ILX Screenwriters Presents 'It was all Yello: The Coldwerk Sessions'

A looong white black windowed limo pulls to the curb and the door swings open.

czukay steps out and, gesturing violently to the darkened interior of the car, whispers hoarsely
: You fucker! I cannot be constantly on the tails of your husbands arse! I was hired as bass playing! Bass playing! Schultz knows I hate this celebrity bullshitting. Make your crapshit female blonde bullshit record without me...or Wobble!!!!

Boris (To himself): Hmmmm.

Dieter: Hello, my good friend. I have just come from the Dada Art Festival at the Swiss Museum of Modern Art. There was a crate full of oranges into which a man was projected wearing only his socks. It was amusing. How is our new song going?

Boris: It is cinematic, as usual. And yet, I feel strangely remote.

Dieter: Good, good, this is European ennui at work. I shall write some lyrics about a man deparying mysteriously from his lover in the dead of night in a limousine, leaving only a note implying he has a secret life.

Boris: No my kinky friend, this is genuine boredom. We need some new iind of idea in our music. Something a little rough and ready, like that English bricklayer with whom you once had a dalliance.

(Idly, Boris turns on the Bang and Olufsen TV. A clip is playing. It is 'Yellow' by Coldplay. They both watch for a while).

Dieter: That is a cheaply made and somewhat humourless clip. Do they live on this beach?

Boris: And yet, there is irony in that they are singing this song about us. I wonder which of our albums prompted such a sentiment?

(They both fall silent for a while, lost in thought)

Boris: Before you speak any further, let me remind you that you had a similar moment not six months ago.

Dieter: That too was a stellar moment. It is to our detriment that we did not follow-up on that idea.

Boris: You proposed that we gather the winners of Pop Idol and Deutschland Sucht Den Superstar and record a disco album of 18th century opera with both German and English lyrics being sung simultaneously. This was a terrible idea.

Dieter: When you say it like that, you make it sound so bizarre and unworkable. I am confident that it would have succeeded had it been staged at midnight in the courtyard of the Rathaus with the performers wearing wildlife costumes. The visual spectacle was central to the concept.

But never mind that now, for this one is better. These fresh-faced Coldplay fellows needs our help. These sincere, adolescent love ballads are relics from the past. Look at this video! It is so serious, there is no humour! This song will never be a hit. And the imagery -- so peurile, so basic, so obvious! The rising sun as a metaphor for the blossoming of young love? Bah!

Boris (stroking his chin): Hmmm ... go on.

Dieter: These young Britons must be shown the way. Our electronic wizardry, technological savvy, production skills, Teutonic humour, and expertise in the visual arts, together with their boy-next-door accessibility, it cannot fail! With them serving as front matter, and us as the string-pulling svengalis, pop stardom will once again be ours. It must work! It worked with Tatu, it will work for us!

Boris: Dieter, I honestly believe this is your best idea in fifteen years. I am so excited, I don't even have the motivation to continue slapping my ass here in the studio. We must contact these Coldplay fellows at once. This is an offer they cannot refuse.

Eventually, though, there has to be a fight. I vote for a remote control car fight or something. The camera will pan to the two Yello guys and then back to the Kraftwerk guys as they each maneuver their toy cars by remote control and they will have these comical eager looks on their faces. Or maybe they fight over synthesizers. One guy accidentally spills coffee on the mixing board. Chris Martin drives his Masarati literally through the studio and gets out of the car wearing a contraption much like those associated with 10,000 Leagues Under The Sea. He removes the head of the wetsuit and says...

"He theenks he is goinv to save de universe!" they say of this young upstart singer superstar Chris Martin as he steps out of the spaceship. "But not without our help, Boris!"

Of course, the problem is none of this can actually be resolved. Until we witness the moment when ostensibly, Coldplay's new album ACTUALLY TRAGICALLY SUCKS ASS.

Dieter: You gotta say yes, this is a brilliant idea indeed! But how are we able to locate these Coldplay characters?

Boris: My friend, that shall not pose a problem. While you've been busy painting red police cars green, I've been silently yet steadily keeping up with the march of modern technology. From the video we've just seen, I am able to synthesize the attributes of the lead singer and feed them into a global positioning system, and thereby pinpoint his whereabouts to...

[Boris pushes a few buttons on his machinery.]

Dieter: Oh yeah...?

Boris: ...to Kling Klang studios, Düsseldorf!

Dieter: Kling Klang! Surely thEse are not the premises where those arch-rivals of ours, der Krafwerk, reside?

