Global Courant
Now that the writers’ strike is over in the US, I can pitch my script for the blockbuster version of Cervantes’ classic that demands it: Don Quixote in the White House, updating windmills into stray weather balloons, complete with paranoia and mustache-twirling villains.
(Oh. Democrats don’t do facial hair?) I’ll put the ass in Don Quixote. Maybe work on a nice tune. Hey, Madonna can sing the theme song, give Ted Nugent a break.
We have a glowing A-story – the trials and tribulations of Don Quixote, our hero in his sunset years ruling the world, fell into trouble, his mind not quite as composed as it should be.
He’s an older, forgetful, stumbling protagonist, just like the original Don. No, not that one (he’s busy now – more trial than ordeal), I mean DQ, the sweet old man from the story.
Character flaws? A lot of. Regret? He has a few. But again, too little to be mentioned by the press. A man of mystery, there is something unusual in the background that keeps us hooked. Did he? Not true? Loves his family. A fool for his rejected son who, in a hilarious reversal of everything else in his eyes, he sees with a glowing halo and angel wings. Did I mention character flaws?
The B-story is a light romance set in the seat of power in the world. He loves Xi, but the lovers fall out over a misunderstanding that Xi wants to dump him and flee with Europe. We open with DQ defending his push: “China is going to eat our lunch? Come on man.” Just to show that he was once lucid, so mebbe, the movie promises, we can get him back there.
What is at stake? Only the survival of the whole world.
After falling for this comical misunderstanding, he spends the rest of the film struggling to regain balance in a downward spiral. The A and B stories intersect and alternate in an increasing crescendo of mistake after mishap after disaster, until they converge at the end, the problem resolved in an explosive payoff – Ka-boom! – and we all live happily in the afterlife.
Ker-ching!
In the beginning a choir says to him: ‘Now play nicely.’ Okay, they’re minor characters: we kill them in a car crash in Act One. The other, the devil in his ear, drags him to hell in a handcart – we give that a British accent.
Hey! He delivers a series of boos so comically absurd that it confuses the audience. Literal. Crimean river and pass the cookies.
With all this screaming hysteria, this is where the weather balloon comes into play. We know he’s innocent. Xi knows it is innocent. Senior American General Milley knows it is innocent and says so loudly and several times. But still, DQ shoots it down. “No, don’t do that, honey, it just makes you look weird,” Xi pleads with him, but Grrr, he puts his Raptors on it and shoots the bad boy.
As if that weren’t enough, there are two enormous snakes he must battle in a thrilling series of subterfuge, sabotage and menace. Actually, they are just oil pipelines, and not the mythical snakes of his imagination. But being the gentleman that he is, he doesn’t get the honor of beheading them, but pushes Sancho Panza forward to take a bow.
Is it a misunderstanding? Senility? An excessive eagerness to attract the attention of his former love? Who knows? Soon, every bozo is hopping on the spy balloon bandwagon and radiating into increasingly intense circles of comedy-horror-tragedy.
Around the world, every demagogue, politician or public figure in need of a reputation cleaner or booster realizes that they can play the Chinese “Get Out of Jail Free” card, ready for any number. n’ shadow of no-goodniks.
In Britain, it’s fun to avert their fiery nosedive into China. ‘Human rights’ is the key word for the largest empire ever (except the US). Reds in bed, spies in parliament, no charges in court.
They ban Chinese teachers and replace them with Taiwanese teachers who don’t have Mandarin as their first language, because of ‘spying’. In a call back to Freedom Fries, they are only allowed to teach Democracy Mandarin. Ho nice noodles are not nice noodles now because everything Chinese is a spy. And Britain should know. As the longest-lived and oldest spy network in history, they wrote the book.
Not just Johnny English. All of DQ’s little friends participate. Nazis in parliament? The Russians forced us to do this. Running away with technology? The Chinese stole our IP. A $33 trillion debt? It is China that is collapsing.
So after promising his lost love, “No, honey, I don’t want to control you. Let your mind run free, fly free,” we realize that what he actually wants is to put a leash and a muzzle on her and take her out for a walk.
The DQ gets a catchphrase: “Not on my watch.” Or “Oh no, it is better that peace does not break out.” Or how about: “Xi is a dictator.” Or is that too bitter?
We labeled him as likable and earned sympathy for him by making him good at his job. Okay, he fails at that, but he tries – a goldmine of comic relief. As his inner motivation shifts places with his outer skin, turning him into the villain, we recognize the human dilemma: that we are all a seething mess of contradictions and confusion. Especially him! Big Reveal: He was always his own opponent!
So we need an actor that can capture the full range of its complexity.
I thought about Chuck.
No, “cold, dead fingers” Chuck. Heston. Ben Hur. Reminds me of the doll when we cast the sequel.
Does Waddya mean Chuck is dead? He plays the president – how will they notice?
If we tie Chuck as Dead El Cid to the back of an attacking horse and slam it into the front, we can do that with Chuck as DQ. CGI is your friend.
Too far fetched? No! Art imitates Life imitates centuries of art and centuries of BS.
What the audience ultimately realizes is: these are the movies. It’s all projection.
This script is perfect – who can we get to rewrite it?
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