style: italic;">er Rangers Movie, Steel, The Postman,<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;">The Sa</span><span style="font-style: italic;">int,</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></span></span>and<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></span></span>many others, but I don't have enough time to talk about them right now. And it gets even more points, because 1997 was the year of my birth (man, I was born in the year where just about every movie that came out sucked. It must be my destiny to review them. YIKES!).<br />
<br />
So this is the pl-- You know what, since this movie is just so hysterical, I think that it is best for me NOT to tell you what the plot is. Now that I have thought of this, I think that is how every one of my reviews is going to be like, from now on. Hmmmm....I've got another idea! How about I quote hysterical lines from this movie, and put a picture from the scene that I am reciting next to the dialogue!<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;"><br />
</span><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_u54-d4UOEpI/Sl0qPmhvONI/AAAAAAAAAEk/ZFuINLEaVx4/s1600-h/babyMiB.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358485579169216722" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_u54-d4UOEpI/Sl0qPmhvONI/AAAAAAAAAEk/ZFuINLEaVx4/s320/babyMiB.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 212px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 320px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 100%; font-style: italic;">There is a scene in this movie</span><span style="font-size: 100%; font-style: italic;"> where Agent K (Tommy Lee Jones) has Agent J (Will Smith) help an alien mother deliver a squid-like baby, while K escorts the father out of the scene to talk to him. Thi</span><span style="font-size: 100%; font-style: italic;">s is pretty much the scene:<br />
Agent K, p</span><span style="font-size: 100%; font-style: italic;">ointing at the mother: You take care of her.<br />
Agent J: What? How?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 100%; font-style: italic;">Father: Are you sure about this?<br />
Agent K: Oh sure, he does it all the time.<br />
Agent J, looking at the mother: OK, just breathe, yeah....Oh! K! Damn man! Damn!<br />
And the result is the picture you are looking at now.</span><br />
<br />
Oh, I can barely breathe I am laughing so hard! This movie is brilliant! I would love to post more of these, but I'm afraid I can't, because I would probably spoil something for everyone reading this. Oh what the heck! I'll do it anyway!<br />
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</div><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br />
</span></span></span></span><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_u54-d4UOEpI/Sl07NT0xCHI/AAAAAAAAAE8/9iGezFgW3D4/s1600-h/noisyMiB.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358504231486687346" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_u54-d4UOEpI/Sl07NT0xCHI/AAAAAAAAAE8/9iGezFgW3D4/s320/noisyMiB.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 193px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br />
There is another scene where Zed, pretty much the boss of The Men in Black tells Agent K to get Agent J a weapon. They go to a chest full of weapons, and this is how the scene goes:</span></span></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-size: 100%;">Agent K, pulling out a pretty large gun: A Series Four De-atomizer.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-size: 100%;">Agent J: That's what I'm talking about.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-size: 100%;">Agent K, pulling out an extremely small gun and handing it to J: Noisy Cricket.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-size: 100%;">Agent J, looking at the small gun: Hey, K, no no. Come on man, you get a Series Four De-atomizer, and I get a little midgy cricket?</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-size: 100%;">Agent K, noticing that J is pointing it at him: Woah!</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-size: 100%;">Agent J: I feel like I'm gonna break this damn thing!</span></span></span></span><br />
</div><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br />
</span></span></span>Hilarious! Pure comic gold! Oh, man, I think I might pass out from laughing so much!! Once again, hilarious! Definitely pick this one up! Surprisingly though, this movie has flaws. Sometimes being just plain weird is an advantage, but if you use it enough, it will get kind of old. But all in all, this movie is superb. Pick it up NOW, if you can. I give Men in Black, being a very near perfect movie, three and a half stars.<br />
<br />
For those of you who are wondering why my dad didn't give you his review yet, he is very busy and will try to get to his review as quickly as possible.<br />
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<br />
<b>William the Elder</b><span style="font-style: italic;"><b>:</b></span><br />
<br />
<i>Men in Black</i> resides near the top of the short list of movies I would love to see again for the first time. And yet it loses little of its manic comic energy over the course of repeated viewings.<br />