Boris: They surely are!

Dieter: Kraftwerk! Domingo de Santa Clara! Those Germanic sons of moms of guns! Could they be on the same track as we are?

Boris: It must be so! Coincidence may be of our game, but certainly not theirs.

Dieter: Curses and double-curses! I wish the wind would blow, and... We mustn't let those half-living half-automatons, those bastard mannequins of the positivist era, steal our thunder again! The might of our trimmed moustaches must prevail over that of their trimmed haircuts!

Boris: Yes, but...

Dieter: I know what you're about to say: they have the power of the critical mass behind them. The critics were willing to wait 12 years for their new LP, while in the meantime we've been churning out new records to no one's notice.

Boris: This is, then, a perfect time to reveal the secret weapon I've kept hidden for more than a decade.

Dieter: A secret weapon?

Boris: Yes! Remember poor, late Billy Mackenzie (God rest his soul) with whom we used to work in the late eighties?

Dieter: How could I forget? When I heard of his death, I wrote a screenplay in which he was reincarnated as a mariachi in a lonesome village, around which the whispers of his lady-love still mix with the ghost moans of shadow buffalos, forever...

Boris: Not now, Dieter! To continue my story, when we were working with Billy in our studio, I did a test run for a crude prototype of an apparatus I've gotten hold of. Seemingly, I was only recording a back-up track of his vocals, but in reality I was, via his voice, channelling and replicating the essence of his soul. That soul and that voice are now captured inside this box!

[Boris picks up a small metallic box ornamented wíth fluorescent characters.]

Dieter: Boris! My dear genius of a friend! That is a veritable ghost in the machine! It could prove essential in our struggle against the Teutonic Mayhem.

Boris: It could indeed. But now, we have little time to waste; Düsseldorf is our destination! To the Yellotron!

Dieter: To the Yellotron!

[The Mustachioed Duo runs towards a gigantic, illuminated snowball, situated in the middle of the Yello studio. They step inside it and close the entrance behind them. The surface of the snowball begins to flicker with iridescent light. The room is full of crackles and echoes and hums, not unlike the ones young Boris once produced sampling his mother's false teeth. The lights and sounds gradually fade out, to total silence. Only a faint smell of methane, barely discernible, hangs in the air as the only proof of what just took place.]

END OF ACT I.

Tuomas, your contribution was brilliant...and of course I loved the incorporation of Mr. Mackenzie as a secret weapon.

Ralf: Florian, what is heaven?

Florian: You know I am agnostic, Ralf. Please, let us get back to work.

Ralf: Heaven is the place where the police are British, the chefs French, the mechanics German, the lovers Italian and all under the organization of the Swiss.

Florian: Oh. Then what is hell?

Ralf: Hell is the place where the chefs are British, the mechanics French, the lovers Swiss, the police German, and all under the organization of the Italians.

[both break out in a fit of restrained chuckling]

Florian: That was pleasant, Ralf.

Ralf: Yes, Ulrike told me that one over the weekend.

Florian: Ah, sehr gut. Very entertaining.

Ralf: Yes, I know. The Swiss are so lame, they are not the lovers of wine and women like we Germans are.

Florian: So true. They are unrefined.

[awkward silence for a few seconds]

Florian: Ralf, do you think we are doing the right thing?

Ralf [puts down the new vacuum tube]: Florian, we are not switching back to digital so soon. I have spent three days trying to fix this sythesizer and I don't want my work to go to waste.

Florian: No, the analog synth is not the problem. It is Mr. Martin.

Ralf: I think he is swell!

Florian: Yes, he is an upstanding fellow. But ... well ... listen to this track we were working on yesterday

[Florian cues up a new track. The backbone of the song is a glitchy melody which is quite clearly sampled from the piano line in "Clocks" and fed through a high pass filter. Over this simple melody, Chris Martin wails the following lines in a knee-wobbling falsetto:

Every place has its right thing
Every place has its right thing
Every [static] has its [glitch] thing
[glitch] place has [slurp] right th-[blip]

[Ralf and Florian look at each other uncomfortably]

Ralf: It is OK.

Florian: Yes, it is OK. This is the problem. We are Kraftwerk! Does this measure up to our usual lofty standard? I think this track is unoriginal and derivative. We have our reputation to worry about.

Ralf: You do have a point. We were never any good at collaboration. It didn't work out with Karl and Wolfgang, why should this time be any different?

Florian: Exactly.

[both break out in a fit of restrained chuckling]

Goddamn hilarious and I'm using it as my away message in AIM if it fits.

