Tweeting Action Films With Respect

How I would have changed Star Wars: The Last Jedi

Before I begin this I want it on the record that I very much enjoyed The Last Jedi. It’s far from perfect but where TFA was a lot of fun but fairly uninspired, a new hope for a new generation, TLJ for all its flaws tried new things and dug in deep to big themes and a dissection of the franchise as a whole. I loved it. There’s no denying the film was far too long and the subplots were a mixed bag.  The Rey/Kylo/Luke stuff on a thematic level worked for me. Some minor details near the end perhaps could have been done differently but all in all I think it’s fairly  rock solid. Some rocks can be moved around though as the film very much confirms. I do this not to tell anyone how it should be done but just to give my two cents. I enjoy script writing and would love to be a script doctor/ consultant so I write this in that spirit.. I will try to keep it succinct.

Canto Bight

My brother made the canny suggestion that the Canto Bight story line should have been at the beginning of the film. Imagine panning over the crazy tables, spying all those diverse aliens, we reach a big table, where some ostentatious high roller is wowing a crowd but we can’t see his face. He turns around and it’s Finn! It would be a great surprise since  the last time we saw him was in a bio bed unconscious and now here he is in a totally different milieu and having fun. We could even throw in a shameless piece of exposition where Rose tells him to calm down since it’s not that long since he got the all clear. Finn could say how he’s still feeling a bit raw but that his luck is changing... That should be when he comes across someone from his past in the Casino...Phasma. But in a twist Phasma is sans mask and Finn doesn’t know who this is. This would give Gwendoline Christie an actual character to play. If the audience knows she’s Phasma then the tension comes from not knowing when Finn will figure it out. If you don’t know the actress is Phasma it would be a nice reveal. So Finn believe he has a rapport with this new person and finally feels like he is escaping his past (the film’s central theme) but  the reveal of her true identity would shatter that illusion and the ensuing battle would allow him to put the past to bed once and for all. I also think Phasma should have been evolved beyond the Boba Fett clone (not an actual in story clone!) she ended up being.

Poe is also on Canto Bight with Rose and Finn because they have discovered that the Casino is a front for a weapons facility in which the Empire are stocking up brand new ships such as Dreadnoughts. Their plans is to infiltrate and destroy this place before they can be added to the First Order’s fleet. They need to find a code breaker in the Casino who can be turned to their side. I would have just gone with Justin Theroux’s character here but it still could have been Benecio Del Toro’s DJ either way. Poe is not himself after a botched operation in which he got a number of the fleet killed, including someone important to Rose. I would have made this her lover instead of her sister, explicitly putting in more LGBTQ representation, (having a gay character be killed could be problematic, I admit, but when watching the film the first time and seeing the shared necklace, I honestly assumed this was Rose’s girlfriend/wife and found the sister thing a little meh).  There is understandable tension between Rose and Poe. These story points could be alluded to in PTSD type flashbacks that are interspersed and while Poe is to blame, which has shaken the character from the cocky pilot of the first film, we could see the operation from different Rashomon type flashbacks which would be a nice narrative parallel to the Luke/ Kylo Ren flashbacks.

Leia’s choice to allow Poe on this mission has not been popular and we see a holographic message from Admiral Holdo criticising the decision while still greatly respecting Leia (this is important to establish as their genuine friendship was great and a fantastic rebuke to the two strong women being at odds trope you find in a lot of fiction). Leia says she has faith in Poe and Holdo is forced to see if that faith is justified. Poe himself is conflicted about his future in the Resistance but helping Rose and Finn free those animals that cut a swath through Canto Bight is the metaphor for the Resistance Poe needs to reawaken his faith. He sees that the downtrodden must be free to make a difference.

Leia

The Leia force scene has been a big controversial moment for a lot of people and I would suggest a minor tweak of this could have been more effective. Leia is blasted out into space. We still have the same shots of her floating but we hear her breathing, her heart beating. But suddenly a calm falls over her. She is using the Force to slow down everything to give her a few more precious moments of life when suddenly a fighter appears and picks her up, being flown by Holdo. It would have been a great physical introduction for the character having previously been shown as just a hologram. You’d still have Leia saving herself with the Force but just not in so a cartoony or pronounced way. There could be some fun banter about how Holdo wasn’t meant to be there but she was just passing by the star system and knew Leia would be out for a walk, or something to that effect.

