Tag Archives: Dr King Schultz

Schultz Unmasked: A Django Prequel

By the time I got this finished, it’s no longer today’s prompt but yesterday’s (I was busy watching Bas Dost add another two goals to his tally), I’m still posting it despite that. And despite the fact that I’m not entirely sure about doing so. I’ve had the idea of writing a Django piece of fan fiction for a long time, I think maybe the summer of 2013 was when I first got the idea, I wanted to know how did King Schultz become the character we meet in the film, was he really a dentist and what did he do in Germany? I liked the idea that maybe he wasn’t always the confident character we see in the film and of tracing his journey to the US.

I also though about a sequel of sorts, a story involving King Schultz’s brother, maybe seeking vengeance for King’s death. Like I said I’m not sure about posting this, I’m a little out of my comfort zone but that’s exactly why I should post it. Every once in a while you should do something that scares you. I’ve read it, reread it and just for good measure read it again, if I read it anymore I’ll end up reciting it in my sleep. At least I can console myself with the thought that if twelve hours from now I lose my nerve or decide that I really hate it, at least I can delete it.

So here it is, this isn’t my first attempt but it is the first one I’ve actually finished:

Looking over the sleepy South German village, King Schultz yearned the day he could leave the tedium of village life behind, the stifling narrow mindedness of the villagers, what he perceived to be his father’s equally stifling ambitions for him and worst of all his slow talking and likely equally slow witted younger brother Hans-Dieter. King reserved a particular sense of loathing for his brother, for the way in which he did everything to please their father, for the way in which he was seemingly content to spend his entire life toiling away in their father’s dental practice and for the way in which people immediately took to him. Not at all like the way in which they responded to him, people were taken in by Hans-Dieter’s slow witted charms whereas with him they could not stand his sometimes verbose manner of speaking. This was the type of place that people used as few words as possible, a way of thinking that King found unbearable.

King knew he had better get on his way before his brother came looking for him, ever the precise German Hans-Dieter was a stickler for just about every rule that ever existed. King liked order too, but he often went against this just to annoy against his brother. This was not going to be one of those times, as much fun as it was to annoy his brother he knew that if he was late for work, Hans-Dieter would spend the entire day going on about it. King would pick a different tack for annoying his brother today, he would do the second most thing he hated, he would call him Hansi. Getting up on his horse King headed into town, noting as he entered the town the unusual number of horses tied up outside the tavern. Judging by the noise levels it seemed to be a lot livelier inside than usual as well. He thought over the implications of this as he made his way to the building where his father had his dentist’s practice.

Pulling up outside King saw the familiar impressive and intimidating words painted in gold paint on the sign outside, “Dr King Schultz and Sons” and thought the same thing he always did, why did he have to be the first born son, the one saddled with his father’s name and all that came with it. What he wouldn’t give for the freedom that his brother had. And to think his brother wasted that freedom on being a good little dentist’s assistant.

Sure enough same as every day he was greeted with a steely glare from Hans-Dieter as he entered the building, King wondered if he would ever get to be greeted with the warm and friendly smile that just about everybody but him got to see. Before he had even taken his jacket off he found out the reason why, Hans-Dieter wasting no time in telling him.
“You were meant to be here five minutes ago” said Hans-Dieter in an unmistakable tone of reproach.”
“Five minutes late won’t hurt anyone little Hansi” replied King in his usual cheerful manner.
“Don’t call me that. And where were you? Finding more trouble to get in I suppose?”
“I was thinking.”
“Coming up with another harebrained scheme I would imagine?”

“Actually I was thinking about what the reason was for all the commotion over at the tavern” answered King as he looked over the room, trying and failing to find some sign of their father’s presence. Reluctant to continue the conversation but intrigued by this, he asked:
“I take it you’ll be lecturing father when he gets here, seems for once I’m not the latest arrival.”
Hans-Dieter looked nervously around the room, his eyes focusing on their father’s desk as if he were gaining some kind of courage from it.
“He’s at the tavern, discussing business. You’re to ask no more of it, father’s orders before he left.”
“Late for work and drinking in the morning, seems like me and him do have something in common after all. What kind of business does one discuss in a tavern, young Hansi?”
“How many times do I have to say it, stop calling me that, it’s nothing to do with you, just keep out of it.”
Now King was most intrigued, his father at the tavern, his brother standing up to him like this, something interesting indeed was afoot.
“Tell me, would this strange occurrence have anything to do with the sudden spate of arrivals at the tavern?” inquired King.
“I’m not stupid King, I know what you think of me and I’m telling you now that you’re not getting anything out of me.”

With this King decided to take matters into his own hands, if his brother wasn’t going to tell him anything he would have to find out for himself. Banking on Hans-Dieter not having the courage to actually stop him from doing anything he resolved to go the tavern himself right away, without saying another word to his brother he did just this, walking straight over there.