2. The best parts have consistantly been all of the avant-gardy type things they do. The joke never gets old.

Florian(mutters sharply): Who is that?

Ralf: I don't know, perhaps it is one of Ute's swimming companions.

Florian(disgustedly): Swimming is such a proletarian sport. Is that not the fruit child?

Chris Martin walks into the studio.

Chris: Gwyneth! Oh great. Can you buzz her in guys?

Ralf and Florian look at each other, the door opens.

Gwyneth Paltrow enters the studio and looks around cooly. Chris bounces up to meet her and a flurry of kisses and hugs are exchanges. Ralf and Florian are aghast.

Gywneth: Oh hi, you must be the cycling guys. Chris has told me all about you. Chris has been teaching me accoustic guitar, but I'm sure I'm not as good as you guys.

Apple is on the floor crawling towards a bundle of cables which are connected to the Uberblitzigheitsynthesizer. She starts pulling on one of them.

Ralf and Florian: NO!

They jump up to grab the child, but Chris has beaten them too it.

Chris: Apple, you little minx. She gets in everywhere, she just loves being involved.

Ralf and Florian sit back down. A bead of sweat on Florian's forehead.

Gwyneth: Hey Chris, have you told the guys about your idea with Apple.

Ralf: What idea would this be?

Chris: Well I was listening to the Outkast album and Big Bad Boy or Andrew 2000, I can't remember which one, had there son on it. I was thinking maybe we could sample Apple talking. Or singing (smiles sheepishly)

Ralf and Florian shuffle awkwardly in there leather chairs. A silence descends on the studio, only broken when Apple starts crying.

Tuoumas, Barry, fantastic work. My dad tells that joke all the time, Barry.

I have been trying to come up with something but dammit, I can't compete. I'll go and get you all coffee and a BLT. Keep up the good work!

I think that Yello should probably get the upper hand, temporarily at least, at some point, through some kind of bizarre but essentially European-flavoured Dadaist plot stunt that could have come straight out of one of their videoclips.

Clearly, "The Race" must play during the scene changes, and in the background while the chorus of synthesizers addresses the audience.

I have an idea that Dieter will imagine redoing Coldpay's clip for Yellow in an elaborate fantasy sequence which ends with him stealing Gwyneth Paltrow.

Also, as was indicated upthread, Holger Czukay must make a random psychedelic cameo at some point.

Dieter: I have not seen a single golf course on the entire drive.

Boris: Do not fear, once we are pop svengalis, you can spend every day on the finest golf courses in Europe while the money from our music and merchandise sales comes streaming in!

Dieter: I won't be coming back to this shithole city, that's for sure. [pause] I can't believe we had to drive ourselves.

Boris: There was no other option -- we could not risk flying the Yellotron directly into the city, for fear of being recognized.

Dieter: That person at the ... what did you call it?

Boris: The rental office.

Dieter: Yes, that. His accent was so harsh, so uncultured. His hair was so messy, his blond locks so unpleasing to my eyes.

Boris: The Germans from these parts are hideously unskilled in the art of grooming. They are not the lovers of wine and women like ourselves.

Dieter: Yes, Germans are so unrefined. But enough small talk -- the meeting is arranged.

Boris: Yes. Using the same technology we used to capture poor Billy McKenzie's voice, I captured the voice of ... what is his name again?

Dieter: [checks notes on palm pilot] Mr. Martin

Boris: Of course, Mr. Martin. Anyway, Mr. Martin believes he is meeting his wife for coffee in the cafe at 15:00. We will be there waiting for him.

Dieter: An excellent plan this is. We still must discuss what to do with the aforementioned spouse. She cannot be part of the equation, it will be bad for the band's uber-accessible boy-toy image.

Boris: Let's discuss it tonight over lobster tail and caviar. It's been a long day so far.

+

I have an idea that Dieter will imagine redoing Coldpay's clip for Yellow in an elaborate fantasy sequence which ends with him stealing Gwyneth Paltrow

=

gold

Jean-Herve: HELLO!!! I AM SO HAPPY TO BE BACK WITH YOU HERE TONIGHT AT LAST!!!

Boris (quietly to Dieter): Is that...

Dieter: Of course it is. Jean-Herve! Lifelong lunatic! It has been three decades!

Jean-Herve (screaming): YOU HAVE BEEN WAITING AND I RETURN AT LAST TO BRING YOU... THIS!!! (waves arms madly) HELLO!!!

Dieter: Wonderful to see you. I often play for myself the cassette of our jam session.

