#“perhaps if all the people who voted thought about how sad that would make batman they would have voted differently��� stfu

[glitter-stained]

Dc writers be like yeah sorry this character was doomed by the narrative there was nothing we could do, like my brother in christ you ARE the narrative

[k-l-neidecker]

One Person’s Take on what the Infinity War Pitch Room Conversation was Like — K. L. Neidecker

One Person’s Take on what the Infinity War Pitch Room Conversation was Like

A week or so back, I finally broke down and watched Avengers: Infinity War.

It took me a long time to get around to it. I’m not sure, but I think, perhaps, I’ve seen the requisite number of superhero movies one must watch to be considered a happy and productive human in modern society. Check that box, one piece of being an American consumer fully in place, now on to the next strange trend…

Not that I hate comic book movies. In fact, I enjoy them. Just, hey, a few dozen a year is more than enough, thanks! And let’s not even mention that we are stuck with Marvel movies as DC seems to be having…trouble…making movies that don’t suck since the third movie of the Nolan Batman series.

So, considering the spoilers about Infinity War which assaulted my eyes for months, and the fact I knew what was going to happen…the supposed “big moment”…I simply felt no great rush to see it. Sure, I’d see it sooner or later, but it was way down on the the list of things to do—somewhere below a visit to the proctologist and spraying out the inside of the garbage cans.

But, hey, I figured it would be fine for a movie night.

And from minute one, I knew I made a terrible mistake, one which proves karma is a bitch and in a past life I must have been a terrible person. Maybe Attila the Hun’s third cousin twice removed, Bob the Hunnish.

I’d like to present to you my imaginings if what the pitching and brainstorming room must have been like as they planned Infinity War out.

Neon lights flicker and highlight nicotine stained drop ceiling panels. The energy is high, the air buzzing with electricity, though that could always just be the faulty wiring buried in walls which have been privy to so many great ideas in better days…

“Ok, so me and the boys have been talking,” Jim said, gesturing to a pile of sock puppets discarded in a dingy corner, button-eyes staring blankly into the distance, “and we got some ideas for the next Avengers movie.”

The writer’s room hushed in anticipation. A head writer for Iron Man 2, an artichoke heart pickled in brine, wetly rolled from its perch.

“Ok, so we open with a battle! Action is good, right? People love that stuff.”

A cricket farted in the distance, the mating call falling on dead ears.

“I mean, just some fighting, on a space ship. In space! Bunch of stuff happens. Sure, it will be confusing, and maybe some viewers will wonder, hey, did I miss an entire movie or something, because this scene feels like it’s part of some larger whole…

“And then we kill off some important characters! Yeah, baby, yeah! That will get people invested.”

A murmur of assent rippled through the room, taking the form of various belches and the whisper quiet rustle of a nostril mined for ore by a probing digit.

“Ok, and then the Hulk enters the picture, a being so powerful he’s been sent into space because of how dangerous he is to have around…but Thanos mops the floor with him. And guess what? That’s the last time we see the Hulk for the rest of the movie!” Jim leaned back and placed dirty boots on the table, grinning.

He continued, “So, no Hulk, because hell, who needs him anyway, and it fixes the plot hole where he would simply own Thanos early on, end of movie.

“Then, we add in every Marvel hero we have into the mix. So many, in fact, that they all only get five minute snippets on screen, and we just keep cutting between everyone fast enough to send a third of our viewers into epileptic fits. Thank goodness for CGI because we need a half-thousand sets to marionette these characters over.

“Thor, even though he’s been around multiple earthlings over a bunch of movies, will act dumb as hell and confused about words like ‘moron’”

Moron twitched in his sleep, the sound of his name nearly pulling him out of his comfortable dreamland.

“Also, some of the best characters in our universe, the space cadets from Gargantuans of the Galaxy or whatever it was we made a few years back, will run into Thor at random in the almost infinite reaches of the unfathomable soul sucking emptiness that is the ever expanding universe. Good timing!

“Let’s see…ah, right, Thanos just keeps winning non stop, and our heroes simply throw the same tactics at him over and over to no avail. You know, like punches and missiles and some Kung fu or some shit. Hey, the dude owned Hulk, so why wouldn’t Captain America try punching him in the gob?”

