Adding value to the Golden Fleece
Out of my head
My movie script has undergone another rewrite. Because of a crushing need for a few million in the bank, I’ve analysed recent blockbuster hits and turned my sensitive coming-of-age drama into a swords-and-sandals bloodbath (your standard Hollywood rejig.)
It’s about a band of Greek-like heroes who sail off in search of the Golden Fleece, which is guarded by a fire-breathing dragon who never sleeps. Working title is Jason and the Jargonauts.
We join the group as Jason strides ashore in Colchis after three perilous years at sea.
Jason: Damn those infernal sea serpents – all put there by the previous administration, I’ll be bound. Rest up, heroes. Tend your wounds. We march at dawn.
Bollux (son of Zeus): Where shall we camp tonight, Great One?
Jason: Ah, camping, yes. The good old lower-class holiday has flourished under my command. Which reminds me, we must look at fast-tracking resource consents for gated community subdivisions.
Bollux: Indeed, but where will we pitch our tents tonight?
Jason: Um, that olive grove in the valley.
Bollux: Good choice – it could be the next Queenstown.
Jason: Yes, and olive exports are up 75 per cent thanks to this administration.
Nikos (son of Poseidon): Going forward, Your Highness, perhaps we should do some geological blasting first. It might reveal massive coal reserves reachable by open-cast mining.
Jason: Very future-focused, Nikos. I see you are passionate about growth. And results-driven.
Bollux: I’m passionate and results-driven too, Great One. I’ve already mapped out where we’d put the first motorway. Don’t listen to all those naysayers moaning about mountains of horse dung polluting the atmosphere. The chariot is here to stay.
Jason: I don’t know about that, Bollux. Brother Icarus reckons flying machines are the ticket. He’s dying to try one.
Bollux: Yes, I was about to suggest an airport, built fit-forpurpose, naturally.
Jason: Trusty old Bollux. Delivering value every day. The first thing we must build, though, is key relationships with stakeholders in the community. That’s key. I see synergies in a public-private partnership to construct this camp. Partnerships have increased 200 per cent under my command. Collinia, Team Leader of Placemaking Enablement, inform the peasants that we intend to fell those trees and destroy their livelihood.
Collinia (daughter of Phrixion): Eeew, that might be tricky, Your Grace. These are dirtpoor vassals without a family trust to their name . . . [Jargonauts gasp.] Collinia: Quite so – a pack of silly sausages.
Jason: Well, tell them that exports of novelty smallgoods have risen 35 per cent under our tenure. Tell them to diversify into beef farming. Collinia: Brilliant. Hekacles (god-daughter of Zeus): Sire, I’m keen to harvest institutional knowledge. Might we engage the peasants in a Modern Learning Environment to raise awareness of the new signal-fire communications. That could bring capture.
Jason: I like your culture of responsibility, Hekacles. You are exceeding expectations in striving for best-practice outcomes. However, we don’t have time. Going forward, we go forward at first light. Incidentally, time has grown 80 per cent under my stewardship. There are now 15 more working days in every month. [Jargonauts applaud] Billius (son of Billius): Your Magnificence, how will we engage the fierce dragon Winston, who often guards the Golden Fleece when the polls close?
Jason: Ah, good question. I see this as a journey, Billius. We will engage in a dialogue with the beast. Have a conversation. Listen to the narrative – and if the seat numbers go our way with the Specials, lop its head off. [Jargonauts cheer] Nikos: All right. Let’s do it. Jason: I beg your pardon . . . Nikos: I mean, I mean . . . let’s deliver sustainable solutions within a realistic time frame.
Jargonauts (fists on chests): Deliver solutions . . .
Jason: Well said, Nikos. Very performance-driven. Nikos: You are too kind. Jason: It’s my only fault. Blame my humble beginnings. Incidentally, humble beginnings have increased five-fold under my aegis. Jargonauts: Hurrah. Coiffurion (second cousin, adopted, of Zeus): Great Leader, may I agree wholeheartedly with your campsite paradigm. And my crucial voting block, marshalled through the gimcrack electoral law that you wisely declined to fix, agree with me.
Jason: Why thank you, Coiffurion. You may sit at the top table for supper . . .
And so it goes on. The climactic battle sequence takes six hours (stay by the phone, Peter Jackson). In the final scene, smoke ruffles the Golden Fleece as it hangs from a barren tree.
Go to close-up as a bloodied hand reaches out to claim the prize – and we fade to credits. Who the hand belongs to will be revealed in a sequel late in the year.