mockturle06: (Avengers)

Well, my ovaries have good and proper exploded. It was the full Edwardian drag what done it, which I have a decided thing for, and then, yikes, the floppy blonde hair. I was gone. Gone.

I blame it on far too much Merchant Ivory at a tender age. Yes I do (and as if it wasn’t bad enough, the Guardian decided to get all retrospective over Merchant Ivory and their floppy-haired Edwardian chaps).

But, you know, lawks. If I’m like this now with just the pre-publicity, what am I going to be like when I see the damn film. Well, the complete lack of ANZACs should keep me suitably thin-lipped and dry of eye and dry of seat. So far it looks like the only Australian referenced in the whole damn enterprise is Frank Hurley and his WWI photos.  Like really referenced, like rip-off, like they better hope they’re out of copyright.

But anyway, short story: too much drooling over the Pine and boom, my second period in two weeks, because one wasn’t enough? I thought going crone meant less, not more. I’m gonna be a hollowed out husk at the end of it.

So, aside from the full Edwardian (swoon), there were repeats of Beyond and a brief appearance in Angie Tribeca (père et fils, actually, and my second Pine Snr sighting that week – I really need to get out more).

But that wasn’t my only Chris, oh no. I cheated and saw Guardians of the Galaxy. One of those other Chrises.

Meant to go last week but I had the dreaded lurgy, but I crawled off to see it on the weekend, dosed to the gills on borrowed Codral (I haven’t had it in years, so I’m still coming down). So, maybe it’s the Codral talking, that is, critical faculties not at full strength, but I kinda loved it.

Okay, yes, another decided entry in the sad man-child with massive daddy issues genre (the bit where he played catch with his dad was cringe-inducing) but hey, if films are still being made by a generation with abandonment issues, at least it had something to say about love and friendship and bonds that are stronger than blood (especially as blood kin are always proving perilously duplicitous – see also Lucifer). I do wonder what films from the helicopter parent generation are going to be like. More stifling, less hanging the kids out to dry, I suspect.

I could be crueller, but having been ‘raised’ by biological units with less instincts than reptiles or rocks, or, as Victor Hugo so accurately put it, she was a mother only by accident of biology, I kind of get where they were coming from (alas my surrogate mum met the end I might have wished on others) re the absent and abusive parentals.

But it was funny, the soundtrack rocked, the aesthetics were on point (especially the end credits) and Baby Groot stole the movie (should the flesh and blood actors be worried)?

What I really loved was that the big space battles were not endless, mindless minutes of stuff being mashed, but happening hilariously off-screen, in the background, and/or in between bickering. You know, back to being a means to an end, part of the narrative, not an entire reel of mind-numbing first-person player, for which I care not. That was clever and funny, and, gosh darn it, fresh and funny. More, please.

Finally, a film that was more about characters than explosions. Well done. More like this please.

I’ve also had the good fortune, via an email and a $20 ticket, to see and hear Ian Rankin read from A Clockwork Orange, talk about his early influences, being very funny, and then, then I got my book signed. Squee!

If that wasn’t enough, I managed to go to the talk, get my book, line up, get my book signed, get my big work bag back, walk blocks to bus stop, get on a bus and get home only 40 minutes after Himself who left the city over three hours before me. No, no wormholes or time-travel, it’s just that after 7-8pm the roads finally clear and zoom!

I was actually very thrilled to the point of, my colleagues accused me of, blushing, as I’d intended to see a talk by Mr Rankin in the UK, but that fell through, of course, so to see him out here for the Writers’ Festival, well, wishes do come true (yep, wish for Ian Rankin granted, others, not so much, but the universe knows which would cheer me up most).

It was also a good, if brief night, because I ended up sitting next to this retired lady (never did ask her name, I’m shocking) both in the foyer and in the auditorium (and my seat bought on spec was bloody marvellous) and we were chatting and she asked me what I did and declared it ‘useful’. Ah, some much needed validation at last.

The other talks were interesting (I have whole new uses for ‘oscillating’) and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

So, there I was, drinking French wine, listening to great authors, while Himself was strap-hanging on a dangerously over-crowded bus for hours. Ooops. Needless to say, tea wasn’t that much further on from having a tin of beans lobbed at my head. Ah well, seeing Ian was the only good thing this week.

Badness was waking up to being violently unwell, during a violent thunderstorm, and reading Roger Moore had died. My Saint, my Maverick, my Persuader, my Bond. My hero. I’ve adored Roger Moore since I was a child. I snuck in the theatre to see Moonraker (I never sneak).

I was, quite simply, besotted with the man. And, to my great relief, he seemed so sweet and wickedly funny on Twitter (his quiet on Twitter had me worried, I wasn’t wrong to worry). To my further relief, most media reports have been tributes, relating fan love for the man, his good deeds and cheeky wit, and his fine turn as a knitwear model. Really, I couldn’t ask for anything else. Vale Roger, my beloved TV idol.

I’m so very, constantly on the verge of tears sad, but also still full of my love for that man. Last night they played Live and Let Die on telly. Roger Moore, immortal, forever dashing.

