Ok. Here's my 2nd Guinness ad variation in Cmaj -
fugue. You can read the prelude
here. For anyone who's completely lost, the idea here is to develop and vary the material in the prelude.
Why am I doing this? Because Guinness adverts are all style-over-substance dogshit dressed as something arty. I thought I'd help them climb even further up their own arses by developing some Guinness ads along my own conceited lines - namely, the classical compositional form of Prelude and Fugue. It's ambitious. It's pretentious. And it wouldn't be a Guinness advert otherwise, would it.
Right...
INTERIOR: A 16TH CENTURY INN, COMPELTE WITH WENCHES AND RUDDY-FACED FARMERS.
ENTER VINCENT PRICE IN FULL "WITCHFINDER GENERAL" GARB. A SMALL CROSS-BREED DOG TROTS ALONG BEHIND HIM. IT IS PIPPIN, THE CHILDREN'S HEALTH AND SAFETY DOG.
BARMAN: Sweet sherry, sir?
VINCENT HAS BEGUN REMOVING HIS FINE LEATHER GLOVES OVER NUMEROURS SOVERIGN RINGS. HE SLAPS THE FACE OF THE BARMAN WITH THE BACK OF HIS GAUNTLET.
VINCENT: Devil! Such insolence befouls me. A Guinness for my thirst landlord, and (THE DOG YAPS) what's that, Pippin? A half for the hound. And godspeed about it.
HE SLAPS THE BAR, SENDING THE BARMAN AWAY. HE CONTINUES THE BUSINESS OF REMOVING HIS GLOVES, RUEFULLY TEASING EACH FINGER.
VINCENT: We have travelled the course of Satan's own belly this day, my companion and I - haven't we Pippin (PIPPIN BARKS). These lands are rotten. There is a darkness in the air...
HE BEGINS TO WATCH THE GUINNESS BEING POURED
... a rich and unholy darkness... deep and magnificent... unfurling and unfolding dark upon the breeze... and upon my lips.
THE BARMAN PLACES THE GUINNESS ON THE BAR WITH A SMILE.
PIPPIN BARKS, REALISING THAT -OH NO!- THE GUINNESS IS DAAAARRRKK!!!
VINCENT: What? -My God, Pippin. You're right. (HE DRAWS HIS DAGGER TOWARDS THE BARMAN) Behind thee at once, Satan! What devilry is this! (HE BEGINS BACKING TOWARDS THE DOOR) I see you're wickedness, inside that pot. You are marked - all of you! Touched by His darkness. Well, may God have mercy on your souls, for this day.... you shall burrrnn! Quickly Pippin - the horses!
EDGING OUT OF THE INN HE SLAMS THE DOOR CLOSED BEHIND HIM. FROM INSIDE HIS CAPE VINCENT PRODUCES A TORCH WHICH HE LIGHTS WITH A SMALL MATCH. WE SEE PIPPIN UNHOOKING THE HORSES FROM THE BARN AND LEADING THEM TO SAFETY, REINS IN HIS MOUTH. VINCENT FLINGS OPEN THE DOOR OF THE INN AND MANIACALLY TOSSES THE TORCH INSIDE.
VINCENT: (RUNNING INTO DISTANCE, HOLDING ON TO HIS HAT) Godspeed, Pippin! Godspeed!
INSIDE THE INN, THE TORCH FIZZLES PATHETICALLY ON THE STONE FLOOR. THE LOCALS LOOK ON CONFUSED.
VINCENT: (ON HORSE BACK, STROKING PIPPIN WHO IS ON THE HORSE NEXT TO HIM) Good lad, Pippin. Good lad.
ENDLINE: Guinness. Yes. It's dark.
(only another 46 to go now!)
No comments:
Post a Comment