Two suit sporting goons stopped on our approach to the elevator. They both wore shades though it seemed pointless. Shai eyes don’t give anything away, after all.
“I’m an old friend of your boss,” I said.
“And this thing?” one of the goons asked as he pointed to Ninety-five.
“Some discount military hardware I’d like to unload on Izok,” I replied. “Let’s just say he fell off the back of a delivery ship.”
Ninety-five looked at me. “I am not stolen merchandise I am…”
I patted him on his metal back.
“Shut your interface hole and speak when spoken to, robot,” I said.
The head goon relayed my arrival to Izok. After a moment, he nodded to me. “He’ll see you.”
Another goon tried to scan me with his Sen Pen but was stopped.
“It’s ok,” the head goon said. “The boss says they’re cool.”
We were shown into the elevator. I punched the button for the penthouse and we were off.
“Deception was the inaccurate course of action in that situation ,” Ninety-five said in his cold tone. “My strategic programming indicated the best option was to shoot them in the face and take the elevator by force.”
“Well that doesn’t sound very strategic at all,” I replied. “I think your programming is on the fritz. Just let me do the talking.”
NanoWriMo is upon us and we will soon find ourselves in 2016, the year I promised myself I would release a novel.
So I’ve decided to give it a go with National Novel Writing Month.
I’m about to share with you two chapters of a story set in a world that I’ve been writing and re-writing for quite some time now. Technically, the characters, in one form or another, have origins in ideas I had as a kid.
And needless to say, Alien Jones’ rantings on this blog helped them to take shape.
So here goes nothing:
UNDESIREDVERSE: WANTED
The year is 2999. Bookshelf Q. Battler is long dead, his bones merely dust mixed within the dirt of East Randomtown Cemetery.
Since time immemorial, the Vek, a species of super intelligent three foot green beings, have ruled over the Rakan Collective, a union of over a hundred billion peaceful planets. In fact, it turns out that the default desire for most species is to be peaceful, productive, educated, happy, and non-hostile. Under the leadership of the Mighty Potentate, the citizens of the collective live only to study science, philosophy, art, literature, and other subjects. They’ve built a mighty army to protect what they have, but amongst themselves, war is unheard of.
Then there’s the Milky Way and Andromeda Galaxies. Together, they form a cesspool of depravity, chalk full of beings who never met war they didn’t like. Violence over religion, over corruption, or just for the hell of it, these “garbage planets” as the Mighty Potentate refers to them are undesired. They’ll never be welcome in the Rakan Collective, due to chaos they foster.
And what a scummy place the Undesiredverse is. The Cabal operates a vast organized crime syndicate, dipping its toes into every facet of life, from business to government. The Tarazni Clan, a group of renegade Tollusks who roam about stealing as much territory as they clan, have occupied Earth for forty years.
Oh, and don’t forget Sourcemind – the highly evolved Artificial Intelligence that conquered and enslaved a human world and can’t wait to expand his control further.
But every story needs a hero, doesn’t it? Ours are Roman Voss, a routinely down on his luck, debt addled human bounty hunter and his pilot, a disgraced Vek/former advisor to the Mighty Potentate, Jones, or as Voss refers to him, “Jonesy.”
Our tale begins with Roman and Jones on a simple mission to collect a bounty on a ne’er-do-well, only to find themselves in possession of a bald woman who has no idea who she is, why every dirtbag wants her, or why the fate of the Undesiredverse (and even beyond) rests in her hands.
Roman, Jones, and Our Mystery Woman are about to become the most wanted beings around.
Let me know what you think, 3.5 readers. If you like it, say so. If it’s crap and I should quit, say so too.
VGRF and I walked in. Blandie, Bernie, and Alien Jones were sitting around on changing benches.
“Aww, BQB,” Bernie said. “All through high school, I dreamed about living inside the girls’ locker room, but not like this, yo!”
Blandie stomped her foot and made her typical mad face.
Boo! Blandie is still the worst!
“What did you do, BQB?! What did you do?!”
“Silence, blonde human,” Alien Jones said as he hopped off his bench. “BQB has done nothing wrong. Well, I mean he has done wrong in so many, many other ways. His life is a total mess but in this particular instance, he is blameless.”
