It’s a little-known fact that last year’s “Snow White and the Huntsman” was originally a Quentin Tarantino production. The famed director had originally intended to create a hyper-violent fairytale spaghetti western that called back to his previous work. Not having time, he simply stuck with the spaghetti western aspects and shot the excellent Django Unchained instead. Probably a smart idea. Here, for your pleasure, is part one of the original script for Quentin Tarantino’s Snow White and the Seven Basterds.
Quentin Tarantino Presents: “Quentin Tarantino’s Snow White and the Seven Basterds”
Written and Directed by Quentin Tarantino
EXT – COUNTRYSIDE – MIDDAY
TEXT READS – ONCE UPON A TIME, IN QUEEN-OCCUPIED FAIRYTALE LAND
A BIG BAD WOLF walks up to a small cottage at the top of a hill. He leaves behind a squadron of the QUEEN’S SOLDIERS, each armed with machine guns. He carries a leather bag and wears a patch emblazoned with a large red “Q” on his shoulder. He adjusts his cap and knocks lightly on the door. From behind the door, a voice calls out.
Yea? Who is it?
Big Bad Wolf
Greetings, Monsieur Bear. My name is Wolf Landa, the Queen’s Investigator, and I have been called here today to inquire into the location of three wily pigs. May I come in and ask, in person, in the comfort of your lovely home?
Mr. Bear (O.S., audibly uncomfortable)
Er. Yes. I suppose so.
MONSIEUR BEAR lets in WOLF LANDA. True to his name, Mr. Bear is a giant fucking bear. He wears an ill-fitting shirt and no pants. He is a porridge maker, by trade. Behind him, at the back of his house stands his family. LIL’ BEAR, his son, grasps his MOMMA BEAR’s fur nervously, while GOLDILOCKS, their adopted white girl, glances nervously at Wolf Landa. Wolf Landa flashes them a warm smile, taking care not to show too much teeth.
Hello ladies and little one. My name is Wolf Landa, the Queen’s Investigator. I apologize for interrupting the quiet beauty of your day, but I have been employed to ask the respectable Mr. Bear a few questions. These, unfortunately enough, will have to be asked secretly, and in private, and so I must ask you three, kindly, to wait outside. Is that acceptable?
The three of them nod nervously and leave the house, trying not to make eye contact with the soldiers outside. They know better than to impede the Queen’s business. Mr. Bear and Wolf Landa are alone now. Mr. Bear motions for the table and the two men have a seat.
Before we begin, Mr. Bear, may I trouble you for a bowlful of your delicious porridge?
Er. I suppose that’s okay.
Mr. Bear prepares a warm bowl of porridge and brings it to Wolf Landa, who hungrily devours it all, pushes the bowl aside, and takes out a small brown book before speaking again.
Truly divine. Now then, I trust you will not mind if I conduct this interview in the Language of the Bears? I must admit, I am a bit rusty, but hopefully, you can understand me.
The rest of the conversation is in Bear, with subtitles.
To business. This book is a ledger of people in the area I have already questioned about the location of the THREE LITTLE PIGS. The Queen, simply put, wants their little chinny chin chins on a platter. And it is my job to provide her with them. And I must say, I love my job. Do you know what my nickname is, Mr. Bear?
Er. Yes. I do.
And what is my nickname, Mr. Bear?
Er. The. The Pig Hunter.
Precisely. And I love my nickname. So much more than my associate, Captain Hook. But if you ask me, if you insist on flashing all your suspects during interrogation, you shouldn’t be surprised if they end up calling you “Dickie Smalls”. But I digress. Mr. Bear, I have asked your neighbors as to the location of these pesky little pigs, and each time I have been told that they have moved away already. Is that true?
Er. Yes. Last Spring.
As he says this, the camera pans beneath the table, beneath the floorboards to show the THREE LITTLE PIGS, all huddled together trying their hardest not to breathe, listening and hoping that the wolf will leave soon.
Last spring. So they have truly left? Truthfully?
Mr. Bear, do you know just why I’m so skilled at finding pigs? The average queen’s soldier thinks like a wolf, looking where a wolf would hide and thinking how a wolf would think. But I…I make a point to think how a pig would think, to look where he would hide, knowing full well the lengths a pig can go to escape detection. Now, regulation requires that I order my men into your home to conduct a full search before I can cross your family off the list. And of course, woe betide the man caught sheltering them. Now this search becomes unnecessary if you had any information to tell me that might lead to the capture of these rogue pigs. This information would be met with tremendous reward. Your family would never be bothered again.
Wolf Landa pauses for a moment, takes out a massive smoking pipe, lights it, and calmly observes Mr. Bear. The bear is sweating now, looking incredibly guilty. Putty in the wolf’s hands. A last twist…
Mr. Bear, you are sheltering enemies of the state, are you not?
Mr. Bear (near tears)
You’re sheltering them in the floorboards, are you not?
Mr. Bear (in tears)
I assume, by the fact that they have not made any sound, that though they are listening, they cannot understand Bear. Is that correct?
Point out to me the areas in which they are hiding.
Mr. Bear does so. Wolf Landa stands up and gathers his things, as if he is about to leave. He strolls over to the door and opens it, signaling for the soldiers outside to enter. They do, and the Wolf points out the areas where the unsuspecting pigs are hiding. Wolf Landa turns back to Mr. Bear and switches back to English, the language of the Queen’s Lands.
Well, Mr. Bear, I thank you for your time and for your delicious porridge. I shall cross your family off the list. With that, my business is done here, and I wish you the best.
Wolf Landa makes a grand sweeping motion with his arm and snaps his fingers. The soldiers understand.
The Queen’s Soldiers open fire with their machine guns, tearing the floorboards apart and slaughtering the three little pigs there.
I huffed and I puffed.
EXT – DWARVEN COTTAGE COURTYARD – DAYTIME
SEVEN DWARVES are gathered outside their cottage in their woods. Their leader, HAPPY, takes a step in front of the group and turns to address them. Happy has a massive bushy beard and a nasty scar on his throat. He speaks with a lopping Southern accent.
Attention! My name is Happy the Dwarf, and I need me six soldiers. Six Dwarven soldiers to head into the heart of Queen-occupied Fairytale Land. And once we get there, we’re gonna be doing one thing and one thing only. Killing Qs. Each and every one of you lost your homes to the Queen and her army. They moved in, slaughtered our families and cast us out. Those rotten fuckers shaved Rapunzel so much she killed herself. They gave the Three Blind Mice their sight back and tossed them in a pit of hungry cats. Qs the ones called child services on Pan’s Lost Boys; got them separated in orphanages. Well, after all that, you think we’re going back there to be humanitarians? Qs ain’t got no humanity, and they need to be destroyed. And any Q we find wearing that big red letter on their shoulder, they gonna die. We will be cruel to the Qs. We will be vicious to the Qs. And the Qs, they will be sickened by us. And the Qs will fear us. And the carnage we leave behind us. Now when you join my crew, you take on debit. Each and every one of you owes me 100 Q scalps! And I want my scalps! And y’all will get me my scalps! Or you will die trying. Sound good?
To be continued.