In which Jason and comedy writer Ben Arnold discuss the trailer for the movie Prometheus.
J: In space, no one can hear you scream. Which is why it is so difficult to get ice cream in space. I mean, I screamed, you screamed, we all screamed for ice cream. And the void of space was indifferent to our collective calls for sweet iced cream. Now gelato on the other hand—very easy to get in space. You can’t throw a moon rock in space without hitting a gelato stand, usually with some kind of gloopy tentacled monster trying to sell you a mint raisin sorbet. Speaking of gloopy tentacled monsters, looks like there’s a little space trouble happening for the characters in Prometheus. There are a ton of shots in the trailer of people looking dismayed in space helmets.
B: Yes, they do look dismayed in their space helmets, Jason. You could also say they look completely terrorized, filled with spacepants-shitting fear and not a little like Chaz Bono after finding out she had to grow her own dick instead of having her father’s penis exhumed and grafted on. I know that look well, Chaz. It says, “I don’t got you, babe.” Speaking of confusing creatures from Hollywood, I’m not exactly sure who or what’s doing the attacking in this trailer, which is always an encouraging sign. It shows that the director has the courtesy not to whip his proverbial dong out on the first date, and wave it around in our faces moments after blurting out, “I’ve got something to share with you.” Indeed, I’m intrigued. I’m not a huge sci-fi/horror person; I’ve always thought Blade Runner is an excellent movie to fall asleep to. But I am intrigued. You have my attention this time, Mr. Ridley Scott!
J: What a gentleman! I’d say you are correct in your assessment that Ridley Scott is not the sort of man to show you his cinematic penis moments after introducing himself to you like some frantic wild-eyed OkCupid user in the parking lot of an IHOP that he lured you to with promises of Atlas Sound tickets. He teases his proverbial moviemaking penis like a burlesque dancer in an H. R. Giger crafted codpiece. I also couldn’t help but notice the trailer had a shot of a man with his hands in some green slime. When I was a kid, you could buy little cans of green slime to pour on your The Real Ghostbusters cartoon action figures. Is it possible that a character in Prometheus is just sliming a plastic Peter Venkman? “Slime my Peter Venkman” is also how I start most of my Craigslist personal ads.
B: I know you do. But I still have to ask, “Who you gonna call?” I mean, when people answer your Craigslist personal ads, they usually just leave you with a Hotmail address and detailed instructions on which Honda Accord they’ll be parked in underneath IKEA, right? Speaking of “foreign” places, is there ever going to be an alien planet as presented by Hollywood that isn’t some black hole version of the Vietnam War? Everybody’s always helplessly bumbling around in the dark in these movies, getting poked, prodded and prolapsed from every unseen angle by some hyper-evil army of E.T. octopi that gets off by impregnating people’s brains with thought worms or some crap. Wait. Now we’re right back where we started: at your Craigslist personal ads. Which is apropos since this trailer seems to be setting us up for a Planet Of The Apes-like return-to whence-we-came kind of story.
J: Coincidentally, one thing that separates us from the apes is IKEA. Literally— there’s an IKEA between my house and the zoo and the monkeys are always jumping up and down because they’re furious they can’t live in monkey houses with Swedish ready-to-assemble furniture. When I was a kid, I saw a monkey mom give her monkey baby a bath in a claw-foot bathtub at the zoo. True story. Monkeys had more elegant furniture back then.
B: Ah, yes. Monkey mom bathes monkey baby in claw-foot bathtub. That ol’ ditty.
Monkey mommy, monkey mommy
What are you doing now?
Just gettin’ my lil’ baby all cleaned up
At night I sometimes dream of IKEA furniture.
Yes, that was the number 1 song in 1998. In that particular section of the zoo. If I remember correctly. I believe I heard someone humming it once. There. Never did understand why that monkey mommy was so particularly proud of washing her lil’ snookums in a bathtub. Hey Auntie Anthropoid, why don’t you come back next year when you’ve proven you can give her a Shellac manicure?
Isn’t that what Prometheus seems to be about? Us silly humans getting in way over our heads while trying to imitate and investigate our higher selves? No? Am I reading too much into this trailer? Is anybody listening to me???