#baronvonb

With the new season of Game of Thrones underway, Matt Meador and I look at the hallmarks of any successful fantasy epic, the essential elements that need to be in place to be considered a true member of an oft-maligned genre that we hold dear.

Hot Dog In The Thumb Groove Of The Mitt

Slippery Bases

Fake Press Conference Accusing A Guy Of Steroid Use

Bloody Mascot In The Shower

It starts with a bold opener. Maybe just dialogue over a dark screen? Then you cut to some kind of shocking or funny contrasting image? Reel me in. Since I'm going to start judging immediately, it's important to start strong. Flash me some Ruffalo. Cut to a beleaguered Cheadle. Let me know you're serious about this trailer by positioning your most likeable actor at the top. Later on you can tickle me with a surprise Goldblum cameo, but for now, start with the big guns.

Once you've done that, get some music going. This is going to tell me a lot about your movie and will underscore any kind of emotion you're targeting. You want drama? Swell that orchestra. Get those cellos plucking and my heartstrings will follow. Comedy? Well, be careful. If you are playing tinkling "comedy piano" I will barf a Gordian's knot of Twizzlers right on the screen. Take a cue from Wes Anderson and pick music that stands alone by itself and then makes the scene reveal even more of its essential tone.

How about some quick cuts of random action? Is that an arrow in the air? A hospital exploding? A walnut being crushed in a fist? Yes, delight me! Make me question my racing heart! Make me squeeze my neighbor's thigh and dig in an elbow twister to the gut!

But please. Please don't tell me your best joke. Don't let me see your climactic set piece. Don't reveal the whole goddamn mystery in one Mark Wahlberg close-up. I want to be wowed, I want to say, in the face of skeptical sneers, "You know what, that Colin Farrell dolphin flick actually doesn't look too bad!" I want to give the Tower of Thumbs rather than the Sarcastic Clap, I want to be devastated about how far away Christmas Day 2012 is from now. I want to be disappointed that I'm about to see the movie that I'm about to see rather than the one that is still all promise and no decent yet underwhelmed reviews.

[A group of humans are hiding out from an alien on their own spacecraft.]

Brotz: Well, the cargo bay doors are locked. Great. Thanks, Hernandez.

Hernandez: Sorry! I thought it would open up the dining hatch. Isn't it on the other side of this wall?

Miranda: You mean the cafeteria? Not everything is a hatch or a pod, you know.

Hernandez: (mumbling) You're a dried-up hatch...

Miranda: You sonnova...

Brotz: PUT SOME FREON ON IT!

Plank: Hey, guys, look! The sleep pods are in here! I'm climbing in! Good morning, good afternoon, and GOOD NIGHT!

(PLANK starts to climb into a sleep pod.)

Brotz: Plank, that's enough! Those haven't been operational in 50 years. Now, let's cut the bullshit! There's an alien lifeform on this ship, and it's already taken out half the crew! If we don't get our shit together and think of a plan, we're going to be joining them.

Dinty: Sgt. Brotz?

Brotz: What is it, Dinty?

Dinty: No radio contact - that detour took us completely out of range of the entire fleet.

Caffle: Well, 'scuse me, lasses and gents, but I'm fixing me to rub a rim hole right up on those alien fuckers.

Miranda: Come on, Caffle, are you serious?

Plank: (still in sleep pod) Shh!

Brotz: Get out of that pod, soldier.

Plank: No! Listen!

(A faint clanging noise can be heard and starts to get louder)

Brotz: Caffle. Dinty. Make sure that hatch we came through is secure. Hernandez. Miranda. Check the charges on all of the weapons in the storage locker.

(They leave in the opposite direction of the group's entrance.)

Plank! Get out of that sleep pod and help me access the mainframe from this control panel. If we can't contact Bernard and his team, then maybe we can lead this fucker to an airlock and shoot him into the great wide open.

Plank: Yes, sir.

(He hops down to work near the entryway.)

Dinty: Sarge, there's a problem.

Brotz: What is it?

Caffle: We can't lock down the hatch. She's...

Brotz: What?

Dinty: It's been tampered with, sir.

Brotz: (weighty pause) Then we're making our last stand here. Okay, everybody. We can expect hostiles from the main door anytime now. Probably the cooling ducts as well. Miranda! Hernandez! Get those weapons out here. Don't anybody try to be a hero! Survive, damn it! Now let's get ready for this alien piece of shit.