<br />
It has a "flake"* similar to the one that inspired <i>Ghostbusters: </i>It presents patently implausible situations in a sober, deadpan fashion that accentuates their comic value, where a more over-the-top approach would reduce the material to sophomoric camp. <i> </i><br />
<br />
<i>Men in Black</i> was not the first film that attempted to capture the elusive quality that made <i>Ghostbusters</i> a comic milestone; that distinction, such as it is, belongs to that film's wan and regrettable sequel. Ghostbusters director Ivan Reitman tried another version of that formula in 2001 with <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0251075/">Evolution</a>, only to find that the ingredients didn't quite cohere. In fact, it's difficult to think of a film apart from <i>Men in Black</i> -- including its own thoroughly unnecessary sequel -- that managed to play as a <i>Ghostbusters</i>-style hip action comedy, rather than a derivative, self-aware corporate attempt to mimic that approach.<br />
<br />
It's difficult for me to imagine how the pairing of Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith came together. This could easily have been the cinematic equivalent of a sauerkraut sundae -- an unpalatable amalgam of two elements, each of which is delectable in its element but prove lethal in combination. Instead, the result is akin to a salted nut roll, in which the seemingly incompatible elements play off each other delightfully.<br />
<br />
Both Jones and Smith (could the actors have been chosen to play the anonymous "Men in Black" because of their nondescript surnames?) play the material absolutely straight; any other approach would have been disastrous. Rip Torn, as their supervisor, exudes a certain curmudgeonly authority while getting off what I think was the movie's funniest line ("Sucks, doesn't it?" -- you have to see the context in order to understand). The creature effects and other visuals are effective without being obtrusive.<br />
<br />
Watching this film recently more than a decade after its release, it became obvious to me why Will Smith has emerged as the largest box-office draw in the world. He is effortlessly charismatic and compulsively watchable, combining athleticism, shrugged-off wit, and enough legitimate acting chops to play more serious dramatic beats. He could have done credit to the role of <a href="http://vimeo.com/5834434">Phil Lynott</a> in <a href="http://www.metalunderground.com/news/details.cfm?newsid=40631">the proposed (but aborted) bio-pic</a>. Tommy Lee Jones, who has both an Emmy (<i>Lonesome Dove</i>) and Oscar (<i>The Fugitive</i>) to his credit, is used here primarily as a reactive lead: His stolidity gives Smith plenty of space to engage in his more kinetic brand of action comedy.<br />
<br />
The only negative aspect of Men in Black is the fact that its success prompted the studio to attempt to make it into a franchise, rather than permitting audiences to savor it as a unique pleasure.<br />
<br />
*"Flake" in this sentence is used in the same sense as in the film <i>The Color of Money</i>. It describes an eccentric creative gift. <br />
<span style="font-style: italic;"><b><br />
</b></span><br />
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(<span style="font-style: italic;">Father & Son Reviews uses the four-star rating system, not the five-star or anything like that.)</span><br />
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</div></div></div></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden" /><input id="jsProxy" onclick="jsCall();" type="hidden" /><div id="refHTML"></div>William Wallace Grigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04004779599159014439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2728790111690207786.post-10569875818111466512009-07-12T10:44:00.033-06:002009-08-10T11:32:34.851-06:00Paul Blart: Mall Cop Movie Review<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_u54-d4UOEpI/Slotj0_xHcI/AAAAAAAAAEM/i2zvhNwiiEo/s1600-h/Blart.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 269px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_u54-d4UOEpI/Slotj0_xHcI/AAAAAAAAAEM/i2zvhNwiiEo/s400/Blart.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357644800255401410" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Paul Blart: Mall Cop<br />2009<br />PG<br />Father: *** Son: * 1/2<br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">William The Younger</span>:<br /><br />Booorrinnggg!! *sigh*<br /><br />Kevin James plays the title character in this movie, so that should be warning enough! Man, does this movie give me a migraine!!! Ooooh...OOHH....Ahhh...and it makes me feel sick, I'm serious. I dodge under a table and take a little while off to vomit in a very large cup. It overflows onto my copy of this movie. Lucky me.<br /><br />Oh, OK, I'm fine now. Our family saw this in the theater, thanks to Roger Ebert. Curse you and your phony review!! This is the last time you fool me!!! Wait, this came out before <span style="font-style: italic;">Knowing</span> didn't it? Grrrr...Well, this is the NEXT to last time you fool me!!!