Smart Centipede Presents: Out Of Genre Sequels

There has, to my knowledge, been very few examples of a movie series that has switched genres successfully. Alien was a top notch horror movie, and anyone who tells you that Aliens was anything but an action film is deluding themselves. Star Trek: The Motion Picture was a heavily intellectual Sci-Fi movie, while Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan was much more action oriented. First Blood was a tense drama, while Rambo: First Blood Part II was another slam bang action movie. Halloween was a classic horror movie, while Halloween 3, Season of the Witch was a tragic (if unintentional) comedy.

Presented for your consideration, the following are trailer descriptions for the first big wave of genre crossing Hollywood movie sequels.

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The year is 2018. The Earth is in trouble. Humanity finds itself on the brink of extinction, having turned their once green planet into a barren, desolate wasteland. The last remnants of civilization are scattered. Among the ruins and decaying survivors, one young girl rises in search of her destiny.

We see her sifting through some rubble of an old house for supplies when a group of ten scavengers surprise her. She looks around for a way out, but the only unattended door leads to the basement. She edges towards it.

"No way out there, girlie," one of her would be assailants chuckles.

"Who said I was looking for a way out?" she asks, smiling. She draws in a breath and lets out a scream, turning the knob. The door opens, and on the other side is complete darkness. From the blackness, we see a single giant eye glaring menacingly, unblinkingly. The screen cuts to black and there is a bloodcurtling roar, followed by the screams of the scavengers being torn apart.

Monsters, Inc. 2: The Path of Boo

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We see the crowd at an NFL game. The New Orleans Saints hold a narrow lead against the Washington Redskins with only seconds left on the clock. "That wife you got owe us a lot of money when she die," a gravely cajun voice says off camera.

The screen cuts to a dark room, with a ring of several gangsters standing in a circle around a seated man wearing a Saints t-shirt. "We can't just let that debt go uncollected," the gravel voice gangster says as the camera orbits around the ring of thugs.

The screen cuts back to the game, with the Redskins breaking their offensive huddle and approaching the line of scrimmage. "The money got to come from somewhere."

Cut back to the dark room. "So you gonna help us out. You gonna make sure that your team don't win on Sunday."

Cut to the game, and the Redskins quarterback calls an audible at the line, pointing to the defensive formation. "We got a lot of money on the Saints to lose, son."

Cut to the dark room. "And they gonna lose. Because it would be a shame to see something happen to that lovely momma of yours."

Cut to the game, with the Redskins running back rushing to the right, and the Saints linebacker barreling towards him. "She old. She could be home one day, and hit her head in the tub and drown."

Cut back to the darkened room. "You wouldn't want your momma to drown, now, would you, Bobby?"

Cut to the game, as the linebacker and running back approach each other in slow motion at the goal line. Just before they collide the screen goes black. A wavering, elderly female voice mutters "you... you is de Devil..."

Waterboy II: Sudden Death

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As the camera comes up, we see the back of an older man listening to a transcription over an earbud. Suddenly, a woman enters the office. "Dr. Laughlin," she says insistently, "there are some men here to see you."

As the man turns, we see military officers entering the room. "Dr. David Laughlin?" one of the officers asks.

"That's right," he says, removing the earbud from his ear. (played by Bob Balaban)

"We're going to need you to come with us."

Cut to a white room with the camera behind a man sitting at a table. He is bound, and has obviously been heavily sedated. Behind the mirrored glass, Dr. Laughlin is briefed by the officer in charge. "We found him in Wyoming. He insisted on seeing Dr. Claude Lacombe."

"Claude Lacombe is dead," Laughlin replies. "He died shortly after... my God..." he says, looking at the sedated man.

He rushes into the room, despite the cautions from the technicians around him, and grabs the man by the arms. "Roy? What happened to you? We never received contact after-"

"I escaped," the sedated man says, though we still don't see who it is. "I don't know how I got back here. But I need to warn you. Warn them."

"Who, Roy? Who do you have to warn?"

We see Richard Dreyfuss, as he looked 30 years ago. "Everybody."

