Better than Elvis

 

(c) 2000 Dominique Millette

 

 

It was the perfect investment. Now, the die was cast. Peter Kay felt his chest burst with pride in the darkened theater as the credits rolled for High Kick:

 

"Introducing Dragan Woods, brought to you by Nanitec Labs Inc., as Mike Shao".

 

They'd left nothing to chance. Press releases written months in advance trumpeted the coup: see the first computer-generated male actor to star in a full-length feature film!

 

Peter scanned the screen, for the hundredth time, searching for possible flaws in his creation. He saw none and, even now, shook his head in wonder. Dragan was so life-like, every possible facial expression and body movement accounted for. A cluster of megabytes good enough to be an action hero! No more bank-breaking salaries, no more stunt doubles, no more contractual problems, no more public relations nightmares because of wayward behavior or foot-in-mouth disease.

 

Dragan Woods was the first of his kind but would probably not be the last. He was Everyman. His features could be Eurasian, Filipino, Hispanic, Arabian or WASP, depending on how you chose to see him... He could even pass for a light-skinned African-American. His smooth muscled chest (no body hair – needlessly complicated, too much memory for nothing, and a feature disliked in any case by 72% of female viewers polled) was as flexible as any human male's. More so, in fact. He had equally perfect arms and legs, a terrific attitude thanks to extensive market testing on thousands of focus groups, and would never grow old. At most, he would need upgrading. Thousands of hours had been spent going over every action film ever known to humanity, from Hong Kong classics to American blockbusters, mapping and reproducing the flow of muscle, the leaps, jabs and punches, the exact angles of impact, to give Dragan Woods both impeccable feline grace and maximum force.

 

Though the computer animation had cost a pretty penny, all of this, according to the most restrained projections, would bring a tenfold return in the space of two years. Ticket sales, ancillary markets – including webcasting as much as traditional video and television rights – and standard merchandising such as video games, action figures, T-shirts, mugs and backpacks: all promised a win-win achievement. The novelty factor guaranteed a strong opening weekend through the wide-release pattern of placing one copy of the film in every theatre on the continent. To top it all off, some of the biggest companies in the world had fallen over themselves to secure product placement deals.

 

As he watched the film unfold, Peter Kay felt the audience's rapt attention. He breathed a sigh of relief. Their precautions were paying off. Every scene had been extensively tested and rewritten as necessary to hit maximum consensus. The plot for High Kick was simple, aimed directly at the 12-to-18-year-old demographic, barely avoiding an R-rating. Mike Shao, straight from the all-American melting pot, is minding his own business as a martial arts coach when, one day, the local mafia (multi-ethnic, no racial stereotypes, not with the rising rates of immigration these days) decides to muscle in on the neighborhood. The rest was classic: lots of fights, good guy saves the day, local mafia beaten to smithereens. Frankly, the whole premise was an afterthought. As the producer bluntly put it: "This is like porn. Plot? We don't need no stinkin' plot!"

 

Whether this last statement was true or not became a moot point, as opening weekend results surpassed even the wildest expectations. High Kick raked in an unprecedented 250 million dollars. And that would be just the beginning. The critics were unanimous: Dragan Woods was a hit. "The quality of images is breathtaking", enthused the New York Times. "The Next Big Action Star: Mr. Megabytes Packs a Punch", gushed the Washington Post.

 

Peter Kay, president of Nanitec, was the toast of the town. All the major entertainment programs vied for interviews, asking how he'd done it. In response, Nanitec provided trailers of their documentary, "The Making of Dragan Woods", made a year in advance. The documentary itself was aired on all major networks, topping the season ratings.

