Scriptwriting so brilliant it can make your brain hurt

Turned out I was not the only one who heard the brilliant line "What color is the sky in your world?" and could not forget it.

We all know Steven Moffat is a "national treasure" (like Judy Dench) and expect greatness as a matter of course. But in this episode Karen Gillan's character (in an alternate dimension where she is sort of a she-god) is being pursued by the alt version of the young man who, in our reality, she is already married to. In the alt-world, she was ignoring him completely until the good Doctor Who pointed out the young man's romantic intentions. So she starts to pay attention. And gets the message. As the boy continues his puppydog attempts to woo her, she takes the initiative with the grandest REVERSE-PROPOSAL in the history of the written word ... an unforgettable line of dialog delivered with her back to the young man as she strides down a hallway with him following .... "We should GET A COFFEE some time ... and MARRIED."

In the opener, Steven Weber's politically incorrect character sees a gorgeous girl walking across their "mini-me" airport and mumbles "Major Hooters." The young lady takes offense so, without missing a beat, he extends his hand as an introduction, "Major Bob Hooters, nice to meet you."

American Gods is such an extraordinary evolution in the history of scriptwriting that, frankly, I am still trying to digest it. This episode is a bizarre piece of backstory in an amazing series which is itself so bizarre that even the frontstory barely makes sense. Except to those of us already heavily medicated. In the scene in which Emily Browning's character, recently revived from the dead, for reasons not entirely clear, is chatting with a facsimile of Annubis, the God of Death (whom she had cheated by being magically revived), Annubis tries to probe her complicated relationship with her husband, a relationship that appears to have changed, as it were, "post-mortem." The dialog goes:
Anubis: Was it love?
Laura: It wasn't. But I suppose it is now.
Anubis: That is unfortunate. Love will always have you at a disadvantage.
Laura: I think being dead has me at a disadvantage.

In this uber-creepy series, which is also addictive, Philip Glenister's loopy preacher is a joy to watch. So much frailty behind such a tough exterior. There is a particularly memorable scene where, for no obvious reason, Wrenn Schmidt's character tries to commit suicide and Glenister's character rescues her. As Schmidt recovers, she seems to expect a lecture from the good Rev? Instead, she gets one of the greatest non-sequitors in the history of TV, a line of gibberish that rhymes -- "Not my job to judge. Like the Good Book says, there are troubles of more than one kind. Some come from ahead and some come from behind." Schmidt considers this and then squeaks, "That's not the Bible! That's Doctor Seuss!" Without skipping a beat, Glenister replies, "STILL A GREAT BOOK!"

Episode 89 of this series is still an object of awe and wonder even today. The "dual meaning" of the book title (stolen from the ETs and translated secretly) has a message just as relevant today as then. OMG, it's a cookbook!

In the 1985 reboot, a mathematician has a battle of wits with the Devil. The Devil explains that he is all-powerful, and a Master of Time and Space. However, he offers the mathematician one last chance to win his soul back. All the mortal has to do is present the Devil with a task he cannot perform. The mathematician considers this and replies, "OK, Get Lost."

The episode that changed the face of network TV. I think it is still being taught in film classes. Buffy and Angel (the bad vampire who was cursed to get his soul back, making him a "good' vampire forever carrying the memories of the evil he had done, and suffering eternally for that) decide to "get busy" (Whedon would later explain how much debate the production team had about that) and the one single, resulting, moment of joy (according to the terms of the original curse) transforms Angel back into into his old soul-less self. He then sets about destroying everything and everyone Buffy loves. This reverse take on the vampire myth was not only original and unique but on an unconscious level it brought to the fore the age-old notion that love and hate are themselves only a razor's edge apart. Whedon deserved the praise for this one. This outrageous arc bored into the collective consciousness so quickly that, later in the series, the writers were comfortable writing dialog where Boreanaz himself would pretend to get offended if another character thought he had temporarily "turned evil." And the audience lapped this up. TV history was being made.

The one of a kind spin that Whedon brought to Buffy was imitated in this "modern western" where the anti-hero assumes the identity of a dead lawman and uses the badge to sort out his personal problems. The core premise was not 100% unique - this twist had been used here and there -- but was never used as the base for an entire series and frankly had never been used so well. One of the greatest iterations of TV 3.0.

