Noisy Film Night #5 – Watership Down

Long ago, the great Frith made the world.

Many many many many Easters later three bunnies by the ridiculous name of QB3 ate most of it.

Beginning from the end. Running in reverse a chase ensues after the quarry’s been caught, or has it escaped? I forget which. Memory invariably fails when one tries to remember the future. Is this our monument in the eyes of the people of the past? We may only be a vision of the future as the 50’s or 60’s saw it. Did they foresee any one of us? All of us? They almost certainly didn’t foresee a rabbit with a microphone but neither did we. The microphone didn’t seem too surprised though so we shrugged it off and pretended rabbits gnaw on microphones as often as they chew their lettuce.

Fearful of a bloodbath we beseeched the great Frith: our life in return for a decent groove. Frith was not to be persuaded: ‘there is not a day or night that a doe offers her life for her kittens, or some honest captain of Owsla, his life for his chief. But there is no bargain: what is, is what must be.’

And so it was. Wasting no time on pleasantries a rebellious D flat major sequence turns on itself, deadly sharp teeth flashing in the moonlight, salivating like a mad dog and pounding a deep ravenous growl that can be heard for miles. This throws an already confused Tea Lounge into turmoil and disarray, deep panic ensues and all hope is nearly lost forever until at the very last second a bartender runs over and brings the volume down. We all breathe a deep sigh of relief except for the one fellow sitting outside who thought the show was over so he lit his last cigarette. An unfortunate error of judgment since he later had to bum another one from his girlfriend.  

Peace echoed throughout the hall as bass and guitar momentarily traded places. Sweet chorus sent cool, gentle waves caressing the eastern walls, flooding the ceiling, directing calming vibrations at the weird Egyptian fans and the obligatory surfboard in the back, but this temporary lull was not to last too long. Soon enough our darkest fears materialized.. Look… the screen… it’s covered with blood!

At that moment the rain began.

Starting out in a crashing, thunderous downpour, turning into a steady sheet of liquid and after a seemingly endless 35 seconds trickling down to a few foreboding drops, it appeared to foreshadow only one of the many beers drowned throughout the night never to be seen again.

A bass depth charge finally hit home, infinite layers resolved into altogether more finite layers. A thunderous cheer burst from the crowd as they realized QB3 were done and they could now put Radiohead on.

‘All the world will be your enemy, Princes with a Thousand Enemies, and when they hear you they will unplug you… but first they must hear you’.

Such was QB3’s monument, and perhaps it would not have displeased them.