“We’ve been set up,” I said. “Alien Jones, can you use your mind reading powers to detect who framed us?”
“It was Hauser,” AJ replied.
We all let out a collective gasp followed by a “WHAAAT?!”
“He’s struck a deal with Morganstern,” Alien Jones said. “The General contacted Hauser and threatened to blow up the rec center and all the survivors in it unless Hauser kills you and offers evidence of having done so.”
“So why doesn’t he just put a bullet in my head and get it over with?” I asked.
“Because you have replaced Hauser as East Randomtown’s favorite son,” Alien Jones explained. “You’ve brought a modest amount of glory to your burg by setting up a WordPress site that attracts the attention of 3.5 readers. It’s not much, but it’s more than Hauser’s done lately. His thirty-second stint on a 1980’s cop show is old news. Because you’re so loved by the citizenry, Hauser knows he can’t just shoot you. He needs to turn the public against you.”
“By making everyone believe you’re a dirty supply thief,” VGRF said.
“Precisely,” AJ said.
“So now what?” I asked.
Alien Jones hopped back on a bench.
“We wait.”
“Are you kidding me?” I asked. “We need to bust out of here.”
“There’s no escape,” Alien Jones said. “The DiStefanos are guarding the door.”
“Vaporize their sorry asses with your powers!”
“Hauser is the only rec center resident outside this room who knows I’m an alien,” AJ explained. “Everyone else just thinks I’m a deformed human child. The Mighty Potentate would never approve of me outing myself.”
“Makes no sense,” VGRF said. “You out yourself on the Bookshelf Battle Blog all the time.”
“Only to 3.5 readers,” Alien Jones said. “And for the most part, they usually just assume BQB is pretending to be an alien and that I’m not real. The Mighty Potentate would be tried for violation of Intergalactic Space Law were it to ever come out that he’s interfering with Earthly affairs, namely by sending me to help Bookshelf Q. Battler. His Potentosity would certainly vaporize me on his way out.”
“A trial,” I said as I sat down. “So how bad could that be? We’ll just convince the jury we’re innocent.”
“It’s not that kind of trial,” Alien Jones. “Here, all issues of guilt are decided by…a trial of zombie combat!”
“Aw snap,” Bernie said. “I gots to bust some zombie ass?”
“Did you just say, ‘snap?’” Blandie asked. “That’s so 1999!”
“OK,” I said. “We can get through this. I’d better call a zombie author for advice and…aw crap!”
Everyone looked at me.
“The space phone!” I shouted. “I left it out there!”
“No worries,” Alien Jones said. “I anticipated the evildoers’ moves and was able to smuggle it…”
“…in your pocket?” I asked.
“…inside of me,” Alien Jones said.
I shook my head.
“I don’t get it,” I said. “How? You don’t have a butt! You have no orifices to speak of!”
“I do have one.”
Alien Jones punched himself in the stomach and then started hacking up a lung. He sounded like a cat stuck on a hairball.
Hack…hack…hack…HACK!!!!
He looks like he’s laughing but he’s really barfing…up a space phone.
SPLAT!
The space phone popped out of the Esteemed Brainy One’s mouth and onto the locker room floor, covered with sticky alien spit.
“You may make your call now.”
“Um…thanks…you know…I think I’m going to pass on this interview,” I said, staring at the messy phone. “You wanna take this one for me, buddy?”
“Humans,” Alien Jones said as he picked up the device. “Such pansies. You’ll wear the same undies for a week but a little intergalactic spittle freaks you out.”
“You do the math. You solve one problem. And then you solve another. And then another. Solve enough and you stay alive.”
– Mark Watney, The Martian
An astronaut trapped on Mars. A daring rescue mission. Matt Damon. Jeff Daniels. Jessica Chastain. Kate Mara. Sean Bean. Kristen Wiig. The list of top actors on this movie is too long to keep rattling names off but the biggest star of all?
SCIENCE!
Yes, in an age where people want more explosions, sex, and what the hell, explosive sex, Alien director Ridley Scott made a movie that not only entertains but educates.