(A person with an alien head rushes in and grabs Plank next to the door.)

Brotz: (pulls his sidearm) FREEZE!

Plank: (slowly climbing into sleep pod, and singing a lullaby) Shitshitshit, shitshitshit, shitshitshitshitshitshitshit.

Alien: I want to make love to this earthling!

Brotz: What?

(Caffle and Dinty break down laughing. Plank and Brotz are confused. Bernard removes the alien head.)

Brotz: You fucking fuck.

Bernard: GOTCHA!

Brotz: Bernard. I thought you and your team were fighting for your lives in the tail section! The whole ship is at Defense Stance 4!

Bernard: Told you I'd get you back for the shaving cream in the space boots.

Brotz: Magnificent. You really had us...

(Miranda and Hernandez rush in)

Hernandez: Die, you alien bastards!

(Hernandez opens fire on Bernard killing him instantly)

Miranda: (horrified) Hold your fire, hold your fire! That's Bernard!

Hernandez: What's that? (he gestures to the alien head next to Bernard's corpse)

Brotz: Hernandez! What the fuck? He didn't even have the head on!

Hernandez: Shit, you're right.

(everyone is stunned and silenced for a moment)

Dinty: It was just a prank. We left the hatch open and...it was just a joke.

Brotz: (punches the wall) Goddammit!

(pause)

Hernandez: I didn't...I was running on pure adrenaline...you know, he's got those bug eyes...

Miranda: You stupid ass. You killed Bernard, you killed him! There was no alien! It was a joke!

(She doubles over. Attention shifts from shame to concern for her)

Plank: Miranda?

(Miranda screams and stand to reveal and alien jumping out of her chest)

Plank: (putting head on pod pillow and miming turning out the light)

Brotz: Stand back!

Dinty: Oh no, don't...

Brotz: (raises sidearm) I'm sorry.

Miranda: Oh, it's just. . .

Dinty: JESUS!

(Brotz fires and seriously injures her - she is gasping for her dying breaths, but she is clearly almost gone. Another long pause. Brotz crosses to her emotionally and stops as he kneels down.)

Brotz: Is that a puppet, Caffle?

Caffle: Indeed it 'tis, Sarge.

Brotz: You want to tell me why Miranda was operating a puppet that looked like an alien under her shirt?

Dinty: It was a prank, Sergeant. Well, it was a part of the original prank. I'm not quite sure why she went through with it after Hernandez already shot Bernard.

Miranda: (spitting up blood in her death throes) It was on a...timer...totally forgot about it...

Brotz: (shoots her in the head) Unbelievable. Okay. Any more pranks? Now's the time to tell me!

(Caffle pulls a dildo-shaped alien puppet out of his pants and Dinty reveals that Plank is an android.)

Brotz: Plank's an android?? Jesus. Wh...why? How long has that been in the works?

Dinty: Uh...the real Plank actually finished his final tour of duty 3 years ago. He started a family on Ranfuron in the Narfis Galaxy.

Caffle: (taking out wallet) This is his son, Ethan.

Brotz: You bastards have too much free time. Okay, when the Space Commission comes calling, here's what happened: a mind-altering virus was released in the ship and made us turn on each other. Then, uh, Plank reversed the polarity here in the cargo bay and cured us all. Alright?

(everyone mumbles)

Brotz: Okay?

ALL: Yes, sergeant.

Brotz: Plank?

Plank: (big yawn, like a robot) Yes, Sergeant.

Dinty: Isn't that a scientifically unsound explanation...and a disservice to the memories of Bernard and Miranda?

Brotz: How do you want to start the report, Dinty? Five stupid assholes, two of whom are now dead, one of whom is an unlicensed android, decided to pull the dumbest prank, sorry, SERIES OF PRANKS, of all time? Hmm?

Dinty: No, sergeant.

Brotz: Let's clean this mess up.

(Lights up on a grandfather, his granddaughter and grandson.)

GRANDPA: Alright, my crispy little nuggets, time to get in your little breaded pj's and lay down in your little fat fryers!

LILY: Grandpa, gross!

FREDDIE: We're not nuggets!

GRANDPA: Yes, you are, and I'm going to gobble you down! (He playfully attacks and tickles them. They laugh uproariously.) I'm a nugget gobbler! Give me some juicy nuggets to gobble!

(MIKE and ELLEN walk in on last line. MIKE makes a face.)

