bout de papier, Vol. 21, No. 1 (2004) — Fall/Winter 2004 // Automne/Hiver 2004, pp. 43–47
Ludwig and Esmeralda sipped Turkish coffee in a shadowy corner of the Blue Parrot, watching its owner, Ferrari, negotiate the purchase of the Café Américain from Rick Blaine. As always, Bogart played Blaine with nicely mingled comradery and distrust, but Ferrari was having problems. His fez kept falling off and he kept missing the drowsy bluebottle on the tabletop. Finally, he dropped the fly swatter, pulled out a revolver and fired. His shot blasted a hole in the table, drilled his fez, exploded his glass of arak and (on the ricochet) cracked an ugly ceramic elephant behind the bar. The fly buzzed off. Bogart raised an eyebrow but continued the scene unruffled. “Don Gordo is a poor substitute for Sidney Greenstreet, in all but girth,” said Liebnitz. “It’s good we’re pulling him out once the scene is over, or Casablanca might never recover.”
His colleague put down her cup and said, “I still don’t understand what’s going on. One minute I’m having lunch in the cafeteria, the next I’m in front of a Paris cathedral, in medieval drag, with a corpse at my feet. I catch sight of Rialto Sleazewagon dressed as a monk. He looks up at the bell tower and says, ’The hunchback’s apprentice. I don’t know his name, but he’s a dead ringer for Quasimodo. Then he vanishes. But that isn’t the end of my problems. I find myself compelled to act the role of a floozy in some Dark Age flick. When the final credits roll, I wake up in a vast corridor with films projected on the walls – and I’m in all of them. I wander for hours, but there’s no way out. Finally, in front of a screen showing a Western, I put my hand out and get sucked into the film, playing opposite John Wayne. Then you show up. What gives?”
“You remember the drive to digitise old movies?” asked the ace logician. “Every film ever made is now on some server. Rialto Sleazewagon has been ripping them all off — not just copying the movie but deleting the original and every copy he can find, putting the stolen versions on a mainframe in Crawford, Texas. If he isn’t stopped, he’ll have the only versions left and can charge the moon to see them. That might not be so bad for Attack of the Killer Tomatoes or The Terror of Tiny Town, but a lot of classics would get swallowed up too.”
“But where do I come in?” Esmeralda asked. Liebnitz went on, “Bugbyte O’Nanotek discovered Sleazewagon’s plot when she tried to download Priscilla, Queen of the Desert and found it had vanished. She back-traced the theft to his mainframe and was going to crash it and restore the originals, but she tripped an alarm and he struck before she could act. You know the way they can digitise real people and inject them into a new movie these days? Well, Sleazewagon’s researchers have worked out a way to delete real people and transfer them digitally into old movies. He slotted three Centre agents into existing roles to bind them into the system. You replaced Maureen O’Hara as Esmeralda (very Sleazewagon, that) in The Hunchback of Notre Dame, for example. Don Gordo replaced Sidney Greenstreet in Casablanca. If Bugbyte executed her program, all trace of your reality would disappear when the mainframe went down. Sleazewagon thought he had us checkmated.”
“But he underestimated Bugbyte. She found a way to get me into the mainframe and to let me move around there. Sleazewagon hasn’t realised that the database has begun to create its own reality. He never planned those cine-corridors, for example. One set exists for every actor in films, the walls displaying every film they appeared in. As you found out, the actor can exit from a film into the corridor and then go into another film. And others can be taken along if they are close enough. In your second ’role’, you took O’Hara’s place in The Quiet Man, where Bugbyte found you. From there, you’ll recall, we followed Ward Bond through his corridors into The Maltese Falcon, where we linked up with Peter Lorre. He in turn took us to Casablanca. As soon as Don Gordo finishes this scene with Bogart, we’ll link up with Captain Renault.”
And so it went. Claude Rains, switching from Renault to the Machiavellian Mr Dryden, took them into Lawrence of Arabia, where they hooked up with Alec Guiness (playing Prince Feisal), who in turn moved them into Star Wars. “Obi-Wan Kenobi is far from my favourite role,” he said as they strode up to a spaceport bar, “but Sleazewagon has to be stopped.” Don Gordo agreed. “I myself am a big fan of The Terror of Tiny Town – what’s not to like about an all-midget musical Western?”
