Today You Die, Part 2 Script

Yeah, it's going to be a bit disjointed because you can't see what I'm seeing in the actual film, but it's in production! And this is the point where things go crazy in this movie.

No, they weren't crazy yet previously.

Today You Die II: Prison and Other Minor Obstacles

[Previously On Today You Die]

Welcome to the most foreboding office in the world, through which our boy Harland and the Girlfriendwife are seeking their newer, more legit beginning. I assume by joining the ranks of Hell, because this is clearly The Devil in Human Form. Eh, working for a casino, close enough.

[guy who is clearly Uncle Leo opens the armoured car’s door]

UNCLE LEO! HELLO! You can’t tell me this guy isn’t a reanimated mobster pulled out of the foundation of a demolished casino.

[“Why are you whispering?”]

Because that’s the way he talks, lady.

[Suppressed gunshots]

Oh no, I sure didn’t see the dude who looks like a malevolent skeleton turning out to be a bad guy. The hinkiest motherfucker in the world and he turns out to be a marked card, go figure. Anyway, welcome to the wonderful world of this off-strip Vegas car chase, where you see exactly how much of this city is a parking lot. Things are a lot of tepid close-up shots of cars driving for the first few minutes of this thing, interspersed with the world’s least intriguing cutaway phone conversations between Satan and a guy in the pursuit helicopter, who, let’s face it, is a corrupt cop, we won’t even pretend this movie has the capability of keeping a twist hidden. However, don’t let the boredom on display here lull you into a false sense of security, because you’ll notice how old all of these cop cars are, and if you know low-budget movies, you know what that means.

It means this is a situation that can only escalate, starting with Seagal deciding to pull a pro gamer move and kill some folks in an old camper. Take that you camping pieces of shit, may the jet of flames carry you all the way past King Minos’ Judgement.

A group of campers just died. You’re laughing, and a group of campers just died.

And then things escalate:

[Crashes, explosions, screaming, Diddy Kong Racing music]

You think we’re going to get some sort of scene that allays what appears to be individuals meeting a high velocity end to their lives, that we’re going to be told that somehow, this was only injuries, but nope: this is death. The terminus of human life. People’s bodies pulled apart like fresh bread. Because Steven Seagal needs to escape the law, you see, which means if you’re in the way, your life is forfeit, and the only thing that’s going to stop him, is a man with an M203 grenade launcher.

He’s not dead. Seagal still draws breath in this mortal plane. THE GRENADE HIT THE WINDSHIELD. This man should be fucking steak carpaccio. The guy in the back, Uncle Leo, the dude protected by the reinforced metal box [Warhammer 40K METAL BOXES?? SFX], that guy? He’s more fucked up than Seagal. Seagal lifts him out of the smoking armoured car. Yeah, soak that in, while Seagal curls up, waits to hear the cross street where he’s stashed the money actually is. See this is a really smart plan. All that, it was really smart. Seagal planned all this. He meant to do that.

OH MY GOD, ENTER WARP SPEED, you’re about to get your lifetime shat upon by a film that really, really wants you to look at this lump of cinematic dark matter as he sits in a chair and mumbles out a table read like he’s hungover. And stupid. And smells bad. Fuck Steven Seagal, is what I’m getting at here.

The short, short version: This character who I’m going to refer to as Lady Cop, because that’s the level of respect the film pays her, wants to interrogate Seagal over the mayhem that just occurred. This guy here, this evil looking guy, who was absolutely definitely the dude talking on the phone with Satan, doesn’t want her to, because he’s got a whole sweet deal, and also that the Devil just pulled his greatest trick.

[Max is dead]

My man, you’re sinister to a point and fooling nobody. This is just sloppy handling of your business. I’m not impressed, Corrupt Cop. Also, I gotta be real, I’m as police critical as folks come, but when you tell me that this guy fatally blew up three cops in a high speed chase through a highly populated area, I’m not actually rooting for him, not when he’s the dude who chose to escalate a bad situation. This movie really is a window through to the inner psyche of Steven Seagal: yeah, he killed people, but it’s not his fault, someone had a gun on him, and he was trying to escape.

[long pause; gonk sound effect]

[Seagal goes to prison.]

Welcome to the brutality of the United States prison industrial complex. If you think we’ll be staying long, don’t count on it, because this real-world desert edifice of terror is but a footstep in this moralless inland trashfloe’s quest. We get the requisite horror montage of being put into the cell block, complete with an off-brand Luis Guzman from Blood In, Blood Out, and then at the end, we get to see how completely unaffected Seagal is by any of this. He’s the hardest man to ever live. Harder than any prison. Behold his majesty.

[Girlfriendwife phone montage]

On second thought, let’s not do that, it’s boring.

Welp, it’s time to hang out in the yard, and meet this film’s sidekick character, who’s played by none other than Treach, from Naughty by Nature. His name in this movie is… sigh… Ice Kool, which is why from this point forward, I’m gonna just call him Treach. Anyway, in the middle of this, Seagal gets accosted by some Grove Street heavies that want him to do a Jerry and show them the money. Please accept this brief blurt of movement as an action sequence.

