dirtybenny wrote:"...Sony hack."
"You mean John Logan?"
Kristatos wrote:dirtybenny wrote:"...Sony hack."
"You mean John Logan?"
Thanks Benny. Nice to know my work is appreciated.
Blowfeld wrote:Took a stab at the closing credits.
Tried at first to make the words fit then gave up
007 Theme music blares as the Gunbarrel makes its triumphant return to where it belongs the start of the film. The gunbarrel wobbles around looking for Bond to walk across the screen. Alas there is no James Bond so there is nobody to walk across the screen. Bang a gun shot fired by nobody sounds and cue the blood. (Sorry these services were prepaid and could not be cancelled on short notice.)
The iris of the gunbarrel wonders why it’s short life was lived in vain, it searches for Bond one last time. The trumpets softly play what seems like the Bond them however slowly become a rousing rendition of La Cucaracha, the iris of the gunbarrel focuses on gruesome eye socket of a skull, a grizzly mask celebrating the Mexican day of the dead. Sorry, that’s no mask it’s Bond’s face. Criminy, I thought he was going to have a facelift!
Er, well. The scene opens to Bond dancing with some anonymous dame, you know the type all curves and in all the right places, with a face mask hiding her identity. Which was fine with Bond, because as a 9th level feminist he was only interested in her body. A subtle reference to the past 50 years of perceived misogyny, as subtle as the Day of the Dead subtext for Bond’s ennui and the soul crushing work the British Government forced him to engage in (hint: he kills people).
Oh, what the hell let’s all just go with it, it’ll probably make another billion and affording Babzy a new mansion in the Alps.
Bond and his nameless faceless “date” were dancing deftly to the beat of the music around a sombrero.
La cucaracha, la cucaracha, la cucaracha ya no puede caminar
Despite the heavily armed police presence it is a festive celebration. Wait a minute, are we not going to mention the only reason the police are there is because of the Bond production team filming in this little hamlet? They took over the bloody town! They took a bribe from the Mexican government promising in exchange not to show Mexico in an unattractive light.
Well to be fair the police the police are only there to protect the movie’s star (sounds like egg) from the drug cartels. Crikey! We can’t say that either?
Moving right along…A sea of red and black move in precession down the street to the main calibration at the hotel Hilton. As their song finished, Bond and his “date” headed out as well. Tossing the mariachi band a shiny new peso Bond blended into the crowd.
Wait some knob is walking cross the traffic flow of the crowd. Don’t tell me it’s Bond! No this fellow is actually wearing a mask. Creepy blighter in a white suit is bumping into countless people. If we were to peek at is labour union card it say ASSASSIN in capital letters. Dangerous bloke this.
This inconspicuous assassin, white in a sea of red and black happens to bump into another more dangerous bloke. Creepy fellow not wearing a mask yet looks of death warmed over. Bond (an assassin by trade, poet by heart) and the other assassin who we are not supposed to like at all brush past each other.
Seriously I got chills just now. Not pretentious at all this.
‘Ah, my target!’ Bond exclaims excitedly nearly wetting himself.
The other assassin out of professional courtesy ignores Bond’s slip of the tongue, both continue on their way as if nothing happened.
Bond and his girl of the moment reach the hotel Hilton, slipping through the crowd they grab the next elevator up. In the privacy of the crowded elevator the girl is all over Bond like a drunken prom date. The rest of the people ignore the couple assuming this was par for the course in a Bond movie.
Bond very haltingly slides his hands down her back as though he is unsure what he is supposed to do. It’s a stunt man in a very convincing 007 mask. Poor bloke. No wonder he’s nervous, probably never had a camera on him as one of the top ten beauties in the world nibbled at his neck.
The actor who was paid to be here had his stunt double play this part because he really couldn’t be bothered. As he couldn’t be bothered with most of the movie, the stunt man wearing a 007 mask did most of the action and has more screen time than the star. If anyone had thought about it the stunt man in a 007 mask should have walked the gunbarrel topping it off with a pointy finger gun thing. Bang!
The elevator came to a stop on their floor, the girl and we can only assume Bond and not a guy in a Bond mask exit the elevator. The masked girl reaches into low cut cleavage faltering dress pulling out from her amazing bosom, no not a Heineken, a plastic credit card size room key. She swiped the key opening the door to her room because Bond was too cheap to bring her back to his.