Screen cuts to a small farm house. As the camera's depth of focus changes, we hear Laughlin's voice ask "Are they coming back, Roy?" The camera's focus finishes on a mailbox with the name Guiler on it. The house, now blurry in the background, lights up with a blinding white light, and the screen cuts to black as we hear Roy's voice say "They never left."

Close Encounters: The Invasion

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There are infinite possibilities.

Joker (Matthew Modine) and Animal Mother (Adam Baldwin) in a 1980's Meatballs-style teen camp romp called "Full Metal Jacket Too!"

Cameron Poe (Nicholas Cage) is brought in by Marshall Vince Larkin (Jon Cusack) to track Garland Greene (Steve Buscemi) across a 21 state killing spree in "Con Air: The Greene Pasture."

Brian Johnson (Anthony Michael Hall) must track down who killed his former detention mate John Bender (Judd Nelson) in "Breakfast Club II: Deadly Reunion" (spoiler: it was Carl).

We need to get on this, people.

Mirror Day

Happy Mirror Day!

Today is 01022010 (01/02/2010). A mirroring like this won't happen again until 11/02/2011, and then again on 12/02/2021. After that, we'd have to wait until 10/21/2101. The last mirroring took place on 10/02/2001.

And none of this matters. I'm just bored.

The New Year

In 2010, I am going to attempt to be more attentive to my creative side. This means more painting, more drawing, more writing, and yes, gentle reader, more blogging. We'll see how long THIS lasts.

An Open Letter To Alan Moore

"I was noticing that DC seems to have based one of its latest crossovers [Blackest Night] in Green Lantern based on a couple of eight-page stories that I did 25 or 30 years ago. I would have thought that would seem kind of desperate and humiliating, When I have said in interviews that it doesn’t look like the American comic book industry has had an idea of its own in the past 20 or 30 years, I was just being mean. I didn’t expect the companies concerned to more or less say, 'Yeah, he’s right. Let’s see if we can find another one of his stories from 30 years ago to turn into some spectacular saga.' It’s tragic." - Alan Moore, on DC's Blackest Night

I have always been a big fan of yours. I feel the way you changed the landscape of comics was a monumental step towards giving the medium the credibility and gravitas that has made it so successful. I respect your opinions about people carrying on your work, not caring for their making sequels and adaptations of stories best left untouched.

It is with the utmost respect that I must say, Alan, you really are a crusty, grumpy old bollocks.

Give us a break, man. You are a genius, your writing is some of the best ever produced in (and out of) the medium. Your eight page stories were more entertaining than most of the 22 page stories coming out at the same time, and they STILL stand the test against most everything else written since. But you can't do a fantastic story that prophesies the end of the entire shared universe that people talk about decades later and NOT expect DC to eventually go there. This is demonstrating that you, in an eight page comic book back-up story, have pretty much shaped the destiny of an entire comics universe. Yet you have naught but vitriol to offer.

For God's sake, man, are you THAT incapable of taking a compliment?

We get it: most people writing comics today aren't as creative as you were, and continue to be. But to put an idea out about how the future of a comic cosmos will eventually be snuffed out and not expect future writers to take that idea and expand on it... I guess, because Shakespeare wrote Romeo and Juliet, that all other tragic romances are rubbish, because they're just repeating the same theme?

What's contributed to a common continuity can, AND SHOULD, be expanded on, if the story is compelling enough. It's the Catch-22 of being a genius, Alan; your work is accepted as the definitive piece of fiction, and others are going to expand upon that. For you to be so blind as to scold DC for expanding on your plot point, either you misunderstand the impact that your simple eight page tales had on the comics community, or you don't understand the importance of a shared universe.

I continue to admire the unadulterated genius of what you've gifted to the literary community, and thank you for all that you have brought forth and shared.

Kenn Beck

I Am So Depressed...

True story.

I am parked down by the beach today, eating my lunch. I am backed into a spot, facing East, and a red corvette convertible is parked on my passenger side, facing west. The driver of that Vette and I both have our windows down. He appears to be a shaven headed, stocky, middle aged man in his mid to late 30s (no, it was not a mirror). I hear him speaking very loudly on his cell phone, and, while not actively listening, it's sorta impossible for me to not overhear some of what's being said.