Walking into the tavern King found an atmosphere that wasn’t much more friendly than the one he had just left. Sitting around several tables put together along with his father were several other businessmen from the village, all of them looking equally as harried as his father did. Sitting across from them and surrounding the tables were the reason why, several men in black suits, all of them looking none too friendly. King knew trouble when he saw it, but it wasn’t fear that he was feeling right now but excitement. Excitement at the thought of something finally happening in this sleepy place, even if it was trouble for King was confident that he could talk his way out of anything. And if all else failed he knew he could shoot his way out of trouble. Feeling for his trusty revolver on his belt he thought of how his father would have to admit he was wrong, how carrying a weapon was useful and knowing to shoot even more so.

Getting closer to the tables what King heard was horrifying to him, as far as he could make out these bandits were trying to extort money from the local businesses. Outnumbered here and definitely outgunned King realised that taking them out in such a way would be suicide, at least here in close quarters like this. If he could get up into a nice high spot on open ground then picking them off with his rifle would be no problem at all. Alas here he did not have that option, not yet anyway. Out-talking them would have to be his chosen method, at least it would have been had his father not seen him and forcing him into a chair warned him not to say a word. King’s protests were met with a look from his father that even he knew better than to question.

Leaving the tavern King mulled over how humiliating the whole experience had been, he didn’t know what was worse, his father forbidding him to speak like he was a child or him removing his revolver from his belt and placing it on the table. King didn’t need to look into the eyes of the gunman across from him to know that the look of ridicule was there. Not just in his eyes but in the eyes of every man in the room.
Heading back to their place of business he had angrily confronted his father about all of it, but most of all about what he saw as the cowardly way the that the villagers were bowing down to these mysterious men in black suits. His father had said little by way of reply but unlike King he didn’t need to speak a great deal to get his point across.

“You want to confront them, you do that, then I’ll have to remove the s from the sign” was all he had to say on the matter.
“Then you’ll get what you’ve always wanted, the troublesome son gone, then you can call Hansi King just like he’s always wanted and you two can be good little dentists together” replied King.

Leaving his father standing there wordless, King went off to fetch his horse. If he wasn’t determined to do something before, he certainly was now. He seemed unaware of the irony of the situation, of the fact that the very people he was so determined to stand up for were the very people he spent his entire life ridiculing and wishing he could get away from.

Riding around for many hours King thought over what it was he actually intended to do and tried to come up with a plan. Scouting the area where he had found their camp he decided upon his plan of action. Thinking over how many there were of them and how few there were of him, he decided on a plan based less on direct confrontation and more on his trusty friend Jürgen, Jürgen being his rifle. As night began to fall King began to make his way back home in order to fetch his rifle and any other supplies he needed.

Fetching his rifle from the stable he had not expected to find Hans-Dieter there, even less to find a fully dressed Hans-Dieter carrying a lantern and with his horse all saddled up.
Before King could say anything Hans-Dieter made his intentions clear:
“I know what you’re doing and I’m coming with you.”
“You can’t possibly know what I’m doing and you are not coming with me, not in any possible dimension are you coming with me.”
“I am, if only to stop father from having to take the s off the sign.”
“You heard that, why would you care, isn’t that what you want?”
“No, it isn’t. The only person who wants that is you King.”

King was certain that Hans-Dieter was not serious about coming with him and with this in mind he quickly put together his supplies, took his rifle in his left hand and quickly got on his horse, leaving Hans-Dieter standing there in a stunned silence. King was wrong, about how serious his brother was and about being able to outrun him. Before he knew what was happening Hans-Dieter was riding alongside him, as if they had left at the same time.

King knew now that there would be no getting rid of Hans-Dieter, not unless he hit him over the back of his head with his rifle and tempting as that was, he knew not even he could get away with doing that. He had no choice but to let him in on his plan to sneak up on the bandit’s camp and to take as many of them out as he needed to before they got the message. It came as no surprise to King that his brother disagreed with this plan, immediately he started bleating about how they couldn’t shoot anyone and how they were going to be hung for this. King ignored most of his complaints and pointed out to Hans-Dieter that if there were any lawmen around, he wouldn’t be doing this himself.

“You don’t need to worry anyhow, you won’t be shooting anyone, I’m not giving you a gun.”
“I don’t need a gun from you, I have my own” replied Hans-Dieter holding up the rifle he held in his right hand.
“Do you even know how to use that thing?”
“Of course I do, you’re not the only one around here who learnt how to shoot.”
“So you don’t want to shoot anyone but you brought a rifle?”
“How else was I going to protect you?”
“Protect me, you’re not content with being the favourite son now you have to try and be the big brother too? Is there nothing you won’t try to take from me?”

