David M. Brown's Blog, page 3
July 29, 2015
The Bleaklisted Movies: Chinatown
Many moons ago a despotic cat named Charlie decided that he wanted to be a book critic. It would fit so nicely with his existing roles as food critic, dog critic and owner critic. Thus The Bleaklisted Books was born.
After fifty books Charlie ran out of the limited ideas and inspiration he had and turned his attention to the world of films. We apologise but this dictatorial little beast will not be contained.
Read at your risk… (And beware… SPOILERS!)
Chinatown
What happens?
A private investigator is hired to watch an adulterous husband but when the guy is found murdered all kinds of weird stuff starts to happen and Bonnie shows up at one point but without Clyde.
Reason for bleaklisting?
Where’s Clyde? And why so long to find Chinatown?
What should have happened?
D.J. Gutters is a private investigator and is hired by a broad named Elf Monkey to investigate her husband who she believes is eating doughnuts on the sly. When Gutters confirms this, Elf Monkey’s husband later shows up dead, encased in a giant doughnut on the edge of Charlietown. Gutters investigates the town where a trio of women known as the Trio stand on street corners singing, “What’s going down in Charlietown, yeah, yeah, yeah, custard and sellotape bonbons.” Gutters’ wanderings help him uncover some of the mystery and it turns out that not only did Elf Monkey kill her husband but that she’s both the sister, father, mother, daughter and brother of the town’s head – a cool kitty known as Charlie, hence Charlietown. How Elf Monkey is related to Charlie in such a way isn’t really explained and it’s most likely that the audience would never question such an outlandish and improbable plot development. Gutters kills Elf Monkey by accident when he uncorks a bottle of champagne and the top blasts up her nose and out of her ear. He then calls in the police to arrest Charlie for some minor misdemeanour involving fraud and tax evasion but no can do because as Gutters is led away he’s told, “Accept it, Gutterboy, this is Charlie’s Town.”
Working title?
Charlietown.
Tagline?
Welcome to Charlietown.
Who should direct?
David Fincher.
Who should star?
Gabriel Byrne, Barbra Streisand and me.
Mr B compares the stories
Roman Polanski’s 1974 thriller stars a brilliant Jack Nicholson as the private investigator, Gittes, who starts simply enough investigating an adulterous husband but soon gets caught in a web of lies, deceit and even murder. Faye Dunaway is there, not as Bonnie, and hence that’s why Clyde isn’t around, Charlie. Instead of Polanski’s well-crafted movie we have yet another example of Charlie feeding the beast that is his inflated ego by not only naming a town after himself but starring in the movie as well. Fincher could probably rescue this appalling storyline and give it some substance but I would fear for Byrne and Streisand in this one.
The post The Bleaklisted Movies: Chinatown appeared first on B-Lines and Felines.
July 27, 2015
Book Excerpt: The Westhampton Leisure Hour and Supper Club – Samantha Bruce-Benjamin
The Party, the Party…!
SEPTEMBER 21st, 1938
On this early evening in September, The Summer Visitors are all packed. Yet, throughout the idyllic villages of the East End, the talk continues of the plans to be made for the morning. Tomorrow, the visitors will bid farewell to the glittering alley they call the Hamptons, off to pursue another fashionable Manhattan Fall. Their mansions, nestled like diamonds into the sands of the coastline, will be shuttered, the country clubs will roll back their awnings, and the society pages that have brightly chronicled their tea parties and fetes will illumine nothing more than the coming winters’ fires. But first there is to be the party: the annual event to close the season at the Lyons’ fabled estate, La Doucette.
It is tacitly acknowledged in the East End that the summer cannot be permitted to die, until Serena Lyons allows the curtain to fall over that dream. Her party is as established a tradition for the Social Register as the white silk dresses of the debutantes who vacation here. As is the gathering of the uninvited – the staff and local people – who come to watch as the triumphal procession of cars, bearing the laurel-wreathed and the chosen, speed past en route to their summer swansong.
This evening is no exception. Hordes from East to West Hampton, line the Old Montauk Highway, to cheer and wave The Summer Visitors on. While those blessed by luck seem, as ever, to trail in their wake the discarded remnants of the preceding months: all of the things they feverishly coveted, forgotten now, along with so many exquisite ladies’ hats left outside to be ruined in the rain.
Yet, amongst the crowd, who can only long for a glimpse beyond the magnificent walls of La Doucette, there is an evident hint of anxiety: an anxiety that reflects the habitual nervousness of people born to serve: “Hopefully, it will stay dry for them,” some comment, casting wary eyes to the high fog that has lingered all day. “We’ll never hear the end of it, if it doesn’t. Anyone would think we were to blame for this awful summer!” still more rejoin, from behind appropriately enthusiastic smiles, trying to ignore the oppressive mugginess in the air.
For the guests who attend each year, the mood is nostalgic, if predictably irritable. The benevolent Old Guard arriving from Southampton, fresh from their day at The Bathing Corp and The Bath and Tennis Club, lament again the floods that forced the cancellation of their beloved annual fundraiser for The Southampton Hospital last week. While those from farther afield in East Hampton, fortified by cocktails started at noon at The Maidstone, bristle anew over the interminable car ride to the West. Yet, as always, in the backseats of Packards and Bentleys everywhere, women scrutinize their make-up and re-adjust their wraps, united in a timeworn theme: how to outdo their hostess. Some still imagine they can.
Over the past thirty years, the Lyons’ imposing Georgian mansion has played host to the only party of any consequence in the Hamptons, The Westhampton Leisure Hour and Supper Club. Yet, its location in Remsenburg – or the “first Hampton” as it is known – has always struck their friends as an odd choice for a family seat, so far removed from its more illustrious neighbors. Founded by Bridgehampton farmers in the 1700s and generously referred to as part of the “greater Westhampton area,” Remsenburg is a tiny hamlet of gambrel-roofed houses and picket-fenced fields, beyond which horses graze: a site of simple elegance that appears to offer nothing more enviable than the leafy consolation of an unchanged world. Only La Doucette has ever deviated from this bucolic code. Yet, arguably no other home here encapsulates its essence more meaningfully. And while the more critical have wrinkled their noses at Serena Lyons’ seemingly simple tastes, she has also been forgiven. For at the core of La Doucette, she has existed in a class all of her own, presiding over a domain of seasonal refinement no amount of wealth could ever acquire, her remit solely the social scene of the summer colony.
Unusually for a society hostess, Mrs. Lyons does not winter in Manhattan and so has never been seen at the 21 Club, The Stork or El Morocco. Nor is she a member of The Colony Club, despite frequent invitations from the founding ladies for her to join. Indeed, very few profess to know what happens when the red front door of La Doucette closes on Mrs. Lyons each September, as equally as guests arriving at her parties each Friday of summer have no idea quite what to expect: whether their coveted pink and gold invitation will invite them to attend an intimate supper, served by liveried footmen only previously seen in Newport; or a 4th July clambake attended by the President; or a gala peopled by Hollywood film stars, and literati alike.
