How many times have you seen this plot device turn up in a movie?

The heroes have to get through a locked door, or across a courtyard, or into the back of a van, but they can’t. All is very much about to be lost; and then, out of nowhere, some nameless character just doing his or her job steps up and does The Right Thing — looks the other way, distracts the bad guys, presses the button.

Situation saved, everybody rejoices.

Except…

Call me odd [1], but I often find myself thinking about that character, long after the movie has forgotten that he or she existed. You know, the character who was instrumental in saving the day, who no-one seems to give a damn about less than half a minute later.

I often wonder if that character, as he or she is being gently lowered into a pit of scorpion spiders by a very annoyed Evil Mastermind, ever stops to think, “You know what? My life would have been a lot more pleasant if I’d just yelled, ‘Hey fellas, they’re over here!’”

That character even has a trademark look — first the indecision, second the realisation that it’s down to him or her to do The Right Thing, and then finally… the nod.

The nod that says, “This is totally worth the scorpion spiders. I mean, sure, I don’t know who any of you are. And, come to think of it, I have no idea what you’re doing here — for all I know, you’re simply going to steal the photocopier. But, but, helping whoever you are do whatever it is you’re here to do, is totally and utterly worth the scorpion spiders.”

I know I’m not alone in being mildly worried about these things — fabulous author Terry Pratchett has written several books in the Discworld series about the guards of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch — characters who, in any other literary context, would have been considered to be expendable carnage-fodder for the Good Guy and the Bad Guy as they go around indiscriminately stabbing a lot of people to demonstrate just how Good, or, as it happens, just how Bad they recpectively are [2].

***

I think I worry about that character because I’ve always wondered — if the chips were down, if the writing was on the wall, if the day needed saving — what would I do?

Would I look the other way? Press the button? Distract the guards? Would I go gently into the pit of scorpion spiders happy in the knowledge that the heroes are probably off somewhere enjoying a cold beer and getting medals for heroism and bravery?

Or would my final thoughts be, “I wonder if they even remember my AAAAAARGH!!”