Put on your spacesuit, 3.5 readers, and let’s talk about what this movie does not only for science, but for the world of self-publishing.
The Martian – Twentieth Century Fox
OK, first of all, let’s address the proverbial elephant on the sofa, the gorilla in the barcalounger, if you will.
But BQB! Aren’t you trapped in the middle of the East Randomtown Zombie Apocalypse?
I sure am, 3.5 readers. Luckily, I’ve got Alien Jones’ plutonium powered space phone and the Esteemed Brainy One managed to stream it for my group of survivors last night. It really lifted our spirits, because as you may have heard, we’re currently riding out the zompoc in Price Town, one of the last three stores still open at the nearly abandoned East Randomtown Mall.
HOW BIG WAS THIS MOVIE?
A “friend” of mine sent me an e-mail to let me know that this movie was so big that he’d never seen a line so long at the theater he usually goes to before. The poor chump ended up stuck in that damn front row spot. You know, the one where you have to keep your neck craned skywards for two hours and you have to look to the left when a character on the left is talking and a character on the right is talking.
What a jackass. Guy probably should have taken into account how popular the movie would be and gotten there earlier.
Either that or he could have skipped the popcorn and soda. God knows that fatty doesn’t need it.
Oh sorry, I shouldn’t speak ill of my friend on my blog. Good thing only 3.5 people read this.
THE PLOT
A storm causes a team of astronauts to abandon their mission on Mars. One of their teammates, Mark Watney, is impaled, presumed dead, and abandoned.
Whoops! He’s still alive, but the the Red Planet is so far away that NASA won’t be able to get help to him any soon.
THE SCIENCE
One of the biggest challenges for a writer is to a) explain to the reader how a character is going to extricate himself from a sticky situation with enough detail so as to not leave the reader feeling cheated and yet b) not go overboard to the point where the reader feels like dozing off.
Enter Andy Weir. The Martian is based off of Weir’s novel of the same name.
A computer programmer, Weir made all sorts of calculations, estimates, and scientific conclusions on how, in theory, an astronaut trapped on Mars could live long enough to find a way back home.
“I’m going to have to science the shit out of this,” Damon, as Watney, says.
And science the shit out of it, he does. Literally. He uses his own shit as fertilizer for potato plants. Potatoes then become Mark’s only form of sustenance and I’m willing to bet he reached a point where he never wanted to see another french fry ever again.
Aside from the potato plants, I don’t want to go into too much detail on the science angle. A) To do so would be to provide you with too many SPOILERS and b) some of it my brain was too feeble to understand and other parts I did understand but am not sure I could explain it correctly.
Suffice to say, there’s a lot of brainy people involved. NASA scientists on the ground work on a rescue plan while Watney on Mars works on his own survival.
For any kid out there interested in science, this film provides role models to look up to, not just in the form of the astronauts, but the people – technicians, engineers, specialists, scientists, etc. working to bring their colleague home.
Science, kids. It’s the way of the future.
WHAT DOES THIS MOVIE MEAN FOR SELF-PUBLISHING?
The Martian started out as a free serial on Andy’s blog. He as just a guy who really loved math, science, and space. So he took his passions and funneled them into a project to entertain his blog readers. (I bet he had more than 3.5 of them.)
As he explained in an interview with Johnny, Sean and Dave of the Self-Publishing Podcast, he put the novel on Amazon at the request of some of his readers who preferred an e-reader format over reading it on a blog. Not out to make any money and not thinking it would go anywhere, Weir put his novel on Amazon, priced it at 99-cents, and let his blog readers know it was available.
The novel took off and the rest was history.
By the way, I recommend listening to Andy’s SPP interview as it is an inspiration to anyone interested in self-publishing. Success doesn’t happen overnight and it certainly didn’t for Andy. He started blogging way back in 1999. A sixteen year journey to the big screen!
Keep plugging away, 3.5 readers/writers. Success might seem so far away as to be pointless, but then again, you’re already ahead of those who gave up.
I’ve sought out opinions as to what this movie means for self-publishers. Andy’s novel was originally self-published before he was approached by a literary agent and sold it to a big publisher.