<br /><br />I guess I shouldn't be that harsh. For heaven's sake, the poor man had his jaw removed because it was cancerous!<br /><br />Anyway, on to the plot: Well, Paul Blart is, you guessed it, a mall cop who lives with his mom and is trying desperately to become a part of the New Jersey State Police. But, he obviously fails. So he drives his Segway to work and meets a girl...oh whatever!!<br /><br />Screw this, I'll just tell you what happens. Some people take over the mall while he's rocking out in the video game corner, and they take hostages. One of them is the girl he met. He must rescue her.<br /><br />*Snore*zkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkskkskskkssaddsas....<br /><br />Ohhh! What? I fell asleep while typing, sorry.<br /><br />This movie is just so flat-out boring, that it makes watching wet paint dry seem like a blast! *Stare* Anyway, the music is annoying most of the time, the acting is hideous, the jokes are focused around fat people a lot of the time, the story is crap, but strangely enough, since I am anti-cop (not mall cop) and anti-government, I liked how... well, I can't tell you.<br /><br />Hmph. I hate not being able to spoil stuff for people. Anyway, I guess it would be OK as a Redbox rental, if you have a Redbox around. Or you could use it as target practice for your 50 caliber sniper rifle, or hypnotize yourself by flushing it down the toilet. But you want to know something? Some of this movie was actually pretty funny!<br /><br />But <span style="font-style: italic;">Paul Blart: Mall Cop</span> suffers from too many "surprises", way too many hypoglycemia jokes, an overdose of fat jokes (I'm not encouraging movies to have any fat jokes at all), and sometimes it will take itself WAAAAAAAYYYYY to seriously.<br /><br /><br />Overall, this movie sucks. I recommend that if you buy it, which you hopefully won't, buy it in the value pack named "PAUBLANG!!!!!" which includes TNT and Duct Tap.<br /><br /><br />(WARNING: DO NOT, I repeat DO NOT buy this movie unless you can afford the value pack or if you get sick a lot, like I do). If you want to see a much more positive review, go and read <a href="http://freedominourtime.blogspot.com/search?q=In+Praise+of+Paul+Blart+%28Updated%2C+January+21%29+">my dad's review</a>.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />(Father & Son Reviews uses the four-star rating system, not the five-star or anything like that.)<br /></span></div><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_u54-d4UOEpI/SloXSI3ImtI/AAAAAAAAAEE/N8ItJRNLHmA/s1600-h/TurbohOHAHHHHH.jpg"><br /></a></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>William Wallace Grigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04004779599159014439noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2728790111690207786.post-73650345686994930722009-07-10T15:05:00.018-06:002009-07-30T19:19:03.336-06:00Knowing Movie Review<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u54-d4UOEpI/SletUu4XflI/AAAAAAAAACk/dz4qdrCKg9c/s1600-h/KnowPoster.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 284px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u54-d4UOEpI/SletUu4XflI/AAAAAAAAACk/dz4qdrCKg9c/s400/KnowPoster.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356940853473934930" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Knowing</span></span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">2009</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-style: italic;">PG-13</span></span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Father: ** 1/2 Son: **<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></span></span><br /></div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: left;font-family:arial;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">William The Younger: </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><br /><br />Meh</span>. It was sort of fun at times, but the kind of fun that doesn't put all of its heart into something. Yeah, it did have a lot of the stuff I really like (extremely awesome/gruesome violence, a little bit of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y7F4z8FV6ME">Beethoven</a>, creepy soundtrack), but that just doesn't really help it.<br /><br />So this is pretty much the plot: In the year 1959, a school in Lexington, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Massachusetts</span> has decided that all the students in the school will draw a picture of what they think the future will look like, and then they will put it into a time capsule and unearth it 50 years into the future.<br /><br />One little girl named Lucinda does not draw a picture. Instead she writes numbers all over both sides of her paper. After everyone is finished drawing, they take <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">everyone's</span> paper and put them in envelopes with the student's name on them. The envelopes are then put into the time capsule, not to be opened until 2009.<br /><br />Finally, the capsule is opened. Every student at the school in the year 2009 gets to see one of the pictures. Caleb Koestler, the son of the main character receives the the envelope with Lucinda's name on it. He opens it up and finds all the numbers she wrote on it. He brings it home, and goes to bed.