Why does nobody understand me? I'm so lonely.G.I. Joe was not a bad movie, when you consider that the source material was a line of action figures. I liked watching it through the lens of someone who has gone from playing with the action figures during bath time (I had Storm Shadow. I was completely unaware that he was a) a baddie and b) Japanese. Sweet!) to an adult with a working knowledge of the ‘widescreen comics’ format, blending fantastical elements with realistic consequences, that obviously informed the film.
One thing that I couldn’t figure out though, was how the world’s most top-secret military organisation managed to enlist the mute Snake Eyes.
Here is how I would like to imagine it happened.
Recruiter: Hello, excuse me? Yes, you, in the complete body condom. Hi. I, um, have a business offer for you. We actually saw you on Youtube and apparently you’re quite good at stabbing people.
Snake Eyes: …
Recruiter: Right. Well. How would you like to join the world’s foremost secret military organisation? You will get to blow all kinds of stuff up.
Snake Eyes: …
Recruiter: All you would have to do is choose a codename, tell us a little bit about yourself and sign this form that says you are legally dead. That’s all. Easy!
Snake Eyes: …
Recruiter: We, uh, have some ideas for codenames if you’re having trouble deciding. Pulls out a list. So far no one has taken Daisy chain. Or Spastic Pup is still free.
Snake Eyes grabs pen and writes ‘my name is Snake Eyes’.
Recruiter: That’s your name? Convenient. Okay, so before you sign we just need to know you’re not, like, Hermann Goering’s lovechild or anything like that.
Snake Eyes: …
Recruiter: You know, full disclosure. Just anything you want to get off your chest. Like, is your adopted brother a psycho or anything?
Snake Eyes: …
Recruiter: Are you actually unable to talk, or just being a pain in my butt?
Snake Eyes: …
Recruiter: Man, you drive a hard bargain. I suppose we can get by with you gesticulating wildly whenever you need to communicate with the rest of the team, who will be relying on you to get them not killed. That should be fine. Okay, so you are in charge of combat training all our guys. And cooking.
Snake Eyes writes 'I cannot cook'.
Recruiter: Sighs. Great, now I’ll have to recruit someone to do that too! God.
One thing that I couldn’t figure out though, was how the world’s most top-secret military organisation managed to enlist the mute Snake Eyes.
Here is how I would like to imagine it happened.
Recruiter: Hello, excuse me? Yes, you, in the complete body condom. Hi. I, um, have a business offer for you. We actually saw you on Youtube and apparently you’re quite good at stabbing people.
Snake Eyes: …
Recruiter: Right. Well. How would you like to join the world’s foremost secret military organisation? You will get to blow all kinds of stuff up.
Snake Eyes: …
Recruiter: All you would have to do is choose a codename, tell us a little bit about yourself and sign this form that says you are legally dead. That’s all. Easy!
Snake Eyes: …
Recruiter: We, uh, have some ideas for codenames if you’re having trouble deciding. Pulls out a list. So far no one has taken Daisy chain. Or Spastic Pup is still free.
Snake Eyes grabs pen and writes ‘my name is Snake Eyes’.
Recruiter: That’s your name? Convenient. Okay, so before you sign we just need to know you’re not, like, Hermann Goering’s lovechild or anything like that.
Snake Eyes: …
Recruiter: You know, full disclosure. Just anything you want to get off your chest. Like, is your adopted brother a psycho or anything?
Snake Eyes: …
Recruiter: Are you actually unable to talk, or just being a pain in my butt?
Snake Eyes: …
Recruiter: Man, you drive a hard bargain. I suppose we can get by with you gesticulating wildly whenever you need to communicate with the rest of the team, who will be relying on you to get them not killed. That should be fine. Okay, so you are in charge of combat training all our guys. And cooking.
Snake Eyes writes 'I cannot cook'.
Recruiter: Sighs. Great, now I’ll have to recruit someone to do that too! God.
