Here Thar Be Monsters!

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9.8.11

Dog Days Of August

MUSIC UP AND OVER

THE SCENE: We establish with aerials of a remote Swiss chalet.  It is obviously the possession of someone(s) with extreme and old wealth.  The camera flies across a vast ravine and enters through a set of French doors into...

INTERIOR SWISS CHALET: A richly appointed Euro-style sitting room, all walnut and leather with animal heads mounted tastefully around the walls.

There are a number of MEN sitting in a rough circle.  They are obviously well-to-do gentlemen, with a smattering of military types.

The CAMERA peds up from shoulder height to move across their heads until a set of wooden double doors are filling the frame.  Just as the camera settles on the shot, the doors burst open and STANLEY MOTSS is standing dead center, one hand on his hip, the other holding a Yorkshire terrier.  BED MUSIC

MOTSS: Gentlemen, you're pissing on my product.

A BEAT

GEORGE C. SCOTT: Mr. Motss.  We were wondering if you'd show up.

MOTSS: (enters room, doors shut) Don't give me that crap.  You knew when I had the idea sitting on my toilet this morning.  Let's dispense with the bullshit, shall we?

PATRICK STEWART: How may we help you, Mr. Motss?

MOTSS: (puts dog on a large coffee table) You know damn well what I'm doing here.  You killed my product.  I believe we had an agreement?

SCOTT: You have to understand the 'fog of war...'

MOTSS: Do I have to waste my precious time with brass mouthpieces here?  I created SEAL 6!  You told me I had the picture rights, residuals and two sequels.  I'm just a little miffed, if I may use such strong language?  I'm already in production!  I've got crews shooting in Morocco with Dolph Lundgren right now.  Before I can even post, you've killed 'em all!  Hell, we've got action figures in development.  How can I sell dead heroes?  You can't sell dead heroes!  Nobody wants a dead hero!

CHRISTOPHER LEE:  It was unavoidable, Mr. Motss.  Pakistan was threatening to open our little cage.  The damage that could cause...

MOTSS:  I could've gotten an Oscar here!  You've shot down my dream!  Now I have to start from scratch again.

SCOTT:  We'll be happy to arrange a posthumous Oscar.

MOTSS: Threats don't interest me.  Now about my career.

LEE:  How much, Mr. Motts?

MOTSS:  This?  This isn't about money.  Do I look like I need money?  I got an Armani and I'm holding a hairy damn dog.  Trust me, I don't need money.  There's a bigger picture here.

LEE: Precisely, Mr. Motss.  One even bigger than your own.  All of our careers are at stake.  Things have gotten into the wild, and not just about your SEALs.  We are...anxious about the future, and your mantle decorations do not advance The Goal.

MOTSS: Don't lecture me about Big Pictures.  My bio-pic on Che Guevara set the bar for Big Picture!  I created Madonna for you!  I AM Big Picture!

VOICE: Mr. Motss...

(Cut to wide of massive fireplace, a la Citizen Kane.  A LONE FIGURE stands to one side, framed by roaring flames.  The camera trucks in to a tight shot of the back of his head.  He turns to reveal...JAMES MASON.)

MASON:...it seems subtlty eludes one such as yourself.  Allow me to be blunt.

(Cut to wide as he crosses to oppose MOTSS)

MASON:  Your SEALs were fine work.  We used the bios that you created, even releasing one of the photos you made for your characters.  We appreciate the quality and depth of your efforts.  But, the issue at hand is that we are losing control.  We had expected the...masses...to react differently.  We're afraid that our timing may have been off.

MOTSS:  And that's a reason to kill my best work?  I even killed bin Laden for the sixth time, and people bought it.  You saw the YouTube videos of the boneheads dancing in the street.  And the burial at sea?  That was genius, baby, genius!


MASON:  There is no denying your talent, Mr. Motss.  Our relationship has been mutually beneficial, as I'm sure you will agree.

MOTSS:  All the way up until you scrambled my Oscar hopes.  I had the speach written and everything.  I even hear Chevy Chase is hosting next year.  You can't possi...

SCOTT:  This fruitcake is raining on the parade.  I'd love to commit his suicide.

MASON: Gentlemen, please.

LEE:  You see, Mr. Motss, where one door closes, another opens.  We have another, much larger project for you.

STEWART:  We want an alien invasion.

MOTSS:  Sci-fi?  I like it.  Always wanted to do a space opera.  Who gets creature design?  Do I get ILM?