<br /><br />John Koestler, the main character and Caleb Koestler's father studies it overnight. He discovers that each of the numbers shows the date of every major disaster in the world. It also shows how many people were, or are going to be killed. There are only three of the numbers left.<br /><br />Really exciting, isn't it? That's what I first thought when I saw Roger Ebert's <a href="http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20090318/REVIEWS/903189991">review</a>. He gave it four stars out of four!!! The man is mad nowadays!!! Giving <a href="http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20090506/REVIEWS/905069997"><span style="font-style: italic;">Star Trek</span></a> two and a half stars, and <a href="http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20060504/REVIEWS/60419008">MI3</a> two and a half stars!!! He must have something against J.J. Abrams!! And not to mention giving the<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span><a href="http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080730/REVIEWS/198380357/1023"><span style="font-style: italic;">Mummy 3: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor</span></a> three stars?!! <span style="font-style: italic;">The Mummy 3</span> was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">sooooooooooo</span> hideously diabolical, that if you look up "A Complete Disaster" in the dictionary, this movie is right alongside <a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Batman_and_Robin_%281997_film%29">Batman and Robin</a>!!! But that is a rant I will save for later.<br /><br />Anyway, the movie has some very intense violence, the kind I'm looking forward to in the new movie, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2012"><span style="font-style: italic;">2012</span></a>. And it has got some pretty awesome music in it, the kind of disturbing music that should, again, be in <span style="font-style: italic;">2012</span>.<br /><br />Seriously though, I've seen some awful child actors in my time, but the one who plays Caleb is the worst of the bunch. For instance, there is a scene in this movie where the to main adult characters are investigating something, and they leave Caleb and a little girl inside the van. Out of nowhere these creepy people come up and stand right next to the van, while Caleb doesn't display any emotion WHATSOEVER!! This "Keanu Reveesness" of his goes on for the entire film.<br /><br />Besides the boy who plays Caleb, the acting is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">occasionally</span> stale, and the special effects aren't the best, but then again, it has Nicholas Cage as the main character. Gotta hand it that. This film actually had a very disturbing opening, and a very emotional scene very close to the end. But all in all, it's not my type of disaster movie (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Hmmm</span>.... I wonder if <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cloverfield"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Cloverfield</span></span></a> is any good...maybe I should pick that one up...). I do recommend you to pick this up for a cheap price if you can, or rent it.<br /><br />Speaking of disaster movies, I've gotta go and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">re-watch</span><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deep_Impact_%28film%29">Deep Impact</a>.</span> And I wanna see Mr. M. Night <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Shyamalan's</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Sixth_Sense">The Sixth Sense</a>. </span>That one isn't a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">disaster</span> movie, more like a horror, but from what I've heard, it's awesome. Anyway, this concludes my review. Hopefully you like mine almost as much as my dad's (that would be a new record for me! :D)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">William the Elder: </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Knowing</span> was much better on the page than on the screen. The story is based on a terrific idea and it unfolds at a good pace. The direction is crisp, the cinematography exceptional, the score appropriately atmospheric and the visual effects satisfactory (and occasionally exceptional).<br /><br />Yet the film seems inert rather than involving, as if the producers had gathered the ingredients for TNT and followed all the proper directions -- and ended up with a damp squib, rather than a satisfying, ground-shaking explosion.<br /><br />In some ways, <span style="font-style: italic;">Knowing</span> builds on the eerie "twist" film gimmick that made, and then destroyed, M. Knight Shyamalan's career. The conceit at the center of the story strongly resembles the one offered by <span style="font-style: italic;">Signs</span>, which was Shyamalan's last decent film. <span style="font-style: italic;">Knowing</span> deals with the issue of cosmogony: Are we here simply because "s**t just happens," as Cage's character says at one point, or is the universe the product of an Intelligent Design? <span style="font-style: italic;">Knowing</span> offers an answer not all that different from the one presented in Shyamalan's vastly superior film.