John Carpenter Fanfiction: THE COMPLETE CARPY CHRONICLES

With all of the links simply assembled for your reading pleasure. The untold story of John Carpenter and Kurt Russell's CAPTAIN RON 2: CAPTAIN RON VERSUS THE FOG.

CARPY & THE CAP'N PART I: LOS ANGELES PRELUDE
CARPY & THE CAP'N PART II: RETURN TO POINT REYES
CARPY & THE CAP'N PART III: SEASON OF THE WITCH


These stories appeared as a part of Radiator Heaven's kickass John Carpenter blogathon.

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John Carpenter Fanfiction: CARPY & THE CAP'N- PART 3: SEASON OF THE WITCH (2010, Sean Gill)

CARPY & THE CAP'N:

A NEW WORK OF JOHN CARPENTER FAN-FICTION

BY SEAN GILL


Author's Note: This piece was preceded by
PART I: LOS ANGELES PRELUDE
and
PART II: RETURN TO POINT REYES.


PART III.
SEASON OF THE WITCH.

9.
10:37 P.M. April 27, 1993. Grauman's Chinese Theater, Hollywood, California.

Outside of Grauman's Chinese theater, all was quiet. The stillness was quite remarkable given the sheer amount number of raucous Cap'n Ron fans in attendance, John Carpenter thought as he thrust his hands deeply in his pockets. He paced back and forth, quite aimlessly. He'd survived a sufficient number of premieres to shed any real, crippling anxieties, yet his legs were still restless. He turned toward the theater again. It was draped with four enormous one-sheets, symmetrically arranged. The posters looked like this:
He glanced at his watch. The film should be ending any moment now. Suddenly, one of the doors swung open, and a tuxedo'd Kurt Russell strode out, purposefully.
"The big zinger's comin' up!" gushed Kurt.

"You didn't want to see their reactions?"
"Nah, I wanted to be out here with you, Johnny. We'll see their reactions soon enough, HAW-HAW-HAWWW!"

Faintly, he could hear the closing credits strains of the Coupe de Villes' "O Captain! My Captain (Ron)." A murmur within grew to a roar, and suddenly the red carpet was teeming with well-dressed Hollywood professionals and professional hangers-on (all equipped with martinis, of course). John was faced with a line of well-wishers, and while it was pleasant, he began to zone out their smiling faces and kind words and focus in on random martini chatter in the background. Here's some of what he heard:

"I didn't understand- is it a sequel to CAPTAIN RON, THE FOG, CHRISTINE, or ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK? Or is it all of them?"

"Ho-leee shit, that reveal of Snake Plissken at the end blew my goddamned mind! Now I have to rewatch CAPTAIN RON and check for foreshadowing! How did I not see it? They've even got the same eyepatch! It's like how Clark Kent fooled the staff of the Daily Planet!"

"Soooo lame. Carpenter's losing it. It's all been downhill since THE RESURRECTION OF BRONCHO BILLY. And what was with that soundtrack? It sounded like it was recorded by some old dudes in a basement."

"I liked it. A lot. But I must admit I was creeped out by all the Tom Atkins nudity."

"Wait, wait, wait. If Captain Ron and Snake Plissken are one and the same, then why doesn't shirtless Captain Ron have the snake tattoo?"
–"Because he hasn't gotten it yet, asshole! ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK takes place in 1997. This is 1993, jag-off."

"This has got to be his worst movie since THE THING. Or at least since that BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINATOWN. And the effects looked fake. Rubber and shadows. That's all it is. Why doesn't he get on board with these, uh, what're they called? From the TERMINATOR 2. Yeah, these C-G-I effects."

"Dennis Dun was born to do these kinds of movies. Why is Carpenter the only one giving him work?"

"BUCK FLOWERZ PART WUSHN'T BIG ENUFFF!"

At this last announcement, John actually turned around to see Buck Flower, dressed in a trenchcoat and swilling malt liquor from a brown paper bag. John arched a knowing eyebrow, smirked, and Buck shuffled away. As the night progressed, John became weary. He caught his eyes losing their focus and he looked down at the red carpet, now an indistinct, crimson blob. Something else that was red entered his field of vision. Something red and plaid. He shook his eyes to attention and looked up to see a kilt-wearing 'Rowdy' Roddy Piper. Piper wore an expression of sheer emotion upon his face, and there was a touch of wetness from where a single tear had streamed. Before John could say anything, he found himself caught up in a bear hug of titanic proportions.

"You're like that man you admire," pronounced Roddy.
"Who?"

"That director, did that picture with the Duke."

