With all of the recent excited chatter (well… maybe not so much, but play along) concerning a possible one-way voyage to the Red Planet (Hopefully, this is not another name for “Commies in Space”!), it behooves the minds at CSR (who will jump at any opportunity to use any variation of the word behoove) to consider the perils of colonizing yet another future landfill without the proper cultural credentials (not to mention exciting possibilities in planetary cross-contamination). Just who we are as Earthlings (petty, vindictive, cheap, vile… and that’s just our boss) will certainly be reflected by the contents of the suitcases brought along for the trip (HINT: women will bring enough crap to equip a military brigade bivouac, whereas guys might bring an extra shirt and a pair of socks), though- more importantly -it is the continuance of a familiarity with our own culture which will help the pioneers of tomorrow reach the next step in impressing our carbon footprint (or Ferragamo imprint; see: above description of women’s packing strategy) in turning the cosmos into the new Levittown (at least that’s what it says on the Century 23 brochures). Hence, it is up to us as all good, patriotic, SKITTLES eating Americans (non-Free World types may join in too, even those from Canada) to preserve our cultural continuity by wisely choosing and shipping off with our intrepid planetary voyagers (since weight considerations are crucial, we’re afraid we had to jettison the supply of deodorant sticks, which will make the new community seem a little more like a Lollapallooza concert, but sometimes drastic sacrifices have to be made in the service of Mother Science) a maximum of five motion pictures ( or “movies”, in deference to those from Canada) with which to remember the home planet. It is up to you to consider just what five movies- the only ones these brave, bereft-of-long-term-planning-skills travelers will be able to carry with them -will both represent the art of the cinema (just in case the Earth goes up in smoke due to a blazing comet collision, nuclear conflagration or a newspaper hoarder named Gus with a carelessly placed lit cigarette) and act as entertainment value when the nights start getting very long and the realization sets in that while fire roastin’ the sixtieth batch of S’mores, they’re just not that good.
So, space cadets, in an exciting variation (talk about Madison Avenue hype) of Desert Island Films, just what five films (remembering that these will be the only ones you’ll ever see again, as do you think anyone will spend billions of dollars to rescue a handful of dopey tourists who didn’t read the NO RETURN policy on their ticket?) would you pack along to the enjoy, criticize or ruminate over on the Martian surface?
STAY TUNED FOR: PART 2- OOPS, WE FORGOT THE PROJECTOR, or: Interstellar Sex Ain’t the Only Way to Get Screwed in Space.