As they enter her room the masked girl takes off her mask revealing you know just a ravishingly beautiful women as you’d expect.
Turning to Bond she says
‘If you take off your mask, I’ll give you a kiss.’
‘I’m not wearing a mask’ Bond replies.
The masked girl (who really should have a name now her mask is removed, but you know, why bother) studies Bond’s face realizing the truth of his words shudders revolted by what she saw. Realizing her prejudices and feeling ashamed she checks her ‘pretty privilege’ at the door. This poor Quasimodo of a man must have seen so many looks of disdain in his life, it broke her pretty little heart to think of it so she put on a pleasant smile. (One mask replaced by another, she really was masked girl! See how deep this movie is?)
‘How do you like our festival of death?’
‘It’s smashing. Like you. Now if you don’t mind tuning around I’m nonchalantly going to jump out this window.’
‘What? Why? What about out my sex screen? I worked out for six months straight to look like this..!’
Bond didn’t hear the rest because true to his word he leapt put the window landing on the neighbouring roof with a heavy thud.
‘¿Que demonios es eso?!’ voices called from inside the building.
Bond sparing no time ran along the roof tops leaping building to building just like ‘The Tick’.
Da dweeee, da da da dwee dow
Da dweeee, da da da dwee dow
Arriving at his destination which for some reason was attainable by roof jumps. He pulls out his PPK because you know we are all about the basics. And now he attaching some sort of gadget for eavesdropping.
Oh god! I thought we were done with exploding pens and the like cause they were lame. But this is ok? Never mind assassin in white arrived. He raises his hand in greeting being sure to show off his ring, apparently he’s engaged and this fellow at the door was hitting on him. The ring looks properly sturdy made of titanium like in the Abyss. Nothing escapes Bond’s keen eyes.
The older important looking distinguished gentleman invites the assassin in white into the main room. There the two begin a conversation.
In Italian ‘Why were you so late? The yabbo across the way from us arrived like five minutes ago. We all could hear him grunting and shouting “spoon!” as he leapfrogged his way here.’
s**t! They are all speaking some foreign language. Bond had expected subtitles so he had not worried about a translator. Bond made up his own words for the scene before him using his keen observational skills and half a course of Rosetta stone.
Assassin in white - ‘I had to travel slowly as to not lose him.’
Bondese -‘Lucy I’m home!’
Distinguished gentleman ‘He hasn’t caught on has he? All of the architect of pain who is not Blofeld’s plans will be ruined!’
Assassin in white –‘Nah. He probably thinks we are discussing our nefarious plans near open windows with the curtain wide, because we bad guys are too stupid to worry about drones and other listing devices that have existed since the time of Connery’
Bondese -‘You have some 'splainin to do!’
Distinguished gentleman ‘He can’t be that stupid.’
Bondese –‘Stupido something.’
Assassin in white ‘Oh but he is.’
Bondese -‘come let us discuss our evil plans.’
To keep the Day of the Dead atmosphere float and extravagant sights such as stilt walkers pass by intermittently.
Distinguished gentleman ‘ How much longer do you think this will be? Have you eaten?’
Bondese –‘What were they again? Killing a governor wasn’t it? But wouldn’t it be easier to buy them? This is Mexico after all?’
Assassin in white ‘Yes, I had Pale King, they are similar to White Castle.’
Bondese –‘the Pale King is our boss so we must do as he says.’
Distinguished gentleman ‘Pale King! My daughter works there! Decent meals, affordable prices, I’m happy to help place their product in this movie!’
Bondese –‘I’m scared of the Pale King. I hope nobody is listening to us and hears his name by accident, that would be too terrible for words.’
Distinguished gentleman – ‘I suppose we had best wrap this up. Perhaps a toast to something sinister and over the top.’
Bondese –‘This is why we're here; unobtanium’
The distinguished gentleman hands the assassin in white a glass of wine and they toast.
‘To lady Gaga and the yabbo idiot across the street!’
Bondese –‘ Kampai! Gaga-sama Baka yabbo something!’
Wait, didn’t they said yabbo something earlier? Yabbo, were they talking about him? Bond lifts his head from his cunning hiding spot behind a few bricks. A dozen angry eyes belonging to the henchmen greet him. The jig was up. Trusting his luck Bond shoots blindly. Spray and pray they call it.