"Howard Hawks?"
"Yes. You show us how to live."
"Well, let's not get carried away, Roddy."

"You never admit to yourself what you are, John. You're one of the giants."
"Thank you, Roddy."

Roddy released his grip, straightened John's suit in a gesture that was at once strangely boyish and grandfatherly, and walked on. John felt renewed, somehow. He was filled with an indescribable energy he hadn't quite felt since his youth in Bowling Green. He straightened his cuffs and turned to face... Adrienne Barbeau.

"Adrienne, great to see you." They hugged.

"I liked it, John. Nice to see some humor after all these apocalyptic...meditations."

"Well, thank you. And thanks for being in it!"
"I figured a little voiceover cameo was the least I could do."
"I think it's nice for the audience to know that Stevie Wayne's still out there, somewhere, broadcasting snappy jazz and sultry weather reports."
Adrienne chuckled. "I'll see you around, John."

As she walked away, John felt a tap on his shoulder. Before he knew it, Kurt had handed him a martini glass and raised his own in a salute. Goldie Hawn stood awkwardly behind him.
"Cheers!"
"To Captain Ron..." offered John.
"To the best damn buddy I ever had," said Kurt.
"Cheers." John took a sip, but was immediately repulsed by the taste of coconut-infused monstrosity that rippled in his glass. "Wait a minute- is this-??!"

"It's Malibu, Johnny-boy! HAW HAWWWW!!!"
"Ye Gods!" exclaimed John, swishing his tongue in a futile attempt to cleanse his palate. The two men laughed for a long time.

10.
7:27 P.M. May 13, 1993. The basement of Nick Castle.

"Naw, Jamie, it's a little quicker than that. Up-tempo. Two, three, four!"
The Coupe de Villes rocked out harder than ever. They had a whole new slate of hot songs from the CAPTAIN RON soundtrack, ranging from pleasant ditties like "(He's the) Captain of the Ship" and "She Lives in Antonio Bay" to dark prog rock tracks like "Into the Fog," a song featuring a six-minute guitar solo by Tommy Lee Wallace which everyone agreed was downright Stygian. But for now, there was a new face amongst the Coupe de Villes: Jamie Lee Curtis, on drums. For some reason, she was wearing her costume from PERFECT.
Of course, she was only sitting in for a few rehearsals, but she'd felt so bad about missing out on CAPTAIN RON VERSUS THE FOG that she felt indebted to the band.
"Rockin' practice, fellas. ...And lady," remarked Nick Castle.
"I agree," said John.
"What about the elephant in the room?" asked Tommy.
"What about this?" Tommy waved a copy of Variety in the air. John, knowing what was coming, pursed his lips. Nick and Jamie looked to the magazine with interest.
"Says here that 'CAPTAIN RON VERSUS THE FOG is a futile exercise in self-promotion,' blah blah blah, 'an excuse to get his cronies a soundtrack album deal,' blah blah, 'a rip-roaring good time for no one, unless you're the cretinous sort who sees BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA as the pinnacle of film art,' blah blah, uh... and here: 'certainly the front runner for worst film of the year, and I've already seen BOXING HELENA, SUPER MARIO BROTHERS, and COP AND A HALF.'
There was a long pause, and Jamie Lee Curtis and the Coupe de Villes eyed one another, unsure what to say.
"Don't you care?" asked Tommy. "It's the Inquisition! It's SEASON OF THE WITCH all over again!"
"No," replied John. "I don't. These things might not really find their audiences for ten, twenty years or more. And the people who like 'em, LOVE 'em. I didn't make my movie for these flavor-of-the-month simpletons. I didn't give them any thought when I was making it. So I'll especially give them no thought afterward."
"John's right, you gotta put it out of your mind, or you'll just torture yourself. And over what? Some pencil neck in an office who doesn't know shit from Shinola," concurred Jamie.
"Check this out," offered Nick, pulling a different publication from his back pocket. "Cahiers du cinéma. It's their half-year issue, and they've assembled a list of the best films of 1993 so far. See, look who's number two... US!"
"Who's number one?" inquired Tommy.
"CARLITO'S WAY," read Nick. "So if Cahiers didn't have such a hard-on for all things De Palma, we'd be number one."
"YAH-EH-YUHH!" screamed Tommy, offering his fist. Nick placed his hand atop his, and John followed suit.
"What's happening?" wondered Jamie.
"It's a little thing we do," explained John. "Call it a secret handshake."
"COOOOOOOOOOOP DE VILLES!!!" they yowled, in unison.

11.

5:27 P.M. June 13, 1993. John Carpenter's home. Hollywood Hills, California.

