In a choice that will seem curious to some fans, the excerpt does not spend many words dealing with Trevor Belmont, the protagonist of the film, or his battle against Dracula. Instead, the excerpt — which seems to be the opening scene — concentrates almost entirely on a discussion between two Transylvanian peasants about the love triangles that can develop between two zoophiles and the goat they are mutually humping.
An excerpt from the excerpt:
And he says to me, I know your goat is in love with me.
So you said “how?”, Bosha?
So I said, “how?” And he says, well, she fucks me, doesn’t she?
Bosha pauses to down his beer.
And that’s when you hit him.
Bosha clumps the beer pot down on the bar.
Right across the eyes with a shovel. And now the headman says I have to pay the bastard money because he went blind.
Now, I know gamers. Many of you, as you read these words, have grabbed your muscle man t-shirts and with a primal howl torn it off your chests in long, mozzarella-like strands to reveal the albino, adrogynous face of Soma Cruz tattooed between your heaving, hairy pectorals. It's the natural reaction for a Castlevania fan. After all, Castlevania already has a fully fleshed out and completely satisfying back story: it features both a Dracula, a Frankenstein and a Mummy. What more could a dramatically satisfying feature film based upon one of gaming's most timeless franchises need? And wouldn't Warren Ellis have been better off focussing on something that would have truly enriched the plot — like a robot Dracula — instead of a crude, throwaway reference to goat fucking?
But I'm a zoophile myself. Wine bubbling from my lips, I have made passionate love to the equines of Rome, and with the scorched eyes of Ozymandias glaring accusingly down upon me, I have humped a dromedary in the sand. So I know a thing or two about bestiality. And trust me, Warren Ellis is doing something clever here.
You see, amongst the bestiality community, Transylvania has long been our Xanadu and our Zembla. While the rest of the world cowers in fear at the bat-like specter of Vlad Tsepes that hangs over the countryside, we go on vacation there, taking our pleasure from the lusty herds of goats that look like Transylvanian women, and when they are spent, the lusty herds of women who look like goats. And it is not simply goats that we are after: we seize rams by the horns and ride them around like furry carnal motorcycles, reaching down to the undercarriage and squeezing a scrotum to make them beep. In fact, that whole Dracula thing? A myth, created by Transylvania's Zoophile-Friendly Tourist board, to scare away the squares.
In short, what may, at first, seem like a tasteless and utterly inappropriate joke about goat fucking, worthy of a lesser genius like Uwe Boll, is — in fact — Ellis' own nod to cultural accuracy. Think of the Castlevania film's obsession with goat fucking as a culture setting flourish no different than all of the croissants, berets and red wine in the works of François Truffaut, or all the Guinness and potato humping in the works of James Joyce. The question is not whether or not goat sex is appropriate in a Castlevania film: of course it is. It's whether or not the fat cats at Konami are so culturally ignorant that they can't recognize the goat sex exchange for what it is: a completely accurate bit of local Transylvanian color.
First Draft Excerpt [Castlvania: Dracula's Curse Production Blog]
Florian Eckhardt, otherwise known as John Brownlee, lives in a Berlin penthouse, doting upon a constabulary of pain slut felines. The walls are adorned with garish art not of his choosing, including a ten foot canvas of an abstractly painted vagina and several prints zoomed in on the vulvas of naked women in blue paint. Along with the vicious, hickey-giving Eliza Gauger, he edits Ectoplasmosis, a fringe art and culture blog, and also contributes to AMC's SciFi Scanner Blog, which definitely needs more readers. His personal motto? "Her eyes say no, but her bleat says yes."
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