Drinking your milkshake all over again ... There Will Be Blood's Daniel Plainview
Towards the end of a gathering at the Berlin film festival - at which the problem, to quote Evelyn Waugh, was not the quantity of wines but their variety - the conversation idly turned to what would be the worst ever idea for a film sequel. The result was as follows, and those who have yet to see the original film should probably avert their eyes:
Daniel Plainview is in prison. The scene fades in on Plainview's cell, in which he is digging an escape tunnel. He has already excavated a 15ft shaft, and is now preparing the horizontal section. As Jonny Greenwood's disturbing score rises to ear-splitting volume, Plainview hacks wordlessly away at the stony earth for 20 minutes with a pickaxe made from a fork stolen from the prison canteen, attached to a toothbrush handle. A whistle from his cellmate alerts him to the imminent arrival of the fierce prison warder, Mr Mackay. He frantically scrambles up the rickety wooden-ladder made of lollipop-sticks; the top rung snaps off and Daniel falls back down into the earth with a sickening thud. "Oof," he says. "I really am getting too old for this."
The next scene is a secret meeting of prisoners, that Plainview is patiently addressing in his unmistakable voice. Next to him stands a younger prisoner.
"Gentlemen," he says, "you need a mass breakout from this prison and that is why you have come to me, because I am a real escape man. You will receive other approaches from people who are not real escape men. They are mere speculators. They want to get between you and the escape men. I am a real escape man. I and my young cell-bitch HW here can help you." The meeting ends in disorder and shouting. Plainview and HW stomp away.
The next scene shows Mackay shouting at Plainview in a strong Scottish accent, his head waggling back and forth like a turkey, shouting into his face, while Plainview stares directly ahead. "You're up to something, Plainview. I can tell. I don't like the fact that you've got that large Turkish rug on the floor of your cell and you never stand on it. And last night in the canteen ... we served milkshakes as a special treat. The prisoners either side of you at the table complained that their glasses appeared to be empty. Don't try any funny business with me, Plainview! I'm warning you!" At this moment, another warder, Mr Barraclough, appears. "Don't be too hard on Plainview, Mr McKay," he says, voice quavering with liberal concern, "apparently he's got a bad back".
The next scene shows that Plainview has abandoned the tunnel idea and is now standing on top of the perimeter wall, wearing a gigantic pair of clear plastic wings, made from dozens of empty crisp packets taped together.
"I must go now, HW," says Plainview to his distressed young friend. And with that Plainview launches himself into the air and flapping his arms madly, just catches an updraft of air and sails out to freedom.
So far that's all we've got. For the rest of the script perhaps, like Snakes On A Plane, we can bring together everyone's suggestions from the blogosphere. Then it's just a matter of faxing the treatment over to Daniel Day-Lewis's agent. Or maybe we should cut out the middle man, get the next Ryanair flight over to Ireland and pitch it to Mr Day-Lewis personally. Do I hear the words "restraining order" ...?
What's your pitch for the worst movie sequel of all time?