STEWART:  We've already set up most of it.  You've got a comet, an asteroid and two planets to work with.  You will have some license, but you must adhere closely to the outline.  We need a creature that is menacing, but not unbelievable. No forehead appliques or cheerleader outfits.  The...masses...must be sufficiently frightened and distracted that they cling to us like a bad smell.

MASON:  Mr. Scott will brief you shortly on Project Blue Beam.

SCOTT:  Do I have to work with this...this man?


MOTSS:  Blue Beam?  What's Blue Beam?  I need some real toys here, and your giving me ray guns?

MASON:  It will allow you to project 3D images directly on to the atmosphere simultaneously worldwide.  Each person will hear the audio inside their heads through a signal from every cellphone tower across the globe.

MOTSS:  I'm liking it.  Got a kind of Goldfinger-y feel to it.  So, what's the upshot?  What do you want?  And what about my Oscar?

LEE:  We need the entire world to be frightened to death.  It must appear that a deadly virus has been released by an alien force to eradicate Mankind.  Only we will have the cure, so they must come to us.

MOTSS:  Wicked.  Sort of Star Trek meets War of the Worlds.  We'll need some serious talent.  This won't be a job for Tom Cruise.

STEWART:  Precisely, Mr. Motss.

MOTSS:  Got any flying stuff?  I'm betting all those sightings are probably yours, right?  But they look so 50s.  Don't you have something a little more, I don't know, Maserati?

MASON:  Mr. Scott, would you please illuminate our guest?

SCOTT: (grumbles) We have faster-than-light craft.  Fifth generation.  The largest will hold 100 men.  It'll get you to Mars and back in 20 minutes.

MOTSS:  I'm getting a picture here.  Comet passes near Earth.  Media hype stirs up pre-arrival anxiety.  It's revealed to be an alien craft.  I'm thinking Godzilla-running in the streets kinda shots.  The inhabitants drop in to claim Earth as their own.  Humans must surrender or be annihilated.  We can do the alien broadcasts from Mars.  Frame it right and no one will know the difference.  How's the lighting there?

MASON:  I believe you have the Big Picture, Mr. Motss.

MOTSS: Can I use Obama?  He's not looking too busy these days.  He and Woody hit the links just the other day.

LEE:  All our operatives are at your disposal.  We'd like you to use Putin, as well.  We want him built up into a global leader.

MOTSS:  Got it.  Perfect.  I'll do a James Bond-coming out of the water shirtless kinda thing.  The women and queens will go ga-ga over it!  I'll have them eating out of my hands!  Love his accent.

STEWART:  Be careful, Mr. Motss.  We need extreme caution at this point.  This is our biggest weapon.  We can't afford to let this one get away...like the SEALs.

MOTSS:  I'm still sensitive about my SEALs...please.  I almost started believing them myself!  Now that's talent,baby!  I'll need a little religious fanaticism to pull this off.  Who do you have?

STEWART:  We've already set up Rick Perry for you.  He's on-board with the program.

MOTSS:  Him?  He's such a pretty-boy.  Don't you have someone a little rougher?

LEE:  Trust us, Mr. Motss.  We've been at this for a long time.

MOTSS:  Ok, but at the first sign of trouble, I'm bailing on Perry.  Don't trust the guy.  What about budget?  I need some serious juice for this one.

STEWART:  You will have everything you need.

MOTSS:  Right!  Well, let's get on with it.  I've got a million ideas and I need to get them on paper fast!  Where can I work?

MASON: Mr. Scott will show you to your quarters and brief you.

SCOTT:  I feel like Nixon in China.  I'll try to restrain myself.  This way, Mr. Motss.  And don't forget your damn dog.

MOTSS:  Oh, that thing?  I just rented him for effect.  He's yours.  I hate dogs.  By the way, have you done any stage work?  You have a great voice for...I don't know, a general or something.

SCOTT:  I am a general, you dolt.

MOTSS:  I knew it!  What's your sign?

(They exit)

LEE:  I feel a bit uneasy about this one.  Events are moving much faster than we anticipated.

STEWART:  This alien invasion has been planned for decades.  George Lucas and Ridley Scott have been softening the targets for years.  Our polls show people are ready for this.

MASON: Gentlemen, we have only one concern.  We must keep a tight grip on this.  The usual leaks can't be tolerated.  If anyone becomes a problem, they are to be liquidated in the usual manner as fast as possible.  Understood?

(Cut to wide as all the heads are nodding thoughtfully...then cut to a figure who has sat silently in the back of the room until now)

CLAUDE RAINS:  This could be the dawn of a new day...

(MUSIC SWELLS/FADE TO BLACK)

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