Trollheart

I had a weird thought just now. What if someone were to rewrite Star Wars with absolutely no violence, battles, wars, deaths of any kind? A pacifist Star Wars, with “nice” characters? Crazy, right? Couldn't be done. Well, guess who’s going to try it? I’ll be rewriting and posting the whole movie, and who knows, maybe the other two as well. But we’ll start off with the first one. Will it be difficult? Damn right. Will it be impossible? Maybe. Will it be a lot of work? Does the Pope shit in the woods? But will it be a whole lot of fun? I’d be willing to bet my year’s salary, if I got paid. Which I don’t. Well, not really. But yeah, I think it will be a lot of fun. Should be fun to read, too.

It will be fun to read. You will make it your business to be fun to read, do I make myself clear? Otherwise you will be on the business end of a large shotgun - what? No it’s not a super soaker: it’s a real shotgu - ah fuck! Well, you know, you’ll make it your business to enjoy it unless you want a damn good soak - sigh.

Just roll the credits before this gets any more embarrassing than it already is.

(I can't do the whole credits-rolling-up-the-screen-and-getting-smaller-as-they-go deal, so use your imagination).

It is not a period of civil war. Rebel spaceships, striking from a hidden base, have been parked up for months waiting for a check-up but the man says he’s coming and then he doesn’t come, you know how it is: you stay in, watching out the window, thinking this is his van, but it goes past, and then the next one looks like it might be him, but again it isn’t. Eventually you think sod it, he’s not coming this late, I’ll go out. You get back and there’s a fucking note pinned to your door saying he came but nobody was there.

Pursued by the Empire’s very reasonable and pleasant agents, Princess Say-Yeah races home aboard her starship, custodian of plans which are so secret nobody knows what they are, not even her, but they must be secret as the Secret Rebel Council said they were, and they should know. They’re so secret it’s possible they don’t even exist, and that box the princess has been given might be empty for all she knows. Which she doesn’t need to. She’s basically a glorified delivery girl. Such opportunities for the strong, independent woman in this brave new galaxy of yours, George.

Scene one: ext - space:

We open on the sight of a small spacecraft being pursued by a much, much larger one. The larger one transits across the screen, taking about ten seconds to fully pass over. A tractor beam locks on to the other craft. The farmer shakes his fist and says tractors should not be used in this way, and how did he get into space anyway? Who will milk his cows now? On board the other ship, the smaller one, crew members run around while two robots - well, one robot and one barrel on wheels - travel down one of the corridors.

Robot one (he’s the gold one that at least looks humanoid): “Did you hear that? They haven’t shut down the main reactor! We'll be perfectly fine. This is jolly!”

The other one, the barrel on wheels, who has, for some reason, an unreasonably large chest projection, responds with a series of clicks and beeps.

Robot one again: “We’re in no danger at all. The Princess will probably be fine.”

More beeps from the barrel.

A party of white-armoured troopers leave the large ship and board the smaller one. There are raised voices, a few harsh words, a few tears from the crew of the smaller ship at being spoken to so meanly; the white troopers apologise for their rudeness, then stop as, through the darkness, engendered because electricity hurts the galaxy, and so only candles are used here, a tall gaunt figure strides. The soldiers bow before him. His heavy breathing is heard throughout the corridor.

Cut to a scene of the barrel being fed some sort of card by an unseen hand, then the golden robot rushes in, snapping angrily. Having reattached the limbs that snapped, he continues to look for the big-chested barrel (barrel-chested? Ho ho!)

Golden robot: “R2DD, where are you?”

Out of his sight, we see the big-chested barrel robot with a woman, who looks around and vanishes as the other robot approaches.

Golden robot: “At last! Where have you been? They’re heading in this direction! We’re in absolutely no danger. Wait a minute!” He watches R2DD (it’s pronounced orr-too-double-dee) head off. “Where are you going?” The other robot does not answer and the golden one follows him, irritated.

Back with the guy with the black helmet, he’s sitting having a cup of tea with one of the crew of the smaller vessel.
Trooper: “The plans are not on in the main computer.”
Guy in Black Helmet: “Where are those transmissions you intercepted. What have you done with those plans?”
Crewmember: “Just ask the Princess, guy.”
Guy in Black Helmet: “Cool. Thanks. Excellent tea, by the way.”
Crewmember: “Thanks. It’s my mother’s recipe.”
Guy in Black Helmet: “You can tell her from me, she makes the best tea in the galaxy. And I know my tea!”
Crewmember: “I’ll tell her that.”
Guy in Black Helmet: “The Princess?”
Crewmember: “Two corridors that way, take a left at the soda machine, past the observation deck. Can’t miss it.”
Guy in Black Helmet: “Thanks dude. Laters.”

The two robots are now headed to the escape pods, to the great consternation of the golden one.
Golden robot: “Hey! Where are you going? We’re not allowed in there? What? I wish I knew what the fuck you were saying, guy! Are you even saying anything? Did I pick up the word mission? Did you say mission, or did I just imagine that by somehow interpreting your mindless clicks and beeps and making them sound like something? And if you did say mission, by the way, what mission? And why the fuck am I talking to myself?? Oh all right, I guess we’re due a road trip. Move your fat arse out of the way, I like to stretch my legs. Oh yeah, it’s great to have legs. Yeah I know you’ve got a big chest, so what? Ah hell. I bet I regret this.”