[and it’s over]

Well thank god these guys are the biggest wimps in the world, otherwise there might have been some tension here. Both of these dudes are built like casket freezers, and one of them’s got a blade, but all of the sudden Seagal hurts them a little bit, and they just lose all the fight in them. You’d think people in prison would go harder than this, you’ve kinda gotta keep a reputation about shit like this I’ve heard. I’m not impressed, sir.

[montage of Uncle Leo getting sent to the same prison]

UNCLE LEO, HELLO!

[it’s the one named Ice, we don’t want to start a war]

“Well viewer, as you know, Treach is in peril.” That’s what the film just subtly told you. Because again, you’re watching this, so obviously you’re just some fucking professional dunce cap model. Good Lord.

And next we’re treated with a game of overweight cat against elderly rat. This film would like you to think this is seat-edge thrill-a-minute filmmaking. It isn’t, so watch these guys wiggle in fast motion, before we proceed into the horrid inevitable:

In the name of all I hold holy, Steven Seagal is about to start assaulting another 72 year old man.

Like the world’s worst nature documentary, this fight scene unfolds with unnerving confidence, a sense of second nature that is low key chilling. This is because Steven Seagal has been here many times before, assaulting someone who looks like they’ve lived a hard life in the sun across at least six decades, like a light fall couldn’t lay them up in their death bed, let alone a merciless beating by a mostly-shaven moose-man. This man is in his comfort zone, destroying the elderly with the same ease of motion as a man tossing pizza dough. He is a scythe blade through autumnal grass, the Hammer of Olds. This man wants it known that if your ass got a grandpa, you won’t any more if that grandpa steps out of line around him.

[Send this message to Max (arm break)]

Yeah great, cool, you’re a badass. You fucking prick.

Also, here’s some prison politicking, to let you know that Seagal got in with Treach by doing him a favour. You’d think this might play into some deeper intrigue. It won’t.

Instead Seagal meets with Treach, and the two work out a plan to escape, because Seagal’s got money, and Treach supposedly has a breakout plan via hijacked police chopper. They say this with about one hundred extra words, during which this dude who looks like a default Create a Wrestler looms in the background. Seagal buys his way into the escape plan with the promise of sharing the money he stole, is the jist here, fuck it.

And then Lady Cop meets with Seagal and just, motherfucker, nobody cares, Seagal stole 20 million, get on with it.

[Seagal talks really slow.]

I want to elbow drop this movie.

[Max is dead, move on]

Sure thing. So the previous meeting scene with Lady Cop causes some friction between Seagal and Treach, that’s resolved almost instantly.

[You a cool motherfucker. Ice cool, yall]

Shut up, you sponge mold, you wrote that shit. You so wrote that shit.

Then treach goes over to Correctional Officer Dave Coulier and starts talking some 12th dimensional mess, and when he’s sufficiently mesmerized, Seagal steps in from behind to physically cut, it, out. Nice rabbit punch, you bowl of potatoes, I think you just put a very large child into a coma. Seriously, look at that guy and tell me his skull wasn’t still in the process of hardening. This man is Billy Quizboy in a corrections uniform and he’s been severely concussed to the brain-base. This oversized boy needs emergency medical attention.

[oh no it’s a prison break]

Why does this sound like the escape sequence to a Resident Evil game?

[DUN DUN DUN DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNN, and Seagal and Treach escape prison]

Well, that was easy. Seriously, that’s it: there’s a fight scene that Seagal doesn’t have to even slightly participate in, no, he just lumbers down a hallway with Treach in disguise behind him, while Treach’s presumed crew stays behind, goes crazy and starts sickhousing other inmates. It’s kinda rude for Treach to skip out like that.

Rude like the assumption that you’d watch a movie like this and expect something clever, or resourceful from the protagonists. If you were watching a prison movie, you’d maybe expect some sort of planning phase, where the characters show how clever and imaginative they are when applied to the difficult problem of escaping prison. The Seagal solution, is to have money, and to call in fucking chopper support. No, it’s less than that, it’s to have money and buy into someone else’s chopper support.

Steven Seagal is the hardest man in a world of padded corners.

So then Seagal and Treach and the pilot divvy up this bug out supply that Seagal had, and I think the film might have established he had earlier in the film… whatever, move with it, it’s Ben Affleck Daredevil, and he just has this shit. And then he goes to Girlfriendwife and they presumably fuck and oh dear lord thank fuck for that quick fade. Fuck, I hated every second of that. Get tae fuck.

[Cop Lady is off the case]

YOU’RE OFF THE CASE MCGARNIGLE, HOW DID YOU NOT KNOW HE HAD CHOPPER SUPPORT?? WHY DIDN’T YOU ENSURE THE PRISON WAS SURROUNDED BY SAM SITES? This man’s Sith makeup is showing. He’s about to polymorph into Agent Smith, I swear.

Whoops, duck low, some more editing coming in. Girlfriendwife is having a particularly cheap dream this time, with some sort of prophetic overtones.

[He’s evil Harlan, he’s something beyond this Earth]

But then we can shove that aside, because the payoff to that Framed Placemat of a Mandala is about to come sliding into home, and folks? I don’t know quite what to say about this. I don’t know what to say. Welcome to the sequel of the Going Out of Business Sign.