‘fuckin’ finally’ said the Distinguished gentleman.
‘Well I’ll be off. I must lead him to the next clue. Remember try not to kill him.’ Said the assassin.
‘Of course. The self-destruct will trigger after about five minutes. It’s not like we would have explosives sitting around for no reason that could be easily detonated by a stray shot.”
After the assassin was well away a massive explosion was triggered. After all Bond’s ppk was too under powered weapon to fight his way out of this successfully so this plot tool had to make do. Huge explosion as you’d expect of Hollywood blockbuster however Bond is unharmed. Bond sees the assassin who is trying to lead him to the next clue, because if he were actually trying to kill Bond it would be fait accompli some time earlier. The duo follow and fight each other throughout the fiery hell which is Mexico, somehow ending up finishing their fight on a helicopter.
Ok remember who Pierce Brosnan’s Bond knowing how to fly a jet plane in the opening sequence of TND was inconceivable? Well this Bond guess what he can fly a helicopter. Big whoop right?
So after he gets his next clue Bond murders the assassin, some kind of poetic symmetry there I suppose because this movie is deep, then he kills the pilot for no real reason and flies off into the opening credits with a smouldering city beneath him.
What kind of message is that? Is the tourism council of Mexico really on all right with this?
“Come to Mexico for our Day of the Dead, stay because you are dead. But at least you were killed by Bond so that makes you important.”
Cue the opening graphics let find out what this turd of a movie is going to be called.
Oh, god someone is murdering the theme! The dreadful song piped out to the audience in digitally crisp surround sound, blatantly disregarding the Geneva Convention, in the dark of the theatre innocent people are being tortured in their seats forced to listen to this caterwauling crooner.
Christ, the fellow singing was seriously injured! His voice jumped to pre-puberty boy choir levels. The audience can only hope this foreshadows the song ending sooner. No wait, his voice is back to normal. Now it is back to such a painfully high pitch you’d think a woman had joined the accompaniment. It sounds as if the singer can’t go on for much longer.
The opening credits are montage of images, title shots of movies Bond has stolen blatantly from as well as product placements from previous movies:
The Bourne Identity
Home Alone 2
The Andromeda Strain
The Dark Knight Again
On Her Majesties Secret Service
The shadow image of Bond is being bitten by what looks like spiders they crawl into his blood making him feel love, no the opposite, no they are irradiating him. He’s draped in the Union Jack climbing walls and slinging webs, he knocks over a porcelain bulldog revealing a envelope, the envelope flutters open revealing a black and white careworn picture of bond and last weeks lotto ticket.
Oh, that M and her secrets.
The mercifully the music ends.
Kristatos wrote:I have just rewritten my first chapter. I will work through some of my other ones over the coming days.
Chapter 2: Marmite, Moriarty, and Me
Bond walks nonchalantly into secret MI6 headquarters, the Forrest Gump of MI6 had returned. Sauntering through the halls conversations stopped dead waiting for Bond to pass. After he passed by Bond could hear the whispering, his giant ears missed nothing.
Bond noticed a metric ton of securities cameras as well. ‘f**king hell! Do they think I’ll nick the silverware?’ Bond wondered. But it was the trend for super-secret organizations to utilize cloud storage for secrets, planting mass surveillance in a top secret headquarter just made good sense.
Sectaries type much faster as Bond passed. Doesn’t make much sense either, guess they really didn’t want to chance being chatted up by the prince of chavs.
Bond approaches M’s office, Moneypenny is wearing iPhone headphones ignoring Bond as he stands in front of her desk. Bond ignores her right back, walks to M’s door failing to find a doorbell he knocks. (shave and a haircut)
‘Enter’ called a commanding voice.
For once Bond obeyed. He briefly toyed with going rogue and not entering but he had to go to the can really bad and the bathroom in M’s office was the nicest in the building.
‘Ah, double oh seven. Take a seat and if you’d be so kind perhaps you’d explain this morning’s headline from an important print paper, none of the digital age crap for us. ‘
The paper read ‘Mexico Pissed!’ ‘Mi6 Balls up!’
‘Ah, that. I thought maybe it was that other thing..’ Bond was visibly relieved; studying the paper Bond responded ‘You know those bas***ds didn’t get my good side!’ Bond was offended.