<br /><br />Unlike<span style="font-style: italic;"> Knowing, Signs</span> succeeded was in creating a small ensemble of well-wrought characters brought to life through effective performances. And <span style="font-style: italic;">Signs</span>, like most of Shyamalan's films (at least the ones that work) successfully evokes a sense of a specific place, his beloved Pennsylvania. Where his films work the events and action, however implausible, are made believable by the involvement of apparently real people in a recognizable place. <span style="font-style: italic;">Knowing</span> never manages to accomplish this critical illusion, which demonstrates just how difficult it is to accomplish what Shyamalan has done, and how genuinely remarkable his gifts are, despite his regrettable recent career trajectory.<br /><br />Nicholas Cage has made a mini-career out of playing the Earnest Unraveller of Esoteric Truths in the <span style="font-style: italic;">National Treasure</span> films; here he recycles most of his acting beats from those movies while leaving out the wit and offbeat charm that made their implausibilities palatable. This probably reflects the fact that <span style="font-style: italic;">Knowing</span> is an End of Days story, which really doesn't permit character bits of that kind. But the pace and unremitting grimness of the movie -- along with a completely lifeless performance by the main child actor, who behaves as if he's been overdosed on Ritalin -- likewise impedes the development of the central characters to an extent sufficient to enlist the audience in their fate.<br /><br />All the ingredients were here, and they were competently assembled, yet <span style="font-style: italic;">Knowing</span> lacked the fundamental creative spark necessary for ignition. Perhaps this is an ironic validation of the need for genuinely intelligent design: Worthwhile stuff doesn't just "happen" by itself.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(Father & Son Reviews uses the four-star rating system, not the five-star or anything like that.) </span><br /><br /><br /></div>William Wallace Grigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04004779599159014439noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2728790111690207786.post-2022516671316753252009-07-09T15:39:00.005-06:002009-07-30T19:18:49.829-06:00Star Trek Movie Review<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u54-d4UOEpI/SlZk-J--rgI/AAAAAAAAABg/0ZUfVwZumjU/s1600-h/StarPoster.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 356px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_u54-d4UOEpI/SlZk-J--rgI/AAAAAAAAABg/0ZUfVwZumjU/s400/StarPoster.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356579825798524418" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Star Trek<br />2009<br />PG-13<br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">Father: *** </span><span style="font-style: italic;">1/2</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> Son: ****</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">William the Younger:</span><br /><br />Yup, we saw Star Trek. Of course we would, dad and I are BIG <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Trekkies</span>, so we went and saw this on opening day, and I can't say that we were <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">disappointed</span>.<br /><br />The opening of this movie is set in the year 2233, and most of the movie is set in the year 2258. This is about the plot: Nero, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Romulan</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">villain</span> of this movie, is from the future. In the future were Nero is from, a star has gone supernova, and threatens to destroy Romulus. The future Spock has decided to help the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Romulans</span> by manning a ship called "The Jellyfish," which is equipped with "red matter" that, if shot into the supernova, would create a quantum singularity that would consume the supernova.<br /><br />But Spock is to late and Romulus is destroyed. Nero, enraged that Spock did not save his world, promises that he will destroy all of the worlds that have anything to do with the Federation.<br /><br />That's about it. I can't tell you anymore, otherwise I will spoil all of the awesome things in this film, and we wouldn't want that. Anyway, the acting in this is amazing, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">specifically</span> Zachary <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Quinto</span> who plays the younger Spock.<br /><br />My dad thinks that Bruce <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Greenwood</span>, who plays Captain Christopher Pike was the best, but that's besides the point. Chris Pine, who plays Kirk was great, and just about everyone else. Even <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Chekov</span>, who has some hilarious Russian <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">stereotypical</span> scenes like pronouncing Vulcan "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Wulcan</span>." The special effects are life like, and the action is spot-on.