Does this mean the general public will look at self-publishers in a whole new light? That if one man was able to take a project on his blog and turn it into a blockbuster film starring Matt Damon and other stars, might that not cause people to pay more attention to self-published works?
One person I spoke with answered no. His reasoning was the majority of the movie going public doesn’t really care who wrote a book or how the book was made. They just want to be entertained and thus this won’t do a lot to bring attention to self-publishing.
Technically, I think he’s right, but therein lies the rub.
As self-publishers, our WHOLE GOAL is to provide a piece of entertainment crafted so well that no one notices it wasn’t made by a team of big shots.
Because at the end of the day, when you turn on the TV, do you pay that much attention if a show is on NBC, CBS, or Showtime or do you just pick and watch shows because they grab your attention?
Have you ever said, “Well, I’ll never watch THAT film because it was made by Fox and Goddamn it, this is a Sony household!”
Have you ever walked into a bookstore, strolled over to the clerk, and said, “Excuse me, will you point me to the Random House books because I’m ONLY a Random House reader and I’ll never allow a Penguin book to sully my eyes!”
No. No one cares who was behind a piece of entertainment so long as it is entertaining.
And that, my 3.5 readers, is what I believe this movie does for self-publishers.
It gives their collective souls a boost. Andy Weir becomes another Hugh Howey to look up to. “If that guy did it, then I can do it too!”
After all, when Andy got his start, his readers weren’t saying, “Ugh! This book was not put out by a traditional publishing house? No thank you!”
They were saying, “An astronaut who gets trapped on Mars and has to figure out how to survive?! That sounds so cool! Sign me up!”
When you’re in the clothing store, do you check the label on that shirt that caught your eye? Nope. You’ll just buy it because you like it.
Write cool stories, 3.5 readers and if they’re entertaining enough, people won’t bother to check the label.
Thanks 3.5. I have to go fight the zombie apocalypse now.
Yes, your Earth scientists, who think they are all big and brainy but in actuality are about as witty as a Banji Beast’s Butt Burst compared to the legion of geniuses under my command, claim to have discovered an Earth-like planet, one potentially capable of sustaining life.
Let us address the question that has no doubt entered your minds:
Is this Alien Jones’ home world, the one I, the Mighty Potentate, rule over with an iron fist?
THE ANSWER: NO!
Muah ha ha! Foolish hairless apes. You really thought it would be that easy to locate a planet under the control of a being with a brain as copious and learned as mind?
Hilarious! The notion brings nothing but laughter to me. Ha. Ha, I say! Ha.
No, this is not my secret planet and therefore, your degenerate Hollywood executives should, UNDER NO MEANS:
1) Use this telescope contraption to beam your insipid reality television programs to my, er, this planet’s media viewing devices.
2) Build spacecraft capable of long range flight to deliver reality television stars to this world. I mean, it’s not mine, but seriously, no planet deserves an influx of reality TV. Keep it to yourself.
3) Develop more obnoxious reality TV programs in the hopes of selling them to the residents of this planet.
4) Don’t just start calling it a random name like Kepler-425b. Perhaps this planet has a much cooler name. I don’t know what it’s name is. Why are you asking me? I wouldn’t tell you if I knew it’s name anyway. It’s none of your business, losers. Seriously, just showing up to a place already inhabited, acting like you own it and can just move in, ignoring the beings that already live there. You humans have a bad habit of doing that, you know.
Whoever the inhabitants of this mysterious planet may be, rest assured had they wanted you poking your big noses around, they’d of invited you to do so long ago, pathetic humans.
Whoever the inhabitants of this planet are, maybe all they ever wanted was to kidnap and probe a few of you to find out what makes you tick (specimens were surely given right back) and make crop circles as practical jokes. No doubt a wise ruler put an end to those practices long ago, though some of his dumber subjects probably don’t listen.
What? I’m talking about some other planet. Stop asking questions.
In closing, REMOVE THE OFFENDING TELESCOPE CONTRAPTION FROM MY ORBIT IMMEDIATELY OR PREPARE FOR INTERGALACTIC CONQUEST!
Er, I mean, or don’t. I don’t care. Because that’s totally not my planet.