Pod launches. Crewmembers from the big ship are looking into each other’s eyes, and fail to see it tumble by.
Crewman 1: “Did you see something just now?”
Crewman 2 (smiling): “All I see is your deep dreamy blue eyes.”
Crewman 1: “Oh, you!”
Crewman 3: “Hey guys, we doing this or what?”

Black Helmet Guy moves into a chamber, where a young woman is cowering. The cow refuses the ring, and stalks off. The girl looks up.

Girl: “Wader! I should have recognised your foul stench!”
Darth Wader (looking down at the boots from which he takes his name): “Yes, sorry about that, Princess Say-Yeah. I may have stepped in something on the way in.” (Frowns, looks around) “You don’t have a cow on board, by any chance?”
Princess Say-Yeah: “If I had - and I’m not saying I have - you’d be the last one I’d tell, Lord Wader!”
Wader: “Oh come now, Princess! Such formality! Call me William.”
Say-Yeah (a slight grin breaking out on her features, sound of quickly-restrained titters behind Wader): “William? Billy? Willy? Willy Wader?”
Loud guffaws, quickly cut off again. Stormtroopers look at each other, look around, whistle innocently. Vader may scowl, or frown. Hard to say, as his head is encased in a huge black metal helmet.
“Hmm.” He considers. “On second thoughts, call me Darth. Now, about these plans, Your Highness.”
Princess Say-Yeah: “I don’t know of any plans, Wil - ah, Lord Wader.”
Wader (shaking head): “Oh now Princess.” Wags finger in black glove with tasteful sparkle design sewn into it. “You know of them all right. Transmissions were beamed to this ship by the Rebel Alliance.”
Princess Say-Yeah: “I don’t know what you mean, Wader. Rebel Alliance? What’s that?”
Wader: “Don’t play cute with me, Princess - though you are cute, I must admit. How DO you get your hair to hold that shape? It’s quite wonderful.”
Princess: “Well I have this guy and - never mind that!” Glares at Wader. “You were talking about some rebels, of which I know nothing, nor indeed plans. Or transmissions. Well, I know about the transmission on my Landspeeder back home, but that’s about it.”
Wader: “The Empire is quite aware of these rebels, Your Highness, and so are you. You are in fact believed to be part of their alliance.”
Princess: “Uh, what? Alliance? You got the wrong princess, dude."
Wader (leaning in close): “Princess…”
Princess Say-Yeah: “Do you mind? That breathing!”
Wader (leaning back): “Sorry, sorry, I do apologise. Asthma, you know. Had it since I was a boy.”
Princess: “Very annoying.”
Wader: “Yes, I understand.”
Princess; “Creepy, too, if I’m honest.”
Wader (sighing): “You are not the first to say so, believe me. But to business. Where are those plans?”
Princess: “Search me.”
Wader: “Troopers!”
Princess: “What? No I didn’t mean - oh for the love of the great galactic - it’s a phrase, you dimwit! I don’t have the damn things on me!”
Wader: “So.” (Waving the - disappointed - troopers back) “You DO know about the plans.” Looks deeply at Say-Yeah, whose eyes go all glassy.
Say-Yeah: “Don’t you try those Force tricks on me, Lord Wader!”
Wader (in a mysterious voice): “May the Force be with you.”
Princess (in automatic, deadpan voice): “And also with you. How may I be of assistance?”
Wader: “You can tell me where the plans are.”
Princess (shaking off the effect): “No.”
Wader: “Oh please!”
Princess: “No.”
Wader: “I’ll be your friend.”
Princess: “No.”
Wader (petulantly): “Oh, you’re mean! All right then, the Force it is. Where are those plans?”
Princess (under the spell again): “I gave them to the robot.”
Wader: “Robot?”
Princess: “R2DD.”
Wader: “The one with the huge (makes gesture)?”
Princess: “That’s the one.”
Wader: “And where is it now, this big-chested robot?”
Princess: “Search me.” Troopers move forward again. “Holy - what is it with you guys? Get a hobby, why don’t you? I mean, Lord Wader, I don’t know. For all I know, they could be on this planet we’re orbit - oops! Bloody Force! Stop that, will you?”
Wader: “Thanks Princess.” To troopers: “Get ready boys, we’re heading down to that planet.”
Troopers: “Yay! Field trip!”
Wader: “And go before we leave. I don’t want to hear anyone moaning about having to go in the fucking desert, all right? We’re going down there to retrieve those plans, not to destroy their fragile ecosystem. Right, pack a bag - ONE bag, Trooper Bring-Everything! - and meet me back here in an hour. After you’ve had your dinner of course. And a nap. Look, let’s say two hours. Hmm, by then it will be dark. Tell you what, we’ll set off at first light. Well, tennish. Eleven tops. Okay, let’s make it midday. Everyone good with that? Right, get some sleep: I don’t want sleepy troopers stumbling across an alien desert. And remember, guys, deserts aren’t always dead, so watch where you put those big white metal size twelves! Dismissed!”

__________________
Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018