Sign of the times

Who doesn't love a good biopic? For audiences, there's the catharsis of a good old rags-to-riches tale. For screenwriters it's a script that practically writes itself. And for the actors, it's pretty much the easiest way of securing an Oscar nomination, short of playing a mentally-challenged Holocaust survivor.

In fact, the only problem with the genre is that it's so formulaic. Whether it's a film about a sporting legend or a country & western singer, there are certain bases that always need to be covered.

It all starts with abject poverty and despair, as our forlorn hero struggles to make ends meet. Hidden away from the world's prying eyes, they secretly indulge in whatever their latent talent happens to involve, from playing the double bass to hanging out at the driving range.

And then comes the turning point, as a kind-hearted would-be sponsor notices their innate ability and encourages them to pursue their dreams. But the path to celebrity is fraught with peril, as out naive fish-out-of-water struggles to adapt to their luxurious new surroundings. Drugs, alcohol, slutty ne'er-do-wells - there's temptation everywhere. And our heroic figure can only say 'no' so many times.

After the rise, comes the inevitable fall. Contracts are torn up, money is frittered away, and suddenly everything is in jeopardy. It looks like our hero is heading back to the overpopulated shack or under-waterproofed cardboard box where they started out. Thankfully, there's always the third-act redemption to drag them back from the brink and set them back on the right course. Then there's just the reprise of the theme song and the "It's an honour just to be nominated" speech to worry about.

So the challenge for movie producers, is how to put a fresh spin on such an established format. But it seems as though Ted Williams may have the answer.

Less than two weeks ago, Ted was just another homeless man, begging for money at the side of the road. When local videographer Doral Chenoweth spotted Ted's sign advertising his 'voice-over skills', she interviewed him and uploaded the film to YouTube.

Quicker than you can say "Copy of the Big Issue?", Ted was a worldwide internet phenomenon. Because when he said he had voice-over skills, he wasn't kidding. The man has the kind of smooth, soothing baritone that makes Barry White sound like Fran Drescher.

Within a week of his discovery, Ted was recording TV ads for Kraft Foods, plugging their macaroni and cheese mix, and being interviewed by every news anchor in America. He was even reunited with his long-lost mother in a live broadcast.

A few days later, as the ink was still drying on his lucrative contract with the Cleveland Cavaliers, Ted was picked up by the police for a run-in with his daughter at a hotel in Los Angeles. Forty-eight hours later, and Ted has made an appearance on Dr. Phil's talk-show to address his alcohol and drug-dependency issues. Today it was announced that he's heading for rehab. It's enough to make Andy Warhol's wig spin.

The upside of all this, is that we may have finally figured out a way to refresh the stale predictability of the conventional biopic. When 24 ended last year, it left a gap in the market for a drama with a ticking clock in the corner of the screen. Given the speed at which Ted was discovered, celebrated, arrested, diagnosed and packed off to rehab, it's possible that his story could be told in real-time. Throw in a couple of Arabian terrorists, and some torture with a set of bulldog clips, and everyone's happy.

Giving good head

If money was no object, and you found yourself stricken with an incurable disease, the concept of cryonic preservation would undoubtedly hold some appeal.

Simply freeze yourself like a freshly picked vegetable and wait until a cure has been developed, that can be administered to your freshly de-frosted body. Consequently, rich people from all walks of life have embraced the technology, turning themselves into human ice-lollies in the hope that medical science will one day be able to solve their problems.

Ever since his death in 1966, speculation has been rife about animator, union-buster and rumoured anti-Semite Walt Disney. If the urban legend is to be believed, lung cancer may have claimed the life of the entertainment mogul, but the cremation was actually a sham, with Walt's frozen corpse placed into storage beneath the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland. Interestingly, the first known case of cryonic freezing occurred a month later in January 1967, lending a certain timeliness to the tale.

In the last forty years cryonics have become a regular science-fiction staple, with characters regularly flash-frozen, or at least held in suspended animation. Futurama viewers will be familiar with the show's disembodied heads - an eclectic mix of 20th century icons who have managed to retain their consciousness, and more bizarrely, their vocal chords.

And yet it still comes as something of a shock to discover that all over the world, there really are cabinets filled with dry ice and the severed heads of the great and good. People like Theodore Samuel "Ted" Williams, a legendary left fielder in Major League Baseball.

Having played 21 seasons with the Boston Red Sox, Ted was considered one of the sport's greatest ever hitters, and was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1966. When he died, aged 83 in 2002, his family chose to have him frozen as part of a pact "to be put into biostasis after we die". The idea was that the family might one day be reunited, once medicine had evolved sufficiently to cure their ailments.

Unfortunately for Ted, he placed a little too much faith in human nature, as well as medical science. According to Larry Johnson - a former executive at the Alcor Life Extension Foundation in Scottsdale, Arizona - Williams' severed head was abused at the facility, with one technician using Ted's noggin as a giant softball, replacing the more traditional bat with a monkey wrench.

Although this gruesome little anecdote may encourage people to think twice before turning themselves into Frosty the Snowcorpse, I suppose there's an upside too. Williams clearly wanted to live on, and at least this way the baseball legend is helping future generations to practice their swing.