Here is where I will give an odd suggestion for how to deal with Leia in Episode 9. This could be controversial but I’d have it that the General gets sick or is injured and they know they can’t save her so she asks to be frozen in Carbonite but kept alive. She could be the leader who never died and is a living monument to how the Resistance should never die. It’s not perfect but its as elegant a solution to what cruel fate has provided us.

So a single Dreadnought survives the destruction of the weapons facility and this could give us the Holdo sacrifice (clearly Leia could have been the one to do this too, but I digress). Holdo contacts Poe and congratulates him on his successful mission, welcoming him back into the fold but says “As cocky as you are Poe...you missed one.”  And she hyperspaces into the Dreadnought to prevent it from destroying the fleet.

As you can see most of the film would be unaffected and I do believe the subplots would tie in more organically.  Throwing in a Casino jaunt into a ticking clock plot remains my biggest problem with the film and I think structuring it like this would solve a lot of problems.

Snoke

A brief final note on another issue fandom has with the film, the identity of Snoke. The decision to make Rey’s parents nobodies was inspired and I hope they don’t reverse that in future installments. As for Snoke, I have a theory that won’t satisfy everyone but is my take on the character. Although to be honest I don’t think we need to know where he came from. His dispatching was fantastic and allows the series to focus on the more nuanced and interesting antagonist in Kylo Ren but if people were so desperate for an answer here is one.

There should be a scene with Luke in the dark pit with the Infinite Recursion that we see Rey in half way through the film. This can be from a long time ago. Luke has gone their to face his demons. We see him force jump out of the pit and the delayed reflections all follow suit...except one. An obscured reflection in the distance remains down that pit. This is Snoke. He is a manifestation of Luke’s anger and bitterness and the darker thoughts inside of him. (It’s a bit Onslaught with Professor Xavier if I’m to be honest). Snoke didn’t want anyone to find Skywalker because he needs him alive to continue existing and Luke remaining in exile suited his plans perfectly. It even adds an irony to Kylo Ren who unknowingly is still an apprentice to a version of Luke Skywalker. In fact this revelation would have been a nice extra motivation for Kylo killing Snoke.  Fandom could have called this character Snoke Starkiller as a nod to the original name of Luke Skywalker! I very much believe in drawing thematic parallels and contrasts across different narrative threads. For example Kylo sheds his armour to move on but Phasma re-embraces her armour as a symbol of the past.  Both Finn and Rey do not know their parents and are in situations due to this abandonment. There’s definitely more of this stuff that could be teased out over the whole story. So there you go, suggestions for something that has already been made and for adventures that have already happened a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

214- An Azealia Banks Parody

In Cork City, I get the 214 Bus. It is notoriously late and the drivers are very often rude. Combining that with an Azealia Banks parody I wrote ages ago. Hey, you can't be the driver I'm ready to pay, but you put the price up And the timetable you just slice up you can see I've been stuck here reading the paper And that curb careless driving, you're gonna scrape her Don't want to be the customer a-bitchin' We got to resolve this sit-uation. this bus should be main streetin' I'm running late for that fucking meeting But my point of view you don't give a look in Maybe a taxi, i should be be booking Guess that cunt shouldn't be drivin' that bus should be arriving that bus should be arriving that bus should be arriving waiting on the 214 On the sarsfield road forevermore fucking bus route never gonna make it in, that's the fucking truth But what the fuck you gonna do I mean the bus service isn't just for little old you But the rude staff in bus aras couldn't even make it to the fucking chorus every stop on the way in I feel like i need to be sayin push the button to beep let the driver know in case He's falling asleep that's my stop yo, just chill bro if i need some time to work my change don't be giving a wigga a look that strange coins are hard to sift thru don't need no conductor giving short shrift too I'm going to complain you cunt I'm going to complain you cunt I'm going to complain you cunt Replay O, Replay O I heard Azelia was a one hit wonder (wonder) Tell em you heard where she ended up Say I'm parodying but I aint complaining about her The label will drop you, drop you, soon the bus will never be on time, time, time, time What you gone do when the bus isn't here? When that fails to appear Bitch at the end of the phone line to a peer this never on time, time What you gone do when you're running late who are you gonna berate (berate) this shit is whine, whine,  Bitch Im waiting on the 214 it's as unreliable as urban folklore for fuckin' sure Patrick's street is off this bus tour Got my ipod on shuffle, it lands on the mighty Cure Fuck you gonna do what's your mp3 player like what music you into? see a bus on a wider view what does the number on that look like to you? if it's 216, I'm going to blow a fuse getting no kicks out of this bus-terfuge if it's 219, I'm going to bust a cap into the bus drivers ticket machine trap You think I give a crap im the fly in this fucking ointment so i'm late for another appointment Now i don't have the correct amount, no struggling with shrapnel and im running out of time to count though It's going to cause, a fuss I'm a ruin you bus What you going to do when the bus appear When it finally gets its shit into gear This shit aint worth a dime, dime What you going to do when the bus stop clears an answers to our prayers this shit's been whine, whine.