John Carpenter reclined on his couch as Kurt Russell noisily wolfed down a super nacho platter. They were watching the third game of the 1993 NBA finals, a much-anticipated match between Phoenix and Chicago.
Watching basketball together was a common activity for John and Kurt; occasionally they'd spend hours together without even speaking at all, and yet it still felt to them like quality time. Today's game was not particularly thrilling, and neither was feeling very invested.
"What you got comin' up, Johnny?"
"Oh, yeah. Forgot to tell you. Anthology movie on Showtime called BODY BAGS. Premieres in August. Gonna be doing some acting in this one."
"Yeah? "
"Well, not a lot of acting. More like the narrator. A master of ceremonies."
"HAAAAA! You think you're Rod Serling, Johnny-boy?"
"Nah, I'm more of a Ghoul, or something."
"Good, so you won't need to hire a makeup artist... HAAAWWWW HAAAWW!"
"Verrrry amusing, Kurt."
"I'm just jerkin' yer turkey, man. Heh, heh."
"What about you?"
"Little flick called TOMBSTONE."
"That's right. A Western. Damn. Who's directing?"
"I am," Kurt whispered softly, winking. "But don't tell anybody. On the record, it's a guy named Cosmatos. Stallone gave me the lowdown on TANGO & CASH."
"Well, well..." John pondered, "who'd've thought you'd ever be directing, and I'd be acting? Or that you'd be directing a Western before I did?"
"It's the CAPTAIN RON thing. He turns everybody's lives upside down. It's what he does."
John smirked and took a swig of his beer.
"But you have no idea, Johnny– everything I know about directing, I learned from you."
"I don't think I'd be such a great teacher- 'John Carpenter' films are the only kind I know how to make."
Kurt chuckled, but then looked away, collecting himself. His manner became quite serious. "I, uh, don't know if I ever told you this, Johnny, but... I always saw you as a big brother. And now, gettin' to do what you do- in a manner of speaking- it's uh... I don't know what. It's great."
"Thank you, Kurt, that means a lot."
"Pity about CAPTAIN RON 2, though."
"Don't worry, it'll find its audience down the line."
"That's cold comfort to the Cap'n. But you know what I think?"
"What?"
"Remember the tale of Walt Disney's last words?" Kurt was referring to the legend that just before Walt Disney died, he had summoned for a pencil and paper, written the words 'Kurt Russell,' and then expired.
"Yeah. I thought you didn't believe it."
"Well, I'm still friendly with a lot of folks at Disney, and a few weeks ago they let me down into the vault. Showed me the actual piece of paper. It certainly had the look of authenticity. You can't fake that dead man's scrawl. And it said, 'Kurt Russell,' alright. But there was something about the placement of the name, and a purposeful stroke to the right. It's almost as if it were the beginning of a sentence which was never finished. Now maybe it was a misfiring synapse, he'd just seen FOLLOW ME, BOYS!, and he had my name in his mind by mistake when he really meant to write something else... Or maybe he had a vision of the future. Maybe he was going to write- 'Kurt Russell, team up with John Carpenter and make some of the best damn movies of all time.'"
"I don't think old Walt would have held a favorable view of THE THING."
"Oh, shoosh it. I'm trying to say something nice."
"Well, thank you, Kurt. You're a treasure, too."

12.

8:56 P.M. June 13, 1993. The interior of Kurt Russell's pick-up truck.

Kurt chawed on a gargantuan ham sammy as he drove home from John Carpenter's place. It was a lovely Sunday evening, and the sun was still setting as he made his journey through Laurel Canyon. His car phone began ringing, and, setting down his sandwich, he picked up the receiver.
"Kurt?"
"Hiya, Goldie."
"You on your way home?"
"Yup. Yessiree, the check is in the mail."
"What?"
"Nevermind. Ten minutes."
"Okay, honey. See you soon."
"Bye." Kurt moved to place the receiver in its cradle, but paused. Without thinking, he picked it up again, and began speaking, despite the fact there was no one on the other end:
"Just remember what ol' Kurt Russell does when the earth quakes, and the poison arrows fall from the sky, and the pillars of Heaven shake. Yeah, Kurt Russell just looks that big ol' storm right square in the eye and he says, 'Give me your best shot, pal. I can take it.'" He sharply hung up the phone, chortling privately to himself.

Meanwhile, in the bed of the truck, the desert wind fluttered a tarp, briefly revealing none other than Powers Boothe, curled and crouched and ready to spring, a devious grin upon his lips.
In the distance, heat lightning flashed and thunder rumbled and somewhere a scrappy kid was watching BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA for the first time and life was good.