ELLEN: Alright, Dad, that's probably enough of that. You sure you're going to be okay with both of them?

GRANDPA: Are you kidding? I raised four of you greasy tadpoles practically by myself! I think I can still watch a couple of grandkids.

FREDDIE: Grandpa said I was a steaming ox turd!

LILY: And I was his sinewy turd twin!

MIKE: We really appreciate it, Herm.

GRANDPA: My pleasure.

(They start to leave.)

ELLEN: Okay, Dad, thanks. 8:00 bedtime. And, Dad? No stories, though, okay? Remember?

GRANDPA: Ach.

ELLEN: They're sensitive kids, Dad. And I'm the one who's going to have to be up with them at 3:00 every night.

GRANDPA: I told you kids stories every night when you were little! Stories my grandfather told me!

ELLEN: And they really fucked me up, Dad. A lot. They seriously fucked up all of us.

GRANDPA: Eh. Ellen, the Grobnauts have passed down stories, fables, and rhymes for generations, an oral tradition that has crossed the Atlantic. Grobnauts are storytellers, honey, I'm sorry. Grobnauts teach the world through their words and always have. (small pause) But, hey, I'll hold back. No stories tonight. Just for you. Trust your dad, alright? Now get out of here, you'll miss your reservation!

ELLEN: Okay. Thank you. Bye, guys! Have fun with Grandpa!

(MIKE and ELLEN leave.)

GRANDPA: So...who's ready for a tale or two?

LILY: Grandpa, didn't mom say you shouldn't read us any stories?

GRANDPA: What's that?

FREDDIE: Grandpa, mom told us that if you take off your shoes and put on your "reading time" goggles that we should lock ourselves in the pantry until she gets home.

GRANDPA: Kids...let me tell you something about your mother. Your mother has always been scared of her own shadow, a real babychamb. Do you know she once cried all night because she got trapped inside of a tool shed with a family of bats and the town vagrant?

LILY: That sounds really scary.

FREDDIE: What's a vagrant?

LILY: How did that happen?

GRANDPA: Ah, she was getting me a crescent wrench and it turns out they all lived in there! Anyway, we rescued her a few hours later and with all the tears you would of thought the Russians were coming to slit everyone's throats!

FREDDIE: But what about the vagrant and the bats?

GRANDPA: They were all still sleeping! Apparently there was one bat that was just staring at your mom the whole time, but other than him they slept like babies through the whole thing! Even through your mother's wailing!

LILY: Grandpa, that sounds like something that would make anyone cry. I want to cry right now.

GRANDPA: Look, you kids are made from stronger stuff than that, I can tell. Now, did you brush your choppers?

LILY & FREDDIE: Yes, Grandpa.

GRANDPA: And you're all ready for some shuteye?

LILY & FREDDIE: Yes, Grandpa.

GRANDPA: Then I will slip off my clodhoppers, perch my peepers on their branch, and we'll all get comfortable, okay?

LILY: I don't know, Grandpa. Are you sure it won't be scary? Freddie barfs when he's scared.

FREDDIE: 'Tis true.

GRANDPA: I'm sure. Don't you trust your grandpa?

LILY & FREDDIE: (nodding) Yes, Grandpa.

GRANDPA: Alright then. Here we go:

(GRANDPA takes on a very different persona when he is in storytime mode. He's almost like a sneaky troll telling a riddle.)

Hey little spider, why are you crying?

Has somebody eaten all your eggs?

Has somebody taken down your webs?

Did somebody take all the wrapped up flies,

you were going to suck dry,

And now you are worried you'll be dead?

Hey little spider, why are you angry?

Did you find out who ate up all your eggs?

And the people who messed up all your webs?

Was it Lily and Freddie,

and now you're getting ready

To visit them at night when they are sleeping in their beds?

...

(During the rhyme, the children are getting more and more scared, with FREDDIE on the verge of throwing up. At one point, LILY covers his mouth. GRANDPA also wraps up FREDDIE in a blanket cocoon as he goes, acting as if he is going to eat him.)

...

Hey little spider, why are you smiling?

Could it be that you have a little secret?

A secret, a secret, a scary scary secret

that should fill us all with dread,

And make us wish that we were dead?

AND WE ARE! AND WE ARE!

WE ARE ALL FILLED WITH DREAD!

AND WE ARE! AND WE ARE!