Although the element of surprise has long been established as her particular forte, she has never once misshapen the boundaries of propriety. Her meticulously orchestrated guest lists may occasionally deviate from the accepted norms of society gatherings, but hers is not a world of gaudy trickery. Serena Lyons has never imported trees from the West Coast to establish a Hollywood theme, or held aloft her newborn baby on a silver-dining platter to impress, unlike that fame-hungry wife of a noted East Hampton surgeon. Instead she has glided seamlessly amongst her treasured guests, inherently understanding how to bring together people of interest, breeding – and on occasion outrage – to memorable, yet impeccable, effect.
Nothing fundamental changes each week as guests arrive to be greeted by this delicate nymph of revels. Not the lamplight or The Emperor, or the trays of vintage champagne. Not the boxwood mazes, or the verandahs overlooking the dunes and bay, perennially starlit. Not the house, filled with possessions so beautiful, even the wealthiest of visitor has often paused to stare in awe. Nor the question they always pose whenever they envisage Serena placing a delicate trinket on a Regency table, like settling a child down for the sweetest of dreams, in a place of perpetual admiration. For it is at such moments, when they think of her, when they imagine her walking through those rooms, they find that they start to remember the boy… the summer visitor they have never forgotten.
So, of course, everyone has to attend, if only to see if he will finally return. And tonight, their attendance is considered more crucial than ever. All are bound to honor the simple promise they have made to their hostess, the only request Serena Lyons has ever made of them: to come to the party: Always, to come.
As their cars pass the Moriches Bay on which La Doucette sits, the sea grass bowing graciously in welcome to its crystalline waters, the question of the boy assumes a greater significance amongst the older Summer Visitors who can remember him. These guests, who have witnessed their divine world shift and crumble and resurge in ways in which they have both delighted over and despaired. Perhaps it is because of the subtle shift they detect, the unrecognizable stitch of color in the landscape that surrounds them. Yet, a collective awareness takes root that what is about to happen this evening will differ from everything that has gone before. As the illumined splendor of La Doucette emerges ahead of them, none can escape the fact that something is distinctly changing. An altering that is evident from the fog, unfurling elegantly now over their idling cars, over their expectant souls.
As they raise their eyes to the red front door, standing open like a promise kept, the memories of everything that preceded them here suddenly washes over their aged hearts like a balm. Even guests jaded by eternities of ambivalence and entitlement, find themselves involuntarily counting the priceless joys they owe to this very party; the people they met, the husbands they married, the constancy of the grace they have always cherished. So it is with uncharacteristic spontaneity that many of them decide to disembark from their gridlocked cars and walk the rest of the way: more eager than ever before to reach the consoling familiarity of the house and their darling friend, Serena, waiting to greet them.
Without warning, a hot wind whips up violently, before falling into quiet in sporadic, deceitful bursts, causing only excitement amongst the younger Summer Visitors, who impatiently clamber from their cars to follow the others. Lovely girls in organza and diamonds rush arm in arm with their friends, chattering excitedly about the grand passion they hope the party will produce. While young athletes, their crowns hanging as heavy as their curls, stride confidently forward to bask in their day of victory at the Devon and the Meadow under the light the girls’ adoring chorus will provide. All are intent on enjoying every minute of this, their last chance to make up for the fun that was spoiled this summer by the rains. A low thrum of expectation begins to emanate, projecting forward gaiety and high spirits: “The party, the party…!” they cry, as they run faster now toward the red front door, and beyond it, the possibility that what they most wish to find here tonight, they will.
Others, however, sense something else and somewhere deep within them hear a call home, a discomfiting awareness of all they failed to do before they departed. The goodbyes unsaid, the night-night kisses not bestowed on their children’s precious heads, the horses they prided themselves on, not petted gratefully enough, one last time, before they were stabled this afternoon: It is an awareness that, as with almost everything, they left such tasks to outsiders. And so it is, with an unnerving sense of urgency, that they insist their chauffeurs turn back. “Take us home,” they urge. “We should not have come. Take us home.”
If they, the invited, were to listen, all might hear it. They might know what is coming from the haunting refrain that suddenly fills the air.
The birds are caroling, louder and louder: a chorus of farewell. There will be a storm. And so the party begins.Show moreShow less
About The Westhampton Leisure Hour and Supper Club
In the tradition of The Great Gatsby and Mrs Dalloway, Samantha Bruce-Benjamin delivers a haunting and evocative insight into five minutes in the life of a celebrated Hamptons society hostess, set against the backdrop of The Great Hurricane of 1938.
What have been the five best moments of your life?
September 21st 1938, and at Serena Lyons’ exquisite Hamptons estate, the footmen are serving vintage champagne, the orchestra is playing a favorite tune, and the house is lit so brightly it could almost be mistaken for a star in the distance. The occasion is the last party of the season at The Westhampton Leisure Hour and Supper Club and anybody who is anybody has turned out in force. All except for one. As her guests arrive, Serena watches from her bedroom window, searching for a face in the crowd: The Summer Visitor she has never forgotten.
For thirty years she has waited for him at the start of every party. But on this last evening, the ritual assumes a greater significance. On a road nearby, Kit Peel, is at last returning to her, bringing with him the answers to the unresolved mystery of his disappearance at the age of twenty-one, and the truth behind the secrets that will finally set her free. If only he can get to her in time; if only Serena’s estranged husband, Captain Lyons, will allow him close enough.
As The Great Hurricane of 1938 moves over Long Island, finally reaching the fabled Hamptons, the place and its people are irrevocably changed. Over the course of five minutes, as Serena relives the defining moments of her life, we learn of the tragedies that left their indelible mark, the promises that were made and broken, and the decisions that brought them all there that evening, their destinies forever intertwined and sealed.
Based on historical research about the Hamptons at the peak of its grandeur, the devastation that the 1938 hurricane wrought, and a real supper club called The Leisure Hour and Supper Club, Bruce-Benjamin spins a story that will remind readers of Rebecca or, more recently, Rules of Civility.
Amazon UK Amazon US Goodreads
About Samantha Bruce-Benjamin
Samantha Bruce-Benjamin is the author of The Art of Devotion, an Examiner and Bookreporter Best Book of 2010, and The Westhampton Leisure Hour and Supper Club. Born and raised in Edinburgh, Scotland, she holds a Master of Arts with Honors in English Literature from The University of Edinburgh. A former Random House and BBC literary editor, she divides her time between New York and Edinburgh, where she is currently reading for a PhD in Creative Writing at The University of Edinburgh.