‘Never mind that! You don’t have a good side, check a mirror mate!’ M fumed, ‘What “other thing”? How do you plan justifying blowing up half of Mexico? Let me tell you it had better good, since we used up the days from retirement cliché with the emotional drama of the last M dying scarring you psychologically in the last movie, we are down to the some bureaucratic so and so shuttering the department.’
‘That would be a good thing sir.’
‘You daft Bas***d! Without the double oh section the world will fall to chaos! Not to mention the billion pounds of lost merchandizing these movies bring the British economy. Think before your speak man!’
‘Never stopped me before.’
M wanted the strangle the chimp right there. Gritting his teeth he spoke his lines with conviction.
‘What the hell were you doing in Mexico? Going rogue in the pre-title sequence? This may have been tolerated by my predecessor, however not by me. No sir!’
‘Sir, I did leave you a note.’
‘What? A stained cafeteria napkin with the words “gone for a burrito. Back soon, love Bond.” You left it in the bloody lift nobody knows who it was for! Took a week to get to my office!’
‘I thought I was being very clear. Don’t you think maybe I have my reasons?’
‘What? That you were hungry?’
‘No sir, I’m a dangerous man, not to be trifled with. The emotional baggage I tote make me somebody who maybe you should be alone in a room with.’
‘What the f**k!? Are your threating me 007? You dumb ass shite! You go rogue and come back here and threaten you boss?! You try that s**t and I’ll reboot your ass so fast you’ll be begging to be in Cowboys and Aliens 2’
‘Well that audience does seem to like them. The going rogue, sir. Reboots are a tad passé in my opinion.’
‘Thank god the cameras were installed!’
‘I noticed them sir, I have a very keen eye.’
‘Of course you do sunshine. You know why they are there?’
‘A convoluted government plot I assume sir.’
‘Poppycock! It’s our bloody insurers! You’ve blow up so much s**t we had to capitulate to our insurer’s demand. Until we can self-insure.’
“Sounds a bit Lethal Weapony, sir. Any way f**k Lloyds of London! Fatcat bas***ds!’
‘Christ!’ M spits out with disgust this was getting him nowhere. Pressing a button on his desk he advances the plot of the movie.
‘Ms Moneypenny send in the next plot development, please.’
The door opened ushering Professor Moriarty in.
‘Hi I’m code named C, never heard of me, well you can thank the real history of MI6 and the lawsuit to stop Universal studio’s “Bond knock off” ‘Section 6’. But that is water under the bridge now. Pleased to meet you 007, heard so much about you!’
‘Bloody hell! It’s John Simms!’ said Bond his jaw dropping.
‘No, I’m another spazzy, moody actor Andrew Scott, you may remember me as Moriarty in the new Sherlock.’
‘Oh, thank god!’ Bond exclaimed, turning to M he explained his relief ‘If it were the Master we’d all be screwed. If it’s Moriarty we’ll be OK, he’ll probably kill himself on his own half way through. Whereas the Master could regenerate, he could be anyone and we’d never know’.
‘Well,’ C retorted ‘I’m a mite disappoint myself, thought I’d me Sean Connery and got the Albanian plumber’s stand in instead. Ignoring that I’d liked for you to trust me despite your trust issues so firmly established in prior films.’
‘Why would I trust you? Are you my long lost brother?’ Bond asked with pleading eyes hoping to have at long last found his bruba.
‘Oh god no! That’s for later in the movie. M shouldn’t we move this long.’
‘Yes of course. 007 report to Q in the morning for product placement. That is all we will finish this unfinished business later.’
‘Yes. Sir. I’ll be in the can if you need me’
Bond’s quick mincing steps carrying him to the executive toilet adjacent to M’s office before anyone can say boo.
C looks at M inquiring about what had just happened. M’s face was a mask of rage, last time the Bas***d hadn’t flushed. Composing himself M continued their meeting.
‘Ah, he’ll be awhile. We should just continue. Tell me more about this openness the church of scientology, eer I mean MI5 embraces.’
‘I’d be delighted.’
Later at Bond’s flat Bond stands in his window a solitary figure, slowly sipping a scotch trying to quiet the turmoil in his soul. The doorbell knocks Bond leaves his brooding to answer it. His apartment is a bare except for collections Amazon UK boxes stacked everywhere.