I am on record predicting that "early Whedon" will be remembered by purists as being better than late Whedon, when the suits and the accountants got to him. Buried in this episode is one of the best 7-word throwaway lines in the history of TV. Whedon, not yet aware that one day his name will be synonymous with the Marvel library, riffs off the infamous Bruce Banner line "You wouldn't like me when I am angry" in this otherwise forgettable episode about a girl named Bettany whom Angel needs to rescue before Wolfram and Hart can get her. She stays at Angel's HQ (the old hotel) and in the middle of the night shows up in Angel's room, looking for action, but still awkward. "I can make you happy," she stammers. Without a blink Angel replies deadpan, "You wouldn't like me when I am happy." One short sentence that simultaneously riffs off BOTH the Hulk legend and the Buffy legend at the same time! Wow.

Among hard-core anime fans, this unique and (so far) one of a kind series may not be considered perhaps the best-ever, but it rates darn close in terms of animation, story and brutal dialog. In episode 22, the "hero" (a former Japanese salary-man who unintentionally got involved with the underworld) goes out of his way to rescue a young female student who was kidnapped by a local gang. After a brilliant rescue, the "damsel in distress" reveals herself to be the head of a rival gang and tears a strip off the hero in one of the memorable dissertations on the nature of Good and Evil I have ever heard, effectively turning all notions of "hero" and "victim" completely unside down. The series is known far and wide as an action series but this episode in particular comes across almost as a morality play and it is both provocative and brilliantly penned.

Let's start with a confession. Although I have seen some extraordinary moments of creativity on TV over the years, the series that inspired me to create this list was AVATAR THE LAST AIRBENDER. Not the film version - ugh! -- and definitely not Korra. The original. I have seen it twice through (so far). The second time I took detailed notes. Aside from the sharpness of the writing and the deft wit, there are layers upon layers here I have never encountered before. Avatar TLA is in my view the most sophisticated writing project in the history of TV. This episode for example "seems" to be simply about the gang getting lost on a hostile island. But if you re-watch and pay attention to what is actually being said, you will find, buried deep in this ANIMATED CHILDREN'S SHOW (!?!) a summary of what many scholars believe to be the oldest religious doctrine on our planet, one that goes back tens of thousands of years into prehistory, and one which simply says that everything is "connected" to everything else. Just like our best Quantum Physics theorists.

Let's, for now, not go into the superb IRONY that this Marvel TV show, a wonderful iteration of what I like to call TV 3.0, packs more metaphysical fun into a single episode than the entire Marvel Dr. Strange movie (released a few months earlier) which cost a zillion times more. Because this is not an "irony" list and therefore that factoid is beyond the purview of this commentary. Instead, let's look at the cleverness in the way the hero David (played by Dan Stevens) uses his "power" to construct a representation of his "rational self" in time of need. There is a marvellous and unforgettable script conceit in the way David notices that this new construct of himself, sent to rescue him, speaks with a perfect British accent. When he questions the other version of himself as to ... why the accent? ... the other version simply underscores that this is his "rational" counterpart. The implication? If each of us could fabricate a construct of our rational side, how could it NOT speak with a Brit accent??? That alone should have you on the floor laughing. About 2 minutes later, "David Prime" becomes a willing participant in this "inner dialog" and is merrily explaining to his new construct (the one with the accent) how he got into the mess, and how he might get out. As his enthusiasm grows, he (David Prime) suddenly adopts a British accent of his own, as if to bond with his own alt-version. And -- remember that Dan Stevens is playing both roles simultaneously!! -- the construct, who boasts a perfect British accent, immediately mocks the sloppy British accent that David Prime tried to put on. This humor is fast, quick, brutal --- and if you blink YOU MIGHT MISS IT. Which qualifes it for this list. And, even more fun, it harks back to a long-overlooked scene in HOUSE (also so quick you could have missed it) where Hugh Laurie, as British as an English Pub, playing an American doctor with a perfect American accent, tries to phone a colleague in London and, for about 10 seconds, tries to put on a "terrible British accent" just to make that colleague feel more comfortable. Same gag, just as fast, just as funny.