Baffled by this outburst Hans-Dieter said nothing and they rode the rest of the way there in silence. Approaching the place where he had found the camp he gestured to Hans-Dieter to stay out of the way and was pleased when he seemed to heed his warning. Tying his horse up at the bottom of the hill he then began to make his way upwards to the vantage point, to the place where he would begin to pick them off one by one until they got the message.

At the ridge he was surprised to find no guard and was busy chuckling to himself at the bandit’s stupidity when he saw a creature crawling across the edge of the camp just out of sight of the guard patrolling the perimeter. He thought of how eagerly Hans-Dieter had agreed with his warning to stay back and cursed himself for accepting it so readily. There was nothing he could do now but sit back and see what his brother had planned, if he started shooting now they could discover him, King was fast but not fast enough to shoot them all before they potentially saw him.

Watching with a growing sense of anticipation and horror as his brother crawled ever closer to the camp, both these feelings were replaced with confusion as Hans-Dieter halted by the supply wagon. Unable to see him as he crawled underneath King tried to work out what was going on. It only became clear to him when he saw the spark of the dynamite and the shadow of his brother as he quickly ran away. The next thing he knew the wagon had exploded and the until then sleeping bandits, that is the ones who were still in one piece, were scrambling to find their weapons and to locate their attackers. Their confusion multiplied when King after his own momentary confusion began picking them off as per his original plan.

Thinking he’d gotten them all King still holding his rifle, made his way back to his horse and wasting no time headed over to what remained of the camp. In his arrogance King had assumed that all of his shots had been on target, as a result it was a quite a surprise to him when one of the remaining bandits drew down on him. It was even more of a surprise when said gunman dropped to the ground before King could even reload his rifle.

Appearing out the shadows Hans-Dieter looking very pleased with himself made his presence known saying in a relieved tone of voice: “That was close. I thought we’d never come back from that one. What’s wrong King, I thought you were a better shot than that. Why’d you take so long to start shooting?”

“I thought you didn’t want me to shoot anyone, now you’re complaining I took too long. Still worried about that pretty little neck of yours?”

“Not if we get out of here quick enough. Besides, I only shot one of them who was drawing down on you, you’re the one who shot the unarmed ones.”

“Ah Hansi, always such a stickler for the rules. That won’t help you in the real world.”

Too many things

Burning Down the House

Your home is on fire. Grab five items (assume all people and animals are safe). What did you grab?

I own far too many things.  But which of them would I actually care about enough to risk my own life to save them? Two years ago, my Hans Landa and Dr King Schultz action figures would have been at the top of the list. Dr Schultz especially, since even though he was the less expensive of the two he’s more valuable because I’ve only ever taken him out of the box once. Oddly enough the thought of my DVD collection being destroyed doesn’t bother me. Some things are quite problematic, like football shirts for example, if they are in a pile together, then you could grab them all and count them as one surely? Except they aren’t all in the same place, so that’s three piles not one and I don’t have that many slots left. Nor would I be able to save the entire contents of my Jogi/Die Mannschaft shelf. Or unfortunately my Hansi Flick rain jacket.

An interesting thing to think about given that the other day I was talking about collections and how meaningless they all are. How I’m sick of moving from one obsession to the next, and how stupid it is that when I’m done with an obsession I don’t sell the previous collection, I just put it all out of sight somewhere. It’s totally illogical, if you sold the old collection, you’d have more money for the new one, plus why keep stuff related to someone or something that you no longer care for?

This is what made the list:

Laptop and my iPod, I know that’s two but the iPod is usually connected to it so it can count as one.

Hard-drive.

My football DVD collection.

Football signed by Joachim Löw.

Football signed by Hansi Flick – I don’t actually have this yet, but I don’t need for it to be in my possesion to know that I would want it to be on this list.

 

Charting obsessions: Christoph Waltz

I can track the beginning and the end of my Christoph Waltz fascination, down not only to the exact day but the time too. This is definitely one of the good autistic traits (though applied to bad memories it can obviously work in a negative way too), I can remember everything about that day, the day I saw Django Unchained. It was a Saturday and a snow day. Unusual for the fact that I don’t like going to the cinema on Saturdays because there’s too many people there. Someone was meant to be joining us but couldn’t because of the weather. My normal reaction to a change like that would be to refuse to go out at all, rather than tolerate one change I would rather the whole thing not happen. But that’s not what happened.  I can remember being late to leave because I was making pictures of Sebastian who was my favourite German at the time. I remember being late and having to alter my plans, seeing Monsters Inc 3D first and Django later at 16:00. Another change dealt with and with a minimum of fuss. This Saturday also started the beginning of my book day tradition, the third Saturday in January, the cinema and books. That year I bought The Killing II, All That I Am and HHhH (it’s German for Himmlers Hirn heißt Heydrich).