Jean-Herve wraps his arms around Dieter for a bear hug from the back seat, laughing and occasionally gibbering the word "Friend". He also pulls a small dictophone out of his pocket and presses play: the tinny sounds of arrhythmic acoustic guitar strumming and prolonged wordless screaming mingles with the sound of Jean-Herve's laughter.

Jean-Herve: MY SOLO ALBUM!!! I AM MAD BUT REAL!!!

Dieter: You can not fool me, old friend. Hardly as mad as you take pains to affect. Perhaps a renegade Frenchman would care to join us on our stealth mission against our old arch foes?

Jean-Herve: WE... We... didn't care... made no opportunities to contact the other bands. It was a foolish waste. Perhaps now is the time to make amends?

Jean-Herve pauses for a moment. Then begins laughing hysterically, and bolts out of the car, leaving behind his dictophone, which continues to play.

I had a brainstorm while away just now -- I will now write the cafe scene.

HYSTERICS! Tuomas, I kiss you!

Dieter: I'm not sure, but he left his sonic device behind. We shall stash it, it may prove useful. Now, let's continue our journey.

[Boris starts the car again.]

Boris: So, Dieter, good fellow, tell us about your plot. How do you plan to fool those arch-rivals of ours, those demagogues of reverse Luddism, those Apollonian knights with flawless armors of circuitry and reason?

Dieter: Boris, that was beautifully put!

Boris: Thank you, dear friend. About your plan...

Dieter: Yes. While we're.. persuading Mr. Martin, we need a diversion to keep Herren Hütter und Schneider occupied. And that is where good old Billy steps in. We shall conjure him up from your device and send him to Kling Klang, and he shall pose as this Martin fellow.

Boris: Do you not think they shall notice the switch?

Dieter: Of course not. The whole idea is so ludicrous that they could never even imagine anyone actually applying it. Der Kraftwerk are adept with machinery, not with human beings of blood and bile. They won't know one pop hipster from another...

Dieter [continued]: Also, I've purchased a toupee.

Boris: Brilliant! But do you not feel sorry for the soul of poor Billy?

Dieter: Ah, but this is just a temporary arrangement, and he shall have his reward in the end.

Boris: Speaking of arrangements, what do you propose we'll do with that blonde spouse-woman of our star?

Dieter: Don't you worry the least bit about that, I have my own plans for her...

Yes. There is plenty of promise in a JP story, but I'm not the person to tell it :)

I will have to read the story over again to refresh all the details. Colin, we need your Big Lebowski-esque surrealistic dream sequences!

[Cut to: inside the Kraftwerk minivan, Jean-Herve Peron is still driving. Ralf, Florian, and Billy sit on the backseat.]

Florian: I have little idea of our current location, but he [points at Jean-Herve] seems to have a concept of where we're going. Maybe he knows more than we do. Intuition tells me...

Ralf [interrupts]: Intuition? Bah! I have never trusted this intuition of yours. In the past it has brought us nothing but complications. A true Sachkenner depends not on such flimflam.

Florian: We can discuss about this later on. Do you see that Swiss peasant idling over there? [Points at the rutabaga farmer.] Maybe he can tell us where this road is leading us.

Ralf: Jean-Herve, stop the automobile!

[The car stops in front of the farmer. Ralf opens the rear window.]

Ralf: Allo, my good Schweizer! Can you tell us, if we were to continue on this road, where would it lead us?

The farmer: This road? No... You don't want to continue on this road. There's nothing for you there. This road leads to... [lowers his voice] the mansion.

Ralf: The mansion? What is that?

The farmer: It is an evil place, up the mountains. No site for such decent-looking Deutschen like you. Wicked things take place around that house!

Florian: What things? Do tell us.

The farmer: Well, for example, one day my son walking a mountain road, and by accident came too near the mansion. Then he heard some noises behind him, and thank Gott im Himmel was quick enough to hide in the bushes before they spotted him!

Ralf: They?

The farmer: They. Along the road came a succession of half-naked men and women, their skin painted purple, all carrying bowls of water with a single goldfish in all of them. My son watched them walk towards the mansion, and then, when they were out sight, ran home as quick as his legs could carry him.

Ralf: Quite interesting.

The farmer: There are many more stories like this. There is the flying man, for example.

Florian: The flying man?

The farmer: Yes. Sometimes, on dark cloudy nights, a moustachioed man comes flying dow the mountains; he often makes several rounds above my village, screaming indescribable words. On his back he has wings dark as ebony, and his eyes burn with red fire.