[What’s That? It’s a protection diagram.]

[Absolutely brutal cutaway with no explanation that will occur now or at any point in this film]

Folks. I just. I just. Folks. I don’t have the lung capacity to smoke the weed required to handle this.

Soooooo, like, in the first case, what, no, why? Why do you drop this on us, Seagal? Why do you do you, Seagal? Second, this is the unleashed inward reality of a narcissist who thinks he knows what he’s talking about, a man pissing into wind and forecasting rain, literally standing over a piece of someone’s culture and telling you what it is from his high angle. What you are seeing here, is a humble learning tool, applied as some mystical balm to a vague supernatural threat, wielded by a multidiscipline flim-flam man with the grace of a dehydrated and concussed K2-smoker. This is Buddhism, played for 3 colourless, one White, and tapped before the combat phase. This is openly stating that the Wheel of Life, a visualization of the Buddhist cosmology as both art and education made specifically for those who can’t read, is some sort of magical gew-gaw ward to protect against a Satan Man who dwells in a Skull Crime Office. This is everything that Steven Seagal is: equal parts tasteless and lazy. And just like one of his instantly fatal neck snaps, it’s over and out as soon as it’s sunk in, the serenity of its presence instantly annihilated by the engine note of an overbuilt, underpowerful American SUV.

On a cosmological scale, Steven Seagal? Sincerely eat a bowl of dicks.

So anyway, you’d assume things were going to get enlightened from this point onward. We aren’t, as we’re plunging headlong into the underworld gutter, as imagined by this man made out of unbaked pie crust. Which means after a bunch of dumbass dialogue that means nothing ultimately, we wind up at a bar that’s the kind of place where a lighter complexion might be a liability. But don’t worry, we learn quickly that Steven Seagal is now and forever cool with The Black People, and therefore he and Treach are let through to the backroom, where sits Treach’s OG and gun plug, Dinky-D.

Thats. That’s the name of the dog food from Mad Max. That’s the dog food from Mad Max.

But before that inanity can properly sink in, we get fucking mollywhopped with this line.

[walks like a black man, breathes like a killer]

Let the weight of that line fall on you like the mass of a sumo wrestler’s corpse. Let the stink wash over you and strangle your mind like a cheese-reeking psychotropic fog. Folks, we’re beyond the slanted angle of GOING OUT OF BUSINESS, now we’ve gone and gotten properly bent out of shape. Walks like a black man, breathes like a killer, as stated by a blind, black arms dealer. Folks, you don’t get it, this is true wisdom, Dinky-D’s third eye is open, and what he’s seeing is no less than 20 DMXes stuffed into a single body that does super-aikido. A full twenty-pack of Dark Man X, in one extremely white body what breathes in a manner of someone ready and willing to take life. Dinky, if you’re impressed by how murderously he breathes, you should see how this motherfucker drives, this man is Spanish Flu with an engine. This man cinderized campers for trying to stop him from getting his money.

With such heightened perception of both Seagal’s ambulatory blackness and cardiovascular lethality, along with his off-screen history with Treach, Dinky-D opens up his stock for free, giving two exceedingly dangerous individuals, who I will remind you are extremely not good people, free reign of his supply of Goldeneye pickups. Yeah, sure, this lumpen man will use these guns for justice, you can assume this because of how he breathes. This man is a human nailbomb, up to no good, and you’re arming him like he’s not about to fatally blow an old man’s dick off.

[walk like a black mannnnnnnnn]

Oh my god this music, did Seagal play this himself?

So anyway, we’re on Seagal’s quest to wipe out the Satan Man and his associates, which will allow him to drop his self-imposed amnesia act and remember where the 20 million is. Somehow, magically, Seagal knows where this Jim Lahey-looking enforcer is hanging out, and after some extremely 2000s homophobic ha-ha funny talk, Seagal rolls his disgraceful self up on this probably-drunk elderly uncle and muscles him into the back of a nearby Jag, and threatens to blow his dick off.

[no seriously, direct threat of ballistic groinstrunction to an old man]

You absolute joke human being, that’s twice in the same video where I have been forced to witness your frayed moral fibre physically menacing the elderly, first with blunt force trauma, and now with the barrel of a loaded .45. I wish I could say this is somehow him trying to get mental revenge on Gene LeBell literally squeezing the shit out of him, but he’s been doing this since longer than that incident. This man well and truly wants the world to know that his hands are rated for age 65+ and over, and I don’t know what is the fucking meaning of it, other than Seagal thinks its somehow impressive that he makes Soylent Green at home, the old fashioned way. Anyway, old guy gives up the information and then--

[gunshot to the dick]

Man it always comes down to groin violence on my channel, doesn’t it.

I’m not even going to comment further. Yeah, let’s just roll with the sound effects. Let’s give the people what they want…

[An old man is shot in the dick to death with funny sound effects, over and over, until the title card COMING SOON: STEVEN SEAGAL VS BARTHOLOMEW - MATCH OF THE MILLENIUM; PLUS, SATAN IS WEAK TO PROXIMITY MINES. STAY TUNED.]