+++

At some point I started writing a remix of an old Cameron Mitchell film called Space Mutiny and after that I wrote something about Ryan’s Babe and after that I wrote a bizarro version of Mystics in Bali and now it’s become a series that needs its own page on here.

Most of the films are taken from the Best of The Worst list over at RedLetterMedia.

+

The first one I’m posting is what I said above, Space Mutiny, only I’ve altered the title in a meaningless way to Space Mutinaeity.

If you haven’t seen the film, don’t.

+

Method is not learned in advance: it emerges retroactively.

Method is the road with potholes.

Method is a funny thing.

Method is clinic, skeleton outside.

Method man is cure.

Method this way that way classy gothic struggle map inside parallax tube retrogra-

+

Large and stolen, the Southernmost Sun cruises through the infinite void, cannibalises it.

This is your Captain, fossil in robes, celebrated perv who will cop a feel of psychic volleyball girl at mid-point in narrative sludge, condemn dozens to fiery death, initiate a third thing prematurely, perhaps a fourth, but until then enjoy serialised wisdom eked out not from improv but Badiou his early works pre-onsen scandal with said works adjusted to space ship setting naturally.

But Sir!

Can you trust your own phrenic opposite-stroke-flight commander?

Don’t you know he’s never set foot on a planet?

Could you take him in a brawl?

Is space sibyllic?

+

Under attack for the first time since memory reformed dead green recalcitrant.

Pirates from nearby pirated system.

This is physics via kindergarten but with all kids a year ahead.

Panadox?

I think they’re ashes now.

+

Daughter shock when Captain was thirteen years old, flush on bridge, blending into other female officers unabashed at showcasing explicit muff outline.

Are you married yet?

Dad.

Divorced?

Please.

Widowed?

Die.

Refused?

Or at least move to a different part of the ship.

+

Battle continues despite itself.

Pirates surprisingly experimental.

Defences generic, copycat.

Embarrassing really.

Hero shape, blonde, energetic, characterless, has no choice but to let the unseen academic perish in shuttle bay blaze but will definitely show evidence of had no choice later when someone pushes him on it or maybe not depends on mood and today his mood is butch November.

+

Commander Kalgen aggregates factory set alongside Red Tits, a fresh-faced, nineteen year old boy blonder than also blonde hero who must at all costs restore the malfunctioning order of things. Together they reach a certain pipe place a certain bomb murder a certain guard and from there things become incrementally more certain.

‘You see, Red Tits, this space mutiny desquamates the poetic, loses it right from the start, even before the bombast ick when things were allegedly peaceful, yes, this sameness has been going on a very, very, very, very, long time, boy, that’s why I need a planet, that’s why this mutiny, that’s why, that’s why, etc.’ <laughs like Cybernator>

+

Caught in repeat shuttle explosion, John Jake Steve no Amir once again falls through the nightmarish scene of stopping the elderly daughter of Pervert Chief from actualising an academic who may or may not be real yet is trapped in burning shuttle that has pellucid plans to explode with an academic inside unless-

+

Post-explosion, Ex-Steve Now Amir clashes with Elderly Daughter in two distinct settings: the bridge and the arboretum and because of respect for Pervert Chief he declines to motorboat her tits in this particular arc cos mutiny comes first stopping it delaying it Amir himself fighting sleeveless vs. Amir fucking himself sleeveless whichever one keeps the ship agog longer yeah not the fucking obviously that can be done in test tubes with ultraviolet see it’s kind of like a riff on Silent Running if he really stops to think about it tug on that bluer thread he won’t though he can’t big lump just wants to stand at the bar not drink not speak half watch hula hoop loop until bridge witch gets called away shot cold in cardboard corridor patronised cos that’s when he can start the fucking and the fighting which is what he’s all about ontologically eighty per cent of the time maybe even eighty-five I mean he definitely didn’t read that Deleuze Fold thing in his quarters never got past the first five minutes of Mirror much better to focus on tangible things like murdering guards in the factory they leeched from the Captain’s cousin on the other ship Northernmost Moon the lot of them racing around in barely modified gold golf carts that the same cousin gave them as a bonus gift apparently they break down sometimes but he hasn’t had any problems with them so far I don’t know maybe when he races Kalgen the guy he met once in Engineering and took an instant liking to, serious, that guy’s okay really quite funny when he gets talking about relationship issues and those muff bikinis the Pervert Chief designed for all the female bridge crew to wear even the retired ones and did they do anything after that he can’t recall but there’s an image of the top of Kalgen’s head bobbing up and down above his dick so maybe they did do something it’s possible the guy is quite funny quite fit no they did he remembers now they dated for three weeks until the blonde boy came of age Red Tits that guy and after that Kalgen called once or twice met up for one awkward fuck then nothing just permanently silhouette in his quarters or Engineering which thinking about it now was probably where this space mutiny debacle got cooked up in the first place wah that was only a month ago that short a time to magick out such an ossified plan of attack such a guarded one leaving poor Amir to stand in a bar and think about fucking Elderly Daughter who is nearly half his size fragile nowhere near as chaotic in bed as Kalgen gods on a gash farm was this it then forced to drive a golf cart into the despot he really wanted to fuck at least seven more times watch him semi-burn in the explosion then look away to give slim chance of crawling out at least theoretically cos no one could survive that orange an explosion not even Amir himself and he was the main-