Django Unchained marked only the second time in my entire life that I had gone to see a film in a crowded theatre (the first was Ratatouille). And it was awesome. For once I wasn’t worried about feeling uncomfortable, it was actually kind of fun, seeing what the audience laughed at and what they didn’t, I never paid any attention to that before.

The day after seeing Django I watched Inglourious Basterds for the first time (which I had gotten just before Christmas but hadn’t watched) and regrettably The Three Musketeers. With the former, I fell in love with CW as the sadistic Nazi Hans Landa. I think the first twenty minutes or so is the best opening of any film ever. I guess the question is, why? His charming and precise Austrian accented English, his whole manner of being,  the way he reveled in being so delightfully evil. I can’t really remember much now, about why. Looking back it seems kind of baffling to me. I know why I liked the two films, Django and Inglourious and why I liked Landa and Schultz, but CW in general, I’m not really sure.

I think the main reason is that his speech and manner of speaking is perfectly suited to Quentin Tarantino’s dialogue. Or as I put it once, Christoph Waltz is to the word Jew in Inglourious Basterds what Samuel L. Jackson is to the n-word in Pulp Fiction.

The time of CW really began with the day I saw Django Unchained at the cinema twice. In my defence, the first time I saw it I was alone and it was either that or Movie 43 (know I now that’s the kind of film that you’d be better off sitting in darkness staring at the wall for two hours, really dodged a bullet with that one) and the second time I saw it was with a friend. All in all I saw Django at the cinema fourteen times (the wonders of having an unlimited card) and I also saw Epic which was released later in the year seven times.

I beat the Django record however with Rush, becuase they brought it back twice, once for take two Thursdays and again in January of this year for the Bafta tour, with that I brought my final total for Rush to seventeen. I also broke the rule I devised, that you can only see a CW film twice in one day at the cinema and I did it on CW’s birthday on the 4th October, I saw Rush twice. That was when his time came to end.

Back then I would write pages of arguments to refute the assertion that he always played the same character, that August in Water for Elephants was basically just another version of Landa and now I’m not so sure that I can do that. The more I watched and studied his films, the more I could see Landa everywhere. That was the beginning of the end. I think it may have been also because I ran out of stuff to buy. There was more I could have got, but it was in German with no English subtitles, at the time I spoke and understood no German. It’s ironic, he was one of the main reasons I wanted to learn German (Sebastian Koch was another) and now that I know some German and can watch TV and films in German and be able to follow what is going on, I no longer care about doing so. Funnily enough him and Sebastian were in a German TV production together, I think it was called “Dance with the Devil: The Kidnapping of Richard Oetker” – something close to that anyway.

I amassed a huge amount of collectibles: signed photos, magazines, clippings, posters and press-books. I also spent a ludicrous amount of money buying an action figure of Hans Landa from Australia. And followed that up by spending a slightly less ludicrous amount getting one of Dr King Schultz. Two other big purchases were the banners, both of them about six feet tall I think, of Landa and Schultz. To think, just the money spent on all those, that would have been enough for at least a week in Germany. Mind boggling, to paraphrase Sheldon “obsessions be crazy.”

A random but related thought, the person who found my TK obsession baffling because he was too normal, not as strange as my usual choices, they didn’t find my CW obsession odd. If they did, they didn’t say so. What does that say about me? A normal, more conventionally handsome kind of guy equals strange. A kind of quirky Austrian who specialises in weirdly alluring psychopaths, not strange. That will be an interesting conversation. At the same time I’ll be sure to find out where Jogi Löw comes in on this strangeness scale of theirs.

I suppose since I posted my favourite pictures of Daniel in Rush, it would only be fair to post what were my favourites of CW as well:

FireShot Screen Capture #1642 - 'Christoph Waltz Fans_ Click image to close this window' - www_christophwaltzfans_com_photos_displayimage_php_pid=5391&fullsize=1

CW in Inspector Rex

FireShot Screen Capture #1643 - 'Christoph Waltz Fans_ Click image to close this window' - www_christophwaltzfans_com_photos_displayimage_php_pid=5384&fullsize=1

CW in Inspector Rex

 

 

 

 

 

 

FireShot Screen Capture #1638 - 'Pictures & Photos of Christoph Waltz - IMDb' - www_imdb_com_media_rm2562885888_nm0910607

SS Colonel Hans Landa – Inglourious Basterds

 

Dr King Scultz

Dr King Schultz – Django Unchained

FireShot Screen Capture #1648 - 'Pictures & Photos of Christoph Waltz - IMDb' - www_imdb_com_media_rm3164320768_nm0910607

Dr King Schultz – Django Unchained