It’s Like Mad Max, But Amongst Other Things, Wet.
‘When there’s no more room in hell…
Water will happen all around you.’
adjacent to you?
dampen your postcode
turn white t-shirts transparent...
These taglines were all rejected on the grounds
that the principal antagonist of Water World is
not actually the water. See, as ever, it’s how
people react under the duress of all that
tempestuous wetness.
Kevin Costner speaks: “Our humanity is not a
SUGAR packet!
We, all together are the duck’s back
and the water’s collectively rolling off it…… um yeah.”
“Cut!”
The director spritzes a Hollywood exec; cups
the back of Costner’s head, brings a Cuban heel
down on a discarded Fiji bottle.
“Now imagine that, but on a global scale” He says.
“Let’s take it from the top… C’mon, people!
C’MON!”
Thankfully, our humanity is no
longer subject to an NDA, that’s
the tentative thread holding poetry
together; that’s why I can state with
some confidence that I conceived
of Water World two decades after
its commercial release.
Except mine was a poem submitted
to a contest about climate change and my take on
Costner juggled the runtime between
being eaten alive by various metaphorical
strands of sea life and condescending
the audience.
“I bet you don’t even like
the environment” He’d sneer
“What’d you get the planet for earth day, then?
Another handful of CARBON MONOXIDE?”
the echinoderms nod; meaningfully extend
their pseudopods, fasten to Kevin’s pert pink
nips and start to gnaw their way concave
Like a terrible, carnivorous variant of
Ariel's bra from the Little Mermaid.
My poem did not have a 200 million budget,
nor did it win the competition or even destroy
Kevin Costner’s career prospects
as a bankable star.
We cut to release weekend.
The director cascades nakedly
down the studio stairwell—starfishes
on the landing, bruised and bending
he yells “HOPPER!”
(Did you know Dennis Hopper was in this? He’s
as eminently watchable as ever)
“HOPPER!!!” He sobs wretchedly, clutching akimbo
two pool floaties. “I can’t keep my head above the
water, Hopper….. I can’t. I’ve seen the reels, I’ve
seen projections. We’re not gonna make it.
It’s not even oblique anymore it’s just pathetic, it’s
like Water World. I’ve got a green duffel bag with all my
earthly possessions in it. What do I have to show for the
life I’ve lived? It’s like Water World except the water
is NOT the box office returns of Water World.
That discarded Stella Artois will be like
the cultural impact of Water World. I’m drunk
and I’m italicising Water World as a
fucking courtesy. Oh, Kevin’s facial expressions
are salty and windblown; but are they salty
and windblown enough?” The director hiccups, lays
prostrate—staring at the ceiling.
“I’m going to burn it all, Hopper…..
Let’s see the studio bankroll that; we’ll call it
‘Fireworld’ Yeah? We’ll bring back the original
cast to reprise their roles….. It’ll be an absolute smash.
It’ll be, It’ll… be
oh, god.”