CEASE PUBLIC TRANSMISSION.
PRIVATE TRANSMISSION.
Not to be shared publicly with the worthless humans.
ALIEN JONES! You were ordered to keep the humans away! First, it’s this damnable satellite! Next, my TV will have nothing but “Bowling Alley Disco Makeover” and “Who Wants to Be a Barracuda Farmer?”
Double your efforts towards launching BQB’s writing career, Alien Jones! He and the self-published authors promoted in your Ask the Alien column are our only hope!
Fix this immediately, or it’s Welcome to Vaporization City: Population You!
End of Private Transmission.
Alien Jones is the Intergalactic Correspondent for the Bookshelf Battle. Do you have a question for the Esteemed Brainy One? Submit it to Bookshelf Q. Battler via a tweet to @bookshelfbattle, leave it in the comment section on this site, or drop it off on the Bookshelf Battle Google + page. If AJ likes your question, he might promote your book, blog, or other project while providing his answer.
ALIEN JONES’ GUARANTEE: If you don’t like AJ’s response, just let him know and he’ll file it into the recycling bin of his monolithic super computer. No muss, no fuss, no problem.
PART 2 – Delilah pays our resident gumshoe a visit. She comes bearing gifts. (Actually, not really. BQB expects them to be returned with their original packaging intact.
PART 3 – A gentleman caller whisks Delilah off to a night at the opera. Hatcher wishes he could trade places with whoever this guy is.
PART 4 – Agnes the Librarian helps Hatcher with his technological illiteracy once again.
AND NOW THE POP CULTURE MYSTERIES CONTINUE…
I was dumbstruck. It felt like that feeling you get when you find out your wife has been two-timing you with every yokel from here to Papa New Guinea. It was a combination of anger and confusion and I wasn’t sure which one was winning out.
“What the hell happened?” I asked old Agnes as she closed the movie player gadget.
BQB EDITORIAL NOTE: I’d say, “SPOILER ALERT” but really, if you haven’t seen Star Wars yet, I scoff at your nerd credentials. Back to Jake.
“The rebels won,” Agnes said. “Luke destroyed the Death Star.”
“With one shot?” I asked. “Unlikely.”
One shot my oily hide. I lost count of all the Nazis I had to shoot before I made a dent in the Third Reich and this kid in his bathrobe does it in one try?
Sure, and if you believe that, I’ve got a bridge I’d like to sell you at a reasonable price. Goes all the way to Brooklyn.
“So does Luke get to make whoopie with that space princess or what?” I asked.
Agnes looked at me like I’d just grown a second head.
“You really don’t know much about the world, do you?” Agnes asked.
“Oh, let me guess,” I said. “He tells her to hit the bricks because he doesn’t like those big buns on her head, right? Some fellas can be so vain.”
“I think I’ll just let you find out on your own when you watch the next one,” Agnes said as she handed me a flyer.
It read:
INTRODUCTION TO COMPUTER TECHNOLOGY
Wednesdays at 10 am
Computer Room C
Learn the basics of personal computing. Word processing, information management, surfing the Internet and more.
Refreshments served.
Librarian Agnes Abernathy, Instructor
“What’s all this then?” I asked. “If you’re selling something, I already gave at the office, see?”
“It’s a free class,” Agnes said. “It’s mostly filled by seniors who’ve never seen a computer before. I have to say I’ve never seen someone your age with such a lack of technical knowledge. You’d be my youngest student ever but I think you’d really benefit.”
“Sorry sister,” I said. “School’s out for this palooka. ‘Less learnin,’ more earnin,’ as my old man used to say.”
“There’s a free sandwich platter.”
“Sold,” I said without hesitation.
I was never one to turn down free grub.
I made my way back to my office. The details of Han Solo’s encounter with Greedo were fresh in my mind.
I jotted it all down. Here are my notes along with crime scene recreations I produced using Mr. Battler’s toys, er I mean his research products:
1) Solo’s in the Mos Eisley Cantina. That old timer, Obi Wan Kadoobie Whatever describes it as: a “wretched hive of scum and villainy.” Kind of reminds me of Mugsy’s joint, the Gilded Lilly.