Website Twitter Facebook Google+ Instagram Pinterest
The post Book Excerpt: The Westhampton Leisure Hour and Supper Club – Samantha Bruce-Benjamin appeared first on B-Lines and Felines.
July 24, 2015
Book Excerpt: Chaos Company – Christopher Slayton
CHAPTER ONE: One Man Army
“Wake up mate!” the man said, slapping an unconscious man in the face.
The middle-aged man woke up moved around hysterically. He didn’t realize he was constrained to a metal chair. Ropes were tied to his feet and handcuffs bound his wrists, causing him to fall over on his side the moment he rocked in his seat.
“Agh! Damnit!” he ached. All he saw was a bright light shining in his face. Outside of that there was nothing but darkness. The echo from his voice and the cold damp floor helped the man realize he was in a closed empty space. It didn’t take long for his eyes to adjust and discover he was inside the unfinished basement of his own home. He looked up at the man who had woken him but could not see his face. What he could see was the man about him wearing a military grade Kevlar vest and urban camouflage pants, attire that did not sit well with the restrained man.
The man standing over the captive stopped pacing back and forth for a moment, juggling the thought of smashing his boot into the frightened captive’s chest. After a long moment of silence he picked the captive up.
The prisoner shook vigorously, failing to keep his composure. “Do you know who I am?” the prisoner tried roaring in a threatening tone, but his voice faltered.
“Brian R. Fraser,” his capture said with an Australian accent. “Governor and native of Wisconsin. You got your MA in Political Science from UCLA before attending law School at North Carolina State. You’re married to Sarah Fraser, your high school sweetheart. You’re a fan of barbeques, hunting, and for some reason that’s…fucking beyond me…ranting about international affairs you have no stake in.”
“Bravo.” Governor Fraser said, trying to keep his voice from cracking. “You googled me. If I wasn’t tied up I’d applaud you for being competent with a laptop.”
“I also know you cheated on your bar exam.”
Keeping a cool head during a crisis was a trait the press had identified with Fraser. He took a breath, and swallowed the fear that occupied him. “So you paid off one of my friends. Am I supposed to be impressed?”
Fraser’s kidnapper stood in front of him and pulled out a needle filled with a greenish-yellow liquid. “How about this? You know what this is?”
“Some kind of dope you took to make you think going after me was a good idea?”
The Australian laughed while twirling the needle in hand. “I like that. Calm under pressure. But you see that’s how all men like you start.” He dangled the needle between his fingers. “It’s a heavy sedative. I borrowed it from your doctor. Well, you could say I traded him for it.”
“A trade?”
“Yeah. I took this and he took a bullet to the head. Seemed like a fair trade.” The Australian said while shrugging his shoulders.
Governor Fraser’s eyes widened with horror. “Why? Why am I here? What do you want with me…you little fuck!” he said while straining his hands from the arm rests.
“I’m here to voice my concerns with your policies, Governor!” he shouted, pointing the needle at the governor’s face. The man stood back and crossed his arms. “Well, not really. Politics isn’t really my flavor. However, my actions have probably been on the news more than yours will ever be. Granted their more violent than your endeavors.”
The Australian stepped into the blinding light that lit Fraser’s immediate area, revealing the kidnapper’s dirty blonde hair, cold blue eyes, and maniacal smile.
“You!” Fraser screamed with a look of terror of on his face. “Anyone but you!” He recognized his culprit in a second. His name was Liam King, a world renowned gun for hire. Fraser struggled to free himself as Liam walked behind him, each step echoed off the walls.
In the past few years highly ranked political officials came to know the name Liam King well. It wasn’t a secret that he was on the top of the FBI and Interpol’s most wanted list. Fraser knew King had killed men like him for no better reason than the almighty dollar. King had no loyalty to country, no concern with the life of others. Some men in the Bureau have even whispered that he fights only for the thrill of killing men like Fraser. It was rumored that the money King took for each job was only to help him hide from law enforcement agencies and fund his next operation. He was what some called a boogie man for people who were thought to be untouchable among normal men.
“I thought getting my hands on a Governor would be next to impossible. But I guess your home security is as flimsy as the legislations you pass.”
Fraser’s attempt to free himself was short lived, his goose bumped arms quickly bruised against the ropes. He looked up at King walking back into his sight with a look of frustration and anger.
“You’re dead!” Fraser flung a kick his way. “You hear me? Dead! You fucked up kid! And when my team gets here…” King put Fraser’s threats to a halt with an open hand across his face.
“You’re not a thinker, are you governor? Do you really think I could’ve broken in your home and drag you down here if all your men weren’t dead?”
Frasier’s body shook in fear. “You think you can just come in here? Where my family sleeps?”
“Ah ah ah. Correction, where they used to sleep. A graveyard is more fitting for them now.”
Fraser shook his head in disbelief. “No! No! No! You didn’t!” He rocked his chair back and forth. “Not my wife… my son!”
Liam grabbed Fraser by the neck keeping him still. “This is what happens when you piss off dangerous people Brian. They pay men like me to ruin your life. But your son, he’s just a child. I let him live. But he’ll grow up an orphan.” He smiled at Fraser’s tearing, burning eyes. “The way you’re having a bitch fit, I’d say I did the little bugger a favor mate.”
Fraser jerked his upper body away from Liam’s grasp. “Who hired you? Tell me! Who hired you to kill my wife? I’ll have you both killed! I swear to God!” Fraser screamed, so loud that neither he nor Liam heard the door open from behind him.
“No you won’t.” said the Middle Eastern man walking down the stairs from the first floor, wearing a three-piece suit. He was accompanied by four other Middle Eastern men who were armed to the teeth with automatic weapons, ballistic vests and holstered sidearms. King stepped back from Fraser to let his employer take a look at his work.
“Nice job Mr. King!” The well-dressed man said as he walked past him. “And here I thought paying half in advance was just giving money to a dead man.” He pulled out the 9mm he kept concealed in his jacket and waved it at Fraser.
“Do you know who I am Governor?” The man said to Fraser in a Middle Eastern accent.
“An asshole!” spat Fraser.
Many Americans would agree to the title Fraser gave the man. But the gray suited man, his guards, and his supporters referred to him as Adir Jafri, leader of some of Israel’s most deadly insurgents.
Jafri’s men supported Fraser’s seat, allowing Jafri to punch him in the face until his knuckles bruised, which didn’t take long. “For weeks you’ve been pushing for your friends in Washington to start a task force to hunt me down. You told them I was a threat that you wanted handled. Here’s a lesson for you that you should’ve learned a long time ago.”