 

Dragan Woods became a household name. Lookalike contests sprang up in every city and town in North America, Japan, Europe and Australia. Demand skyrocketed for new and better video games. Children as young as seven were asking for autographed pictures. Peter Kay laughed at this latter development and obliged by creating a virtual fan club, with a website address where people could order "autographed" merchandise: photos, baseball caps, posters and T-shirts. It all meant more money for the company and investors: what was the harm? A fictitious biography was put together for the computer animation. Dragan Woods was born in Brooklyn, abandoned at birth, had a difficult childhood, became a rebellious teenager and found his way off the streets through martial arts and boxing. Nice and simple: "If you try hard enough, you can overcome anything and make your dreams come true"!

 

Occasional crackpots began to claim sightings of Dragan Woods at restaurants and nightclubs. When this was brought to his attention by amused programmers, Peter shrugged it off: "The Elvis Syndrome", he called it, just like sightings of the dead rock legend at gas stations from Alaska to Arkansas. "Only this is better than Elvis."

 

Within months, actors began to make an income by impersonating Dragan Woods at parties and various events. Nanitec issued the usual warnings about licensing, put together some standard contracts and collected even more revenues.

 

With all the attention spawned by the Dragan Woods debut, the next feature was moved ahead of schedule. Moving Targets presented Dragan as a rebel commando in a futuristic L.A. urban jungle, saving a genetically-altered Messiah-child along with his mother from evil marauders intent on world domination. Sure – the plot was old hat, with bits and pieces cannibalized from old hits from the 1970s to the new millenium. That was exactly why it worked like a charm. Remakes were the name of the game. Add two parts market research and focus groups, mix well, enhance with sound track from latest top-40 music groups. Rake in the bucks. Voilà!

 

In the wake of this next smash success, "sightings" became more frequent, with Dragan Woods acquiring various girlfriends: a chorus dancer, a rising starlet, a swimsuit model. Programmers at Nanitec started a satirical monthly newsletter with fabricated Dragan Woods gossip: "Dragan fathered my two-headed child!" "Dragan buys secret island hideaway in Aegean sea!"

 

Soon enough, however, tabloids began fabricating the same types of stories. Peter Kay kept on shrugging. Who in the world would buy this nonsense?

 

So-called "autobiographies" sprang up, selling hundreds of thousands of copies, with titles like "My story: the real Dragan Woods". The legal department at Nanitec suggested possible redress could be won on the licensing front, at most. Why compound the absurdity by issuing press releases that stated the obvious – that Dragan Woods, in fact, did not exist? Surely, reasonable people knew the difference between a computer image and reality. Right, answered Peter: and what about the Loch Ness Monster? To placate him, legal action was taken and press releases issued. Modest blurbs appeared in newspapers stating that Nanitec had won such-and-such a licensing-related lawsuit against the writers of the fake autobiographies.

 

The tabloid headlines were a different matter. According to the judge, licensing laws did not apply. Furthermore, since Dragan Woods was not a person; and since libel suits could not be brought to court on behalf of a third party; defamation was not applicable either.

 

Emboldened by the precedent, tabloids went on a feeding frenzy: "Dragan close to death after piloting pirated plane!" "Dragan Woods abducted by aliens, implanted with microchips!"

 

Peter Kay learned to ignore it. The fan club was doing well, virtual endorsements added to overall revenues, action figures and video games were still selling beautifully.

 

Soon, a third film was in the works, well ahead of projected schedules.

 

Peter was working overtime at his mahogany desk, fighting exhaustion. A knock on the door startled him away from his computer screen. "Come in", he called out, curious to see who would show up at his office at 8 p.m. on a Friday.

 

The man who entered the room was one of their biggest investors in the product placement department: Morley Hagan, president and CEO of Hagan Foods Ltd, a self-made millionaire with a nose for a great opportunity. He stopped and stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, wiping his brow with a handkerchief, a newspaper tucked under his arm: "How are you, Peter? Working late, I see."

 

Kay reached over to shake his visitor's hand: "Sure. When have I ever done otherwise?"

 

Both men laughed perfunctorily. Then Hagan took the paper under his arm, spread in out on the mahogany desk and cleared his throat:

 

"Well, Peter, I appreciate all your hard work. There's just something I want to talk to you about: This headline, right here."

