RKMBs Forums .::Robegories::. Media Wonder Woman: Movie

He's alive!

Hey Pariah!!


































Fuck off!

an offical thread!

It's neither a surprise nor hidden secret that I loathe everything Whedon has ever even breathed on. He, and Jeph Loeb, and Geoff Johns...all perfect examples of how medicority is the norm....

Serenity = crappy Blake's 7

I like Joss Whedon's stuff. I realize that puts me in the minority on the boards, and also invites all manner of attacks on my character for voicing my honest opinion. Oh, well. Nothing to be done about it, I suppose.

I think I've already mentioned several times that I like WHedon (Buffy, Astonishing etc)

I'm not sure what I think about him doing Wonder Woman tho.

As far as the funny lines, what I think Whedon will do is give Wonder Woman the deadpan lines like Anya or Illyria had, saying something very funny without even realizing it.

Well, more attacks on my character, anyway.

Which character is yours? The Vampire Slayer? Or the glib space cowboy?

Tom Arnold wasn't cast. I'm sorry...

No. Fuckin'. Way.

I despise her.

Why does she have a boob on her back?

I wouldn't worry about her getting it. This is standard Hollywood PR. The singer's agent and the studio agree to give her an audition solely to generate some buzz about the film during the long months pre-production.

Believe it or not, back in the 70s they actually did this with Neil Diamond(?) and the Superman movie.

I think the sound we just heard is Pro's whoop of joy.

I heard that Joel Silver just purchased a WWII era Wonder Woman script just days ago as well.

I think WWII would probably be a better way to go. Certain characters, most notably WW and Capt. America, never work as well outside that era.

WOOOOOO-HOOOOO!!!!

Thank god...now we have a chance of it being worth watching...

Ages ago, I wrote two scenes that I thought should be in the movie.

***

EXT - BEACH - DUSK

A beach, more of a small inlet, low tide. PAN UP to a figure in the distance, walking down to the beach.

A woman, carrying herself with a regal air.

Wrapped in a purple robe, she lowers herself down to the sand, then heads to a section of dirt and clay.

Dropping to her knees, she starts to scoop up large sections of dirt and clay with her hands.

LATER - NIGHT

The woman has set up BURNING TORCHES around the area where she is working. A small recess in the grounds has been filled with water.

The clay has been moulded into a large shape. The woman continues working on it, periodically dipping her fingers into the recess to facilitate her efforts.

The only sound is that of the WAVES BREAKING

DISSOLVE TO - LATER

The clay is taking the shape of a small humanoid - no discernible features.

DISSOLVE TO - LATER

The figure has grown more distinct.

The woman is covered in dirt, grime and her own sweat.

DISSOLVE TO - LATER

The figure is that of an infant girl, but still crude.

The woman tugs her robe in tighter against the cold of the night.

Her hands are BLEEDING from several places.

She continues, her actions taking on more urgency.

LATER - DAWN

As the first day's light touches the beach, we see the woman, obviously fatigued, trying to work as quickly and as well as possible.

The clay figure is now a perfect replica of an infant - wrinkles, fingernails, hints of lips and teeth, so forth.

Hands and arms caked with clay, dirt, grime and blood, the woman raises the figure with infinite care, while standing up.

The woman raises the figure into the dawns first ray of light.

The texture of the figure starts to grow fainter, lighter.

The woman watches as the figure transforms from clay to flesh in her very hands.

The woman lowers the now very real, but unmoving baby to her mouth, and GENTLY BREATHES near it's mouth.

The baby's mouth receives the woman's breath - and REFLEXIVELY BREATHES.

The face of the woman creases with disbelieving joy, on the knife-edge of bursting into tears as this little child moves in her hands.

The woman, still coated in the products of her exertions, is walking up the same path she descended.

She stops at the rise - and raises the tiny child into the air.

The camera PANS AROUND to show a woman, standing at attention in ancient Greek Battle armour -

- then SEVERAL MORE, dressed exactly like her -

- then SCORES -

- THEN HUNDREDS, all amassed on the plain behind the beach.