Jafri bent down and put the barrel of his gun underneath Fraser’s bruised and bloodied jaw. “You want a man dead, you kill him. If you want a man to kill you, you speak about how you want him dead.”
“Fuck you.” Fraser said as blood sprayed out of his mouth.
“Um, excuse me Mr. Adir,” Liam said as he lowered Jafri’s weapon gently. “I don’t mean to interrupt your lovely exchange of sweet nothings but I’d like to get my money and ship out before things get intimate.”
Adir took a good look at Liam and laughed. “I like you Mr. King.” He snapped his fingers and in an instant one of his men threw a suitcase at Liam’s feet.
Liam picked up the suitcase and weighed it in his hand. “It feels to me like you’re a little short here mate…” He brought the suitcase to his ear and shook it again to be certain. “By at least another six million.” He threw the case back at Jafri’s feet.
“You get one million for your services Mr. King.” Jafri said while delivering another punch to Fraser’s face.
Liam smiled and laughed lightly. “We had agreed to fourteen million. Half for taking the job, half for when I delivered the governor to you. Now I know your part of the world probably uses pebbles and branches to count but that doesn’t excuse for bad business mate.”
Jafri walked slowly over to Liam, his gun still in hand. “We agreed to seven million more for delivering him dead. Does he look dead to you?” He looked at one of his men. “Does he look dead to you Micah?”
“He looks alive to me sir.”
The rest of his men laughed at Liam. “We agreed to a dead governor before my arrival. You didn’t fulfill your agreement Mr. King.” Jafri pointed his gun at Liam’s solar plexus. His men closed in on them from all four corners, giving Liam almost no room to breathe.
“Now, pick up your money and be glad that I’m letting you walk out with your life.”
Liam smiled effortlessly at the General and slowly bent down to pick up his suitcase.
“That’s a good boy.”
Liam clutched the handle of the suitcase tightly, and to his employer’s surprise he swung the full force of the suitcase against Adir’s wrist, causing him to drop his weapon. He then threw the suitcase at one of the soldiers behind him, smashing his nose in.
Liam grabbed the barrel of the MP5 before the other soldier behind him could take aim and slammed the man’s finger against the trigger. He aimed the gun at the soldier behind Adir, spraying him with bullets from the waist up. Liam then struck the soldier he held in the chest with his elbow and twisted his arm while stepping behind him. As Liam used the soldier as a human shield, he drew his pistol and put four rounds in the man who’d been hit with the suitcase.
Governor Fraser watched helplessly, hoping that he wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire. He witnessed Liam taking Adir’s men swiftly. Adir dove to the floor for his gun, but Liam reacted in time to fire at Adir’s weapon, pushing it out of his reach. Liam kicked his human shield at the only unharmed soldier Jafri had left, disrupting his clear shot of Liam. He then emptied half his clip into the two soldiers until his former shield fell on top of his teammate.
“Don’t move!” Liam commanded the General, who was on his knees, with his hands up and facing the ground in terror.
Liam quickly moved over to the soldier who had his dead teammate on top of him. Before he could push him off for a chance to fight back Liam stomped on the dead man, forcing the soldier back to a helpless position and fired a few rounds into his skull.
Adir broke into a frantic crawl for his pistol before a large hole appeared in his back, but not from a bullet.
Governor Fraser couldn’t believe his eyes. Liam turned his head to Jafri running for his gun, and while doing so, Liam’s eye color had changed. They were no longer cold blue, but sunburst orange. Fraser witnessed the orange light in Liam’s eyes escape the corners of his sockets, until the light violently pushed out his skull. The scorching optic laser ripped through Jafri’s back and pierced through his chest, ending his life instantly.
“The fuck was that?” Fraser screamed while he shook in his seat.
Liam picked up the suitcase given to him by Jafri. “Compliments of your government’s top scientists. Your military has put together teams of soldiers with powers like these,” he said, pointing at his smoking eyes as they returned to their normal blue. “My benefactor was kind enough to let me experience a preview of the abilities used by your nation’s forces with the help of a serum. I can’t wait to get my hands on more of the stuff!”
Fraser did his best to break free of his restraints while listening to Liam’s ranting. “You’re a fucking monster!”
Liam brushed his hair and laughed. “Thank you Governor! Monster is exactly what I was going for!” He holstered his 9mm pistol and pulled out his cell phone, dialed a number, and put it on speaker phone.
“Boss. Adir Jafri’s dead.” he said as soon as he heard the line over the phone pick up.
Fraser waited in fear as he listened to Liam. He wished he could hear who he was speaking to, even though he knew it wouldn’t help his situation.
“How’d it go?” said the voice on the other line.
“You were spot on about the plan. Offering Fraser’s head on a platter brought Adir out in the open.”
“Did he pay you before you killed him?”
Liam weighed the suitcase in his hand. “Yeah, he gave me a million for finishing the job, but don’t think I’ll be counting that towards what you owe me.”
“You earned your pay Liam. You’re a good soldier and you’ll be rewarded accordingly.”
Liam shook his head and laughed, “Nah mate, I’m no soldier. No jarhead could’ve gotten Adir like I did.”
“Who is that?” Fraser screamed. “Let me speak to him! We…we can make a deal!”
“Fraser’s still alive?” the man on the line asked.
“Yes sir, he’s alive. The pollie wants to make a deal.” Liam said with a grin.
Without another word Liam’s employer hung up. Liam laughed lightly while putting his phone away and headed for the basement stairs.
“What did he say?” Fraser pleaded eagerly.
Liam halted his exit from the room and turned a shoulder towards Fraser. “He said…” and without hesitation, Liam quickly drew his weapon and fired a round straight into Fraser’s skull, knocking him back in his seat. Liam holstered his weapon and walked towards the exit. He didn’t even reach the door before thinking about how he would spend his bonus.Show moreShow less
About Chaos Company
The highly effective team of genetically enhanced soldiers code-named Chaos Company has returned to the United States to be commended for their bravery. While on leave the team finds themselves at odds with the highly dangerous mercenary Liam King, who has been contracted to assassinate President Jennifer Grey. Chaos Company thwarts Liam’s attack, but at the cost of their team leader’s life.
With their leader killed the team looks to Corporal Desmond Striker to guide them in a hunt for Liam. During their hunt the team will find themselves in the cross-hairs of a private military company and have their abilities pushed to their limits. Before Chaos Company finally comes to blows with Liam they will discover that their greatest threat is a leader within their own country.