This is wrong on so many levels

Noteworthy

The character was in searing pain. Thin skinned and only half formed he lay in a foetal position at the bottom of the writers imagination. He needed fleshing out. The oblivious creator was waiting for his next coffee before he'd continue to muse on the brand new being he was willing into existence.  In his local cafe, notepad and pen at the ready, the writer was also hungry. He walked over to the menu and considered the specials of the day. Half jumbled thoughts of a fractured back-story danced around the characters head. It was agony being barely a form but this was the forge all characters had to pass through on their way to either notoriety or obscurity.  He scrambled around in the dark, trying to find a story hook to hold onto but this must have been the beginning. He was being born before the world he had to fit into had been created. He then found himself on an empty white plain. "Hmmm, Should I have soup, or something a bit more tasty...?" The woman behind the counter stood ready but the writer was proving frustratingly slow with his order. Linda, a girl the creator fancied sidled up to him at the counter. "Hey, how is your day going?" The writer smiled, looking down, losing his train of creative thought. The character could see his creator and this woman talk but it was as if they were on the other side of a tunnel, the picture of them getting further and further away... Running one hand down his body he could feel his underdeveloped aspects. His guts were spilling, literally, "out of character". Where were his motivations? His distinguishing features? He kept thinking this was the cruelest way to be. The long wait towards narrative... It was then, he felt a hand grip his own. Looking up through blinkered, squinting eyes, he saw a half familiar face. It looked like the woman his creator had been speaking to, but slightly different. Somehow the figure was more beautiful, like an idealized painting, an unrealistic impression of that person. Linda sat with the writer and they made awkward small talk. He pushed the pen and pad across the table a bit, wanting to give his companion his full attention. The beautiful figure pulled the unfinished character up on to his still unsteady feet. He felt like a deformed creature unsure of what to do in the face of such conventional beauty. He looked away sullenly. The figure put her hands to his face and said in a comforting tone. "I'm the Muse based on that Linda creature out there. I'm here to help you in this strange new world." The character allowed himself a smile as he stared into his rescuers eyes. "Where did you come from?" he asked, his voice feeble, undefined. "From the margin," the Muse explained. "My...I mean her name..was written there and from that I grew. I guess coming from the template of a person has given me a far more solid form than you as an original creation." She beamed a nice benevolent smile at him . She leaned in for a kiss "This is just the beginnin..." Suddenly the two characters found themselves submerged under water. They couldn't breathe and began to thrash around. The Muse frantically looked around trying to find a dry scrap of paper to cling to. 

"Shit!I'm so sorry!" Linda said as she was trying to dry the piece of paper. She had spilled her bottle of water all over it. "I've ruined your work!" "Don't worry about it," the writer said. "It was nothing really, just some random thoughts and notes. Actually my phone battery has died but here...if I could take your number..."

A strange black object with an ink stained nib began to scribble something near the bottom of the page. Cradling the barely formed character, the Muse tried reaching out for what had been written. It seemed to be a collection of numbers but the "0" or the "8" would have been the ideal life preservers for the drowning couple.  "Urgh..." Her hand pushed closer and closer until she could feel the tip of the ink. It was just out of reach. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't close the distance.  Reality itself seemed to fold over as the top of their world began to crumple up. A drop became a wave and bombarded them. The character and the Muse looked back to where their possible salvation had been. The island of numbers was gone. It had been torn away.

All-Seeing

An evening mask or a pretty

pattern drawn

on the sky of your back

ready for nights waiting hand

the skeletal bottles collect

on the porch

ready for the warm house invite

and the patter of the confident booms strong

I can not wait til the calm

when all the violence is gone

but the walls as thin as whispers

and it reaches the sleeping mind

the inquisitive part

the seas are receding

faster than the beaches are formed.