When they see the child, they give a MASSIVE ROAR OF TRIUMPH, WAVING THEIR WEAPONS, RATTLING THEIR SHIELDS.

Several SERVANTS surround the woman, passing a blanket which the woman wraps the baby in, a goblet of wine, food.

The woman looks down at her SERENELY SLEEPING CHILD.

***

EXT - DAY

A line of granite pillars on a grassy plain. We pull back slightly -

- and a METAL POINT ERUPTS out of the pillar closest to the camera lens. Each pillar has suddenly 'grown' one of these points -

- because we now see that the pillars are targets. And the points are the tips of spears thrown through each pillar, near all dead centre.

An Amazon in a white robe examines each one, then holds up a red flag next to the spear that is closest to the mark.

EXT - MONTAGE

Masked Amazons running down a track. They approach a wooden wall that is at least six feet high -

- they all vault it, like a hurdle.

Masked Amazons grunting, grimacing, as they push MASSIVE BOULDERS up a steep hill. The women in white robes - the referees - watch the proceedings with a critical eye.

Several Amazons, paired off, fiercely dueling with swords.

Adjudicators escorting - or carrying off the injured. The first aid tent has a morgue next door for convenience.

HIPPOLYTA watches the events with a faintly approving air.

A wresting match - one woman pins another in a titanic struggle, to the cheers of the crowd.

An ATTENDANT approaches HIPPOLYTA

ATTENDANT
The final trial, your Majesty. All is ready.

A MASSIVE COLOSSEUM. The seats are packed.

Seven bruised and battered Amazons - the finalists - are in the centre.

HIPPOLYTA and a retinue of six COUNCILLORS and seven ATTENDANTS enter the grounds, and the ROAR of the crowd fades to an EXPECTANT MURMURING.

The FINALISTS stand in a line, about a few yards away from HIPPOLYTA and the COUNCILLORS, the Queen flanked by three COUNCILLORS on each side, all facing a FINALIST.
ATTENDANTS, each carrying a LARGE ORNATE WOODEN BOX, each kneel in front of the Queen and her Councillors, opening their respective boxes. The contents are unseen.

As one, the FINALISTS SALUTE.

Suddenly, with practiced swiftness, the Queen and company withdraw an identical item from each box and point it at their respective FINALIST -

- a Colt M1911A1 .45 Automatic.

The Queen and company OPEN FIRE - they're firing so fast it's almost like AUTOMATIC FIRE. They're also AIMING TO KILL.

The FINALISTS are BLOCKING the BULLETS with their bracelets, their arms almost blurring with speed.

One finalist CRIES OUT, wounded in the leg. 'Her' COUNCILLOR immediately ignores her, and starts firing at the FINALIST to her left, increasing the difficulty.

HIPPOLYTA's GUN is empty. She INSTANTLY reloads from her box - which is FULL TO THE BRIM with STACKED, LOADED MAGAZINES.

ANOTHER FINALIST FALLS - DEAD from a HEADSHOT. The FINALIST next to her now has another person shooting at her.
MORE FINALISTS are wounded, and fall out of the competition - literally.

Now only the FINALIST in front of HIPPOLYTA is remaining. The SEVEN are shooting at her, only to have their shots deflected.

The look on what's visible on her masked face is Zen-Like concentration.

Eventually, the GUNS RUN DRY.

The MASKED WARRIOR removes her VISOR -

- it's DIANA. Sweating, eyes haggard. But nothing can remove the victory from her gaze.

HIPPOLYTA's GUN DROPS TO the ground.

The Queen is suddenly hit with what her daughter has done - and what she's almost done to her daughter.

Firm resolve crosses her face, and she starts to move forward, intent on inflicting the Wrath of Mother -

- when a hand clamps on her shoulder. A COUNCILLOR's expression tells HIPPOLYTA that this is something she can't control.

The crowd starts to cheer their new champion, as DIANA is surrounded by well-wishers.

And HIPPOLYTA's eyes reflect her total DESPAIR.

***

THoughts?