Amazon UK Amazon US Goodreads
About Christopher Slayton
Christopher Slayton was born and raised in New Castle, Delaware. During Chris’ high school years he earned two All-Conference awards in lacrosse and three national awards in JROTC. Chris attended the University of Delaware, where he earned a B.A. in Psychology. While in college Chris was a UD ambassador, and wrote sketches for his school’s comedy show. Chris was a member of his school’s Tae Kwon Do team, where he earned multiple honors in nine tournaments. Chris has incorporated his passion for both martial arts and videogames into his writing, helping him finish his first ebook Chaos Company.The post Book Excerpt: Chaos Company – Christopher Slayton appeared first on B-Lines and Felines.
July 22, 2015
The Bleaklisted Movies: The Incredibles
Many moons ago a despotic cat named Charlie decided that he wanted to be a book critic. It would fit so nicely with his existing roles as food critic, dog critic and owner critic. Thus The Bleaklisted Books was born.
After fifty books Charlie ran out of the limited ideas and inspiration he had and turned his attention to the world of films. We apologise but this dictatorial little beast will not be contained.
Read at your risk… (And beware… SPOILERS!)
The Incredibles
What happens?
A family of superheroes, using a suburban existence as cover, are forced into action by the incompetence of the father whose secret shenanigans lead to an epic battle against a robot and a nasty villain. It all ends well though so, as they say in the industry, don’t spankit.
Reason for bleaklisting?
Where do I start? The absence of proper superheroes like Superman, Batman, Scatman and Postman.
What should have happened?
Slob and Selene Doodar are working class parents with three children – Violent, Bash and Hacksaw. Secretly, the Doodar family are would be superheroes but there is one big problem. They’re not very good at being super or indeed heroes. Whenever there’s a crisis the family race to the scene of the incident but are reliant on public transport so tend to be late. The police have usually concluded their enquiries and moved on to the next case. When an evil villain known as Sandy shows up in town, he begins eliminating all the emergency services by telling them an awful joke about a monkey and a pair of pink underpants. The Doodar family are called into action and save the day because no fewer than 10 trains are cancelled, meaning they fail to make it to the residence of Sandy in time. Frustrated with the long wait, Sandy starts firing his gun at the furnishings, takes out a chandelier with Barbara and Oliver Rose on it and is crushed. The Doodars arrive at Sandy’s hideout just before the police and are hailed as heroes.
Working title?
The Unremarkables.
Tagline?
This year expect the unremarkable.
Who should direct?
Don Bluth.
Who should star?
This one needs some voice talent so Jimmy Carr (Slob), Selene (Patricia Heaton) and Bryan Cranston (Sandy).
Mr B compares the stories
Not even a Pixar classic is safe from Charlie’s correctional facility. The very popular The Incredibles does have a superhero family, forced to live a normal life, but having to turn to their unique abilities when faced by the evil villain, Syndrome. Charlie has opted to produce a movie about a rubbish superhero family that have no special abilities so are effectively just normal people with no meaning or purpose whatsoever. Some great voice talent is proposed to be fair, but these are performers who are used to success and not scraping the acting barrel. Even Paris Hilton would turn this one down.
The post The Bleaklisted Movies: The Incredibles appeared first on B-Lines and Felines.
July 21, 2015
Author Interview: Christopher Slayton (Chaos Company)
Tell us about your most recent completed project
The most recent project I completed is a scifi/thriller called Chaos Company. It is an action-packed story that follows a team of genetically enhanced soldiers who are hunting down a powerful mercenary. More coverage on Chaos Company can be found here.
What are you working on now/next?
Right now I’m working on the follow-up to Chaos Company, as well as a separate action adventure story that I’m keeping close to the vest.
Which is your favourite piece of work so far? Why?
Right now it is Chaos Company, it is my first full-length project that has been published.
Favourites
Favourite author?
Anthony Horowitz
Favourite book?
The Walking Dead: Rise of the Governor
Favourite film?
Batman: The Dark Knight
Favourite video game?
Super Smash Brothers Series
Favourite app?
Chess app
Favourite food?
Chinese Food
Favourite drink?
Any kind of Mojito
Miscellaneous
Who inspires you?
Robert Kirkman, Stan Lee, Robert Downing Jr., Sylvester Stallone, Chris Weidman, Rhonda Rousey, Lyoto Machida, Anthony Johnson, Bruce Timm, Anthony Horowitz, Jay-Z, Eminem, Tech N9ne. The list continues.
What motivates you?
Getting my ebook the exposure/representation I know it deserves. Making my family, friends, and people close to me proud. Signing with a major publishing company. Being able to help my mom and little brother with their finances. Getting my dad the drug counseling he needs. Paying off my student loan. Futhering my education. Improving my writing. Helping other aspiring writers find their target audience.
How do you define creativity?
Creativity is the perfect combination of talent and experience, hardwork and natural ability. It is engaging in a problem from a unique perspective and come up with more efficient solution than anyone else.
Creativity is showing the world how you see it through your eyes, whether it be through literature, film, art, music, sports, or science.
What would your personal success story be?
I would have my own office, with a team of young aspiring writers crafting stories similar to Chaos Company. I know how hard it can be to find time to write, so I would love to give jobs to young writers and give them a space where they can work on their stories and help them get their work to publications. I know there are writing forums and sites that people like to use, but I think sitting with people in a room and creating plots and characters together would be more effective than forums.
When I’m not helping them, I would continue working on my own stories, most likely more unique superhero stories. I would also find time to practice martial arts more frequently. It’s a great exercise and an amazing stress reliever. It also helps me think of great fight scenes for the characters in my stories.
About Chaos Company
The highly effective team of genetically enhanced soldiers code-named Chaos Company has returned to the United States to be commended for their bravery. While on leave the team finds themselves at odds with the highly dangerous mercenary Liam King, who has been contracted to assassinate President Jennifer Grey. Chaos Company thwarts Liam’s attack, but at the cost of their team leader’s life.With their leader killed the team looks to Corporal Desmond Striker to guide them in a hunt for Liam. During their hunt the team will find themselves in the cross-hairs of a private military company and have their abilities pushed to their limits. Before Chaos Company finally comes to blows with Liam they will discover that their greatest threat is a leader within their own country.
Amazon UK Amazon US Goodreads
About Christopher Slayton
Christopher Slayton was born and raised in New Castle, Delaware. During Chris’ high school years he earned two All-Conference awards in lacrosse and three national awards in JROTC. Chris attended the University of Delaware, where he earned a B.A. in Psychology. While in college Chris was a UD ambassador, and wrote sketches for his school’s comedy show. Chris was a member of his school’s Tae Kwon Do team, where he earned multiple honors in nine tournaments. Chris has incorporated his passion for both martial arts and videogames into his writing, helping him finish his first ebook Chaos Company.The post Author Interview: Christopher Slayton (Chaos Company) appeared first on B-Lines and Felines.
July 15, 2015
Book Excerpt: The Pharaoh’s Cat – Maria Luisa Lang
My claws quickly unravel the linen strips, and I examine my prize–
For the love of Bastet, mummified intestines!