A loud crash erupted from the doorway of the bar, followed by several customers, some upright. The outsiders entered, to see a blond figure in white swing across the room on a snake-headed chandelier inches ahead of a mob of two-foot, six-headed eggplants. Mistiming his landing, he somersaulted into the bottle cabinet, spreading broken glass and potent liquor across the room. Emerging, he drew a light-sabre, igniting the alcoholic vapours around a shaggy three-legged creature in grey. Fortunately, the creature was an asbestos-based life form. Unfortunately, being set on fire initiated his mating ritual. Stooping, he embraced the eggplants and began the timeless celebration of the aubergines flambées. The figure in white tripped over an iron cockroach and fell into what seemed to be a Jacuzzi full of guacamole, with eyestalks. Guiness murmured dryly, “I see that young Skywalker has gone over to the dork side of the farce.”
“No, it’s just Manitoba Jones,” sighed Liebnitz, helping his agent out of the hot-tub (not without lingering glances from the guacamole) and turning to his companions. “With all hostages rescued, we follow Bugbyte’s instructions to the one film in the database from which we can exit the mainframe. She couldn’t give me final instructions before I left the Centre, but she told me to get through the cine-corridors to Zefferelli’s Romeo and Juliet, where she’d contact me.” There followed a blur of cuts that would have taxed the best film editor. Following Harrison Ford from Star Wars to Apocalypse Now, they picked up Robert Duvall (smelling of napalm and humming Wagner) for a transfer to The Godfather, then linked up with James Caan to shift to A Bridge Too Far. Lawrence Olivier took them into Romeo and Juliet (“Not my Romeo, you understand, but they still wanted my voice.”). There the outsiders gathered in the arcade edging the Verona piazza where Tybalt and Benvolio were lighting the fuse for the fireworks to come.
“Right,” said Liebnitz. “Now we have to find Bugbyte’s message.” “You mean you don’t know where it is?” asked Esmeralda. The ace logician looked abashed. “We worked this on the fly. All I know is to find a messenger. The set-up cannot change the film’s plot and the message can’t be explicitly for us, or it will be picked up by the intrusion detection software. Ideas, anyone?” Esmeralda put her head on one side. “Toward the end, doesn’t Friar Laurence send a letter to Romeo in Mantua, to explain his absurdly complicated ’Juliet isn’t really dead’ plot?” Manitoba Jones nodded. “But the messenger never delivers the letter, which is why things get messy at the tomb. He claims he got shut up in a house by mistake, but that has always seemed a weak story.” Liebnitz stroked his chin. “Yes, it has. I think we can work with it.”
Exiting with the rest of the crowd, the outsiders reassembled later near Friar Laurence’s cell. A cowled figure hurried out of the lighted doorway, calling back that he would haste to Mantua. As he rounded the corner, Esmeralda caught his eye (Esmeralda was the eye-catching sort) while Don Gordo and Manitoba Jones slipped a large sack over his head and carted him off, first handing over his shoulder pouch. Liebnitz opened it and unfolded the manuscript inside. “Bugbyte’s come though,” he said. “This puzzle will tell us how to get out of here. Let’s work on it while Don Gordo coaches Friar John. “The message read as follows.
The following 25 clues refer to altered movie titles – altered by changing one word only, by adding/subtracting/changing a letter or two, or by substituting a rhyming word. The data in parenthesis after each clue give hints to the original movie titles — a featured actor plus the year of release. For example, a clue reading “Gretzky bio-pic trilogy with hobbits (Viggo Mortensen 2001-2003)” would lead to Lord of the Rinks. The clues are listed so that the altered words come out in alphabetical order.