Ralf: Yes, quite interesting. [To Florian:] Are you thinking of the same thing as I am?

Florian: Der Fledermaus?

Ralf: No, Dummkopf! Dieter! Dieter Maier!

Florian: Ah.

Ralf: Clearly the mansion must belong to Herr Maier. With a few simple tricks, such as a disguised hang-glider and a pair of luminescent goggles, he has managed to trick these superstitious Swissmen, making sure no one comes close his house.

Florian: Yes, I see.

Ralf: So we are on the right path after all. [To Jean-Herve:] Start the car. We'll continue.

[The car engine roars.]

The farmer: Did you not hear what I said? You do not want to go further!

Ralf: I think we will take our chance on your haunted mansion!

[The car speeds away.]

The farmer [yelling at Ralf and Florian, who cannot hear him anymore]: Haunted mansion?! Who said anything about a haunted mansion?! That place is infested with perverts, sex-freaks and, and... performance artists!!

The farmer [to himself]: Damn those Germans! Must have been a regular bunch of perverts themselves...

Gwyneth: I have to say, this isn't exactly the happiest day of my life.

Dieter: I'm sure it isn't, Ms. Paltrow. But think of it like this: an oyster of the sea can take a hundred years to conceive the perfect pearl of wisdom, and often it is the oldest and worldly-wisest of roosters that lays the goldenest of eggs.

Gwyneth: What the hell are you talking about?

Dieter: Think of your child, Ms. Paltrow.

Gwyneth: My child...

[The sound of a bell is heard.]

Boris: The doorbell!

Dieter: How is that possible? We haven't invited any more guests here!

Boris: I'll go and see.

[Boris leaves the room. There's an awkward silence, as Dieter keeps staring at Gwyneth. Boris returns.]

Boris: Uh, there is someone at the door...

Dieter: Impossible! How did he get through my intricate security system?

Boris: It is not a he, rather than a lady. And she is here to see you, Wolfgang.

Wolfgang: Me?

Peaches:

Yes, you, motherfucker!

(She presses a button on her MC 505, and we hear a dry rhythm and bassline. There is also a giant hiss, and also the snares seem to be flamming every eight bars)

Grow some hair down there
Are you a boy or a bear?
I'm a diva with a beaver
And you're fresh out of Shiva
With a beaver fuckin cleaver

(Felicity's phone rings)

Felicity: Hello? Awww Lord Sony! How are you? What? Yes. Yes. OK. Yes I know, I tried to... (dispirited) Yes sir. Yes, I'll tell her. Ok. Ok, bye.

Ralf: Looks like Herr Meier has set up some sort of a protective system to keep off unwanted guests.

Billy: Yes, and it seems to be working quite well. Listen, guys, I appreciate all that you've done for me, but maybe we should just give it up. There's no way we can get inside.

Ralf: Nonsense!

[Ralf picks up a Batmanesque hook pistol from his rucksack and shoots a small hook, followed by a long rope, at the top the wall. The hook sticks.]

Ralf: No laughable Swiss contraptions can stop the true workmanspirit of a German with a mission. Follow me! [Climbs on top of the wall and jumps on the other side.]

Jean-Herve [follows Ralf]: Woo-hee!

Florian [grabs the rope and starts to climb]: Come on, Mr. Martin. [Gives his hand to Billy.] It's you wife and child we're talking about here!

Billy [to himself]: Since we've gotten this far, I guess there's no choice but to follow this tragedy to the bitter end...

[Billy grabs Florian's hand. Together they climb over the wall.]

Ralf: Getting through the backdoor was almost too easy. There has to be some sort of alert system inside the house as well.

Florian: Stop! [They all stop.] Listen! Do you hear a hum...

Ralf [listens]: Yes. It's almost below the human perception level, but I sense it. Could it be...

[Florian opens his rucksack, and picks up an object that appears to be a spotlight. He points the spotlight into the passageway before them, and turns it on. The object emanates no visible light, but suddenly we can see several thin, previously invisible beams of light crossing the passage in different angles.]

Florian: I knew it! Ralf, do you think you can handle it, or...

Ralf: Yes. It is a good thing I have kept this middle-aged body of mine in perfect shape through rigorous exercise and hundreds of hours of bicycling, so it still functions like a well-oiled Mensch-Maschin. I can do it. If you just point the light for me, Florian.