THE END

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John Carpenter Fanfiction: CARPY & THE CAP'N- PART 2: RETURN TO POINT REYES (2010, Sean Gill)

CARPY & THE CAP'N:

A NEW WORK OF JOHN CARPENTER FAN-FICTION

BY SEAN GILL


Author's Note: If you missed Part I: Los Angeles Prelude, may I suggest that you read it before proceeding.

PART II.
RETURN TO POINT REYES.

6.

6:35 P.M. June 21, 1992. The Old Western Saloon. Point Reyes, California.

The fifth day of the shoot had just come to a close, and John ruminated upon on the previous week's events while sitting by a pot-bellied stove and sipping on a bourbon. The film had been beset by a number of problems, but the cast and crew were still keeping their heads above water- so to speak. When he'd arrived on the 15th, though the actors' call wasn't for two days, Dennis Dun was already there, getting the lay of the land and doing some research on his character.
He'd be playing 'Captain Kwon,' and John didn't have the heart to tell him that any preparation might be too much, considering the level of dignity (or lack thereof) which the part entailed.

On the 17th, the rest of the actors arrived- familiar faces like Buck Flower, Peter Jason, Tom Atkins. Unfortunately, a few of the former principals were unavailable- Jamie Lee Curtis was off shooting pick-ups for FOREVER YOUNG, and Adrienne Barbeau was caught up in a miniseries called THE BURDEN OF PROOF, but on such short notice, John considered that it was to be expected. The most notable newcomer was the actor playing 'Blake.' The original Blake, of course, had been obscured by makeup and shadow and was played by special effects artist Rob Bottin. (When John had called to tell him he'd been 'replaced,' Rob had feigned indignation, and they'd joked around for a bit- but Rob was in the thick of it on a third ROBOCOP movie, so they didn't have a chance to adequately catch up.) The new guy was a fearsome gent whose performance as Philip Marlowe had really struck a chord for John- his name was Powers Boothe, and John was confident that he'd get on famously with the ensemble.

Kurt rolled in a bit late ("Captain Ron time" and all that), but John couldn't grouse too much because another actor was even later than he– "Rowdy" Roddy Piper.
Roddy, who would be playing Captain Ron's brother "Nardo," blew in on the afternoon of the 18th, but then insisted so sincerely that he'd misplaced his daily organizer in the wrong kilt and misremembered the date, that John felt strangely guilty for his premature annoyance.

The first scene they shot was a flashback between Captain Ron and Nardo, and John was immediately unsettled by the odd vocal affectation that Kurt was employing.
"What's with the voice, Kurt?"
"AHHHAAA! What, you don't like it, Johnny? It's Cap'n Ron's voice! Gotta keep it for continuity!"
John looked to Sandy, who shrugged her shoulders. "Continuity," she conceded.
John made something of a half-scowl which slowly transformed into a bemused smile. "This is CAPTAIN RON VERSUS THE FOG, after all," he told himself.
"I love the voice!" gushed 'Rowdy' Roddy Piper. "Can I do one, too?"
"Sure, sure," John consented. "Do whatever you want."

John overcame this dangerous initial detachment, and some of the best work thus far had occurred on the second day. It was full of action scenes, and John could settle straight in to the 'pure cinema' aspect of it.
Dennis Dun swished swords and swashed buckles, Powers Boothe looked scary as hell putting 'Rowdy' Roddy into a headlock, and Kurt swung across a deck on a rope like Tarzan. While it wasn't exactly Hawks, he was finding himself embracing the sort of filmmaking that hadn't really been seen since the days of Errol Flynn and Basil Rathbone. But he was finding the horror aspect to be somewhat lacking. Attempts at forcing Kurt and Rowdy Roddy to embrace the spirit of the picture and read H.P. Lovecraft's THE SHADOW OVER INNSMOUTH or THE DUNWICH HORROR ended in failure; but he finally convinced them to read THE TERRIBLE OLD MAN, which was only four pages long. The problem was not illiteracy, per sé– it was Kurt's Malibu n' margarita obsession that had now spilled over onto Roddy. These kitschy hi-jinks were not affecting the quality of their performances, John surmised, but they certainly had to be affecting the quality of their leisure time.

7.

8:19 P.M. June 21, 1992. Near Tomales Bay, California.

John left the bar and, lighting up a cigarette, walked down a dirt road toward the marshes at Tomales Bay. Captain Ron's ship, The Wanderer (a Formosa 51 yacht weathered and painted for a vintage look) was docked by the shore.