We are still all the way put together

the slip of years warming the bones of youth

the body is a temple, on a Holy River

and no one descends from the mountains

to hear my truth

when the figures brush against me

and the naked boast they are all seeing

I can not remember for my life, anything

past the point of my own body, that the

light is now catching.

An Overview of the Cork French Film Festival 2013

  For fans of classic French Cinema this years 24th Cork French Film Festival provided a wide array of delights ranging from hugely influential New Wave films to more recent examples of monochromatic mischief.

Making a virtue of its “Noir et Blanc” theme the programme emanated that elusive and trademark kind of cool that we associate with Franco film-making, the expressive shadows concealing what seemed like a million askew narratives. Whether  it was dealing with a straight ahead Film Noir, surely the province of such dark pools and austere skies, a matinee type serial fare or tackling social and economic pressures in far flung countries it never failed to, at its heart, entertain with wit and flair.

  Godard, one of the most iconic of the French New Wave lot was well represented in the screening of “Alphaville”, an odd fusion of  dystopic science fiction filtered through a gumshoe detective story, the influences of this seminal film providing templates for future hits such as Blade Runner. Featuring a brooding central performance by Eddie Constatine, admittedly never the most versatile of actors but his granite like face and natural stoicism put to good use and when set against the luminous presence of Goddess  (and Godard muse) Anna Karina the films hypnotic gaze remains hard to resist. A science fiction film bereft of any real special effects, the sleek architecture of Paris stands in for the distant future and it’s metropolitan beauty is given an ominous and menacing sheen here. One of my favourite Godard pieces even with some of its odd storytelling lurches.

  Keeping with the New Wave for a moment, “Shoot the Piano Player” was screened, Truffauts follow on to his stunning debut The 400 Blows, it’s easy to see why on it intitial release, the reception was so muted. Following 400 Blows would be a daunting task for anyone and a genre fusion of gangster farce and existential musing must have puzzled the audience first time around. Seen from a distance there is no doubting that it’s a minor work for the director, its attempts to marry disparate threads never quite cohering as much as you like. For every well observed, tense moment you get a throwaway gag that is quite jarring and the film prides itself on being almost wilfully obscure from an exposition point of view. Tyring to figure out the relationships becomes gradually less important as the more farcical elements get amped up. Best to just forget it and enjoy some of its well staged scenes, an awkward fight sequence gets special attention for its attempts to convey a really messy scuffle and how something like that might go in real life. For all its comedy moments that don’t quite work, the film has a chilly  unsettling air that is interesting when contrasted against its on the surface fluff. Not essential to be seen but diverting enough while it lasts.

  A highlight of the festival was a multi-media event in which La Jetee was screened alongside an exhibit of photographs from the film in the Wandesford Quay art gallery. This evening was completed with a performance by electronic musicians I AM THE COMOS. La Jetee itself, is an undisputed masterpiece, directed by Chris Marker (his only foray into Sci-Fi alas) and its tight story of fate and time travel mechanics is a disquieting creation. Filmed using only still photographs and voice over it shows that when a concept is strong enough,like Alaphaville no special effects are required and the clipped nature of its production adds intriguing layers to the piece. It makes the audience feel that we are, less seeing a narrative, than unearthing a horrific document of sorts that outlines a terrifying temporal cautionary tale. With language that finds an elegiac balance between technical and poetic La Jetee has earned its place as towering science fiction and it’s no surprise it gave a template to the still most satisfying film of Terry Gilliams career, “Twelve Monkeys” (sorry Brazil fans).

  Persepolis, one of the most contemporary films at the festival this year, is an utterly charming coming of age tale about a girl named Marjane living under a strict Iranian regime and her curiosity about the world at large. Based on a graphic novel which had a distinctive look, thankfully retained for its cinematic translation, the story is an fascinating insight into the conservative traditions and violent past of Iran. Following Marjane’s attempts to explore the wider world, it encompasses a great many tones, the comedy is sweet natured and truthful but the film isn’t afraid to show just how bleak things can get for the central character, not just within Iran's borders but beyond in Europe as she makes a number of mistakes and ends up homeless. What emerges is a truthful, touching story that if played straight might not have been anywhere near as poignant. The cartoonish presentation allows many inspired flights of visual imagination, the narrative strains at the leash of standard storytelling devices and it’s this fluid integration between reality and the more abstract dreams and thoughts of its central character that makes it so affecting. For anyone who feels a stigma with regards to animation, this should be seen as sophisticated and mature film making.