+

In times of uncertainty it remains prudent to shepherd psychic ballerinas into spare cargo bay and connect spiritually through dance or at least mimic their swaying limbs but the Pervert Chief alone gets to surreptitiously cop a feel of both sides of lead psychic’s tits cos only he has the poorly-lit room the script direction the lax male crew the sexual burden the responsibility as gravity grandpa to order with bullish yawn all young men into flammable white garb so they may burn to death smooth inside the timber factory his cousin wants back next week in the same exact condition he gave it to them which could be difficult now as Amir has just cornered Sometime Cripple in the gutter of a methane storage zone and instead of stabbing him to death he’s lit a slow moving fire trail that will get to Sometime Cripple just as he’s slipping into his flammable white suit and war is bad peace is dark blue remainder is bikini line flash in factory club neon set kill shot done vague with pre-scream terror as in scream then stop and leap out of walking-speed cart sooooooo sad for Kalgen the big sook his tattered dream of setting foot on planet XXX a planet that is probably just rocks and anthrax haze and famine and pirated VCDs and as disposable coda in moral terms mutiny is bad very bad leads to shock edutainment for crew on bridge death for everybody else in guts of ship cargo bay coffin suits unless…unless they have the power to return in the very next scene which on the Southernmost Sun they do indeed as no live children inhabit this ship and this ship needs a crew and this crew needs-

+

Without permission, the pirated attack.

This could be the end, says Pervert Chief, stabbing the hem of his robe with balled-up whisk[e]y label, but he doesn’t really believe it and neither does Amir or Elderly Daughter or whisk[e]y label or revived crew

this shit can run forever with a few tweaks

cos Kalgen’s back

chilling deep inside the factory set

burnt superficial

mourning in his own way for Red Tits

imagining all kinds of things beyond writer and writer’s friends but at the top of the list is obviously a murder/fuck fantasy with Amir away from golf cart in even darker part of this factory hell yes that’s what he’ll do when he gets these burn marks sorted find a nice dark corner and call up Amir Tits get him on his knees force him to say the truth of how he didn’t mean to steer the golf cart that way whole thing was an accident and the space mutiny in general that was fantastic most exhilarating thing in centuries not at all a failure mistakes made by other traitors not him by Sometime Cripple that guy he’s the one who came up with overarching strategy whereas Kalgen just dealt with things as they came and those fucking pirates they didn’t even use their own ships just recycled scrap from ex-mutinies a million weeks before yeah that’s no way to go about subverting a ship run by Pervert Chief a guy who’d poke his own daughter if the bridge crew weren’t around watching all the time why not they’re almost the same age not like morals meant anything on a generation ship in the midst of a mutiny like-

Midst?

+

Sex in the arboretum, authoritative, chased doggedly by mission creep.

You water the weeds, I don’t know how.

My badge is dirty.

Sometimes I think you love that uniform more than you love me.

Nonsense, I love you both equally.

I’m 48.

Shit, where’s that watering can gone?

Twice divorced.

The golf cart?

Infertile.

Kalgen’s quarters?

But full of joy despite all that.

Fuck he might be hiding down there I better go check no don’t get up I’ll be gone a while maybe the whole night if his burns aren’t that-

+

Large and preserved, the Southernmost Sun tears through the infinite void, re-cannibalises it.

On the bridge, sleek alacrity.

Props with black tape on top.

Blondeness.

The sense of one pole passing directly through its opposite.

Claw machine.

Intermittent signs of despair.

Heaven lights.

A new captain with no-