The League of the
We came, we saw, we mocked
It was only a movie, they said.
No big deal, right? So the BBC and Arts & Entertainment network
took a few liberties with the original plot in their new TV movie series
The Scarlet Pimpernel . . . so what? Everybody does it, why
not they? Surely it wasn't anything to get all worked up over.
And yet we begged to differ.
And when no one would listen
to our begging, we insisted to differ.
It wasn't just a few liberties
to us . . . it was an abomination against the entire ideal of Pimpernel.
It was a disgrace to its title and an indignancy against the Baroness herself.
And something had to be done about it.
But what was there to be done?
The awful thing had already been produced, it was far too late to stop
it . . . and we even heard of new movies in the works, which would continue
the disgrace. What could we do, we who were only a handful in
the midst of the multitudes?
We could complain our heads
off, that's what we could do.
And we did. It began
with a few emails, rantings over the horrible inconsistencies and just
all around indecency of the entire film, and grew to become a mailing list.
Once it was pointed out that
the movie was so bad it didn't even deserve the honor conferred upon it
by its title, we even renamed it: The Red Flower, also known
as The Slightly Ruddy-Hued Weed.
And yet there were those who
still could not see, those who were blinded by A&E's good name and
their own sad ignorance. There were those who became bewitched by
it and devoted themselves heart and soul to its continuation.
Obviously, more drastic measures
And so was formed the League
of the Red Flower, crusading to expose Pimpernel
everywhere, and to fight for their eternal obliteration.
Its members remain secret to
the world, known only by these obscure titles:
Citoyenne Hornball, in memory
of the portrayal of the film's Chauvelin.
Lil Dewhurst, commenting on
the inordinate height deficiency of Lord Tony.
Granite Face Ffoulkesy, reminding
one of Sir Andrew's amazing lack of emotion.
Kewpie-Doll-St. Just, the origin
of which is obvious.
And as for the group's leader?
The mysterious Red Flower? Who is he? Or she? Or is there
such a being at all in the world at all?
We shall never know.
Or shall we . . .