  Maturity was in short supply in the best film of the festival, Aki Kaurismäki’s 1992 take on the famous novel La Vie de Bohème, it follows three Bohemian artists, a writer, a painter and musician and their strange meandering adventures chasing fortune and romance. Rodolfo played by Kaurismäki regular

Matti Pellonpää gets the meat of the story, his relationship with a woman named Mimi giving the film its main emotional hook. Pellonpää had this ability to essay a perfect man child, an emotionally stunted adult who with just one laconic expression could convey a depth of feeling, be it love or longing. His awkward courtship and the genuinely sweet relationship that springs up contains some of the films best gags but it is in the unusual formation of bonds between the characters that the film really takes hold. There’s just no reason we should be so charmed by these individuals but each actor brings a sort of lived-in nuance to the role and it makes their interactions very effective. While episodic in nature and a bit too over long, it is surprising how much this gets under your skin and it’s all down to the subtlety Kaurismäki brings to the affair. Nothing is overstated, and while some longeurs are heavy with melancholy it never gets too grim and even at its bleakest the film has a winning edge and many laughs. It certainly wouldn’t suit everyones tastes but as an exercise in bohemian whimsy it packs a pretty big emotional punch.

  A festival then which covered a myriad of tones all coated in eternal monochrome cool, it showed most definitely who indeed was hue when it comes to the possibilities of classic French cinema.

A Contortionist Writes a Poem about his Job

We fit into boxes when             needs be I can bend my arms sdrawkcab the same with my                          knee I both meta(liter)phorically(ally) put my mofootuth                                           north When something should be        its usually                                             south. They dont need to twist my arm much you can see from how flexible my skkkkiiinnnn is I'm a soft enough touch.   I do get tangled pu at the best of times and in most social situations I'm all thumb(x1000000) I can fit in any drawer, use it like a bed I love my work from toe to head,   the act of c   n   o  t  n                     o   t   r   i  g is my life's work. I make my living from a quirk it's what I'm head                   heels for its what pays for my meals I cant ask for any more.