[Ralf reaches for his rucksack, and picks up a can of talcum powder. He removes his shoes and socks, and applies the powder to his hands and feet. He stretches his legs and arms two times. Then he does an amazing series of jumps, cartwheels and somersaults, leaping through the passageway without touching a single beam of light. He ends up on the other side of the beam grid.]

Ralf: I think there is a switch here. [He pushes something on the wall. The beams disappear.] Yes. Come on through.

Dorian: Excellent.

Peaches: You, cameraman! Get me a fucking whiskey and water! What? OK, tell that guys to get it for me. I'm fucking thirsty you assholes!

Makeup! We need more makeup on that blonde bitch in the bikini. I want to brighten her lipstick one shade as well. Where's my drink? Fuck all of you assholes!

[The video shoot has been hastily reassembled creatively. Gwyneth is wearing a green string bikini and a black bridal veil. The words "freak fucker" are scrawled on her stomach in purple lipstick. She is accompanied by a dwarf wearing a pale blue tuxedo, sporting a mohawk that is dyed orange. He is apparently the new groom for the shoot. Chris is standing off to the side, biting his nails and sipping on a glass of water. Dieter and Boris are lurking behind the cameras, stroking their chins]

Boris: I must say, I have great respect for her artistic vision, despite her unorthodox directorial style.

Dieter: Yes. I am finding all of this to be very arousing.

Boris: I thought we were doing fine without her, but she is a difficult person to refuse. Plus, I hate to interfere with creative inspiration that is as fervent as hers.

Dieter: Agreed. Plus, she has a strange hold over Flur. He respects her immensely. This sort of control can only benefit us in the end.

Florian: Ralf?

Ralf: Yes?

Florian: I just realized we haven't seen Jean-Herve ever since we entered this house.

Ralf: Damn, you are right! We put all our attention to passing the security system, we must have forgotten all about him. I hope there aren't any more booby traps around the house for that lunatic to stumble over! We must find Boris and Dieter as quickly as possible.

Florian [stops at a metallic door]: Ralf, look at this!

Ralf: A metallic door with an electronic lock! There must be a something important behind it. We shall investigate this.

Billy: Er, how are you guys going to get through the door?

Florian: Don't worry, Mr. Martin, this is our special field. It is just like performing musical compositions.

Billy: How come?

Ralf & Florian [in unison]: All you need is the right key!

[They both chuckle discreetly.]

[Ralf picks up some complex instuments from his rucksack. Quietly and smoothly, working in complete synchronicity, like two locksmiths walzing, Ralf and Florian pick the lock. Finally, the door opens. Behind it we see the metallic room that holds baby Apple. Apple is asleep in her cradle.]

Florian: Look Mr. Martin, it is your baby daughter!

[Florian picks up Apple. She wakes up, but does not cry.]

Florian: Here you go. [Hands the baby to Billy.]

Billy: Um... How wonderful! Daddy is here, er, Pear. [Apple gives Billy a confused look, but does not react otherwise.]

Ralf: It is good to know that the baby is safe, but we are yet to locate Boris and Dieter, and your wife. If I can see clearly, at the end of this passageway is a massive wooden door. Maybe we will find the answers behind it...

Ralf: Herr Martin, do you really think it is wise to open the door before we...

[The door is now open. Everyone in the hall stops to stare at Ralf, Florian, and Billy. They promptly stare back.]

Florian [to Billy]: Look, Herr Martin, there's your wife!

Chris [steps out of the shadows into everyone's view]: Say what?

Ralf [looks at Chris with a slight amount of distress on his face]: Florian, I think we might have made a miscalculation...

Dieter: Indeed you have! Billy! Bring the child back to us!

Florian [To Billy]: All this time you were... I cannot believe it!

[Billy takes a few tentative steps towards Dieter. Then he stops.]

Billy: No! I won't give the child to you!

Dieter: What?!

Billy: I won't have you playing with human lives for a petty attempt to reconquer the charts!

Dieter: You what...?! What about the tapes, Billy? Have you forgotten about them?

Billy: No, I haven't forgotten about them! For a long time I thought that it mattered, that music mattered. That music was the most important thing in the world, worthy of any sacrifice. But it isn't. These fine men of Kraftwerk have taught me there are more important things in life. Screw the tapes!

[Billy starts to walk back to Ralf and Florian. Suddenly, Dieter makes a swinging move with his hand. A small pistol springs from inside his sleeve to his hand. He grabs a hold of Gwyneth and points the pistol to her head.]

Dieter: Stop right where you are, Billy! Give the child back to us, or her mother will exit the realm of the living.

Chris: Pumpkin pie!

