Mr Blue Sky (DOG EAR)

Mr Blue Sky (DOG EAR)

kay, I’ll admit it – I’m a Guardians of the Galaxy fanboy. Me and wifey own the first move and just went out to see the second.

A quick synopsis – a kid is abducted off Earth in the 80s, and all he’s got is a Walkman with taped music from that time. Now mercing around the Galaxy, he’s a goodnatured goofball who takes on dangerous missions and assembles a team of powerful misfits to assist him. And one of these characters is Groot, a huge treeman who is obliterated in an act of selfless sacrifice at the end of the first flick.

But we’ve seen a twig from his shattered remains being potted, and now at the beginning of Volume 2 he’s a tiny cute little Groot. The movie opens with his friends defending a client’s property from a marauding space monster. It’s all flaming breath and jetpacks and rayguns and glorious chaos. And Groot? He plugs in the amplifiers and dances to Mr. Blue Sky from Electric Light Orchestra. It is the cutest thing. You be the judge. Check it out HERE.

Anyway, musing back on it, I got to thinking: can you imagine the guys of ELO even imagining that their music would be used in such a way three decades later? A dancing plant in the middle of a firefight?

I just finished The Borrowed Man, a novel where an author finds himself cloned (and nobody asked him) in some future world. He lives in the library and gets checked out from time to time when people wish to consult with him. If he doesn’t see traffic he will be burned, something he doesn’t like to think about. Could he have seen his life (and second life) ending up as this?

Nobody can imagine how their acts of creativity might be used in the future. Herman Melville watching his whale story flop on the shelves, never imagining that it would be become one of the more famous stories ever written (I didn’t care for it, as you can read HERE. But a friend felt strongly enough to rebuttal it HERE). Could HG Wells imagine his Martian tripods refabricated as flying saucers being atom bombed (and lets not think about the hash made of his story by ID4). Alexandre Dumas would have a difficult time recognizing the leather-toting gunslingers of the BBC version as his beloved three gentlemen. Medias change. Tastes change. And stories, to chase those profits, must change.

Which isn’t a bad thing. For example, in my own Early ReTyrement, the opening chapter settles into the day-to-day affairs of a villa on the Phoenician island of Tyre. There, in roughly the story-telling time it takes for us to learn of the “young unconventional master” who is blonde and sings strange songs which we recognize as a hip tune from the 60s. And of course, as I wrote it, in my mind it was “roll title and credits and pull back to a panning shot”.

Hey, an author can dream, can’t he?