He first makes mention about how it's nice to help people heal and all, but his talents could be used elsewhere. He then tells the being on the other line, "I mean, what kind of healer are you gonna go with, I bring a sense of humor to the party."

The use of the phrase "healer" strikes me as unconventional, so I assume he is a practitioner of alternative medicine, like acupuncture, or massage therapy, or tantric sex therapist. He then explains how a healer with his skills is in demand, and that he can find a place in another group no problem. I take it to mean he's having difficulty wherever he practices medicine, and is looking to shift to another office.

I hear mention of what sounds like his group's "rate schedule" conflicting with his, and I take this to mean that he doesn't think they charge clients enough for his services, or certainly aren't compensating him to the level that he desires. He goes on to tell the other party that he knows of several groups that are seeking his skills, and he's due to make a decision sometime soon.

He begins to discuss the make-up of the organization he's currently working with, and bemoans the fact that they seem to be highly disorganized, and again makes mention of their schedule being a mess, especially with their rates (except it almost sounded like 'raids'). He then goes on to tell the listener that he's one of the best there is, and his group knows it, but he's done messing around with them. He's gotten offers, apparently, from groups with cool names like Axiom, all of whom recognize his superior skills and would be very pleased to have a healer like him working with them.

By now I have created an image in my head of this healer next to me, striding confidently into a medical convention, representatives of other firms flocking around him with offer sheets, sort of like a baseball free agent, and I am starting to question my view of the medical field. Could it really be like this, with doctors trying to shift offices, threatening his medical group with his departure? This guy was obviously a rock star of the medical world, and I felt a bit of admiration for a doctor who had that kind of confidence and success, sitting right next to little old me, sharing this small stretch of peace and quiet.

But something's not right. The pieces aren't fitting, and I don't know why. Something isn't kosher in this image.

Then he says something that punches the first shaft of daylight through the dark night of illusion. "Everyone says I'm so good that I should be on a 1st server."

Huh? Server? "Did he mean 'be a 1st responder'?" I wonder to myself. Maybe it wasn't alternative medicine. I listen further, hearing him again name guilds that he might be heading-

Wait a minute. Did he just say joining a guild? That'd definitely be alternative medicine, then, but-

He then mentions their rate schedule, except this time, I hear it as "raid schedule." Which is, of course, the way he said it the first time, because this jag-off isn't a doctor, he's talking about his role as a healer on World of Warcraft.

As I sit trying to keep my jaw from hanging open like one of the undead, Captain Personality shifts topics. The girl on the other end of the line is, to him, "a real doll." He says that soon, she'll find herself on the East Coast, and when she gets here, she'll want to check out the Long Island beaches, and he'll be here to show her around. He tells her she's not like the other chicks from the server who call him all the time and say "oooh, you're the best" (which this schmuck actually says in a sing-song girly voice). She's more down to Earth, and he can't wait to hang out with her.

I have been waiting 6 HOURS to get home and post this. I feel like I'm looking at the back of a Highlights for Kids magazine, looking at the "what's wrong with this picture?" page that has already been filled in.

A.) Captain Cheese Dick is so impressed with his abilities as a healer in a fucking MMORPG that he's threatening to take his services to another group.
B.) There are other groups in that MMORPG that are actively recruiting him.
C.) He thinks anyone is going to believe that chicks are calling him and saying "you're the best" based on his video game prowess.
D.) He thinks anyone is going to believe that chicks are calling him.
E.) He's telling a chick he's actually speaking to about the other chicks who call him.
F.) He is so in love with himself that he is singing his own praises to a girl he has never met before, and expects that there will be muchas smoochas when she finds herself on the East Coast.
G.) He is taking the time to engage in a phone conversation with someone he has never met before over his prowess at a video game.
H.) OH MY GOD THIS FUCKING LOSER DRIVES A CORVETTE.

Even losers are more successful than me.

Fuck. My. Life.