Liebnitz and Emeralda quickly worked out the 25 answers. Liebnitz then pointed out the faint lettering on the back of the manuscript: Vangelis religious at the 1924 Olympics // 8-15-24- 18-23-7-7-14 // 8-2-6-7 23-15 3-12-1-4-11. “This looks like doodling, but it’s the key to Bugbyte’s message. The words in the first part point the way out of here – if we follow them, we”I wind up in the exit film. That film will be one of the original (unaltered) titles referred to in the 25 clues. The two strings of numbers, separated by the double slash, also give us vital information. The first string spells out the number of the clue referring to the exit film. The second string gives us the download command to say once we get there. To read the strings, we need to substitute, for each number, the first letter of the altered word from the answer to the clue of that number. For example, if the altered word in the answer to number 25 starts with a Z, then “25” in the string is replaced by “Z” to read the message.” No sooner said than done.
Just as Don Gordo and Manitoba Jones returned, a two-wheeled carriage pulled out of the nearby stables, Friar Laurence at the reins. “Vangelis! The Olympics!” cried Esmeralda. “Chariots of Friar! That’s our ticket out!” As the outsiders caught up to the chariot, the friar nodded impatiently and said, “Hurry, I haven’t much time before the final scene.” The chariot raced right at a blank wall, which dissolved at the last minute into the familiar confines of a cine-corridor. Dismounting, the friar led them briskly into the screen on the far wall, saying, “Fortunately, I play a religious figure in this film as well, so the transition is smooth.” The group stood on a darkened modern street, outside a cinema. “Quick, give the download command before anyone comes,” he added. Liebnitz spoke, and the outsiders found themselves inside Bugbyte’s computer room. “Got you,” she crowed. “And now for Sleazewagon’s mainframe.” She punched a brief command onto the keyboard before her and laughed. There was a brief flicker in her monitor. Liebnitz was almost sure he saw a faint image of Hollywood’s galaxy applauding. But perhaps not. It had been a hard day’s night.
Can you duplicate Ludwig’s and Esmeralda’s feat by identifying the exit movie and the download command? bout de papier will decide the winner by drawing from a box containing all correct answers received by January 30, 2005. The winner will receive a book chosen and autographed by A Aalto. NOT necessary for the answer submitted, but can you also work out the 25 altered movie titles and the actor whose two religious roles bridged the gap between Romeo and Juliet and the exit movie?
Hemingway student switches faculty from sciences (Gary Cooper 1932)
Scottish assent for automation (Will Smith 2004)
Baroque composer reaches tomorrow (Michael J Fox 1985)
Tough New York cop investigates a patisserie (Gene Hackman 1971)
Tough San Francisco cop with a nice line in light tunes (Clint Eastwood 1971)
Okies reach California, succeed in interior decor (Henry Fonda 1940)
Dickensian lad wins long-distance spitting contest (John Mills 1946)
Platonic ideal of a tempest (George Clooney 2000)
High-spirited Hellenic computer guy (Anthony Quinn 1964)
Toothless attack on a Nazi island fortress (Gregory Peck 1961)
Rocker from a 60s group rules Thailand with help (Yul Brynner 1956)
Captain Nemo’s sub has many problems (Kirk Douglas 1954)
Belle époque singer invents cantaloup-based face powder (Nicole Kidman 2001)
Woody Allen films facial evidence of an Egyptian drunk (Mia Farrow 1984)
Nick the Greek bio-pic, not set in Kansas (Judy Garland 1939)
Black sheriff wins hot kayak race (Mel Brooks 1974)
Motion-sick motorcycle tripper (Peter Fonda 1969)
They weren’t working, so Noah couldn’t find the way (Harrison Ford 1981)
Futuristic masseur uses a knife (Harrison Ford 1982)
Little Bo Peep searches the latte bars of Puget Sound (Tom Hanks 1993)
New foundland’s leading journal of tea (Kevin Spacey 2002)
Seduction of a kitchen appliance (Michael Douglas 1984)
What an up-to-date fork has (Charlie Chaplin 1936)
Difficult students in prohibition Chicago (Kevin Costner 1987)
Southern belle elopes with a weakling (Vivian Leigh 1939)
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 21, No. 1 (2004) — Fall/Winter 2004 // Automne/Hiver 2004, pp. 43–47. Read the rest of this issue →