Unhooked

Peter Pan soared off once again into the sky of Neverland, Tinker-Bell  was by his side and she left a trail of fairy dust in her wake. The nefarious Hook waved his grotesque left hand at the sky cursing the young adventurers name. It was a typical day in the ever fanciful realm and Peter's last minute defeat of his nemesis was something you could set your crocodile-swallowed-watch by. But as soon as the heroes disappeared from view something had changed. Captain Hook had long been accustomed to being thwarted but in this instance he took it more to heart. Over the next few days the crew noted a change in his demeanour, his florid speech's conspicuous by their absence and he had holed up in his cabin. Those that peered in, saw the once indomitable scoundrel seem depressed and despondent. Needless to say they were  concerned. "Why do I have to go and talk to him?" Starkey rasped dreading the chore. "Because aint you a 'gentleman' Starks? That's what we'se calls you anyway."  Starkey knew he was being wrangled into doing what no-one else wanted to do. He was as much a "gentleman" as Peter Pan was an old timer. "Awright, awright. If I'm not back by the cock crow, tell that parlour wench, of which I'm fond, Ol' Starkey luvs her." He knocked hesitantly at Hooks door. Silence. After a few seconds he decided to take the risk and he crept in. The opening of the door allowed some faint light to spool in and it startled the slumped over pirate. "Who dares...?" Hook bellowed, rising from the ale soaked stupor he had drank himself into. "Awright Cap'n, the lads and me, we've been worried Guv. Seems you're not yourself since ol' Pan took flight, that way 'e does." "Starkey, continue this egress and there's a plank with not only your name on it but I will varnish it with your blood, you thug." Starkey gulped in fear. Hook peered at him, his eyes adjusting to the new light and after a moment of pregnant pause, his exterior seemed to thaw ever so slightly. He sighed. "Very well, enter my chamber. We will converse. I doubt your mewling demeanour could make my mood any worse than it already is".  With a little more confidence Starkey took up a chair at the small table, that Hook was at. "We don' want to pry or be seen to be botherin' you Cap'n but we are worried." Hook gave a short hearty laugh at this. "Ha, well I can't fault the crew for that. It is true that as your superior officer I am to set a tone and I have been re-miss these last few evenings." "You always give good tone Sir. A plundering wicked tone. Best ship I've ever been on." "Forgive me Starkey, but isn't my ship the only ship you've served on that hasn't sank or been blown out of the water? Of course it's the best ship. The greatest ship in all of Neverland..." He put out his arms expansively as he said this. He paused and repeated the word Neverland twice more, with a wistful tone. Shaking himself out of his contemplation he poured another drink for himself and slid the bottle over to his visitor. Starkey promptly, if a little nervously, poured himself a tipple.  "I know what you sea dogs are thinking. Why has the latest fight with that rapscallion so upset our noble leader?!" "Well Sir, I know it's not the best thing to always be...um...losing.." Hook eyed Starkey with a vicious stare. "Losing? Losing? Is that how you perceive these events? God..." He stood up and went over to his nearby book case. He wasn't looking at anything in particular, he had just needed to move from the gaze of his underling.  "Do you like riddles Starks?" "Um...I can't rightly say I do Guv." "Well I'm in the mood for giving you one. So pay attention. When does a man face both defeat and triumph in a single struggle?" Starkey was stumped. "Em..I think I'm going to be a-needin' some more details Cap..." Without warning, Hook slashed his book case with his mighty claw knocking over several volumes before facing Starkey once more. "People think that eternal boy bests me at every turn. But they understand nothing. It's not about victory or loss with that one. No he and I share a greater destiny." Starkey was shaken by the outburst and was struggling to keep his composure. Hook was ruthless and dangerous certainly but there was a honour to his dastardly deeds. He had never seen such an outburst of anger before. Well without there haven been a crocodile or a Lost boy nearby. He stuttered. "It's about the hunt is it then? The fight." "No..no. You don't understand. Nobody, save one, does. I wasn't always like this Starkey. The Cultured and bitter scoundrel you see before you. In my youthful days I plundered. I pillaged. But I enjoyed it.  Sailing the seas, sacking ships. Witnessing wonders and sights even Neverland couldn't match. I may have been less than virtuous but I had a sense of beauty and appreciation for this now wretched world." He slumped back down into his chair and tapped his glass with his hook. "I thrilled to the new and to discovery. Until...I stole a treasure from a powerful witch that was." Starkey mumbled. "A witch. Like a real life witch." Hook replied. "Well she didn't have warts Starks but yes she and her cursed coven placed a spell on me following some thievery." "Cap'n, what did they do?" Hook hesitated. "Oh you silly man. Don't you get it? Peter Pan...is me!" Starkey was stunned and deeply confused. "Peter Pan is Smee? But that makes nooo sense..." Hook snarled in frustration. "NOT SMEE, YOU DAFT HALF WIT!  ME! Pan is me." The drinks had been knocked over but neither had noticed. "The spell the Witches cast, it took something from me. Deep down. My inner child. The part that experiences wonder and immaturity and keeps more youthful reactions ticking over in a persons mind. It sliced off a part of my soul and moulded it into that youthful and mischievous thorn in my side." "You're Peter Pan?? He is you? You are he?" Starkey was dumbfounded. "Why do you think he never grows up? He is a manifestation of infernal and eternal optimism and roguishness. Without my inner child anchoring my soul, I became this. A bitter and cynical pirate. Wealthy but never happy." "Does he know Sir?" "I doubt it. Even though all the clues are there. It's why he loses his shadow so often. Haven't you ever wondered about that? Why It's barely connected? It is what remains of my wickedness, a part that merely skims the surface of his brash exterior." "But then you can never..." "Win, Starkey? True. I can never win and the fight will continue for all eternity." Hook walked over to a window that peered out to sea. "On my stronger days I almost cheer for him. There must be something so wonderful about never having to face the tangled world of adulthood. You know...I was the one who named this realm...Neverland." "Flamin' eck," Starkey exclaimed. "I thought it was because of the magic here." "No, it's my own private little joke. it's because I want him to always be flying above such petty problems and grown up troubles If he ever "lands" then it means his magical existence is over. Kaput. Philosophers say good versus evil is the never-ending struggle. I face a stranger battle. Wonder versus Worldliness. Cynicism versus Optimism. I have been sad these last few days, not because of him escaping, certainly not bu because of how close I came to actually defeating him..." A heavy silence followed. Starkey's worried breathing had become quite audible and he wasn't sure what to say following the Captains confession. "Just go, you cur." Hook muttered, his tone resigned and broken. Starkey got up to leave, still reeling from the secret he had become privy to. He began realis what a precarious position he was now in. Would the dreaded Captain Hook allow an subordinate to walk around knowing this secret? He nervously looked back to make sure Hook was not planning a swift attack to silence him forever.  The Captain remained at the window staring aimlessly out into the ocean. Relaxing a little, Starkey once more turned to the door. It was then a sharp sudden pain went through his entire being and he looked down to see a dark hook plunged into his chest. It was black and featureless. He had been stabbed by Hooks shadow. In his last moments he realised the truth. Just as it was for Peter Pan, Hooks shadow was too a playful sprite, albeit a far deadlier creature. Starkey slumped to the floor, dead. His body was quietly thrown over board by the rest of the crew. They spoke nothing of it, all assuming he had angered the Captain and had been dutifully punished.  Hook marched onto the deck of the ship and was asked by the Helmsman if they needed to change course. After a second of consideration he whispered softly "Second to the right and straight on til morning..."