<br /><br />And I have to mention that the score is just awesome!! This film is just so amazing because it is beautifully written, and superbly directed. So if you're into awesome special effects, great adventure, a superb cast, big explosions, Star Trek, and amazing <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">storytelling</span> like I am, you should see this.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">William the Elder:</span><br /><br />As a Trek-Dork of long standing I have made it a policy -- nay, a law as <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">insurmountable</span> as the decrees of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Medes</span> and Persians -- that I must see each new Star Trek film at the first available showing.<br /><br />This means, of course, that I've been front-row center at the unveiling of some epochal cinematic debacles, such as "Star Trek V: The One that Sucked," and "Star Trek: Cure for Insomnia" (aka "<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Insurrection</span>," a title that pioneered new territory in the practice of bombastic overkill).<br /><br />Star Trek (2009) is considered to be a reboot/origin story akin to "Batman Begins" (the best of that genre) or "Casino <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Royale</span>" (which is a respectable second). It is actually an alternative history for the established series, branching off at a tangent from the familiar "time-line" established in the classic 1960s TV show (aka The One True Trek). This approach offers some intriguing dramatic <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">possibilities</span>, since it will allow the custodians of the franchise to put the characters into peril in ways the series had avoided until now. And as the events of the current film illustrate, there is no "reset button" in the new continuity. Cool.<br /><br />Trek '09 is blessed with an <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">astonishingly</span> good <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">pre</span>-credit teaser sequence that is the most riveting 10-15 minutes I've ever experienced in a Star Trek film. The first act is nearly flawless as well, sketching out the main characters in bold strokes and (with one critical exception) some depth -- <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">particularly</span> Spock.<br /><br />There is an abundance of honestly earned laughs solidly rooted in character, and a few silly but effective bits of near-slapstick. When the crisis descends, however, the laughs are savagely silenced by a catastrophe that is shocking on both personal and cosmic levels.<br /><br />The second act loses both narrative momentum and emotional resonance, and the third builds to a pretty standard -- albeit <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">exceptionally</span> well-produced -- action-movie <span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">gotterdammerung</span></span>: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Lotsa</span> stuff gets <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">blowed</span> up <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">reeeeeeeeeeal</span> good, the Bad Guy gets to bellow that he should have killed one of the Good Guys when he "had the chance," the skies alight with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">phaser</span> and torpedo fire -- all of that good stuff.<br /><br />We're even treated to the sight of huge cracks carving themselves into the Enterprise and fissures spider-webbing their way across the Bridge <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">viewport</span> (which is actually a large window in this version) as, for the first time, Scotty's <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">Caledonian</span> brogue rends the air with the soon-to-be familiar exclamation, "I'm <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">givin</span>' her all I can, Captain!"<br /><br />As I said, this is all very <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">entertaining</span>, albeit rather heavy on cinematic empty calories.<br /><br />You've probably noticed that I've said nothing about the plot. That's entirely intentional, I assure you. The story rests a bit too heavily on coincidence and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">exceptionally</span> unsound pseudo-science. The biggest weakness in this vastly <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">entertaining</span> film, however, is the thinness of one <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">characterization</span> in particular, and it just happens to be the central one -- James T. Kirk.