On deck, he could see Kurt gyrating and boogieing about for an audience comprised of Buck Flower and Roddy Piper. Buck shook dollar bills about in the air and pumped his fists, apparently believing himself to be in attendance at a dogfight. John felt the brisk sea breeze blowing against his face and through his hair. He heard the silly debaucheries in the distance and gentle waters lapping against the smooth hull of the Wanderer. "This," he thought, "is why I do what I do." He stood there for a long time, eyes closed, his idyll uninterrupted... until a booming voice emerged from the empty space beside him.
"Hell of a sunset, isn't it, Carpenter."
John opened his eyes and turned to see Powers Boothe regarding the seascape with reverence.
"Sure is."
"Blake would see it as an invitation. The cold, beckoning finger which wrenches him nightly from a watery grave."
"What do you see it as, Powers?"
"What I see it as isn't worth a tin shit. While I'm here, I'll look like Blake, I'll talk like Blake. I'll think like Blake."
"Maybe you and Blake just have a lot in common."
Powers stared into his eyes with a coldness and precision which chilled him, and then chuckled, smiling.
"I'll see you around, Carpenter."
"Twelve noon, Captain Ron time."
"No..." Powers focused his eyes on a point in the distance. "I'll see you on 'Blake time.'"
"Oh yeah, when's that?"
"ANYTIME...." Powers winked. "Every time... All time..." Powers continued to mutter as he walked off.
John continued to watch the sunset, but with vague trepidation. "It's good," he thought to himself, "to be on one's toes while shooting a horror picture."

8.

10:45 P.M. July 20, 1992. The Lighthouse at Drake's Bay.

The final day of shooting. It had been a real doozy. They'd managed to pack so much into one day already, and yet they still had one final scene to shoot. John reflected on the day's events and the Herculean accomplishments of the cast and crew:

At 11:00 AM, they'd shot Tom Atkins' nude scene. It was a closed set, but Kurt and Roddy had managed to sneak in, and they made noises approximating flatulence throughout by pumping their cupped hands in their armpits, much to John's chagrin. Gary Kibbe, being a pro of the highest degree, got the shots he needed anyway.

At 2:00, they'd shot Buck Flower's big death scene. In the first FOG movie, Buck played a character named 'Tommy Wallace' who had met a grisly, watery end. In the second, he played a character named 'Lee Wallace ('Tommy's' brother) who met a grisly, watery end. "How come you play such a good hobo?" asked Sandy, a few days into the shoot. Buck grinned a terrible grin from behind his unkempt, fleecy whiskers, and suddenly any answer whatsoever would have been entirely redundant.At 5:00, they shot Blake's monologue, which was one of the centerpieces of the script. There'd been a lot of argument about whether or not Blake should actually speak, but as soon as Powers had been cast, the decision was unanimous: to not let him speak would be a crime. Powers nailed it in one take. When John had congratulated him on his excellent work, Powers curiously closed his eyes and inhaled and exhaled with great purpose. Much later, nearly everyone present would claim they had felt an icy chill and seen a green mist curling under the door, despite the fact that all of the fog machines had been safely powered down...

At 7:00, they did the close-ups for the chase scene. The stunt driving was long in the can (shot in late June), but to finish the scene was something special- you see, it involved a 1958 Plymouth Fury (a car quite familiar to fans of CHRISTINE) being driven by Kurt Russell.
Dennis Dun was riding shotgun, and slinging verbal barbs to and fro with Kurt. John figured that Kurt would heartily enjoy getting behind the wheel of a '58 Fury, but he only razzed him for all the ones he'd needlessly destroyed during CHRISTINE. "It wasn't needless," protested John, but Kurt loudly unleashed some witty jeer about "hot roddin' sonsawbitches" which drew the applause of the crew. John couldn't decide whether it was the sheer number of scenes to stage or Kurt's charming insolence which was making the day dawdle so.

At 9:30, they shot a pick-up of buddy-bonding involving Tom, Dennis, Kurt, and a few local volunteers. The scene was pure Hawks, and it was terrific to finally shoot it.
He'd briefed the boys two days earlier at a screening of RIO BRAVO in his hotel room– "He showed us ourselves, the way we area, the way we should be... that's why you gents are pulling together to engage Blake– he already got his revenge, but still he wants more. All you want to do is live self-determining lives. Blake, conversely, is self-obsessed. Blake is chaos. The title may be CAPTAIN RON VERSUS THE FOG, but that's not how Hawks would've looked at it. It's not the HIGH NOON model: GARY COOPER VERSUS THE GUNSLINGERS. It's the communal model. The RIO BRAVO model. JOHN WAYNE AND DEAN MARTIN AND RICKY NELSON AND WALTER BRENNAN VERSUS THE OUTLAWS. There's just not room for that on the marquee."