A decade or so ago it was much easier to find "pure" Joss Whedon, that is, material both written and directed by Joss. Today Joss is protected by many layers of corporatism and getting to the good stuff is harder. This episode was written by Whedon. Regardless of what you might think of the "long arc" in the series (which has become a bit dark for my taste) in this episode John Hannah's character gives a brilliant dissertation on the nature of reality (all the more appropriate given recent scientific views that reality itself may be a simulation) only to find that his "creation," the anatomically perfect AIDA, has found a paradox in her own programming. Initially he pooh-poohs her concerns ... but by the time he realizes she is dead-serious, it is too late. And the very words "dead serious" take on new meaning. This short arc is brilliant and list-worthy. It is as good as any similar arc from any episode of Star Trek ever filmed ... and probably better.

"SORRY DOESN'T FEED THE CAT!" (Hey, don't make that face. You know you are going to try to use it in a coversation.)

"Why would you strike a blind man TWICE for the same offense?" (says blind Master Po as he allows himself to be hit once but intercepts the second blow).

"YOU AND I REMEMBER BUDAPEST VERY DIFFERENTLY." If you have been paying attention to the patterns in this list, it will come as no surprise that the script for the first Avengers feature was written by Joss Whedon. How good is this guy? Thought you would never ask. A 7 word sentence -- called a "throwaway" in the biz because it connects to nothing else -- is uttered by Hawkeye to Natasha and, based on those 7 words and nothing else, millions of viewers around the world "knew" that something romantic had happened between the two, and the chat rooms were a-buzz. Even better, Whedon delivered the line in a way which defined the difference between the sexes -- still using only 7 little words -- to a degree that has eluded professors and scholars for centuries.

"One of the most revered tropes in the biz and I traced it back to this episode. Secret Agent, trained professional, John Drake, to complete his assignment, pretends to be a butler attached to a summer home where the bad guy is staying. McGoohan, never less than brilliant, gives the performance of his life as a strong independent man forced to pretend to be a mere "gentleman's gentleman." There is an iconic scene here where the villain, thinking Drake is a mere butler, berates him verbally. Drake smiles stoically through it all, but a closeup shows that he clenched his fist so tightly he actually shattered a wine glass he was holding. But the piece de resistance was the skeet shooting scene. This was the original, shamelessly copied ever since. Sensing there is something odd about his new butler, the villain invites Drake to try his hand at skeet shooting. After first missing all but one himself, the villain hands the gun to Drake who all the while is protesting this is not his style. Grudgingly, Drake shoots --- a perfect score. Stunned, the villain asks Drake if he had ever shot skeet before? No, reveals Drake with truly scary sincerity, THAT WAS HIS FIRST TIME.

Having seen this episode as a child it was burned into my brain. Only later, with the help of Google, did I find that tens of thousands like me had never forgotten it either. Zorro, possibly one of the greatest swordsmen alive, has to deal with the fact that a fencing master has been summoned to find him and kill him. At one point the fencing master has a falling out with his evil comrades and kidnaps an innocent. There is no time to change identities, so it is Don Diego not Zorro that has to challenge the man. Don Diego, a buffoon with a sword, must take on the master. The villain promises to make the end quick. Don Diego, who can barely hold a sword correctly, keeps apologizing for not knowing what to do yet, AMAZINGLY, as if by accident, manages to parry every move from the master; ultimately, in a wild and clumsy attack, disarming the professional. It is an unforgettable trope but it must be considered that the writers were "inspired" by Danny Kaye's hit movie COURT JESTER from the prior year, which contained a similar but "backwards" trope -- Kaye's character was really a buffoon but under hypnosis became the greatest swordsman alive. (see also #61 below)

