Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft


The Day The Earth Stood Still
Starring Keanu Reeves, Jennifer Connelly, Jaden Smith, Jon Hamm, Kathy Bates, John Cleese
Written by David Scarpa, based on the 1951 script by Edmund H. North, which in turn was inspired by Harry Bates’ 1940 short story “Farewell to the Master”
Directed by Scott Derrickson
Rated PG-13
for some sci-fi distaster images (no kidding!) and violence

Attention, Earth people. Attention. Hello? Hey! AHEM. We intergalactic beings are super pissed at you right now. Lessee: you’re all fat, stupid, snotty, weak, and killing your planet like the big-ass Baby Huey petunias you are. Oh, you make us sick. Excuse us for a sec. Blargf! Aw, cheez. We just blew chunks of meepzor all over our brand new console.

So we’ve no choice but to dispatch Keanu Reeves–that’s right, Keanu Reeves–and a CGI-enhanced leviathan that can sigh into millions of tiny destructive pellets powerful enough to gobble the paint job off your canyons and reduce Shea Stadium to the heartbroken rubble it was already scheduled to become. (You’re welcome, New York taxpayers!) We’ve selected Keanu because you foolish Earthlings regard him as harmless. “Oh, that Keanu,” you snicker. “He has two expressions: listless and asleep.” “Keanu Reeves has about as much range as a broken stove.” “Hey, what’s the difference between Keanu Reeves and a sheet of paper? A sheet of paper isn’t always blank.” Ho ho. We’ve chronicled them all. Yet you sniveling hypocrites slavishly flock en masse to his movies anyway. So we know you’ll mock his talent, but cling to his every word.

Some of you might remember the last time we dropped by. Some of you won’t care–it happened before your silly Internets. It was your human year 1951, and, by Greezjill’s Lantern of Vermpxiza, did we look goofy. Our representative Klaatu (not to be confused with Keanu Klaatu) wore what you Earthlings might recognize as a one-size-fits-all sauna suit, a mysterious garment with which you are likely intimate after all those five-dollar foot-longs. And Gort–oh, you can’t forget ol’ Gort0. Back then he was an immovable dustbin with a tin jock and a visor that spat mysterious pinpoint heat rays. This time we’ve made him 20 feet tall and installed within his voicebox the same apparatus your human Dennis DeYoung used on Styx‘s “Mr. Roboto.” So when he (Gort, not Dennis DeYoung–let’s leave him out of this!) finally utters, “Klaatu barada nikto,” only your attuned jibbering shut-ins will respond in spastic delight and hail Robert Wise from their geeky vessels while everyone else madly texts “WTF” at each other.

We came in peace then, so young, so naive. For reasons we can’t fathom today, we were in thrall to your race for its atomic power and strides in cosmic travel, even though we were still the superior species and our children were building atomic origami by space kindergarten. But we let you think you were top-dog hot shit of the universe. Ooooo, we were so scared. Quivering in our moon boots. We proved to you your ridiculous laws couldn’t stop us, nor could your weapons destroy us, but still you tried. Remember Klaatu’s parting fuck-you? We paraphrase: “The universe grows smaller every day, and the threat of aggression by any group, anywhere, can no longer be tolerated. … It is no concern of ours how you run your own planet, but if you threaten to extend your violence, this Earth of yours will be reduced to a burned-out cinder. Your choice is simple: Join us and live in peace, or pursue your present course and face obliteration.” Of course, you didn’t listen. Off you merrily slithered to red-baiting, Vietnam, Watergate, Reagan, Dubya, Iraq, and Perez Hilton.com.

So we’ve returned, and this time, it’s your ass. Then we’ll show your poor, ravaged home how a real race treats its ozone. Tell ’em, Keantu: “If the Earth dies, you die. If you die, the Earth survives.” Rewr! Judge Judy couldn’t have put it any plainer, or been dressed more spectacularly while saying it. So whatcha gonna do, Earthlings, hmmmm? Tickle us with your weapons of mass destruction? Send yet more bomb-dropping planes over our heads? Snark us on Gawker?

Hey, who’s that getting out of the car? Aw, shit. Jennifer Connelly. We must hasten to our chambers with shared streams of Career Opportunities. Damn you!

ALSO THIS WEEK: The Kuurious Kaase of Klaatu, the Band

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