Tomb

This week, Video Vulture looks at the various types of movie luggage.

• Identical luggage — from time to time, a film will require two characters to accidentally exchange suitcases without realizing it, leading to hilarious consequences. Eventually, somebody will open up what they assume to be their own suitcase, and stare at the contents in shock and disbelief. Suitably surprising baggage contents might include large amounts of heroin, frilly underwear, a disassembled sniper rifle, vibrating sex toys, bundles of money, a nine-year-old stowaway, an inflatable sheep or a magic lamp with a genie in it.

The mistake is never detected immediately via a quick check of the luggage tags, nor do any characters ever think to drop their bags next to, say, a sousaphone, rather than beside an identical-looking suitcase.

• Extravagant luggage — belonging to a cheerfully vain female character, but carried by either a bullied husband or a grunting servant, this usually consists of two metric tons of designer luggage and a tiny, yappy dog on a leash. This massive burden will be dumped on the protagonist, along with precise instructions regarding care and placement of said luggage, along with a command to take little Fifi for a walk. Failure to comply with these directives is unthinkable.

The owner of the extravagant luggage never attempts to pick it up herself, nor will she allow it to be transported in more than one go.

• Musical instruments — in most instances, we will see the musical instruments but not the cases. When we do see a case, it is usually for a comically large instrument that the protagonist is expected to transport (as in “Extravagant luggage” above) or it actually contains a machine gun.

In rare circumstances, a cello case will serve as a makeshift toboggan.

• Pet carriers — these containers invariably house vicious beasts, from an unusually grumpy tomcat to a 30-foot genetically engineered python. Once the viciousness of the animal has been established, the cage will be found empty.

Human beings may sometimes be stowed inside a pet carrier for comic effect.

• Gun cases — movie hitmen always carry their weapons around inside eye-catching aluminum briefcases, filled with foam inserts with gun-shaped holes cut into them, despite the extremely suspicious nature of such luggage. The case will contain either way too many handguns (including at least three identical pistols and some hand grenades) or a rifle in pieces, which must be assembled ominously just before the target appears.

At no point will the hitman stare blankly at one of the gun components, trying to remember where it goes. Nor will he consult an instruction booklet or diagram. Nor will he suddenly realize that he's brought along the 5.56mm rifle barrel, but the 7.62mm ammo.

I'd love to see a scene in which an assassin finishes assembling his weapon, and then pulls out a shiny aluminum lunch box, and assembles a sandwich with the same precision and click-clack sound effects: expertly affixing an olive to the top of the bread with a toothpick (“ka-chunk!”) before reaching for some grapes that have their own individual holes cut into the liner foam.

• Sarcophagi — mummified remains are typically transported in these unwieldy boxes, along with mystic scrolls detailing how the occupant may be returned to life. A sarcophagus may be impressively ornate, but only if the film has a sufficiently large budget. Otherwise, a papier-mâché coffin will do.

• Miscellaneous — the Italian crime film The Cynic, the Rat and the Fist (Il cinico, l'infame, il violento) (1977) features a scene in which a heroic ex-cop (Maurizio Merli) totes around a bundle of aluminum poles wrapped in plastic. He carries this load into an apartment that doesn't belong to him, interrupting an innocent couple making love. He binds and gags the couple (this is the good guy, remember) and takes the bundle to the window, where he uses compressed air to telescope a metal pole until it extends to a ledge on an adjacent building. Then he assembles a miniature gondola from a duffel bag, and makes his way across the gap, while dangling several stories above the city street.

Why is he doing this? Why, to disable a security system in the other building before the bad guys rob it, of course. His plan is to get the criminals in trouble by talking them into committing a dangerous heist.

Huh. Seems to me that a better way to get the bad guys in trouble would be to leave the security system on.