2) Greedo’s an ugly mug, a green alien of some kind. Big blank eyes and a pair of horns on his head that look like they should be attached to a kid’s bicycle. He ‘aint winning any beauty contests any time soon.
3) He’s also a bounty hunter. Seems Han did some smuggling for Jabba the Hutt, a space gangster. Dropped the goods when he spotted the space authorities and now he Jabba wants compensation, so much that he’s put a price on Han’s head. Let me tell you, 3.5 readers, if there’s one position you don’t want to be in, it’s owing money to an organized crime boss.
4) Greedo’s a bounty hunter and pulls a pistol on Han. Han tells the galoot he’s got Jabba’s money. Greedo tells him to hand it over and maybe he’ll forget he saw him. I suppose degenerates are the same everywhere, even in outer space. None of them can be trusted.
Greedo pulls a piece on Han.
5) Han pulls a fake-out. He looks up and to the left while reaching down for his pistol with his right hand. A shrewd move. As an ex-boxer, I’m more than familiar with the “fake-left, jab right” routine. Make your opponent think your mind’s elsewhere then strike in a way he’d never expect.
The Fake Out (I need to retake this photo with Han looking to his left but you get the gist.)
6) Greedo tells Han maybe Jabba will only take the Millenium Falcon (Han’s ship). Han’s reply? “Over my dead body.” I like this fella’s moxie. I had an old caddy I felt the same way about.
7) GREEDO: That’s the idea. I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.
HAN: Yes, I bet you have.
8) Assumedly, Han pulls his shooting iron out at some point without the knowledge of his assailant. We never actually see this happen because there’s a table in the way. (We see him take the safety off, but we never actually see him take out the gun.)
My apologies. Mr. Battler was too cheap to spring for a doll house table. Assume Greedo can’t see Han’s piece, thus giving the rogue pilot the element of surprise.
9) Upon Han’s, “Yes, I bet you have.” There’s two blasts and some smoke and then the green man’s head hits the table. He’s stone cold dead.
Solo – 1, Greedo – 0
10) Han, tough guy that he is, stands up like nothing happened and walks out, pitching the barkeep some money as an apology for the corpse he left behind. Classy guy.
11) Just for kicks, I imagine what it would look like if Han gave Greedo a celebratory curb stomp:
Eat space boot, loser!
So, what did I learn from all this?
As often happens in real life when shit goes down, the Han vs. Greedo encounter was over and done with in the blink of an eye. Both shots were fired so fast that this investigator was left clueless.
Alas, after viewing the source material and conducting my own crime scene recreation exercise, I was no closer to blowing the lid off this can of worms than I was before I started.
I’d have to review what the experts had to say.
What are the major Han vs. Greedo theories? Next time on Pop Culture Mysteries.
Copyright (c) 2015 Bookshelf Q. Battler. All Rights Reserved.
Sure. We click clack away on our keyboards whenever we find the time. We like to daydream about our name in lights, that our words will be embraced by the public, that maybe they’ll even be turned into a movie.
Well, Andy Weir, walking talking self publishing success story that he is, has done just that.
The Martian, a movie based on his bestselling book of the same name, is due out later this year. The trailer’s been released it it looks amazing:
Movie Trailer – The Martian – 20th Century Fox
“I’m going to have to science the shit out of this.”
– Astronaut Mark Watney
Matt Damon in the lead role. An ensemble cast that includes Jeff Bridges, Jessica Chastain, Kate Mara (Zoe from freaking House of Cards!), Donald (Troy from Community!) and Kristen Wiig in a role which, from the looks of it, might be her bridge from comedy to more serious fare.
Earlier this year, Andy spoke to three of my favorite self-publishers, Johnny B. Truant, Sean Platt and David Wright aka Johnny, Sean and Dave of the “Self Publishing Podcast.” He spoke how he wasn’t an overnight success story but rather his journey was one that involved years of pain staking hard work.
Rome wasn’t built in a day and your self publishing career won’t be either.
Andy, you’re an inspiration to every nerd with a laptop and a dream of becoming a self-published author. You did it. One man. One computer. One story. And now one major movie that has every indication of being box office gold.
