The Wild Geese is one of those movies that would keep boys occupied on a Saturday afternoon. It's the kind of movie that you think is soooo cool when your twelve. Men in camo, red berets, Uzis, MGs, bazookas. After one grows up, well, The Wild Geese ain't so good.
We watched The Wild Geese last week. It didn't let us down. We think Roger Ebert has the measure of The Wild Geese. Here's the Siskel and Ebert review and it's spot on.
The film does have its moments. 'Would you two mind telling me what the hell you're doing here, thank god?' Roger Moore's Rafer asks Richard Harris and Richard Burton as the British mob closes in on him. The interactions between Burton and the corporate paymasters a great, 'I don't negotiate, I get what I want,' or, 'Find Rafer. No Rafer, no mission.' But these moments only make the rest of the film all the more frustrating. Burton coasts through the film while Harris needed to drink more on set. Moore should have played Burton's role, and Burton should have played the corporate bad guy, if at all. There's nothing military about these actors whatsoever.
There's a really good idea here, better executed by Christopher Walken in The Dogs of War. There's talk of a remake of The Wild Geese. Please do, even though the remake will screw it up too.
The Wild Geese gave us an idea too and we've even written up about a quarter of said idea. Mercenaries recruited to go retake a friendly middle eastern kingdom. This will be a cliché and trope ridden novel, quite intentionally:
Peaceful kingdom seized by cartoonish evil bad guys
A burned out ex British SAS type with lots of reasons to turn the mission down and lots more to take it
A getting the band back together montage
British men with hyphenated names in expensive suits saying things like, 'Gentlemen I meet with the Prime Minister in nineteen minutes. What shall I tell him about this cockup?'
Dethroned monarch retreating to mountain tribe of his murdered Queen whose people are pissed as hell and demanding revenge
Teenaged Princess Mary Suing the hell out of the plot
The rest of the woman characters there for no other reason than to be dolly birds which the male characters will shag to oblivion.
Excluding the native queen's special force of a half dozen Kurdish trained female life guards.
Remember, we are among the best there is at what we do. Here you go:
Jim’s
Off-License had its normal Tuesday feel. The local snooker club of middle-aged
men had the back room where they played snooker with dedication of Football
stars to a FIFA a match. A pair of old men in tweed coats and hats sat at their
usually spot at the bar and swapped stories about old friends. A few stools
down a young cockney couple drank pints and smoked. Jim doubted if they were 18
and didn’t care. Behind them at a table sat two Indian men drinking gin,
regulars since the pizza and kabob moved in next door. And at the far end of
the bar, next to the – machine sat Tony.
Something about Tony seemed
different and for an hour Jim couldn’t quite place it. Night after night the
tall, wirely bloke came to the off-license sat at that spot, drank pints of Guinness
and played computer-poker. That’s when Jim realized what was different. He
wasn’t playing Computer Poker. He was glued to the television. That was
extremely odd. Tony was the quiet sort, always maintaining a polite distance.
Every
damn night he was at that computer poker terminal. The public service ads
warned about people with gabling problems and they surely would have thought
Tony had a problem. But Jim watched the man. Every night he played for hours,
and every night he walked awy a winner. Every damn night. The man could play
online poker that was for sure. Jim was too polite to ask, and he doubted if
Tony would tell him, but Jim highly suspected that the on-line poker machine
was how Tony supported himself. But he wasn’t even playing tonight. Instead he
was glued to the TV like his customers watching a FIFA match. He seemed to be
in a trance.
Jim saw Tony polish off his pint.
‘Get you another, Tony?’ he asked.
‘Yeah sure.’
Jim poured a fresh pint of Guinness
and pushed it toward Tony.
‘Can I ask you something, mate?’
‘Sure.’
‘Most nights your cleaning out the
on-line poker.’
‘Right.’
‘What’s so bloody interesting on the
telly?
Tony shrugged. ‘I’ve been to that
place.’ He pointed to the TV.
Jim looked up and saw a BBC
broadcast for the first time that night. A none-descript news anchor, it was
the cute Indian girl talked on one end of the screen while the other showed
stock footage of some Middle Eastern crap-hole. The bottom of the screen
proclaimed, Coup in Nidar.
