A Neat Idea for A Horror Movie?
The plot goes like this: In a prestigious private clinic an unscrupulous money grabbing boss discovers that the more operations that take place, the more money can be made. He hatches his evil little scheme.
This person, so vile and despicable, orders his medical staff to stop at nothing and to ‘operate’ and over- operate as much they can.
Fuelled by the offer of performance related pay linked directly to the number of operations performed, the medical team raise their personal incomes by carrying out every overly complex surgical intervention imaginable.
One day, an unsuspecting old woman enters this house of healing to have a single nodule removed from her breast, and comes out after an ‘operation’ with her complete breast missing. She wails in desperation.
Another unsuspecting victim enters horror hospital with pneumonia, and as part of the ‘treatment’ has a lung removed by the avaricious theatre team.
One week, a kindly, but frail, little old lady is admitted for some more ‘care’ by the monster doctors, and is subjected to three full scale operations over a period of seven months. The strain of all these operations results in the untimely death of the little old lady, but the doctors bonuses swell. They drive away from the carnage they are creating in shiny new BMWs and Mercedes’.
The ‘interventions’ continue apace, leading to a further four people losing their lives to the doctors of death. But, the scalpel wielding doctors continue to cut away, knowing that each time they exaggerate a little, their pay packets will grow proportionately. It is a macabre form of ‘overtime’. The more complex the intervention, the higher the bonus, and the closer the apartment in Monte Carlo becomes.
All the time, the head of the clinic, Mr Ghoul continues to egg his cutting-edge medics on, uttering, in his icily clinical and raucous tones, “More operations, more pay, my little ones.”.
One day though, in a high tech twist, one of the wacky quacks cracks, and he sends a text message to another of the D-team (’d’ is for death), claiming that the strain of falsifying medical records and performing exaggerated surgical interventions was becoming too much for him. He knows his evil ways will be found out - those who live by the sword, often die by it, comments one of the police officers who has been involved in tapping the phones. The police are called in after the elderly father of a police officer went into the clinic for the removal of an ingrowing toenail, and came out in a coffin, after being subjected to a 24 hour triple bypass, with lung transplant, just for good money making measure.
I could go on, and bring this horrific little film to a blood curdling conclusion. How about an ending in which the death docs are just about to tuck in to one of the police officers who they caught sniffing around, when our heroes burst in, and, amidst a shower of scalpels, manage to save their colleague and shoot their way out of horror hospital? The heroes then throw themselves through a plate glass window, seconds before the whole building is demolished in an explosion set off by the clinic administrator to cover his tracks.
Bang. The end.
There, what do you think? A potentially good idea for a horror flick?
Possibly, but the really scary thing is that this ‘plot’ is based, pretty closely, on a series of real-life goings on at the Santa Rita clinic here in Milan. Fourteen quacks have ended up in handcuffs, including the administrator, as a result of their little ‘operations for income generation’ fiddle.
The motive? Money. Nothing more, nothing less.
Italy’s money motivated doctors have been in the news quite a few times recently - see my ‘A complex Complex‘ and ‘Blind Cheek‘ posts for a little more evidence.
By the way, if you are not feeling too good, I can recommend the perfect place for treatment. You won’t feel a thing, I promise you. Cue: Evil laugh.
Buzz Lightyear!
At the real risk of getting a bullet, or a fish in the post, or finding a dead horse’s or sheep’s head lounging on the bed, I have to say that Andy’s recent comparison of Mr Berlusconi to Buzz Lightyear had me in stitches! Fair brightened up a dullish Monday morning.
If you’ve ever seen the first Toy Story movie, then you may well be able to understand why this comparison is so apt.
Go on, dig out or rent a copy of Toy Story, and while you are watching it, think about Italy’s latest regurgitated prime minister, and see if you agree with Andy and myself.
Into the Wild
Well, I saw the film Into the Wild the other day. Oddly enough, years ago, I don’t remember when or where - but I think it was in a magazine, I read about this guy who took off into the Alaskan wilderness and appeared to have died from eating the wrong kind of plants, even if this Wikipedia entry appears to indicate that the lad died of starvation.
Did I like the film? Yes, but it’s a little long and quite slow moving.
What did I think of the story? Nice, but a good example of how to end up in big trouble as a result of a) being a townie b) not being at all well prepared for such a harsh environment. I was a still little surprised that the guy ended up dead though. A great shame and sad waste of a young, and promising, life.
As a matter of interest, and as a result of reading about it, I discovered that the unbeknown to McCandless, at the point where he discovered that the river he had initially crossed had swollen so much as to make it impossible to cross, a quarter of a mile further downstream there was a hand pulled ferry - scroll down to Cultural Legacy. Alas the young lad did not even think to take a decent map with him, such was his desperation to escape from the materialist society he so detested.
That he died of starvation surprised me a little - considering he had a gun with him. He must have been neither a good shot nor much of a hunter, is all I can observe - confirming that he was too much of a townie. Anyone thinking about doing the same needs to watch this film, at least so they can understand what not to do.
I know this incvident happened before the web exploded on the scene, which is also a shame because there are some great resources which can allow one to find out about many of the potential pitfalls involved in going it alone in the middle of nowhere. You can even learn how to deal with big nosey, and dangerous, bears. One thing you can do is to lie down and play dead. Then big ted will decided that bear hugging you won’t be much fun and lollop off somewhere else. Maybe for a spot of salmon fishing.
So, I suppose the qustion is: Was McCandless a hero or a fool? I don’t think he was either really. Basically he was killed by that most dangerous of traits: ignorance.
Would I have done any better? I like to think so, but then I didn’t grow up in a town. And I can shoot.