I tip my hat to you sir, and shall raise a frosty beverage in your honor on opening night. Your achievement has made it possible for a new generation of self publishers to be taken seriously and we are forever in your debt.
Recently, one of my noble 3.5 readers accused this blogger of mincing words. I described San Andreas as “not the best film I’ve ever seen but not the best either.”
The aforementioned reader had a point. As a reviewer, I need to take a side.
Luckily, Cameron Crowe’s romcom Aloha makes it easy for me to be clear:
Bookshelf Q. Battler here with a review of one of the worst damn movies he’s ever seen in his entire life.
Aloha – Sony Pictures
Some movies are entrees – served up with expert precision, arranged on your plate in such a beautiful manner that you almost don’t want to eat them out of fear that once you do, the experience will be over.
Then, some movies are like a five dollar all you can eat buffet. You shove a little bit of everything in your cake hole and the only result is that you leave feeling bloated and gassy.
With several storylines that meander all over and never quite hit their mark, Aloha, I’m sad to say, is one of those buffet movies.
OBLIGATORY SPOILER WARNING
I’m sad to say it because it’s not the star studded cast’s fault. Bradley Cooper (Gilcrest) is charming, Emma Stone (Captain Ng) is adorable, and Bill Murray (Welch) is his usual zany self, though he’s more reserved these days as an elder statesman of comedy. Rachel McAdams (Tracy) aptly plays Gilcrest’s long lost love while John Krasinski provides one of the funnier (dare I say redeeming) scenes of the film as Woodside, Tracy’s husband who, despite his strong silent type demeanor is able to communicate all he needs to say to Gilcrest with a few looks and a shoulder grab.
Plot lines are tossed at the audience like they’re tennis balls stuffed into a serve-o-matic machine stuck on the automatic setting.
Gilcrest and Tracy have to deal with their baggage. Woodside has to learn how to communicate with his wife with actual words. Ng is all business and is a zealous defender of native Hawaiian culture, Gilcrest has to choose between his job or his new love interest. Welch is trying to launch his own space weapon in the guise of a communications satellite and those are just the highlights.
Character development isn’t the film’s strong suit. We’re shown a brief Afghanistan flashback scene where Gilcrest is so distraught over his life that he doesn’t care when he’s shot by (I guess they were terrorists? It wasn’t really explained). Welch lobs an accusation that Gilcrest took a hundred thousand dollar bribe during his time in Afghanistan and that enormous plot line is never fully resolved, thus putting me in the awkward position of being expected by Hollywood to hope that an alleged traitor to his country will overcome the obstacles standing between him and his new lady love in true sappily sweet romantic comedy fashion.
No thanks.
Sadly, the film has two important messages that get lost amidst all the tomfoolery:
1) All those vacation brochures you drool over that make you wish you could be in Hawaii right now are all well and good, but America isn’t in it for the macademia nuts and pretty scenery. Hawaii serves as the lynchpin of America’s sphere of influence in the Pacific. Seeing as how the islands play a vital role when it comes to U.S. global interests, we could probably do more to help the native people who call it home, many of whom aren’t exactly thrilled that we’re there.
2) Over the past several years, space exploration has moved from government to private business control, with the claim fed to the populace that this is somehow a great move, that the uber rich will be able to dump more money into space technology than governments can. That may be true, but as this film warns, people like Welch might use that power for unsavory purposes, though a billionaire trying to launch his own weaponized satellite seems like it’s more fitting in a James Bond film than a romcom.
Overall, the movie isn’t so much a cooked to perfection filet mignon so much as it is a bubbling over gumbo where Crowe, as chef, just tossed everything in his kitchen into the pot. Is this a story about one man’s attempt to find hope again after the world has put him through the ringer? Is it about love? Is it about the military industrial complex?
The best description I can give is that Crowe took his signature work, Jerry Maguire, mixed it up with one of Tom Clancy’s Jack Ryan novels, then went heavy on the romantic comedy angle, shortchanged the seedy, dirty military contractor angle and left the audience thinking that sadly, the no plot action film starring the ex-wrestler in the theater next door might have been the better choice this weekend…
Bookshelf Battle 