As I go further down the stairs, I come across three more bundles and give them a wide berth.
The pharaoh’s mummified head is lying on the last few steps. The rest of his mummy is scattered on the floor near the sarcophagus.
Not content with taking the jewelry that adorned the mummy, the tomb-robbers hacked it up to get to the amulets placed in the linen wraps.
Most of the bandages around the head have become undone, revealing a sunken mouth and two rows of brown teeth, and, worse, two glass eyes.
One is still in the eye socket where the embalmer put it, and the other, caught between the linen wraps, is resting on the mummy’s cheek and staring at me.
I be-piss myself!
The stream of urine hits a stone, and the ricochet almost puts out an oil lamp. I watch the trickle run past the bottom half of the mummy to a gilded wooden chest with the lid torn off.
Even though they’re badly damaged, I recognize the four carved female figures each hugging a corner of the chest–the goddesses Eset, Neb-hut, Neit, and Selket. The Protectors of the Dead.
Protectors of the Dead, my rump! They couldn’t even protect their own effigies.
I explore further and prick my paw. I give it a soothing lick and look at what I’ve stepped on–a gold cat amulet!
I pick it up with my teeth and put it in my mouth. What if I were to take the amulet to the temple of Bastet in Bast?
I close my eyes and imagine my journey through the desert where I’m faced with all sorts of dangers. I imagine arriving at the temple gate, exhausted, perhaps close to death, and letting the amulet drop from my tired mouth to the feet of the priests.
“Look at the poor creature,” I can almost hear them say. “The gods only know what he has been through to bring us this gift.” I can almost taste the delicacies that the temple cooks, under orders from the priests, will prepare for me. I can almost feel the softness of the feather pillows put under my rump by a pretty maiden, to sooth my aching body–
My daydreams of pleasure are ended by a hard kick in the ass. I’m sent flying, and I land inside the sarcophagus, my head between my hind legs.
The Protectors of the Dead are finally on the job?
But there’s nothing remotely divine or feminine about the angry bald man who’s looking down at me and shaking a staff.
I spit the cat amulet at him, hitting him on the forehead.
“You accursed cat!” he shouts. “I’ll have your life!”
He bends over the sarcophagus, grabs me by the scruff of the neck, and pulls me out.
He’s wearing a long white skirt that reaches to his underarms and is held up by two thin shoulder straps.
So much exposed skin. I unsheathe my claws and try to scratch him.
He’s so preoccupied with keeping me at arm’s length he doesn’t see another man approaching.
He’s also bald and dressed in white. His semitransparent robe covers a skirt falling from his waist to his knees.
He wears a thick necklace made of strings of colored beads. Hanging from it is a gold medallion bearing the sacred insignia worn by the High Priest of Amun-Ra.
He’s frowning, but the look in his eyes is benevolent.
“Caca-Mut,” the High Priest says as he reaches his side.
Caca-Mut is so startled he drops me.
“Damn beast,” he hisses.
I take cover behind the sarcophagus, sticking my head out to keep track of his movements.
I find him staring at me.
“Caca-Mut!”
Reluctantly, Caca-Mut turns his head to the High Priest, watching me out of the corner of his eye.
“I saw you leaving us,” the High Priest says. “You looked upset, so I followed you.”
“While you and the Pharaoh were busy discussing the progress being made on his tomb,” Caca-Mut explains, “one of the cemetery guards informed me that his patrol had discovered this tomb was broken into. His captain had told him not to report it.”
So one of the imbeciles ratted after all! I shiver to think what Caca-Mut will do to the captain.
“I came in to investigate, and that’s when–”
He starts coughing, like someone choking on his own saliva.
The High Priest gives him a slap in the back–unfortunately, it works.
“That’s when that creature assaulted me! For this affront against me, the Vizier,” he says, shaking his fist in the air, “I want it killed!”
I’m not an “it.” I’m a “he,” and if prudence didn’t dictate that I stay put behind the sarcophagus, I’d show him the proof.
“Caca-Mut,” the High Priest interjects. “Perhaps it was an accident. Let us give the poor beast the benefit of the doubt . . .”
To my astonishment, I find myself suddenly getting up on my hind legs and walking erect out into the open.
I go over to the Vizier and hear myself say, “You kicked me! You threatened me with your staff! I fought back!”
“You walk and talk like a human being!” he says, incredulous. “I am speechless!”
“Speechless? I know how you feel. Till a moment ago I couldn’t talk.”
“You insolent freak! Quiet!”
“I thought you were speechless.”
A burst of laughter resonates in the chamber. A tall young man descends the stairs. He’s bare-chested, his short skirt held to his waist by a golden sash. He wears a headdress of striped cloth encircled by a gold band with a gold vulture head and a flaring gold cobra jutting from the front.
He’s still laughing as he approaches the sarcophagus.
“For the love of all the gods,” exclaims the High Priest, “you, you are laughing! You have not laughed since . . .”
“Well, my dear Gato-Hamen, I have never encountered a cat like him before,” says the newcomer, who now stands in front of me.
I’m about to ask him his name when the Vizier yells, “Insolent cat! Kneel in the presence of Pharaoh Maat-Ba.”
“Kneel?! For the first time in my life, I’m upright, and you want me to go back down on the ground?!”
“Kneel!” he commands again. When he sees I’m not moving, he steps behind me. Using his long staff, he pushes my head down into the ground, and my eyes meet the Pharaoh’s feet.
“What big feet you have, Pharaoh,” I say, just before the staff strikes my head.
Show moreShow less
About The Pharaoh's Cat
Kicked in the ass, a stray tomcat in ancient Egypt can now do the impossible—talk and act like a man, make ancient Egypt funny, visit New York City, bring the Pharaoh back from the dead.The cat, who narrates in the present tense, is exploring a looted tomb when he is kicked by the Vizier, the Pharaoh’s uncle and second only to him. The cat retaliates by spitting a cat amulet at his attacker, hitting him in the forehead.
The Vizier wants to kill the cat on the spot, but the High Priest of Amun-Ra intervenes. When the High Priest says the cat cannot stand up to his accuser and speak in his own defense, the cat suddenly finds that he can. The Pharaoh enters the tomb, hears the cat hurling wisecracks at the Vizier, and laughs for the first time since his parents’ death.
The Pharaoh takes the cat to live with him at the royal palace, and a bond of love soon forms. The High Priest becomes the cat’s friend and confidant. From him, the cat learns that the cat-goddess Bastet has given him his powers, but not why, only that she will one day ask him a question. The Vizier becomes an even more vindictive enemy as the Pharaoh, inspired by the cat to become a stronger leader, curtails his powers.