Boris: Dieter, you promised to me...

Dieter [interrupts]: Shut up, Boris! I'm in control of the situation! [To Billy:] All we want to do is finish this video shoot, then everything will be fine again.

Billy: I guess I have no choice...

Dieter: No, you don't. [To Wolfgang]: Wolfgang! Take the child from Billy and bring it to me!

[Wolfgang steps from behind the camera and walks over to Billy. With a resigned look Billy hands the baby to him. He starts to step towards Dieter, but then he suddenly stops.]

Wolfgang: Hold on, why should I abide to you? Now that I have the baby, I have control over Herr Martin and Frau Paltrow. With their assistance, me and Peaches can produce the hit record that has for so long eluded me. I have no need for you two anymore!

[Dieter stares at Wolfgang with a dumbfounded look. Then he pushes Gwyneth aside and grasps Peaches instead, putting the gun on her temple.]

Peaches: Hey!

Dieter: Et tu, Brute! Bring the child to me, or your wench dies!

Peaches: Motherfucker, what did you say?!

Dieter: Shut up!

[Wolfgang looks at Dieter, then lowers his gaze. He slowly walks to Dieter, and hands the child to him. Dieter takes the child, but at the same he has to loosen his grasp on Peaches.]

Peaches [kicks Dieter to his knee]: You motherfucking slimy Kraut bastard!

[Dieter falls down. The pistol drops on the floor. Right before hitting the ground Dieter tries to throw Apple to Boris. The film now goes into slow motion. We see Apple slowly going up to air, not looking scared at all. Everyone in the room, excluding Dieter, runs towards the centre of the hall, trying to catch Apple when she comes down. Back to normal speed: Apple is falling down, but all of a sudden her flight stops. She is levitating in the midair. An enormously bright, green light begins to shine from his eyes. The light fills the whole room with a green haze. Everyone stops on their spot, with a zombie-like gaze on their faces.]

Apple [with a deep, booming voice]: CEASE!!

Apple [with a booming voice]: THIS FARCE HAS BEEN AMUSING, BUT IT NEEDS TO END! NO HARM SHALL COME TO THE CHILD! IT IS ALL OVER NOW! YOU WILL ALL LEAVE THIS PLACE AND RETURN HOME WITHOUT ANY MEMORY OF WHAT HAS TAKEN PLACE HERE.

Everyone [in unison]: Yes.

Apple: BUT BEFORE YOUR MINDS ARE EMPTIED, I HAVE SOME SPECIFIC INSTRUCTIONS TO EACH ONE OF YOU. THESE INSTRUCTIONS WILL STAY IN YOUR SUBCONSCIOUS EVEN IF EVERYTHING ELSE REGARDING THIS INCIDENT IS LOST. [Turns to Peaches and Wolfgang:] PEACHES AND WOLFGANG!

Peaches and Wolfgang: Yes?

Apple: YOU WILL HAVE A PASSIONATE LOVE AFFAIR AND RELEASE SEVERAL CRITICALLY ACCLAIMED COLLABORATIVE RECORDS. HOWEVER, THE AFFAIR WILL EVENTUALLY END DUE TO DOMESTIC ABUSE. SEVERAL YEARS LATER WOLFGANG WILL COME PUBLIC ON HIS TRAUMA, RELEASING A MILDLY SUCCESSFUL COVER VERSION OF "WHAT'S LOVE GOT TO DO WITH IT".

Apple [to Dieter and Boris]: DIETER AND BORIS!

Dieter and Boris: Yes?

Apple: YOU WILL HELP BILLY TO PRODUCE HIS FINAL ALBUM BASED ON THE MASTER TAPES YOU HOLD IN YOUR POSSESSION. THE RECORD WILL REACH THE LOWER TOP 40, PROVIDING YOU WITH NEW PRODUCTION ASSIGNMENTS, THUS FULFILLING YOUR DEEPER SVENGALI DESIRES. YOU WILL THEN GIVE BILLY'S SOUL THE REST IT DESERVES.

[Cut to: The balcony of the hall room. In the shadows of the balcony we notice a shady figure lying on the floor, hiding from the pervasive green light. The camera closes in, and we see that it is Jean-Herve. He is observing the events of the room, apparently unaffected by Apple's hypnotic eyes.]

Apple: CHRIS AND GWYNETH!

Chris and Gwyneth: Yes?

Apple: YOU WILL RAISE ME LIKE ANY LOVING PARENTS SHOULD, SO THAT EVERYTHING WILL BE IN PLACE WHEN THE TIME COMES...

