Abusing and losing the plot
By: Sheryl-Lee Kerr
The saying goes there are only ever five storylines in this world,
retold a million different ways. Whoever came up with that probably
hasn't been to the movies lately.
By Hollywood standards, having recently been romped, rollicked,
alien-ated and serial-killered out, I have come to the conclusion
there may well be five plots - but told in exactly five ways. The
formula has become so complete they've stopped rewriting the plot
between movies.
Take today's stock action movie. It always goes something like this:
Enter Veteran Commander With World-Weary Face.
Says he: “Okay Oiled, Muscled, Unintelligible Hero, listen close. I
gotta mission for you but I'll use small words so you understand.
“It doesn't actually matter what I say here because I'm just filling in time until you spectacularly blow up a bridge/train/building/boat conveniently packed with dynamite.
“But never forget three things: your unit's honor, your name (I've pinned it to your shirt) ... and to sling the nearest helpless, screaming size-6 woman over one shoulder while simultaneously firing your machine-gun.
“Oh, but forget about kissing the girl at the end - you're too cool by far and besides, you might actually have to speak to her first.”
Of course, your standard serial-killer movie is even more improbable, beginning with the obligatory stern FBI boss and good-looking agent.
Says Stern FBI Boss: “Oh no, another serial killer doing unspeakable things. Quick, call in a young, lone agent to get into his evil mind and be mercilessly taunted for 90 minutes.”
(Agent Rookie arrives.)
Stern FBI Boss: “Agent Rookie, your job is to track down a diabolical serial killer, look vulnerable and to stupidly not call for back-up when you work out where his hideout is. You must open your eyes wide whenever you hear the overhead music get loud and never, repeat, never look behind you. Can you do that?”
Agent Rookie: “Yes sir. But do I get to see scenes of gratuitous gore and discover bloodied fingerprints smeared down walls?”
Stern FBI Boss: “Only if this is an R-rated movie. If it's an M, you can find a blood-spattered floor and one severed body part; or if it's a PG, you can just scream and turn out the lights.”
Agent Rookie: “What if it's a G rating?”
Stern FBI Boss: “Then we're not even having this conversation.
“You're out walking Fifi, wondering who stole your pushbike.”
But best of all is the alien-invades-earth flick, complete with the standard dull, weak-chinned American president.
Says Weak-chinned American President: “Gracious, it's aliens armed to the teeth. I know they've come in peace, despite the fact they're powering up more arsenal than we have innocent people to die futilely in a hail of flying cars.
“Quick, while I prepare for my own spectacular death, call in that sassy token blonde and the square-jawed computer whiz hero to get cracking on the sexual tension.
“And, after I'm dead, get them to save the planet at the last minute - but not before the square-jawed computer whiz hero locks eyes knowingly with the sassy token blonde and hacks into a completely alien computer in three minutes or less.”
[Apologies, if I have ruined the endings for anyone.]
© The Advertiser & Sheryl-Lee Kerr, 01 JUL 1997.