Much has been made of the trope in the original Fistful of Dollars (where in the finale the villain successfully fires killshots into Eastwood's heart with a rifle, not knowing there is a metal plate hidden there, and after each unsuccessful shot Eastwood closes the distance to finally achieve pistol range) but amazingly no one ever talks about the carefully structured showdown in this nearly-perfect, almost-ignored movie. Early in the film Selleck's character drops a throwaway line to the villain that he "never cared" for Colt's invention of the pistol, and much prefers his rifle. As the film brilliantly works up to the showdown, the villain, who considers himself a whiz with a handgun, makes a show of giving Selleck a loaded colt-45 for the finale, smirking all the while. Selleck not only outdraws and kills the villain, but (in true Eastwood style) the villain's two flanking henchmen at the very same time. Just before the villain dies, he looks confused and surprised. Selleck delivers one of the most unappreciated lines of dialog in film history: "I said I have no use for them ... I never said I didn't know how to use one!"

Geena Davis' last major movie was a pet project. As an amnesiac killer trying to retrieve skills (a strange yet endearing take on Bourne) she suddenly discovers she can cut a carrot like a pro. Her family (part of her amnesiac "cover story" which she now thinks is real, and they don't know any better) tries to help by tossing her vegetables from the fridge. She catches them in one hand, cuts them with the other. "I am a chef," she trills happily, thinking the amnesia is finally cured. Then an apple is tossed to her and in a moment of glee she throws the apple up into the air, picks up a large kitchen knife and -- like in a circus act -- throws the knife in a blur of motion and pins the helpless apple to a cupboard door, almost cut perfectly in half. Her family looks just a little dismayed. She however retains her optimism -- "CHEFS DO THAT!?"

This HBO special was not a shining moment in Miller's career and was way too political. But Iron Man 2 (also a weak effort) had had just come out, and Miller quipped one of the greatest comic "put-downs" of all time in reference to the highly eccentric (and very strange) Mickey Rourke, who played a villain in the IM film. In the scene shown on the monitor, Rourke walked onto a race track (with a race in progress) brandishing a set of uber-long electrical whips that protruded from a device strapped to his back. His outfit was made of leather and open chested. As Rourke's character sauntered along, he would "whip" the passing race cars, essentially cutting them in half, and then continue walking, smiling all the while. As the clip on the monitor finished, Miller quipped, "I wonder if Mickey even knows he is in a movie?"

This entry appears only for completeness in case there are sticklers reading this list who DEMAND to know why the infamous and iconic trope from Raiders (where Ford confronts a sort of crazed blade-wielding martial arts beserker who does a little dance before attacking ... then Ford pulls a pistol and shoots him!) is missing -- BECAUSE IT WAS NOT PART OF THE SCRIPT! It was ad-libbed by Ford. And the director, the unsinkable Steven Spielberg, used the take.

Following the rock-solid first entry, IM2 was a mjajor disappointment. However, from a dreary script with dreary characters, this bit of "sales" dialog was written for the over-drawn and cartoonish Justin Hammer character, describing a miniature missile about the size of a cigar:
"These are the Cubans, baby. This is the Cohibas; the Montecristos. This is a kinetic-kill, side-winder vehicle with a secondary cyclotrimethylenetrinitramine RDX burst. It's capable of busting a bunker under the bunker you just busted. If it were any smarter, it'd write a book, a book that would make Ulysses look like it was written in crayon. It would read it to you. This is my Eiffel Tower. This is my Rachmaninoff's Third. My Piéta. It's completely elegant, it's bafflingly beautiful, and it's capable of reducing the population of any standing structure to zero. I call it "The Ex-Wife.""

Ultron (before his death): "You are unbearably naive."
Vision: "Well I WAS born yesterday."
And there goes a great signature line of dialog in a film which over time is likely to become known as "Whedon's Folly." Personally I do not for a moment believe that Joss, the master of the written word, cranked out this script entirely on his own. I believe some studio hacks gave him a set of paramters and a checklist of things which "had" to be in the script. The result was a 3 hour piece of trash -- a movie that required cybernetic implants just to be able to watch it in one sitting -- which some poor editor had to whittle down to 02:21 before completely losing his mind. There are a few neat things in this, here and there (the scenes with Linda Cardellini come to mind, the only sympatico character in the movie) but overall this film is a disaster. Even the studio, who probably caused the problem in the first place, considered it a dud.