When the Pharaoh and the cat return from a tour of Egypt, the Vizier murders the Pharaoh, blames the cat, and orders him executed. The High Priest rescues him, and they travel through time to New York City, where they stay with Elena, a prominent Egyptologist’s daughter. They go to an ancient Egyptian exhibit, end up in Central Park, then at a cathedral, and later retrieve a lost spell to revive the dead.
They return to Egypt to revive the Pharaoh, but the spell fails to work till Bastet appears to ask the cat to give his life in return for the Pharaoh’s. He says yes, but Bastet only needed him to agree for the spell to work. The Pharaoh is resurrected, kills the Vizier in battle, then returns to the world above after making the High Priest pharaoh in his place.
The High Priest reigns for seven years with the cat at his side. A rebellion forces them to return to New York City, where they find Elena pregnant with the High Priest’s child. For her, only months have passed. The cat immediately senses that the child she carries is the Pharaoh reincarnated.
Amazon UK Amazon US Goodreads
Maria Luisa Lang
Maria Luisa Lang was born in Rome, Italy, and lives in New York City. She has a degree in art from the City University of New York, and her artwork has been exhibited in New York galleries.She often returns to Italy to visit her family. She has also stayed for extended periods in Bath and London. She loves all animals and is an amateur Egyptologist. Her love of cats and ancient Egypt inspired her to write two novels about them. The Pharaoh’s Cat is her first novel. She has almost completed its sequel, The Lady of Mystery.
The post Book Excerpt: The Pharaoh’s Cat – Maria Luisa Lang appeared first on B-Lines and Felines.
Book Excerpt: Lot’s Mountain – N.R. Allen
…I shouldn’t have told her any of this. I should have just left it that I can do weird things, too.
“That’s … something,” Jamie says and then stops.
“I have to find the Huntsman, Jamie. We’re all in big trouble, but most of the people around here don’t know it yet,” I urge.
“Dylan …” she doesn’t finish.
“There’s a reason that we’re afraid of the dark. A lot of things in it are pretty damn nasty,” I tell her. “But there’s a lot more in the dark than you know, and they’re asking for help, Jamie. Our help.”
That seems to spark something in her. She looks up and slowly nods.
“I wish you could see the good things.” And then I realize something. She can.
As soon as I pull out the orb-thing Grim gave me, it starts to glow and pulse with orange light.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m thinking of Grim or if it’s just something that the orb thing can do, since it’s a wisp’s map, but all of a sudden, light splashes against one of the walls of the theater and we see something. It’s just a glimpse, but we see it—Belle Lake. I can hear soft music that digs down to my soul. Jamie hears it, too. Shimmering trees rise from the floor as a breeze brushes warmly by us. The water … it isn’t really there, but Jamie leans over and watches it glow next to her. And I know that she feels how I felt the first time I saw the lake. She feels like she finally belongs somewhere.
And Jamie smiles. Well, that’s not saying much, since most smiles always mean that I’m shit out of luck. But this one … well, this one is a whole lot different. It isn’t Diane’s pity smile, or Shard’s I’m-gonna-eat-your-heart-when-I-can smile, or the sheriff’s creepy, possessed smile. This one really makes me want to smile back, and I do.
“Jamie, this is what we have to save.”
After the mirage of Belle Lake fades and the orb becomes just an orb again, Jamie and me just sit there on the theater floor. Then, for a few minutes, we forget about the war looming over us. We forget about Stone and Glass.
Looking at her face, I want to say a thousand different things, but I don’t say anything at all.
And neither does she.
But that’s okay. That smile of hers is enough.
About Lot's Mountain
Magic isn’t gone, only hidden.
For countless centuries monsters, men, and things in between have fought hidden battles over the fate of magic … in a small rural town in Virginia. Now their skirmishes threaten to explode into open war, with the entire world held in the balance.
Dylan Caid, a troubled misfit whose secret just might hold the key to victory, finds himself thrust into the center of this ancient conflict. With both sides urging him to join with them and threatening death or worse should he not, Dylan must seek out an ancient force that even monsters fear.
Amazon UK Amazon US Goodreads
N.R. Allen
N.R. Allen grew up in Dooms, VA, and currently lives in Blacksburg, VA, with her husband and family. While this is her second full-length novel, she has written and published poems, short stories, and flash fiction, including “Teddy Bear Heads,” “That House at the End of Carver Street,” and “A Song for Miss Cline”. Visit her on Facebook, Twitter. and Tumblr. She loves writing with a dash of Southern humor and working in Appalachian myths.Website Blog Facebook
The post Book Excerpt: Lot’s Mountain – N.R. Allen appeared first on B-Lines and Felines.
The Bleaklisted Movies: The Wild Bunch
Many moons ago a despotic cat named Charlie decided that he wanted to be a book critic. It would fit so nicely with his existing roles as food critic, dog critic and owner critic. Thus The Bleaklisted Books was born.
After fifty books Charlie ran out of the limited ideas and inspiration he had and turned his attention to the world of films. We apologise but this dictatorial little beast will not be contained.
Read at your risk… (And beware… SPOILERS!)
The Wild Bunch
What happens?
A bunch of ageing outlaws look to complete one last job but things don’t go so well and they all die in a shootout.
Reason for bleaklisting?
They just weren’t wild enough and that shootout at the end needed to be more bloody.
What should have happened?
A group of badasses wander the Old West getting into all kinds of trouble and often seeing many of their gang killed in the process. The gang are led by Spike and throughout their 30 something years of criminal activity, he has insisted they manage on a diet of beans, bacon and sausage with a sprinkle of his grandmother’s “Spicy Spicy Pepper.” The pepper has proved so spicy that it has continuously left the gang in a bitter mood and more prone to violence. After a train robbery goes a bit wrong, Spike decides it’s time to retire and takes the last of his gang along to an Italian restaurant to celebrate. When the lasagne and carbonara dishes arrive, Spike goes for his bottle of Spicy Spicy Pepper but the proprietor points to a sign over the entrance which says, “No Bringing Your Own Pepper!” Spike and his gang tuck into their first meal in 30 years without the infamous pepper and the following day they wake as different men. They’re happy, polite, peaceful and eager to help the community with fundraising and a whole manner of humanitarian schemes.
Working title?
The Mild Lunch.
Tagline?
The food had changed. Theirs hadn’t. The pepper had changed. Theirs hadn’t.
Who should direct?
Kathryn Bigelow.
Who should star?
Kevin Costner, Barry Manilow and Conway Twitty.
