Curmudgeon's Corner (3): Hollywood Don't Know Dick

      Smokey Burner, the Broken Stove’s resident curmudgeon, wants the carnage to stop. No, Smokey isn’t referring to man’s violence against man, but rather to Hollywood’s serial rape and pillage of the works of one man—Philip K. Dick.
      Back in high school, Smokey saw “Blade Runner” for the first time. Once he got over seeing Han Solo with a crew cut, and accepted the reality that Harrison Ford was not in fact obligated to play Han Solo for the rest of his life, Smokey enjoyed one of the best science fiction movies of all time. Smokey immediately rushed to read the movie’s source material, the novel "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?" by some dude named Philip K. Dick. (Huh-huhh, huh-huhhh you just totally said “Dick.” Remember, Smokey was in high school). Once he got over the fact that the book had very little in common with the movie it produced, Smokey enjoyed an excellent speculative novel by one of the best science fiction writers of all time.
      Then something went horribly wrong. Years later, Smokey saw a preview for a Schwartzenegger movie called “Total Recall.” “Wait a minute,” thought Smokey,“ they stole that business about implanted memories and a virtual trip to Mars from ‘We Can Remember It For You Wholesale,’” a PKD short story published in 1966 (the year between the births of the Wachowski brothers). It turns out that it wasn’t stolen but purchased; the crime came several scripts and lead actor choices later when what had been a nifty exploration of existential angst (how can we know what is real if even our senses can be manipulated? Does "real" even matter?) became yet another loud, stupid, f/x action vehicle (what else can we blow up?). Of course, as such, it made lots of money. The stampede for PKD options was on.
      Since then, Smokey has doggedly sat through every PKD adaptation that Hollywood has vomited forth: “Screamers,” “Imposter,” “Minority Report,” “Paycheck,” “A Scanner Darkly,” and just this morning on DVD, “Next.” The credits for “Next” claim that it’s based on “the novel story ‘The Golden Man’” by PKD. The “novel story?” Are they trying to trick us into believing it’s a novel and not just a short story? Does that matter in any way?
      “The Golden Man” is set in the near future, where a nuclear war has led to the appearance of mutant humans, some obviously deformed and weak, others who appear normal but display disturbing powers that frighten the authorities into creating a special police division to round them up (it was originally published in 1954, when Chris Claremont, creator of “The Uncanny X-Men” was four). One mutant, Cris Johnson, is golden-skinned, physically irresistible to women, and, the police discover late in the story, can actually see a short distance into the future. He displays no sentience, merely a will to survive, and his continued existence might spell the end of the human race—ordinary humans wouldn’t be able to compete with his progeny.
      “Next,” the movie ostensibly based on this “novel story,” stars Nicolas Cage as Cris Johnson (so far, so good), a spray-tanned, golden-jacket wearing lounge magician who can see exactly 2 minutes into his own future—for some unknown reason—and uses that ability to eke out a modest, discreet living playing blackjack at the casinos. Except there’s one woman (Jessica Biel), whose future he can see farther into—for some unknown reason. Cris—for some unknown reason—has drawn the attention of FBI agent Ferris (Julianne Moore) who is trying to track down some vaguely European baddies who have stolen a nuke and are about to detonate it in L.A.—for some unknown reason. Ferris is convinced that Cris’s skill will help her find said baddies. Oh, and Peter Falk has a cameo—for some unknown reason.
      Let’s tot up the similarities, shall we?

1. a guy named Cris Johnson
2. limited prescience
3. …um…Smokey’s gonna count nukes, just to bring it to 3.

Smokey could make similar two-paragraph juxtapositions between the other great PKD stories and the mostly awful movies they “inspired,” but Smokey’s too lazy for that. Trust Smokey on this one; there’s a pattern of abuse.
      “So Smokey,” you ask, “who’s to blame? Whose yard should I toilet paper to stop the insanity?” Sadly, Smokey fears it’s too late for toilet paper, except perhaps to dab at your tears while you watch the latest evisceration of a beloved PKD story. “Valis,” “Flow My Tears the Policeman Said,” and “The Short Happy Life of the Brown Oxford” are currently bouncing around Hollywood; “Owl in Daylight” and “Radio Free Albemuth” are already in production. Dick’s children own the rights to his work, and according to a 2003 article in Wired, they’re only selling them at very high prices to established producers, effectively eliminating the possibility for any of them to be filmed by an enthusiastic and understanding artist outside of the Hollywood machine. So here’s Smokey’s telegram to the Dick family:

Your father’s legacy now assured stop
All books back in print or soon to be stop
You are now very wealthy stop
Please please stop