‘Where the bloody hell is Nidar?’
Jim asked.
Tony said, ‘Middle East, on the Red
Sea.’
‘And you’ve been there?’
‘Aye. For several years.’
‘What the bloody for.’
‘I was working with the king.’
Jim laughed at what he assumed was
Tony’s sarcasm, but seeing the blook in the blokes eye, Jim wondered if he
wasn’t being serious. Who the bloody hell was the king of Nidar?
‘One last thing, Tony.’
‘Sure.’
‘You want me to turn the volume on
the telly?’
‘Don’t bother.’
‘Suit yourself .’
Jim turned around and saw a man
standing at the door. One of the things a lifetime of bartending gives a man is
a keen eye for people. Right away Jim understood that the bloke standing by the
door had no business being in his place. He was a West Ender all right. Dapper
in an expensive suit grey suit, blue shirt and blue necktie. The man had a
fancy Windsor knot. The tailoring alone cost more than Jim’s entire wardrobe.
His beard was perfectly trimmed and his full head of hair set in place. He
could have been a television newsreader or a Football club executive. After a
moment’s contemplation Jim decided he was a politician of some type. Had to be.
But what the hell was he doing there. Probably lost or something, Jim concluded.
The dapper man looked around and
until he found what he came for. Then to Jim’s shock Dapper Man walked up to
the bar.
Jim asked, ‘What can I get you
mate?’
‘I’ll have a pint,’ Dapper man said.
‘Right.’
Ahhh, Jim thought as he poured a
pint of Guinness. That accent was posh but there was no hiding the old East End
inflection in the way he said ‘have’ or ‘ave really. One never really stopped
dropping the aitches no matter how much education you get. The man took a
healthy pull form his pint and then sidled over to Tony.
What the hell, Jim thought.
Tony didn’t look at the man. He
didn’t even acknowledge his existence. But he did say, ‘No.’
‘You haven’t even heard me out yet.’
‘No.’
‘You don’t even know what I want.’
‘Yes I do,’ said Tony. ‘Get someone
else.’
‘There is no one else.’
‘Not my problem. Get someone else.’
Jim walked over and said, ‘This
bloke bothering you, Tony?’
Dapper man turned form Tony and
looked at Jim. His face was easy enough but his eyes were hard. In the politest
way possible he said. ‘One phone call from me and the health department will be
here tomorrow and the fire inspector the day after that. Right?’
‘Right.’
‘So get fucked.’
Jim walked to the other end of the
bar.
‘Why did you have to do that?’ Tony
asked.
Dapper man let his accent slip,
‘’Cause I don’t bloody well have time to fuck around, that’s why.’
Tony seemed unmoved.
‘You see what’s going on there.’ He
shouted down to Jim, ‘Oy! What’s this one been doing since he walked in.’
Jim said, ‘Watching the telly all
night, guv.’
‘You know what’s going to happen
next. You know what those animals are going to do. You know.’
Tony looked down.
‘Bloody hell, Tony. They killed
Sana. What about her?’
‘Abdallah won, remember?’
‘So, your going to abandon Nidar
because Sana did her bloody duty and married the air to the throne.’
‘Keep her out of it.’
‘What, did you really think she was
going to come back here with you?’
‘I would have stayed there with
her.’
‘Yeah, the locals would have loved
that.’
Dapper man polished off his pint. ‘I
don’t have bloody have time for this. Either you’re in or you’re out. Don’t
waste my time.’ He took a fifty and put it on the bar. ‘You know how to get in
touch with me.’ He turned to Jim, ‘Thanks, mate.’
Jim took the fifty and put it in his
pocket. ‘I know you’re a soldier of some kind.’
‘I’ve never told you what I do.’
‘Don’t bullshit a bartender. It’s
our job to know people.’
Tony laughed. ‘You’re right.’
‘Something important to you is in
this Nidar place.’
‘She was.’
‘And now all hell has broken lose.’
‘It has.’
‘And it seems to me that government
bloke wants you to fix it.’
‘He does.’
‘So what the bloody hell are you
waiting for?’
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