Chris and Martin: Of course!

Apple: RALF AND FLORIAN!

Ralf and Florian: Yes?

Apple: YOU WILL NOT GO BACK TO ANALOG! THAT IS RIDICULOUS!

FIN

[Scene: A recording studio. Jean-Herve and five younger, long-haired musicians are sitting in circle, sharing a spliff between them. Jean-Herve takes the joint and drews on it a couple of times. He then exhales a cloud of weed smoke.]

Jean-Herve: Have I told you boys that the Second Coming of Christ is upon us?

Long-Haired Musician 1: The Second Coming?

Jean-Herve: Yes. Christ has already been born into this plane. I have seen her face...

Long-Haired Musician 2: "Her"? It's a girl? Who is she?

Jean-Herve: What I tell you now must not go beyond these walls! It is Apple Martin, the child of Chris Martin and Gwyneth Paltrow!

Long-Haired Musician 1: The child of Chris Martin and Gwyneth... Er, right. Pass the reefer, won't you?

Maybe I'll now compile the whole screenplay into one piece and post it to ILE or something.

I like how Apple changes genders in the very last frame. Very Hedwig.

You gave us Pan Sonic and Maria Kalaniemi. I forgive you.

screen stays black for two minutes

then slowly fades up on the image of the ruins of an Irish castle on the side of a small cliff overlooking the marsh. "Metal Machine Music" plays quietly in the background, under the sound of wind. the night sky is filled with stars.

cut to: the view from one of the gates. a figure is slowly making his way towards the castle. it is CARLOS PERON. when he finally walks through the gate, his face catches the reflection of a radiant blue light. he turns to face the light and walks towards it.

The camera tracks Carlos POV from over his shoulder as he walks towards the blue light in the direct center of the castle, which is largely clear though overrun with wild grass, and uncovered beneath the sky. there is a figure in the center of the light.

POV shot from over the shoulder of the figure in the center of the blue light as Carlos approaches. He stops about six feet from her, and smiles.

We see the figure: It is MADONNA, dressed as EVITA.

Carlos: Hello.

Madonna instantly opens her mouth and begins to scream in terrible agony. Her body convulses in a parody of her classic dance moves, particularly the "Papa Don't Preach" video, and her head lolls about as if completely free of its spine. Suddenly, her head snaps up to stare at Carlos, her eyes bulging from her sockets. Fangs emerge from the top and bottom of her right eye, which is forcibly sucked back into the head before they close over it: the head of a serpent then emerges from Madonna's eye socket. The serpent regards Carlos for an instant, gives a friendly smile, then flips over the bridge of Madonna's nose to eat its way back into her head through her left eye.

Madonna falls to her knees and gives an upward shriek in a way not entirely unlike the climax of the 'Ray of Light' video, thrusting her arms skyward before Carlos. Suddenly, the serpent emerges from Madonna's mouth, and her body grows still.

Serpent: Hellooooo!

Carlos: A-ha! Hello.

Serpent: I have lost faith in my host, Carlos. And not only my faith -- I have also lost my control. I thank you for releasing me from my spinal prison.

Carlos: How was it that I did that?

Serpent: Why, with that simple peck on her bottom, you silly! No one ever thought to kiss her there before.

Carlos: My dear Kundalini. I did no such thing.

The serpent pauses, smirking. Suddenly the smirk becomes a frown. Then the snake begins to dance, in mortal pain, whipping its host body back and forth in another familiar series of dance moves. Carlos removes a small gun which has the words "MEMORY LASER" written in large block letters down its side, and pulls the trigger. Madonna's body bursts into a disco rainbow explosion, which then beams itself quickly into the Irish night (in a manner directly stolen from the "I'm Alive" dance number in the opening scene of the film "Xanadu"), and in one instant the entire world is collectively relieved of each and every memory of Madonna's existence and music. Bitch can't even sing.

Carlos pauses. The night is once again silent, but for the wind. Carlos puts away his gun.

Carlos: The path is clear, my friends. The rest... is up to you.

Carlos steps away from the center of the castle, once again points his flamethrower at the ground, and rockets away, straight up, into the starry night.

Wow, I never caught this epilogue! Great stuff.

Florian: In Germany, we think it is inappropriate to bestow food names upon our children.
why is it that i can DEFINITELY see florian saying something like this?!?

― Eisbär (llamasfur), Sunday, 16 January 2005 03:25 (fifteen years ago) bookmarkflaglink

Classic. I like to think Florian would approve.