 

Peter stared at the tabloid. It screamed out: "Dragan Woods shooting heroin!" There was a full-colour picture, obviously faked from a digital image sent out as part of the standard press kits, showing the animated but oh-so-human-looking action hero with a tourniquet on his arm and an ugly syringe in his hand.

 

The president of Nanitec burst out laughing.

 

Morley Hagan glowered at him. "I'm glad you can find some humour in this", he said, his tone acid. "Frankly, I don't! And I'm not the only one. I've spoken with several other companies who have something at stake here. They agree with me: we don't like it."

 

Peter stared at him, incredulous. "You can't be serious!" he articulated. "This is totally ridiculous!"

 

Hagan sighed and braced himself by leaning forward with both hands on the desk: "Yes. Well. We know that technically, Dragan Woods can no more shoot heroin that he can eat one of our hamburgers. But the public doesn't feel that way. According to our reports, thousands of young fans have already written in on the website to express their disappointment. Image is everything! Reality doesn't count. You should know that by now."

 

Peter sputtered with disbelief: "Look! This thing is just out of our hands! Dragan Woods is big business – and that's good for all of us! We just can't control everything that gets printed about him. This is bigger than Elvis!"

 

The CEO replied with utter calm: "That's precisely the problem. So: either you fix it, or we pull out!"

 

Kay rolled his eyes and retorted: "What do you suggest I do – send Dragan Woods to virtual rehab?"

 

Hagan brightened considerably. "Wait a minute", he said. "That isn't a bad idea, Peter!"

 

Peter Kay shook his head and rubbed his eyes. The investor had spoken.

 

Nanitec Labs Inc. called a  meeting, attended by videoconference by all concerned. A plan was put into motion: Nanitec would build a virtual rehabilitation center, Tiger Springs, in the virtual location of Amestown, USA.

 

A press release was issued and a spokesperson found for Dragan Woods: He was well taken care of and on the way to a complete recovery. Thank you to all the well wishers, etc. etc. Digital images of Dragan entering the clinic and walking in the grounds were distributed to various media.

 

Then things really got out of hand.

 

Peter Kay woke up a few days after the press release to the following headline: "Dragan Woods Goes Berserk, Smashes Up Rehab Clinic!"

 

Peter jumped on the phone and called the tabloid: "Dragan Woods CANNOT, repeat, CANNOT smash up anything! He does NOT EXIST! Will you PLEASE stop making up this absolute CRAP? This is a computer simulation, dammit! I demand a retraction!"

 

The reporter on the line was oily smooth: "Oh, yeah? Seems like you forgot the legal precedent you're dealing with: you can't sue us! The public is eating this up. They love it! Too bad for you, buddy! See ya later".

 

The line went dead. Peter felt rage simmering in his abdomen. He forced himself to calm down. Ignore the problem. It will go away. This was all just some stupid nightmare.

 

Morley Hagan was less than sanguine: "I'm terribly sorry", he stated flatly, "but we simply have to pull out. There's a clause in our contract, as you know, that protects our image."

 

Peter seethed: "You won't get away with this!"

 

And Hagan didn't. Nanitec's lawyers easily found a way to claim damages and the food company quietly settled out of court for a satisfying sum.

 

However, the fallout of the case created a domino effect. Product placement and merchandising deals ran dry, with no new takers to fill the vacuum. Dragan Woods no longer reached the kind of market they wanted, companies claimed. Ticket sales for the third feature film were down dramatically from the two previous hits.

 

There was only one thing left to do.

 

Barely two years after his spectacular rise to fame, Dragan Woods went off into virtual retirement in his virtual Malibu mansion, hitting the virtual slopes in winter at the virtual resort of St-Fritz. 

 

Later that week, Peter Kay went to the office, packed away his papers, cleaned out the mahogany desk, and sent off his last offering to the highest-bidding network. This time, it was a documentary:

 

" Into the Limelight, Down in the Dumps – The Rise and Fall of Dragan Woods."