Finally, it was 10:45. Time for the final take of the final scene of the final day. The lighthouse shone ominously in the moonlight. A brisk ocean breeze was blowing into shore.
Kurt, Powers, and Roddy were ready and set. John looked through the camera's eyepiece and nodded to Gary Kibbe. He turned and smiled at Sandy. "This is the martini," Sandy declared to the crew.
"Action!"
Captain Ron dashed up the grated metal steps of the lighthouse, Blake's shadowy presence on his heels. Out of nowhere, Nardo leapt on Blake's back and the beach bum wrestled the wraith quite skillfully, allowing Captain Ron to escape to the lighthouse's roof. Enraged, Blake battled, gained the upper hand, and tossed Nardo down a flight of spiraling stairs, incapacitating him and allowing Blake to proceed to the roof where he could settle his affairs with Captain Ron. Blake glided up to the staircase's end and tore the metal portal from its hinges. Slavering like a wild beast, Blake approached Ron and the camera tracked across to a pair of feet, standing their ground quite stoically. Only they weren't the familiar sand-encrusted flip-flops we'd seen moments before– it was a pair of combat boots tightly tucked with gray camouflage pants. The camera tilted upward to reveal...

TO BE CONTINUED... IN "CARPY & THE CAP'N PART III: SEASON OF THE WITCH"...

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John Carpenter Fanfiction: CARPY & THE CAP'N– PART 1 (2010, Sean Gill)

CARPY & THE CAP'N:

A NEW WORK OF JOHN CARPENTER FAN-FICTION
BY SEAN GILL

Author's Note- if you require background information on the Coupe de Villes phenomenon, educate yourself HERE.

~~~

In perhaps an alternate universe, not so unlike our own...

PART I.
LOS ANGELES PRELUDE.

1.
11:36 P.M. February 21, 1992. Hollywood, California.

In the cool night air, the silhouettes of three men descended an otherwise deserted staircase. The red carpet which lined the steps was sullied by discarded ticket stubs and little flecks of popcorn. The steps led away from a walkway which in turn led away from a picturesque movie house, decorated in a grand style rarely seen since the heyday of the nickelodeons. Lights were systematically shut down by unseen hands, and finally even the lamps which illuminated the marquee were switched off. Before the neon dimmed, the chipped red plastic lettering on the marquee could be seen to report "MEMOIRS OF AN INVISIBLE MAN."


"It was good, John, I liked it." Tommy Lee Wallace pursed his lips as if he was going to say something more, but no words emerged.
"It's just that it was..." Nick Castle trailed off.
"'It's just that it was' what?" snapped John Carpenter, stopping in his tracks. He immediately regretted the timbre of his remark, but it was merely a gut reaction.
"Well, it was no THEY LIVE," said Nick.
"It just didn't have that Carpenter oomph," added Tommy.
"So now you didn't like it either, Tommy?"
"...The special effects were great. How'd you do that invisibility business?"
"Well, now I'm not going to tell you."
"No, I liked it, John. But that's the problem. I usually walk out of one of your films with my mind popping and reeling and aflame- filled with, I guess... pleasantly nightmarish fireworks or something. But anybody could've directed this. A talented anybody, but an anybody nonetheless."
"I think you need Kurt back," proclaimed Nick.
"Yeah, definitely give Kurt a call. It's been too long." added Tommy.
"Alright, alright." John submitted. "But when do you guys wanna get together for Coupe de Villes rehearsal?"
"How 'bout right now!" blurted out Tommy.
"I got my keyboards in the car," said Nick.
"And you know I always keep the bass in my trunk," John proclaimed.
Silently, Tommy slid his guitar out from underneath his roomy velvet jacket. John nodded slowly in approval. The three men formed a circle, placed their hands atop one another in the center, and let out a whoop– "COOOOOOOOP DE VILLES!!!"
Their jubilant cheer resonated into the oncoming desert wind.

2.

2:49 P.M. May 17, 1992. John Carpenter's home. Hollywood Hills, California.

John Carpenter's hand hesitated just above the dial on his plastic yellow telephone. It had been a long time.
Sure, he'd seen Kurt and Goldie last year, socially, but they hadn't worked together in six. And Kurt'd had all sorts of successes. Successes like BACKDRAFT. TANGO & CASH. OVERBOARD. Artistically, John pondered that he would defend THEY LIVE to the death. But it only grossed 13 mil in a world where BACKDRAFT was pulling in 77. God-damn the studio system in its present state, Carpenter thought. Hawks would have never stood for this. He quickly dialed the final digit and the rotor spun back with a click.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Kurt. It's John."


"HA-HAAA! JOHNNY-BOY! SHIT THE BED, IT'S FINE TO HEAR YOUR VOICE!"
"It's good to hear yours, too, Kurt."
"You get a haircut yet, you sonofabitch? You're startin' to look like Rip van Winkle last time I saw you!"
"Alright, alright."
"Aw, shit, Johnny, I'm just fuckin' with ya. How have ya been?"
"Oh, you know... Coupe de Villes practice. MEMOIRS OF AN INVISIBLE MAN."
"That was you, Johnny?"
"Yeah, actually."
"I SAW it and had no idea. Saw you in the helicopter at the end, but I figured Nick or Tommy directed it and you were just doin' a cameo."
"Come on, now. It's not a bad movie."
"Yeah, but it's not a 'CARPY' movie."
"Sure it is. It's just a little more like STARMAN than THE THING."
"Yeah, yeah. Not so hot on STARMAN either. So whaddya got for me, Johnny?"
"Well, nothing...as of yet. I'm sort of between projects, so to speak. What are you doing?"
"I just got back from the Caribbean. Puerto Rico. Hot little flick called CAPTAIN RON. Comes out this September."
"I read about it in Variety. 'He just wanted a nice, quiet family vacation. Instead, he got.. CAPTAIN RON,' something or other along those lines. You're Captain Ron, I imagine."
"You bet your raggedy ass I am!"
"I'm sure it's one of your finest performances."
"HA-HAAAAAA! Aw, Johnny-boy, you crack me up. Drank so much Malibu down there I STILL can't see straight. HAAAAA! Doesn't matter though, this flick is gonna be HUGE."
"I'll bet."
"Such a snob, this guy. HAWWWWWW-HAW HAW!... So. Anyway. I have this great idea, Johnny."
"What's that, Kurt?"
"Well, of all things, last night, Goldie and I were watchin' THE FOG. It was on cable. A damn fine flick, considering it didn't star yours truly."
"I can do alright without you on occasion, Kurt." John smiled.
"HAA-HAAAA!! You do alright at that, eh, Johnnyboy? Anyway, I was watchin' THE FOG. Goldie says, 'Hey sweetie- it's like CAPTAIN RON...with ghosts!"'
"Uh-huh." John was concerned.
"So then I says, GOD-DAMN WE'LL DO IT UP! I can see it up in lights: CAPTAIN RON 2: CAPTAIN RON VERSUS THE FOG. And we'll get Johnny to direct!"
"Uh-huh..." John was stunned but not altogether unreceptive. Kurt had caught him in a generous mood. He quickly collected himself: "So what's it about?"
"Alright, peel your ears around this one– 'All they wanted was to terrify Antonio Bay one last time. Instead, they got....CAPTAIN RON.'"
A moment passed.
"Against all better judgments, Kurt, I kinda like where you're going with this. You'd be writing it?"
"We'd collaborate. HAAAAA-HAWW! Just the two of us, Johnnyboy!"
"Alright, I'll come over tomorrow."
"Terrific, buddy! And bring Sandy!"
"Well, let's not involve wives in the first step of the creative process... I mean girlfriends. Wives and girlfriends."