WE ARE DYING IN OUR BEDS!

FREDDIE & LILY: AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! STOP IT, SPIDER, DON'T EAT US!!!!! WE DIDN'T HARM YOUR WEBS!!!!

GRANDPA: Whoa, whoa, little guys, what's going on? Take it easy, there's no spider here. What's wrong? It's okay, Grandpa's here!

LILY: Grandpa, that was really scary!

FREDDIE: I barfed in my blanket cocoon when you were spinning me.

GRANDPA: Why are you scared? The spider was good in that story, he was simply protecting his home and those he cared about. Just like me and your mom and dad would do if you were in danger. Think of the lesson we learned. There's nothing scary about that.

LILY: But you even said that we should all be filled with dread! You were screaming that at us!

GRANDPA: I'm sorry if I raised my voice, but the narrative required it. Okay, okay, I won't finish the story. I'll tell you a different one, one that isn't scary at all.

FREDDIE: Do you promise?

GRANDPA: Of course.

FREDDIE: Are there spiders in it?

GRANDPA: No, no spiders.

LILY: Grandpa, seriously, you need to promise that you won't scare us anymore. That was really awful.

GRANDPA: I promise. Now come back here and get comfortable, my little ticklebuds. Tickle, tickle!

LILY: Stop it, Grandpa. Even your tickling is scarier than normal right now.

GRANDPA: Okay, okay.

LILY: No scary creatures or animals.

GRANDPA: No animals at all in this one.

(GRANDPA gets back in storytime mode.)

Little Eddie Pricklebush was a blessed little boy,

loved by his parents and praised by his peers.

Everywhere he went he brought so much joy,

Shopkeepers came outside just to say cheers.

(The kids are beginning to get a little more comfortable, loosening up.)

Little Eddie Pricklebush was walking in his garden,

singing to his bird friends and tromping in the dirt.

Then o'er the fence came the red-faced prison warden,

warning of a murderer loose without his shirt.

Little Eddie Pricklebush was sitting in the bleachers,

Stealing glances at the girls and feeling pretty shy.

Crazy killing murderer knifed three student teachers,

now he's on the loose again and everyone may die.

EVERYONE MAY DIE! EVERYONE MAY DIE!

(LILY is screaming and running around, FREDDIE is barfing repeatedly.)

GRANDPA: Grobnauts teach the world! Grobnauts teach the world!

(ELLEN walks in the front door.)

ELLEN: I forgot our theatre tickets...what is going on here???? Freddie, why are you barfing?

FREDDIE: Everyone may die, Mom!!!

LILY: Mom, it was awful, there were angry crying spiders and dead student teachers and...

ELLEN: Damn it, Dad, I told you no stories!

GRANDPA: It's what I know! It's a teaching tool!

ELLEN: No, it's not! My daughter is terrified and my son is barfing his brains out right now, nothing is being learned here!

GRANDPA: Oh no, how about the lesson of misguided hubris and the importance of kindness to strangers that the story of Little Eddie Pricklebush teaches us!

ELLEN: Oh God, even hearing that name makes me want to fear barf!

GRANDPA: I was planning on finishing up with the tale of Zafer, the Fork-Donged Minotaur, but I suppose that would be too frightening for their delicate ears too!

(Quick FREDDIE barf.)

ELLEN: Dad, just go. ("Father and Son" by Cat Stevens begins to play.) I don't feel like going out tonight anyway. Mike, can give you a ride home, he's still in the car. He'll be confused and a little angry, but he'll take you home.

GRANDPA: Ellen, I'm sorry. It's just...it's what I know. It's...our family tradition. I know I didn't handle it right when you and your brothers were kids, that I maybe was too hard on you and told you some stories that really shouldn't be told to anyone under the age of 18, but...but I thought I could start over with these guys. If you gave me a chance. And then you did, and I...I let you down.

ELLEN: Go home, Dad. I love you, but...just go home. (ELLEN holds her kids.)

GRANDPA: Okay. (turning back from door) You know, this all reminds me of a story:

The bat and the vagrant drank a jug of blood!

Dripping down their chinskins, it soon became a flood!

A flood of blood and mucus, pooling on the floor!

The vagrant opened up his eyes and then he screamed for MORE!

AND HE DRANK IT! HE DRANK IT! HE DRANK IT OFF THE FLOOR!

Submarine

Mall

Jumbo Jet

High Rise