<br /><br />Chris Pine is a splendid actor who does a heroic job taking a one-dimensional <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">cari</span>-Kirk-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">ture</span> (sorry; I should have, but couldn't, resist) and making it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">likeable</span>. He clearly has studied <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">Shatner's</span> work, and his performance displays consistency with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">Shatner's</span> posture, body language, and subtle (yes, I used that word in proximity to "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38">Shatner</span>") eye movements.<br /><br />There is one sequence in particular in which Pine seems to be channeling <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39">Shatner</span> in a way that is neither caricature nor homage; it's simply a case of a talented young actor nailing a role. The problems with Kirk in this film are not Pine's fault; they all lie on the written page.<br /><br />In writing Kirk, the people responsible for the screenplay seem to have had their keyboards set permanently to "cocky."<br /><br />Sure, Kirk is both very impressive and quite impressed with himself. But he was also capable of profound self-doubt, which is why McCoy was so important to him. Yes, Kirk had a Hall-of-Fame batting average with the ladies; in this film, however, he suffers from something akin to Satyriasis. He's a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40">horndog</span> of such relentless appetites that we see him making a pass when he's got one foot in the grave -- and on another occasion, trying to hit on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41">Uhura</span> immediately after making out with her Academy roommate. This sort of behavior might have struck Bill Clinton as a bit improper.<br /><br />Near the end of the film -- I won't say where, but if you see the film, you'll know where it is -- there's a <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">huge</span> missed opportunity for a truly <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42">Kirkian</span> moment. What <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43">distinguished</span> Kirk from other action heroes of his vintage was his principled commitment to peaceful solutions where possible, and humane treatment of defeated enemies where conflict is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44">irrepressible</span>. There is a feint in this direction in Trek '09, but the writers apparently decided to go for the high-yield "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45">Ka</span>-BOOM!" approach over an ending that would have been more <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46">dramatically</span> satisfying and truer to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47">Trek's</span> worldview.<br /><br />Pine's Kirk is engaging and a lot of fun, but it's hard to say that he -- unlike Spock, for instance -- was changed by the events of this story. He started out as a charismatic, cocky, talented, sometimes obnoxious young man, and ended the story as a charismatic, cocky, talented, sometimes obnoxious young man with greater <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48">responsibilities</span>. Comparisons to Tom Cruise's character in "Top Gun" suggest themselves, but I think Lord <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49">Flasheart</span> from the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50">Blackadder</span> series offers a better comparison.<br /><br />Zachary <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51">Quinto's</span> Spock is both written and acted splendidly. Karl Urban as McCoy was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52">terrifyingly</span> good; as was the case with his performance in "Comanche Moon," in which he played a younger version of Tommy Lee Jones' Capt. Woodrow Call, Urban simply <span style="font-style: italic;">inhabits</span> this role.<br /><br />A word or several must be said about the best performance in this film, which was offered by Bruce Greenwood as Christopher Pike. He plays a very different Pike from the one seen in "The Cage"; the earlier version was a young, grim, driven captain tormented by self-doubt and eager to escape the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53">responsibilities</span> of command.<br /><br />Here, Greenwood plays Pike as an older, wiser captain who radiates confidence, competence, and calm courage. He has only a few brief moments at the helm of the Enterprise but Greenwood uses them to depict someone who belongs in the center seat -- someone to whom command authority comes naturally.<br /><br />The characters are all in place at the end of the film, and the ensemble has signed on for two sequels. In case anyone connected to Paramount reads this review, I'm making it known that I've already written a treatment for a sequel; <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54">c'mon</span>, won't you give a middle-aged Trek Dork a shot?<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(Father & Son Reviews uses the four-star rating system, not the five-star or anything like that.)</span><br /></div></div>William Wallace Grigghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04004779599159014439noreply@blogger.com0