"Way to rub it in Johnnyboy! HOOOO-HOO HOOOO! Hey, Goldie! You hear that?! Even Carpy thinks we're married! HAR-HAR-HAR!... Eh...I guess she's busy or something."
"Alright, I'll see you at 8 A.M."
"Whoa-whoa hold the fuckin' phone, Johnny- I'm still on CAPTAIN RON time! How 'bout noon?"
"Alright, I'll see you at noon."

3.

11:36 A.M. June 7, 1992. The office of Debra Hill, producer.

Debra Hill leafed through the stack of papers that sat on her her desk- they happened to be the completed first draft of CAPTAIN RON 2: CAPTAIN RON VERSUS THE FOG. "I'm sorry, John, but I really don't see how I can sign off on this."
John Carpenter and Kurt Russell, wearing matching Hawaiian shirts and baby blue lei, sat uncomfortably on the other side of the room.
"AWWW COME ON!" exclaimed Kurt, slapping his hands against the armrests of his chair.
"Let her finish," retorted John, reasonably. He shifted in his seat, and the chair creaked loudly. "Debra co-wrote THE FOG. It's her piece, too."
Debra shook her head. "So the finale involves this Captain Ron character riding a wave on a special buzzsaw-equipped boogie board, slicing Blake in the head, and declaring 'Surf's up?' "
"It reads a little dry on the page," John admitted.
"I could do a reading for you right now," offered Kurt.
"No, no... that'll be alright. I mean, Blake is kind of built up in the first film, to have him defeated in such an ignominious fashion just doesn't quite ring true to the original. It sorta makes me sick."
"But, uh... other than that, what do you think...?" fished John, hopefully.
"Oh, other than that..." Debra paused, to collect her thoughts. "...I absolutely love it!"
John and Kurt exhaled simultaneously– relieved, and more than a little surprised.
"But yeah, we gotta lose the surfing bit," Debra continued.
"I refuse to artistically compromise on the matter," announced Kurt.
"Then I refuse to sign off on CAPTAIN RON VERSUS THE FOG."
"Well, eh, Kurt, what if we did a surfing bit in an... eventual project?" gingerly asked John, hoping to diffuse the situation as painlessly as possible.
"I don't see how it'll ever come up again," said Kurt, deflated.


"I promise you, Kurt, we will film a surfing bit. Just on a later project."
"Thanks, Johnny!"
"Well, I hate to break up the love-fest," interjected Debra, "but when do we start?"
"As soon as possible," pledged John. "...As soon as possible."

4.

10:58 P.M. June 13, 1992. The basement of Nick Castle.

"I know she works at night/ She doesn't drive/ I know she'll see the light/ Keep our love alive/ keep our love alive/ keep our love alive..." The Coupe de Villes harmonized together, and quietly faded it out. The song was over- the song, of course, being "She Has Friends in L.A.," by the Coupe de Villes.

"I think that's a good place to end things for tonight. As you both know, it's gonna be a while before our next rehearsal," John solemnly recited. He had dreaded making this speech the entire night.
Nick Castle popped the top on an ice-cold Schlitz. "So this is really happening, huh."
"Yeah," John said. "We leave on the 15th."
"But there's no room on that schooner for the rest of us Coupe de Villes, though, huh?" Tommy Lee Wallace asked, with the vaguest hint of annoyance.
"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you all about," John countered.
"What, so I can direct CAPTAIN RON VERSUS THE FOG III: SEASON OF THE BAD PRESS?," blurted out Tommy.
John Carpenter was taken off guard. He stood, startled, with eyebrows raised.
"I didn't mean that," apologized Tommy. "I don't know why I said that."
"I still think HALLOWEEN III is a solid flick," Nick offered up as encouragement.
"I'm sorry if you two think I'm leaving you behind, but I wanted to talk about the Coupe de Villes maybe working on CAPTAIN RON 2. And not just a closing credits ditty like on BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA. I'm talkin' a full-blown soundtrack packed with hot new tunes."
"You for serious?" asked Tommy.
"Hot damn!," said Nick.
"So, in a way, you're not being left behind at all. You're just holding down the fort. And I expect to hear some sizzling new songs- or shall we say 'sea chanties'- on my return."
"You better believe it!," exclaimed Tommy.
The trio piled up their hands and let out that familiar cheer: "COOOOOOOOP DE VILLES!!!"

5.

3:04 A.M. June 15, 1992. The home of John Carpenter.

John Carpenter packed his suitcase; the flight left in three hours. His bag felt light, as if he were forgetting something. He wondered to himself- is this a mistake? What would Hawks do? Hey- Hawks basically remade RIO BRAVO again and again. EL DORADO. RIO LOBO. Nobody thought less of him. Then again, CAPTAIN RON hadn't even come out yet, and wouldn't for three months. John hadn't even watched it, to boot. What if it were terrible? What if he placed too much trust in Kurt's enthusiasm? These are the things that plague us, John decided. Best not to think too much on it. He remembered back to how edgy he'd been right before THE THING. All that Hollywood money riding on his success, when all he'd wanted to do was stay home and play Parcheesi with Adrienne. Well, that's not true, he thought- THE THING was a film that he needed to make. But that was so long ago. How can ten years feel so long? A lifetime ago. Several lifetimes. It's best not to dwell on the past, or on the passage of time, John resolved. Kurt lives primarily in the moment, he surmised. Perhaps they could discuss it one night during the shoot. Preferably not when Kurt was on one of those "Cap'n Ron Malibu Benders" he'd been bragging about. As to the so-called "incredible lucidity" of said benders, John supposed he'd just as soon take Kurt's word for it. No need to bring Malibu into this. John swiftly zipped up his bag. "You ready, Sandy?" he asked.
"Yup. Ready to supervise some scripts."
"You got your work cut out for you on this one." He smooched his wife. "Let's go."

TO BE CONTINUED IN "CARPY & THE CAP'N PART II: RETURN TO POINT REYES"...

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