Where intelligence gives way to madness.
Science fiction has long provided us with a window in which to view things that are not practical in our reality. These scenarios can set the stage for an unbelievably immersive movie going experience because it can show us something we have never seen before. In Minority Report, we were shown a world in which crime could be predicted based on some nonsense that only seems feasible in the presence of Tom Cruise.
Despite all of his asshattery, and as much as it pains me to say it, he was a part of what could have been the best movie of the previous decade had they not left out all the awesomeness that the DCFS was doing.
It’s ok now kids. You never have to see Tom again.
It stands to reason that if there was a PreCrime police force, that they would have the full array of services for public protection. They would have to have things like PreArson, PreNarcotics, and, of course, the hardworking members of the PreDCFS. And right there is where the original movie missed the boat.
These would be the law enforcers with hands down the most entertaining job in the whole department for us to watch. With all the others, there tends to be weapons or drugs associated to their line of work and those can be taken away in order to prevent the future atrocity from happening. When it comes to the DCFS though, they would have to go a completely different route. These guys are going to have to spend their lives undercover so that they can stay invisible, even in plain sight.
No matter how hard you try to find them, Nick.
Seriously though, think about it. When the ball pops out of the machine to inform them that once again I am out of groceries and having Cinnamon Toast Crunch and a glass of Makers Mark for dinner, how are they to combat this flagrant sign of future neglect? They sure as Hell aren’t going to allocate tax payer dollars to teaching appropriate life skills to people that should know better by now. They are going to instead nip that future problem in the bud. A case officer would be assigned to me and they would ensure I never accidentally ended up in a scenario that would put a child anywhere near my custody.
What the shit do I do with this thing?
On the remote chance that a night out was going well for me, this PreDCFS hero of the people would don their standard issued bar attire to best position himself to achieve the end goal. Once in place, they could tap into their seemingly endless bag of tactics to thwart my feeble attempt at happiness. The agent would be perfectly situated to carry out his duty of unleashing a relentless strike of cockblocking the unholy Hell out of my night and prevent the creation of a future crime scene.
The problem with that character lies in that no one wants to watch someone who only has to go to work once or twice a year. Being assigned to my case would be a luxury that near retirement aged officers would commit pagan sacrifices to get. No, who I want to see is the ragged, Danny Glover in Lethal Weapon looking guy, that hasn’t slept since he got put on his last assignment. I want to see his head finally hit the pillow, just in time for his phone to go off to tell him that he is needed back in the field immediately because his latest plan fell through.
How in the fuck did bribing the hairstylist into that not end this madness?!
I want to live and die with this guy’s struggle to do his job effectively. What better way to illustrate mankind’s constant struggle against our own best interests than to personify that fight through this character’s eyes We could have watched the department that was working hard for a better future for humanity, but instead we had to watch Tom Cruise run around getting preachy from his high moralistic couch about a person’s free will of choice.
We get it, asshole.
Hell, you could have just shown that guy in the background peeking around the corner secretly sabotaging Sunday brunch and I could have declared mission accomplished on that movie because at least then I would have known. It would not have been blatantly obvious, but I would have known the Director got me, and that would have been enough.
Seriously though, how did this not happen? I mean, come on. It would be The Patron Saint of Close Calls running around in costumes slanging anti-game, dropping Plan B into Lindsay Lohan’s brunch drinks, and whatever else needed to be done to prevent an unfortunate fate for some poor bastard children.
The possibilities are literally endless.
Now that is a guy they could make a movie about.