60-second screenplay

The Martian is collapsed like a telescope.

TF saves you a night out every month. This issue: we put a rocket up

The Martian… ________________

FADE IN: EXT: MARS A group of unfeasibly nice-tronauts wrap up their mission to discover absolutely zilch.

KATE MARA Oh wow! This mound of red dust is a slightly different shade from this other mound of red dust!

MICHAELPEÑA If my calculations are right, utter nothingness extends a zillion miles in every direction.

SEBASTIANSTAN Why are we all dressed

like BB-8? JESICACHASTAIN To make this mission less boring, I propose we leave

Matt Damon for dead. JESICA’slot clear off on their selfishly large spaceship while MATT bleeds profusely into the dirt with loveable everyman optimism.

INT: NASAHQ

MACKENZIE DAVIS

browsing Google Mars] [ Ooh look, Matt Damon’s not dead any more. Also, that was my last line of note.

KRISTENWIIG Oh boo-hoo! Look at my script: “KRISTENfolds arms. KRISTENunfolds arms. KRISTENwears nice sweater. KRISTENfolds nice sweater.” Aargh!

JEFF DANIELS OK, let’s focus. Matt’s gonna be up there for donkey’s years; how big is his supply of facetious quips?

MATT DAMON Punctured lung, oh well, still got another one. And look at all the ‘me’ time I’ve got! Maybe I’ll come up with my backstory since

the film can’t be arsed. EXT: MARS MATT MacGyvers away the dark, desperate hours.

MATT DAMON What to stoke this fire with? I know, I’ll just saw off an arm. In your

face, Mars! MATT goes rooting through his crewmates’ old crap. Yeah, THAT kind.

MATT DAMON I’m going to shit the science out of these spuds! What to have for tea? Bum-bay potatoes? Turd in the hole?

Faeces’ pieces?

EXT: NASA

JEFF DANIELS Not being funny, but you can’t help wishing this was Tony Scott instead of Ridley; there’d be alien tanks exploding against magenta sunsets; Denzel

with a lightsaber… JEFF’s rescue probe blows up and MATT’s crops go (back) down the toilet.

MATT DAMON Oh well, onwards and downwards! Though I still

appear to have more masking tape than every branch of Rymans combined. MATT begins to affably waste away to the fabulous pop beat of ABBA. EXT: NASA

CHIWETELEJIOFOR We’ve reached crisis point: there’s no cast budget left to pay for Matt’s parents. You’ll just have to imagine Susan Sarandon or someone.

JEFF DANIELS It’s crunch time, all Interstellar right: are we with pratfalls or Cast

sponsored by McCoys?

Away EXT: MARS A skeletal but still accessibly charming MATT starts building a coffin, toothlessly whistling the

tune to Happy Days.

JESICACHASTAIN We’re back! Look at all the poo we’ve brought! Who fancies fish and squits?

MATT DAMON No hurry picking me up; I’ve got enough oxygen for

one breath a fortnight. MATT launches towards the spaceship, unconscious but doing some classic ‘Night Fever’ moves.

JESICACHASTAIN Entering Gravity phase of the operation! Prepare for

dangling and tangling! MATT’s rescue is nearly scuppered at the last second by everyone getting the giggles at the lifeaffirmingness of it all. CUT TO: ecstatic reaction shots from everyone in the supporting cast, in which time MATT’s beard grows back. KRISTENfolds arms. INT: NASATRAININGROM, MONTHS LATER

MATT DAMON ...so when you’re up shit creek, just remember one

thing: a chip pan.

FIN NEXT ISSUE: CRIMSON PEAK