Mr B compares the stories
Sam Peckinpah’s brutal Western about maladjusted outlaws left behind in a changing world is one of the classics of its field. The ending is the most memorable part, of course, with the brutal shootout that spells the end of Pike’s gang. Charlie has dispensed with what made Peckinpah’s movie great and instead has gone down the road of a gang who are only violent because they always have some spicy pepper on their food. Take the pepper away and they start being good boys. Kevin Costner has done Westerns before but Barry Manilow and Conway Twitty in there as well? I suppose they could provide the campfire music but I don’t see them convincingly wielding guns in the Old West.
The post The Bleaklisted Movies: The Wild Bunch appeared first on B-Lines and Felines.
July 10, 2015
The Bleaklisted Movies: Big
Many moons ago a despotic cat named Charlie decided that he wanted to be a book critic. It would fit so nicely with his existing roles as food critic, dog critic and owner critic. Thus The Bleaklisted Books was born.
After fifty books Charlie ran out of the limited ideas and inspiration he had and turned his attention to the world of films. We apologise but this dictatorial little beast will not be contained.
Read at your risk… (And beware… SPOILERS!)
Big
What happens?
Boy wishes to be bigger. Wakes up the next day and is Tom Hanks. He has various adventures, an uncomfortable relationship with a woman and then is a boy again.
Reason for bleaklisting?
The boy looks nothing like Tom Hanks, apart from the same colour hair, and the fact they are both male, and all the other biological attributes that human men have.
What should have happened?
Posh Basking in the Sun is living it up in Miami where it’s really hot and the crime rate is down thanks to Dexter Morgan cleaning up the streets and the Golden Girls making us laugh. When Posh has to go on holiday with his mum to Alaska he finds it’s a bit cold and having a shaved head makes life very uncomfortable. He doesn’t have the foresight to wear a woolly hat because he’s Posh Basking in the Sun and such trains of thought are beyond him. Posh decides he needs long hair so finds a Mordor Speaks Machine in the middle of nowhere and wishes he had hair. He wakes up the following day to find he has long blond hair, akin to Legolas in The Lord of the Rings. It’s not real hair, I might add, but it looks great, all flowing and shiny like in those adverts you humans find so agreeable. Posh suddenly gets modelling contracts and films some of those adverts for hair products. He even has a relationship with an older woman, Suss N’ See, who mistakes him for Orlando Bloom, but when it’s time to return to Miami, Posh realises he wants to go back to having no hair again. He makes a wish with the Mordor Speaks Machine and his hair falls out as he walks away from Suss. Only later does he realise he could have just removed the hairpiece and wished for something else but that’s how it goes.
Working title?
Wig.
Tagline?
Bald today, hair tomorrow.
Who should direct?
Peter Jackson.
Who should star?
Macaulay Culkin (just reverse his age a bit, well, a lot) and Liv Tyler (just make her less infatuated with Aragorn and more into Legolas).
Mr B compares the stories
The 1988 comedy Big is one of the eighties classics with a fabulous turn from Tom Hanks. It has a really great concept of the kid who wants to be taller and ends up making a wish that turns him into a thirty something man instead. Charlie’s vision is of someone with little hair wanting hair and ending up with Legolas’ locks. The choice of Macaulay Culkin to star in this movie is an intriguing one especially as Charlie believes reversing one’s age is all part and parcel of the movie business. I don’t deny a lot can be done with special effects but making someone younger in real life, I’m not so sure. If you haven’t seen Big it is definitely worth checking out. If you are interested in seeing Wig, please help yourself or buy a Legolas wig instead. It will be a lot more fun.
The post The Bleaklisted Movies: Big appeared first on B-Lines and Felines.
July 1, 2015
The Bleaklisted Movies: Cleopatra
Many moons ago a despotic cat named Charlie decided that he wanted to be a book critic. It would fit so nicely with his existing roles as food critic, dog critic and owner critic. Thus The Bleaklisted Books was born.
After fifty books Charlie ran out of the limited ideas and inspiration he had and turned his attention to the world of films. We apologise but this dictatorial little beast will not be contained.
Read at your risk… (And beware… SPOILERS!)
Cleopatra
What happens?
Thanks to Rome and Julius Caesar, Cleopatra becomes the ruler of Egypt but some fisticuffs back in Rome plunger her future into doubt and there’s a snake among the bedsheets, a real one I mean, that’s not a euphemism.
Reason for bleaklisting?
Cleopatra wasn’t tough enough for me. When it all kicked off, I would have got myself a machine gun and gone all Scarface on their asses. To each his bone as they say.
What should have happened?
Cesar, a popular brand of dog food, comes to Egypt in pursuit of his rival, Pedigree Chum. Once Chum is dead Cesar hooks up with Cleocatra, a silky smooth pussy with aspirations of world domination, well Egypt anyway. With the rest she’s content to see how it goes once she’s checked the stock exchange. Cesar and Cleocatra form an alliance but it goes wrong when Cesar is murdered by conspirators led by Mucus. Cesar’s heir is October Calendar whose rise to power leads to an Uncivil War in Rome. Mucus teams up with Shark Anchovy and they also get Cleocatra on side by promising her that they know of a mine where there are copious amounts of tinned tuna waiting to be unearthed. After October Calendar wins a decisive victory in a game of scissors, paper, stone, poor Mucus kills himself by refusing to blow his nose for three months. Shark Anchovy heads to Egypt to link up with Cleocatra but dies in the shallows where he is picked off by his childhood rival, Nigel the Chirpy Dolphin. With October Calendar ready to take over Egypt, Cleocatra looks over to the director and says, “What’s the budget for this crappy production?” The director sees the costs, suffers a heart attack and production stalls with October Calendar on the brink of bringing his sword down on the head of Cleocatra. The scene fades as the protagonists are frozen in this very exciting moment and the audience is left to speculate what happens. Genius.
Working title?
Cleocatra.
Tagline?
The motion picture the world hasn’t been waiting for.
Who should direct?
John Ford.
Who should star?
Halle Berry, Martin Short, David Hyde Pierce and Steve Guttenberg.
Mr B compares the stories
The 1963 movie, Cleopatra, is an extravagant one both visually and with that very steep budget that left 20th Century Fox on its knees. Charlie’s alternative is to try and run parallel with the movie’s plot and indeed Roman history, only to veer off course within the opening sentence. John Ford was a fine director but even he would have been intimidated, make that traumatised, by the scope and sheer lunacy of Charlie’s vision. Halle Berry could be Cleopatra if she was in acting mode rather than Catwoman mode I assume, which is ironic given that this proposed movie project is to be called Cleocatra. The inclusion of Martin Short, David Hyde Pierce and Steve Guttenberg, presumably for the parts of Cesar, Shark Anchovy and October Calendar is enough to make me think I must be high even though I haven’t been smoking anything!
The post The Bleaklisted Movies: Cleopatra appeared first on B-Lines and Felines.