"Excuse me Cap'n?" The Helmsman hadn't heard the order properly. Hook responded.  "Oh no. No new bearing. We are on this heading. We can't change course now."

without title There's something brutal and special, beautiful and brittle about such a restorative rebuttal. it's not subtle, and it's not supple but it is super suitable to that of the more malleable millennial. and i guess it's just the perennial and the parental the supplemental instead of the fundamental and the more cruelly critical if deemed considerable well that's just atypical, anatomically analytical of the abominable and the abysmal why be miserable in the denial of any sort of miracle when the possible and the palatable are positively powerful and it's not tyrannical to demand change, be vocal champion local, detest bigotry and the unhelpful be hopeful, I dread to think of the dreadfully incapable You can't argue with a fanatical the odds of changing their minds is astronomical and I've never been all that mathematical but we shouldn't need a funeral to become spiritual, communal It's sad that such a grim ritual has become so habitual maybe these things will change in steps that are gradual and be wary of awful views that can border on the cusp of the casual Be mindful of plights around you that could be invisible. Signs in protests don't need to be grammatical or practical they can hang with questions rhetorical they can talk about topics regrettable With truth don't take a morsel Consume the mouthful believe me the respect will be mutual they can also blaze with power irrevocable and words wilfully wise could be deemed unpractical or whimsical Be the well read and readily available rascal Goodness should be commonplace not something special.and it should be placed alongside the cerebral and the celestial. I suspect anyone who boasts about being a radical gentle condescension lacking in truer comprehension a gent in a monocle lecturing the man in a shackle. Ideas of course are critical but hey let's just spitball and make sure we are never cynical, I want to look back from death inevitable and know from the break of the umbilical I was moral and I was ethical and that vicious things when all is final do die out and virtue is the thing that is cyclical 

How I would have ended "Man of Steel"

Ok, sort of an unusual post here but I've been bothered by aspects of this film and the ending with how Zod is dealt with so here is my personal alternate ending:

Obviously HUGE SPOILERS for anyone who hasn't seen it. In the film we are shown a piece of technology that can put you in someone else's mind and create some sort of landscape there. Now they didn't really elaborate on it, but had I been writing it, I would have presented that process and piece of equipment differently and then at the end used it against Zod. Borrowing from the climax of the Superman story "For the Man Who Has Everything" (a must read for fans, it's wonderful), after the others have been sucked back into the Phantom Zone, I'd had moved the narrative to a point where Zod is tricked using that technology into thinking he had created a New Krypton. It would have been a nice nod to that story and would have been  thematically satisfying cause you could frame him in the same way he was when being "frozen" before entering the Zone first time around. He could be placed in a secret underground installation, built by an up and coming genius named Luthor... One of the last scenes could have been Superman talking with that guy General Swanwick and saying: Superman: Well General, he's in his own sort of Phantom Zone right now, only this one appeals to that monster. Swanwick: And if he ever gets out, are you prepared for that Son? You may have to... Superman: I hope that day never comes. but if he does escape, you can count on me. I'll always be around... *beat*  to help. So Zod has gotten his empty victory. Superman hasn't compromised any morals. It uses established technology within the film. Also It strengthens the bond between humans and Superman and sets him out in a far more traditional hero path.  Yes DC I am available.