The Three Musketeers is the title of many plays and films through the ages, mostly based on the eponymous novel by Alexandre Dumas. The motto of the three musketeers was ‘One For All, and All For One’ because they stayed loyal to each other through hell and high water.
Thinking about it, there is, isn’t there, an uncanny resemblance between the first two syllables of ‘musketeers’ and the surname of our Prime Minister? But it can only be a coincidence.
However, we still could let our imagination free and write the plot for a political thriller with well-developed sub-plots of surprise revelations and an international flavour that could make it attractive as a script.
Why not The Three Muscateers?
Why not? Let’s imagine.
Its premiere night would obviously take place in our capital’s premiere square, Piazza Regina. It could start with the moment of glory before the great fall: a newly installed Prime Minister and his constantly smiling wife waving to the adoring crowds.
Your plot cannot be about the dreary slog of boring government after the flash of initial glory. Your plot has to immediately move to the dirty and dramatic: let’s say the Prime Minister’s newly installed associates would immediately be firing emails to a secretive company opening secret accounts and companies in far-flung jurisdictions to deposit £5 million and a yearly million dollars they say they’re going to earn while in government from recycling and commissions.
And it has to be all secret; secrecy is the very essence of successful plots. Your gang in power have to be sure they will never get caught: never.
I know, how can anyone believe that on the morrow of taking his oath of office, a clean Prime Minister’s sidekicks would do such a thing? But this is the big unbelievable stuff films are made of. That’s what ‘fantastic’ first meant. ‘Normal’ and ‘decent’ doesn’t work on the big screen. You know drama’s not true but big means catharsis.
When you see huge unbelievable corruption and crime on screen, you’re relieved that your government cannot be so corrupt and you can safely walk home because real life cannot be as violent and corrupt as a plot for a blockbuster.
Nothing can be seen as ‘normal’ if you want a blockbuster
And the context of your plot cannot be just tiny Malta if you want to make it to the big screen. It has to be dirty countries in different time zones: invent, Panama, Azerbaijan. Secret business deals will have to be part of the plot, mixing business with affairs of the state is of the essence. A grand project for your gang has to be invented: a power station perhaps – that’s big for a tiny island – filmed in a tank in Bighi because it doesn’t exist, yet. Invent some kind of delay and dark reasons for it to add to the suspense of your increasingly incredible plot.
Of course, the context of your plot is not just corrupt places like Panama and Azerbaijan, it’s also Europe, but only to peddle the country’s now highly prized European passport and visas because they give access to the whole continent. Selling these is only the logical conclusion for your business-minded gang and co.
Conflict must give a tangy flavour to your plot. There has to be clear and present danger: the conflagration in neighbouring Libya easily comes to mind for a touch of credible reality. As the bombs fall on its major cities and rival ‘governments’ fight for the spoils, a Maltese visa giving access to the whole of Europe is very much in demand.
Increased demand pushes the asking price. Money changes and stains hands. Flashy cars grace the screen in result – you have to appeal to all levels of education.
Flasbacks have to be part of a plot that straddles a few years. Pre-electoral meetings about illegal petrol stations and bankrupt cafés add to the tension. They have to be dark and secret in shady farmhouses and villas; this is not far from Sicily, anyway.
Those taking part must at the very same time preach ‘transparency’ and ‘accountability’. Oh, I know, no one would believe that, but that’s the point. Invent a few credulous commentators for good measure, writing all over the press telling people to vote for your gang because they’re ‘clean’.
That makes for a good laugh; you have to relieve the tension in a good political thriller, otherwise you can’t build again to a climax.
You only need to show the Prime Minister sending payment orders for millions of euro through his gmail account to start heightening tension again. You have to connect with your international audience harking back to something they would know; but it has to be worse, of course: this is millions, not Hillary’s stupid emails.
Naturally, you must have a sub-plot of love and betrayal. One of the gang members has a wife of huge abilities she must definitely turn to gold. But not in the private sector; that’s boring. Invent an important international calling for her. She must tell her audience, “I work for you”, otherwise she cannot justify her salary.
Invent a huge salary for her, and a non-functioning office. I know, this doesn’t happen in real life, but that’s precisely the point.
However, she cannot be the buffoon of your plot; a clown doesn’t make €500,000 in an office without a telephone line. The clown has to be the former deputy leader of the party in power. The gang cannot have someone who might see the ever-larger oil stains for what they really are.
So he gets carted off, kicked upstairs somewhere, to the European Court of Auditors, say – invent – only for something very funny to happen on the way to the forum. You have to keep your audience guessing. The clown entertains his Maltese audience no end through a web broadcast of some sort, but he still gets sent back to Malta; his European audience is not amused – at all.
But this is only the prelude to huge apprehension. Nothing can be seen as ‘normal’ if you want a blockbuster. He has to make way for one of the gang in power. No one else passes muster. He’s very fit for purpose because he always says ‘yes’ and costs everything. And now that his wife’s stratospheric abilities have called her abroad, he can only sigh – with relief – that he will now be occupied in the power-home-party triangle.
Surprise is the very foundation of suspense and climax. He does get voted in as deputy leader of the party – that’s another quick laugh – just after half the gang at least are mentioned in a huge international scandal.
Panama – invent 12 million e-mails – exaggerate. Corrupt companies opening corrupt accounts and secret companies for politicans to stash away the filth of corruption and crime – come on, make it big. Computer screens transferring millions – millions, yes, make them say it themselves in their emails.
The only thing that has to relate to reality is normal people’s reactions: protests, genuine journalists asking questions, foreign politicians resigning. But your plot’s gang in power cannot behave normally: they have to lie throughout, attack the opposition, say that it’s all lies by people who envy their power and money, instal stooges to lead the police, buy off would-be critics, and certainly not resigning.
People will be mesmerised. This is blockbuster stuff. And the last scene has to be in a place of huge significance: none other than the knot in front of Castille with the gang in power knotted together too, and chanting: “All for one, and one for all.”