I think I was oddly happy, too, to discover so many I follow on social media were massive Persuaders fans (points awarded). I loved that showed. And I adored Maverick. But my favourite would have to be The Saint. I don’t know why, but that suave crime-fighting (later, in the silly 60s, giant monster ant fighting) international man of mystery really took my breath away.

Depending on what age I was at the time of viewing, it was either about the clothes and the cars, the grittier black and white episodes where he was more anti-hero with a conscience, more of a crook than a playboy with a heart of gold, or it was the wacky full colour mid-sixties episodes where the previous too cool Simon Templar became a cardigan wearing grump complaining about pop music and teenagers. And I still loved him. There’s a Saint episode for every occasion, if you want black and white noir and Soho nightclubs, go early. If you want giant ants roaming the Welsh hillsides or brainwashed teenagers, go late. I loved that show. I loved Roger.

The Persuaders, well that just seems just get camper with every viewing. I don’t know what they were thinking, but the series is thoroughly enjoyable. Seriously, some episodes feel like Roger and Tony have taken some time out from their holiday to stumble in front of a camera, but the results are joyous.

Maverick I came to late, only having seen the show when Fox Classics played it a few years back now, but I was hooked. Some of the greatest episodes ever committed to film are contained within Maverick, in my opinion. Sadly not many of them were Roger’s, but he had a few crackers, and I still want to know what he did to get a fire hose in the face in one episode because he breaks character and it’s so obviously unscripted but delightfully silly.

Bond, well, technically he was my Bond, but my Dad always preferred Connery (even if he was a lowlander), but Live and Let Die and the Man With The Golden Gun, total faves. I never did get that Saint film I wanted, but as far as I was concerned, the Bond films were near enough.

Oh man, it was such a joy to watch him last night. At least he’s not gone, gone. He’s still there, taking up shelves of my bookcases (dvds,  memorabilia). He’s there, on my playlists. Immortal. Beloved.

But it hurt. And he is gone. No more zingers on Twitter – damn, I’ll miss that. It made me love him so much more, as if that were possible.

Ah, why must you make me live in a world without heroes.

mockturle06: (Avengers)
 photo bc_esquirev160n4nov13us_0007_zps5b0388a8.jpg  photo hoult_vman31springsum14us_0004_zps9023d11f.jpg  photo damian_hunger6-2014uk_0003_zps65ab7d23.jpg  photo kit_gqapr14ua_0004_zpsbd913db7.jpg

This week: Benedict Cumberbatch snubbed again for Sherlock, Daniel Craig swaps super-smart tuxedos for woolly sweaters in Spectre, Aidan Turner didn't audition shirtless for Poldark, David Tennant Spotted On the Set of AKA Jessica Jones, Tobias Menzies on Playing Torture Scenes, Tom Hardy on Life as the New Mad Max, Nicholas Hoult Says Shaving His Head Was Freeing, Dominic Cooper cast as the lead in AMC's Preacher pilot, James Corden nominated for US TV prize, Charlie Cox Talks Daredevil Season Two, James McAvoy Finally Goes Bald for X-Men, Damian Lewis is unrecognisable after '70s makeover for West End's American Buffalo, Eddie Redmayne offered lead in Harry Potter spin-off Fantastic Beasts, John Hannah back at Fringe in 2015 after 25 years, Charles Dance sounds awesome in new The Witcher 3 video, Richard E Grant is going to play the Duke of Wellington for BBC Two, Dominic Monaghan had another reunion with his Lord Of The Rings co-stars, Mark Gatiss on his Doctor Who devotion, Christopher Eccleston on social mobility, Peter Davison talks Doctor Who's music, Matt Smith is the fastest Time Lord, Alan Rickman Set to Star in Supernatural Thriller, Charlie Hunnam as King Arthur, Ian McKellen and Derek Jacobi return in Vicious, Ewan McGregor to Play Lumiere, Simon Pegg Talks Idris Elba And Star Trek, Paul Bettany on Avengers, Kenneth Branagh unveils new theatre company in London, Toby Stephens Spending 13 Hours With Michael Bay, Jude Law Confirmed for Lead Role, David Oyelowo Finds Three Seconds, Matthew Macfadyen Talks The Enfield Haunting, Richard Armitage Bids Farewell To The Hobbit, Kit Harington on risky Spooks stunts, Rupert Everett joins Musketeers series 3, Andrew-Lee Potts made award-winning film in his cupboard, Tom Hiddleston in Chilling New Crimson Peak Trailers, Martin Freeman joins Captain America, Ioan Gruffudd's Forever Axed, Robert Carlyle to open Edinburgh International Film Festival )
mockturle06: (Dean)
Disorders of macadamias, it sounds like some fiendish Booker prize baiting wankery, soon to be adapted by S. Stone for the stage, a bare stage, with lots of shouting.

Sorry, another Sisyphean task of indescribable soul sucking repetition and pointlessness, and thus my mind wanders. Why, I ask, again, am I always the one to be stuck with these jobs. Always.