He opens the door allowing Moneypenny to enter.
‘What the hell?’ Moneypenny asks noting the boxes ‘was your account hacked.’
‘No,’ Bond answered sombrely ‘there was a flash sale on Marmite.’
‘Oh, that’s right you were a Marmite man once.’
Moneypenny glances around noticing the only decoration is Marmite jars.
‘In many ways I still am.’ Bond answers soulfully.
‘I’m supposed to give you this.’ She hands Bond an envelope with a few quid in it.
‘What the hell is this?’
‘It the remains of Skyfall, the forensic accountants just cleared it.’
‘What the bloody hell! This isn’t enough to buy a Vegemite sandwich! That movie cleared over £700,000,000, and this is all that is left!?’
‘You’ve got trust issues James. A secret you can’t tell anybody.’
‘of course I’ve got bloody trust issue! Half a billion tuned to a fiver! And I’m supposed to smile and take it?’
‘You would if you were crazy.’
‘There’s that word again! Is it not enough I go rogue each and every movie and have a host of other psychological issues, now I have to be barkers?’
‘That’s one theory. My theory is you are just beginning.’
‘Oh, Christ! Are we still do that Bond Begins shite?’ Bond Pauses for a second making decision to trust Moneypenny because he was not a raciest, nor a sexist.
‘I suppose I should show you this.’
Bond walks the nearest jar of Marmite and removes a shiny silver coaster from beneath it. Moneypenny followed Bond to his Sony TV/dvd player combo watching him turning it on and playing the disc.
‘My Nana used to do that. Use CDs as coasters, I mean who really listens to CD anymore right? Are we going to watch Moonraker?’
Bond says nothing as the video begins to play.
‘Oh, my god!’ Moneypenny exclaims.
It was HER, tiny, tiny, Judy Dench. On the television screen.
‘Can we not have a f**king James Bond movie without her! It’s been 20 years already! High time to have a Bond without Judy Bloody Dench!’ Moneypenny raged.
The TV screen Dench not about to have her screen time stolen started talking.
‘James if you are watching this I am dead and it is your fault. I knew I couldn’t trust you. To make it up to me you will go to Dagobah, Mexico find some guy named earlier in the story and kill him. Then I want you to go to his funeral. I’m
sure your didn’t come to mine, I’ll bet you dumped my body in the rubbish receptacle and took off..’
The on screen dead M droned on and on. So Bond mercifully hit the mute button, Judy’s angry little eyes glared at the camera but the sound of her lecturing had ceased.
‘Oh, my god where did you get this?’
‘Came through the mail slot. I get a new one each week.’
‘So, what? Mommy M had trust issued and you inherited them? Does that make any sense to you?’
‘No. She was the head of the double oh section, why would she have trust issues to begin with and why would you be receiving weekly missions from a dead M? Did it ever occur to you, you were being punked?’
‘So when is the funereal for the guy you croaked in Mexico?’
‘Few days in some historic city Rome I can’t pronounce.’
‘Rome?’ Moneypenny play with the thought for a tick. ‘James I hope you aren’t f**king with the goddamn Cosa Nostra! You’ll get us all killed in a goddamn turf war with the mafia for offing some made man goomba!’
‘I sure it isn’t that at all. For one Mafia dons don’t wear Hazelnut rings with a squid etched in.’
‘Oh, well that makes sense. What is it then?’
‘I don’t know but it’s big. Big enough to name a movie after! By the way I’d like you to spy for me in MI6 I don’t trust the C fellow even though he asked me to’
‘See? See who?’
‘James? Are you coming back to bed? You said you were only going to brood for a little while.’ A sultry voice calls from the bedroom.
‘Who the f**k is that?’ Moneypenny demands
‘Dunno. Some chick.’
‘You mean we’ve been discussing top secret s**t with in earshot of a prostitute!?’
‘No, she never asked for money.’
‘Good! Cause that makes it better! Just some random skank you are shagging. I suppose she has top secret clearance?’
‘No, but we fully debriefed each other.’ Bond said with all the panache he could muster.
‘I’m out’ Moneypenny said disgusted heading toward the door, before slamming it shut she looked at James and said ‘I hope the Cosa Nostra gets you!
Bond merely shrugged his shoulders sure that wouldn’t be the case.
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