THE FISH MERCHANT IS INNOCENT!

One of the visitors to the lounge today told me about some Danish film or television series in which a limbless and headless body washes ashore on a distant island shortly before a ferry docks. The local police chief orders everybody to stay on board, because it is believed that the torso came from the boat, and the perpetrator must be one of the passengers.
The torso, meanwhile, is stashed in the same freezer that the local fish merchant uses, to his great dismay.

As near as I can gather, the arms and legs remain missing.

The ferry captain protests by turning off the heat.

He wants to get home before a storm.


Apparently the Danes are playing this serious, despite all the elements of a good comedy being there.


Irate passenger A: "It is not MY torso, why should I stay on board?"

Irate passenger B: "Find out who it is, so that we may borrow a sweater or coat from the decedent."

Irate passenger C: "How come he gets to leave the boat? He's dead, and such freedom is wasted on him!"

Irate passenger D: "Stupid island!"


And so forth.


My sympathies are with the local fish merchant. Who probably has a tonne of herring in that freezer, which cannot be sold until the torso is properly disposed of. Plus eel, and Atlantic cod.

His entire working capital is tied up in that freezer. Which, due to an inconsiderate cadaverization, is temporarily off limits.

What about the townspeople? What will they eat in the meantime?


One question, which is very important, is regarding the gender of the decedent. Which, if male, begs the question whether the perpetrator(s) cut off only the head and extremities, but not the scrotum, or whether they were detail oriented and made a clean sweep.

If they left the squidgy bits on, that seems rather sloppy and casual.

Unfinished business, or sheer carelessness.

Botched job, bad show.



All of this was loosely pursuant my having mentioned my cousin's brilliant son Damien, whose movie was lauded at Sundance and the Academy Awards a while back. I admitted that I had not seen it yet.

My prescription for cinematographic entertainment is very simple: lots of culinary details, angry ranting, and peculiarity, set either in a grim post-industrial wasteland or a grand and ultimately depressing vast outdoors devoid of all the normal signs of human presence and civilized life.
Flaming out as an epic spiral into oppressive phantasm.

It should disturb you, yet leave you hungry.


If at all possible, engage Chow Yun-fat to play the lead, Sammo Hung to choreograph any fight scenes, and either Maggie Cheung or Cherie Chung to play the role of ingénue.


I'm thinking somewhere in Sichuan, or maybe up in California gold country. A period piece. With lots of derring-do.
And a fabulous recipe for duck.


As for the Danes, the silly buggers should focus on herring.




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