Tim, the newest writer, one not yet broken in by Marvel and not yet fitted out for his Marvel Brand Gimp Suit™, broke his silence when he could take no more. “Hey, uh, this all sounds great and all, but don’t you think—“

“No, I try not to, Tim. Thinking is the direct cause of migraines and bed wetting. Ok, so, we have wizards doing the circle things with their palms, some space folk bopping around almost disconnected from the rest of the story, Avengers not calling other Avengers even though fifty percent of the life of the entire universe hangs in the balance…damn, what else was I going to say,” Jim grasped a bong like an infant would a bottle and ripped on it before smashing it on his own head in victory.

“Right. The love story. Every great tale needs a love story: Romeo and Juliet, Ren and Stimpy, all the greats. So, we have a budding relationship between Vision and whatsherface. Let’s make the viewer care, get them invested.”

Tim nodded, “Right, that’s a solid idea man, sounds—“

Jim cut him off, “Of course, with fifty main characters and a two hour runtime, we won’t actually see any of this love or whatever. We’ll just hint at it a bit, you know. Gotta save screen time for purple ballsack, er, I mean Thanos, to wax laconically about how nice a bro he really is on the inside.”

“Hey, no, I don’t think—“ Tim stuttered.

“Good, my man, good. I think you’ll fit in here with that attitude. So, then let’s kill of all the fun characters. Let’s start with the people of color. First scene to last scene, let’s off some green folk, dissolve some Wakanda heroes, let’s go for broke.

“Again, no Hulk. Just Bruce in a CGI suit, so it’s kinda like the Hulk but suckier. You know, we wouldn’t want that actor to actually be in the movie or anything. Just CGI his ass at all times. Note to self, can we just completely CGI his likeness and not have to have an actor at all?

“Let’s have Dr. Strangelove or whatever his name is willingly hand over the one item his entire order was formed to protect… You know, stay true to the characters.”

The sounds of shattering glass echoed from wall to wall as two writers leapt naked through the windows, fist-bumping one another and shouting, “Brooooooooo!”

“See, Tim,” Jim said, “that’s the kind of energy we need here. Get your shit together. Ok, and lastly, let’s dissolve all the interesting characters we have left. Black Panther for one! Oh, and did I bring up the White Wolf? No? Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t have an arc in the movie anyway. Hell, no one needs a character arc here. It’s only half a story, after all, and doesn’t need to stand alone or anything.”

Joseph the Randy Donkey brayed a lonely song at the water cooler before defecating a sad pile on the floor.

“Damn, I love that donkey,” Jim said while cleaning his left ear with his right big toe. “So, you see where I’m going here, right? For year people have complained we are formulaic, but look at us being all badass and breaking the mold! We will take a decade worth of characters and squash them together, making half a movie that means nothing on it’s own, simply designed to set up our next million dollar movie in a year, needlessly kill off dozens of the best characters in a way that means nothing and will be reversed within the first quarter of the next movie, dabble in romance sorta, and wipe out half the life in the universe to save everyone from running out of food and stuff!”

The room erupted in cheers and whoops. Three men dueled to the death in celebration, Moron awoke from his long slumber in time to vote in the midterms and drive without using his blinkers, seven Hollywood executives took time away from sexually harassing the donkey the stamp and squeal in delight, a motley mob of slatterns boxed with a dusty group of heroin addicts in a mock Walmart, and the seventh seal was opened in the distance.

But a hush fell on the room like a smothering pillow as Tim cleared his throat.

“Hey, um, if Thanos can control time and matter with a mere thought, wielding enough power to kill fifty percent of all living things at the blink of an eye…why doesn’t he simply will infinite resources into being instead of killing untold trillions due to limited resources?”

The silence in the room laid so thick in the air that a large housefly, fat and well fed on over-ripe Hollywood movie drech, collapsed like a crumpled piece of tinfoil from the mere pressure in the room.

Lucky for the brave writers of Infinity War, there was a handy and already broken window to defenestrate Tim from before calling the seventy-five actors and warming up the computers for modern CGI magic.

https://klneidecker.com/2018/10/22/one-persons-take-on-what-the-infinity-war-pitch-room-conversation-was-like/