Dear Past Me, thank you so much for remembering to buy the box of peppermint tea I totally forgot to buy this morning, and for putting it away properly so I wouldn't find it until I was really desperate and scrabbling away in darkest cupboard corners. What a treat, surprise tea. Most excellent, dude.

Ah, senility, every day is like Xmas. I'd like to say it's just chronic lack of sleep, but no, I'm probably dribbling out grey matter onto the pillow every night.

It probably explains all the trash tv I've been watching lately. I should be so ashamed. And yet, and yet, on the run through the tunnels this morning (actual subterranean malls I run through to cut a few corners off my 2km walk from where the bus dumps scum like us, on the city limits, lest we rabble sully their hallowed halls, and where I actually work, within the gleaming citadel) every other shop, still shut up but nevertheless blaring out the MOR pop and rock, all of it from the 70s today (one day it was 1982 from point to point and I was totally having an Ashes to Ashes experience), and, anyway, I smiled. Just a little smile.
more: )
mockturle06: (Avengers)
Lobster one day, on my hands and knees scrubbing out the shower stall the next. Hey, at least there was lobster.

Decided to combine several trips into one on Saturday, so off we went early to catch a session, finally, of Skyfall down at the Dendy. Could have done without the noisy popcorn perfume people, and the movie had been hyped beyond belief, but you know me, if it's a Bond film, I'm happy.
more: bondage, lobsters and Moz )
mockturle06: (mr flibble)
Precious little to report as theatre was cancelled and I bunked off my usual philosophy course. I was tired, it was wettish, and decided to wallow with my box set of The Hour instead. Good choice, imho. I love The Hour. Think State of Play in meticulous 50s drag. Except it's grim London 50s, not sparkling LA 50s. Makes it better, as far as I'm concerned. Also, crushing big time on Mr Whishaw.

It was all about the rain. Stood in the rain for about forty minutes or so outside the old State Theatre just to catch the most fleeting of glimpses of James Bond. Well, it was the dismal end of a miserable week and it was on the way to the bus stop, anyway, which is on the other side of town (scruffy reprobates from my zone need not bother coming into the city proper, they are neither welcome nor required, apparently those photocopiers fill themselves).

Anyway, I stood, I got soaked, I did but see him passing by. For a second, under an umbrella. Still, it wasn't that bad. The crowd where I was standing seemed to be made up almost entirely of British ladies of a certain age, and their withering comments, be it the weather or the fashions of minor soapie stars, was entertainment itself (British moaning does get on one's tits in the long term, but in short term exposures it's hilarious).



The monorail also provided a unique bonding experience, as we were standing right under the track in the rain and I tried to warn the tourists what would happen, but they pshawed (I wasn't wearing the grey cardigan of trustworthiness), until it did come around the corner and swept all the water from the track before it down onto our heads. After that their were cries of 'monorail!' every time it hoved into view. Well, I did try to warn 'em.

Never mind, good crowd of the very damp and the very faithful, and very British, and therefore very vocal. It was kind of fun. Reminds me of why I do the stage door thing there, but never here.
more: the mad, the bad and the dangerous )
mockturle06: merlin in a hat (Default)

This week: Daniel Craig Set For Monuments Men, Andrew Lincoln talks ruthless Rick Grimes, David Morrissey on Walking Dead, Tom Hiddleston at the BFI Awards, Martin Freeman Humbled by The Hobbit, Damian Lewis of Homeland Likes Playing the Bad Guy, Matt Smith gets a Doctor Who birthday surprise, Benedict Cumberbatch performs spoken-word with Friendly Fires, Daniel Day-Lewis' Lincoln worries, Ewan McGregor and Evan Rachel Wood to co-star, Rafe Spall Lands Kill Your Friends Lead Role, Tom Hardy Targets Another Poaching Pic, Ioan Gruffudd on 30th anniversary of S4C, Jude Law as Dom Hemingway, Nicholas Hoult As A Zombie With A Warm Heart, Jack Davenport Takes Center Stage, Firth set for Dubai's DIFF, Dominic Cooper in Reasonable Doubt, Henry Cavill And Those Curls, Dan Stevens makes the jump from Downton Abbey, Ben Whishaw on playing Q in Skyfall, Colin Morgan talks magic reveal, Ifans lands Madame Bovary role, Monaghan lands bank robber role, Rupert Everett's Wilde gets West End transfer, Timothy Spall to play JMW Turner in Mike Leigh biopic, Stephen Tompkinson makes West End musical debut in Spamalot, Hugh Grant's street is turned into a building site, Roger Moore to host Have I Got News For You, Clive Owen Could Be King Of The Castle, Mark Gatiss on European Horror, Ian McKellen Defends The Hobbit, Butler signs up for Dynamo movie, Colin Farrell is down and out in New York, Kevin McKidd Promises an Upbeat Episode, Michael Fassbender Gets Down on His Knees for Natalie Portman, Kit Harington talks reuniting with Sean Bean for Silent Hill )

Profile

mockturle06: merlin in a hat (Default)
mockturtle06

June 2017

S M T W T F S
    123
45678910
111213 14 151617
18192021222324
252627282930 

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags