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)

Still on Russians, apparently, I went to see the Man From U.N.C.L.E.

Yes, the reviews have been poor, but as I’d been watching the Girl From U.N.C.L.E. the only way was up, oh dear, yes. And I was a properly official and ticketed card carrying fan. Why, I still have an old Man From U.N.C.L.E. car sitting atop my bookshelf, next to the Tardis.

So, off I went. It wasn’t too bad. Not at all. It ticked the Man From U.N.C.L.E. trope boxes: camp villain, ex-Nazis, some ‘innocent’ they co-opt into their adventures (more often than not, not so innocent) and the exotic locales (for reals this time) and even near as dammit a volcano lair.

What really amused me though was it seemed Guy Ritchie wanted to make a 60s film, got the rights to Man From U.N.C.L.E., but, to these eyes, seems to have made a massive love letter to ITC. It was so very, very The Protectors, The Saint, The Thunderbirds, Callan, The Persuaders, Department S and Danger Five. So very Danger Five. So Danger Five I was disappointed when the swarthy villain didn’t die with the words ‘two parts vermouth’ on his lips. Nor did Mr Waverley fetch the sit-down gun. But it did have Nazis and euro-tropes, so I think my Danger Five comparison is more than valid. (Oh, and I’ve not seen the Sandbaggers for years, but maybe a bit of that, too).

Anyhoo, quite unfairly, since it was evoking my ITC tropes so hard, I was mildly annoyed there wasn’t speed boat chase down the Venice canals, or fights atop alpine cable cars, but that’s just me, perhaps going a little too far with the flow (did I mention I was in Gold Glass and had ordered a couple of glasses of an Italian red, because Man From U.N.C.L.E.).

As for the boys, don’t mind ‘em, bit of a fan, though in truth I’ve mainly worked my way through their back catalogues on planes. As for the romance, and I’m talking the boys here, well, I’m wondering what they were trying to do here, I mean, it was so obvious I’m not sure if I was supposed to be offended and laugh like it was some off-colour joke or wait for a happy announcement.

Still, despite thinking it was being played cruelly for laughs, as per both Sherlocks, by bully writers, I found it rather sweet. Certainly the rather sociopathic Solo (who seemed much more Neal Caffrey than Napoleon Solo, and yes, that bothered me) seemed to find himself surprised that he was fond of Illya, and the saving of Illya from drowning, not to mention the gift of the watch when Illya had come to kill him, they weren’t just literally disarming scenes but the biggest most purple pieces of romance I’ve seen on screen all year. Hell, I’ve sat through four to five series supposedly hetero couples and seen way less romance than that. Swoon, in other words.

And what’s with making Illya a psycho all of a sudden? Not happy about that. Yes, he used to be callous and strange, but he was being played by a Scot – grin. (Have you ever seen McCallum in any of his 50s films like Violent Playground? I suspect Guy Ritchie has). So I can see where they fetched the idea from, but I’m not happy. Bit of a trope and exactly the sort of thing my younger fan-ficcy self would have written, so I sneer on it a bit now (not that I ever write now, nor did I ever write well, which is why I sniff at anything that whiffs of something I might have written, as in not good and extremely amateurish and obvious).

But overall, yes, the standard Man From U.N.C.L.E. plot didn’t quite stretch to movie-length size, but it looked good, the guys were cute and well cast (well, they didn’t cast The Rock as Napoleon, so anything other than that is a bargain, in my shattered by shocking casting opinion) and I’m not too fussed about getting The Protectors served up instead of Man From U.N.C.L.E.. Not really. Maybe the nazi dinosaurs will show up in the sequel?

Then I went to see the V&A Julia Margaret Cameron exhibition at the gallery. She of the wistfully high Victoriana photos. Lots of people posing in drapery. It was all very, very Pre-Raphaelite, and hardly surprising as a Rossetti (not Dante or Christina) popped up, as did Tennyson. In fact the photos for Tennyson’s Idylls of the King were very, very like drawings by Rossetti, and I’m not just saying illustrating the same scene in the same poem the same, but the exact same costumes and poses, including that rather unique and exotic helm. It made me think anyways. Not the curators, though, who couldn’t even tell there were two different coloured roses in one photo, or seemed vaguely aware of the different processing techniques. Ah, well, just look at the pretty pictures.

So I did, and I enjoyed it.

It’s fun, running away early/on-time and instead of sweating for hours in unpaid overtime, seeing some art, or the Man From U.N.C.L.E.

It’s been a while. A year in fact, since the great retrenchment. I figured I needed to, I don’t know, celebrate, ease of the pedal a bit, just for a bit (though the larger part of me always thinks knows that the moment I relax for a second, that’s when they’ll get me. Because they do. They did).

mockturle06: (mr flibble)
What I've been up to. Well, I've been yelled at a lot, that's fer sure. I wish I was invisible. I wish I wasn't such a screw up. I wish I had a gentle and supportive life coach at my elbow telling me the right things to do and say so I don't get yelled at so much. I mean, I try, but clearly falling well short of the mark.

It's depressing. If trying my best isn't good enough, then what good am I? No good, screams back the answer, loudly. Sigh.

Anyway, despite being an apparent walking human tornado of horribleness, I did go out to see Bill Bailey at the State and that was fun.
more: Snakes. Why'd it have to be snakes? )
mockturle06: (Dean)
Apologies for the in absentia. I've been busy/lazy/fighting aliens warlords in another dimension (delete as applicable).

Anyhoo, what have I been up to. Well, I'm so glad you asked. Are you sitting comfortably? Good, then we'll begin.

I think I told you about the sheep. Love those sheep. Rest of the week was pretty, well, you know, whatever. I even spent xmas eve trying to do the washing before it rained on me. No, not rained, poured. So that was half the wash bunged in the dryer and the rest decking the halls/dripping in the halls. Very merry.

Never fear. The big hamper from Fortnum and Mason arrived by magic, and double magic, I found out later, as I was one of the chosen few to get their hampers for xmas. The hamper gods did smile.
more: cats and dogs )
mockturle06: (White Collar kiss)
Oh, boys. You might be nazi loving schmucks, but you're gosh darn cute adorable evil nazi schmucks. I don't know or care what the lazy writers of White Collar are up to. This is my Neal and Peter.

Oh, and nice work, interwebs. I've only just seen the first ad for Game of Thrones. Now, if/when it finaly gets here, now I don't have to watch. Thanks ever so.

Clearly, there should be special circles in hell for lazy tv writers and the folks who put major omg spoilers in the H1 tags for news stories (yes, TV Guide, I am glaring at you, you schmucks).

The cigarette case of evil! Sorry, Mitchell and Webb are deconstructing the ITV Poirot. Wheeze. Chortle. Bigger tits does = evil. Well known fact.

Another well known tv fact is how gosh darn freaky Wales is. Simon Templar was in Wales in today's episode, which can only mean giant homicidal ants. I love the required pub scene where the locals muse over what beast is rampaging abroad this week, with werewolves, vampires and aliens being the most likely suspects. That's what comes of living in Wales I suppose, a greater than average chance of being munched by something nasty.

That was a reference to Doctor Who, Torchwood and Being Human, btw (though the locals really do have vampires, werewolves and aliens as the most likely suspects). Thought I should mention it after yesterday.

The elderly Boomers I work with were chattering on about Beatles memorabilia and I was smiling and nodding (and sneaking looks on ebay on my phone) and then, to add in my two cents worth (they remember copper coins, hell, they remember shillings) I mentioned the still vexing matter of the lost Han Solo figurine.

Three aged faces craned blankly towards me. Who, they asked in all seriousness, was Han Solo?
more: better angels )
mockturle06: (DeKay)
Hee. Stayed up late last night watching Doctor Who because I couldn't wait and I was being spoiled rotten, but more of that later.
more: pull to open )
mockturle06: (matt and tim)
Thurs: Sorry I've not been online much. It's been an odd week, and the universe has been kind of a bad boyfriend of late, you know, it gives me a slap, then apologises, then gives me another slap, and so on and so forth, leaving me tottering between the extremes of woe and delight far more than I usually do.
more: sunday too far away )
mockturle06: merlin in a hat (Chuck)
Today, my 'other duties as required' incude: bear fluffer.

There were some great lines on tv yesterday. From The Saint: "People who say money can't buy happiness just don't know how to spend it", and from Maverick: "I'm gonna shoot you so full of holes you're not gonna know which one to bleed outta first". Is that a classic Western line or what?
more: but they do wear tweed )
mockturle06: (White Collar kiss)
Two shows, two interviews, two completely different viewpoints.

On White Collar, despite the large amount of press about the supposed bromance between Burke nand Caffrey, TPTB keep explicitly stating that no matter how friendly the boys are, deep down they don't trust each other and are willing to betray each other and, this, we are told, is what keeps the show exciting.

I beg to differ. It keeps the show distressing and distancing. Who wants to watch two supposed friends knife each other in the back? Or, at least, be expected to watch it and still respect them in the morning? (Not on, not even in Oz politics).

Butch and Sundance? Hardly. More like Pat Garrett and billy the Kid.

Meanwhile, over on Sherlock, we're told that no matter how prickly the boys are with each other, deep down there is a real connection and friendship and yes, even affection. They understand they are what each other needs, the missing parts of themselves. All very co-dependent but when it comes down to it, they would do anything for each other.

So, which is the better approach? Well, Holmes and Watson have been going for over a hundred years, so if longetivity and popularity and continued relevance was any measure, I'd have to say the Holmes/Watson aproach to bromance wins.
more: school for tv tough guys )
mockturle06: (boyfriends)
I know you want to know: the coat passed. Just passed, mind, but it still passed. Hell, I even got a couple of smiles, though, to be honest, the friendliest people were, and are always, the STC staff who, unlike the gatekeepers over at the Opera House, always go way out of their way to look after the token westie subscriber and make her feel welcome. And you know what? I need it and appreciate it because it's very scary to go to these places where everyone else makes more in an hour than I make in a year. Seriously out of my league, but at least the staff don't scowl imperiously, which is something. More than something. I couldn't bear it if they did. Well done STC, and your bettering of this working class peasant, at least.

So anyway, went to see some proper American theatre, starring no less a personage than William Hurt. I've never been a huge fan but back in the day when friends from school and uni used to try dragging me kicking and screaming to art films, he was the art film go to boy of choice, and I'd always dismissed the possibility of ever seeing the man on stage, existing in a parochical backwater as I am.
more: mad, bad and past it )
mockturle06: merlin in a hat (white collar)
Tuesday: "Sadly it wasn't a dildo..." Matt Smith discussing taking sonic screwdrivers through customs on Triplej this morning.

Sorry. Some things just make you choke on your cuppa in the morning. This is the first time I've really heard Matt in an interview (my evil wee pc has decided to curtail my youtube viewing, because it can) and he sounds like an interesting and articulate chap, which is all to the good. I didn't mind him in the other stuff I'd seen him in and I've heard such efulgent reviews of the latest series I'm actually worried I'm going to be left disappointed this weekend, but never mind, good luck to him.

Poor old David, though. Out of sight and out of mind. I mean, I knew it would happen, but some of the 'I never liked Tennant anyway' reviews, after years of slavish copy, sounded hyprocritical, cruel and downright bitchy. I shall reserve my opinion until I see the boy (what is it with policemen and timelords all being mere slips of lads these days?) in action, but so far, it sounds like I don't have to adopt the brace position, which is a relief.
more: take a look at the lawman )
mockturle06: merlin in a hat (white Collar 3)
Spent yesterday fending off spiders, large and small, in the activity I used to call weeding but is now more to do with spider wrestling. They are in plague propotions, spinning trees, and, as demonstrated more distressing this morning, garden paths, white with webbing, and they weren't small buggers, either. Any spider I, nightblind myopic old bird that I am, can see from 10 metres away in the dark, is way too big, imho.
more: black hats, white hats, grey hats... )
mockturle06: (DeKay)
Charlie! First I saw his guitar being brought out on stage. Then he walked on in silhouette and then he was there. Charlie! and Jim!

Oh yeah, the boys were back in town, my favourite Wegies, and they rocked.
more: squee )
mockturle06: merlin in a hat (White Collar b/w)
TUES: It's an odd thing but every time I'm banished off to the branch office a little gift from a friend arrives. It's wonderful. Instead of standing up for two hours on a crumbling bus on crumbling roads, I'm kickin' back watching Tim and Matt. Happiness.
more: good, then I'll begin )
mockturle06: (Neal)
Been having a bit of discussion lately, kicked off by this blog musing on Neal's sexuality, or complete lack thereof, as evidenced by a decided lack of chemistry or interest with any guest star thus far.

I've got to say, up front, I watch White Collar with the slash goggles on at all times, so I'm wildly biased. I'm also churning out badly written fan fic for my own amusement, so I'm doubly biased towards a certain reading of the text. And it's hard to discuss Neal's attraction, or complete lack thereof, to any of the guest girlies without mentioning the young actor involved, and, to be fair, Mr Bomer was The Sex on Chuck (Oh, Bryce!), but on White Collar, he's really been banging out the 'so not interested' vibes week after a week re the chick of the aforementioned week, and it's really, really noticeable. As my friend says, the writing and casting of guest stars on series can be, and usually is, dire, nevertheless, there is a complete lack of sparkage. And I'm not talking about Neal being a gentleman, I'm sure he is, I'm just talking about the lack of anything with the folks, mainly women, the script throws his way, that he's supposed to show some non professional plot complicating interest in. Keeping it strictly business, means to and end, makes him seem a touch remote, and more than a bit fastidious.
more: rambling, and still more rambling )
mockturle06: (matt)
I was watching The Saint and Simon strolled into the baddie's lair, selected a figurine off the display shelf, tossed it around a bit, then chucked it into the corner, smashing it into a million bits. Simon then just perched on a desk, lit up and blithley explained it was a fake made by so and so in Rome and if the baddie didn't start behaving Simon would be back and start smashing up the real stuff. He then sauntered out, with a gun on him, explaining he knew the guy lacked the stones to shoot.

Neal Caffrey is never this cool. In his dreams he could ever be that cool. One day, he might manage it, but right now, compared to Simon, he's a snotty kid in short pants. Leave it to the grown ups, kid.

Meanwhile, this outfit reminds me a lot of Sean Connery in Goldfinger.
more: the usual )

on the QT

Jan. 29th, 2010 02:27 pm
mockturle06: merlin in a hat (white collar)
Thursday: Well, last night I actually got to do exactly what I wanted to do: wallowed in a couple of hours of Chuck. Thanks to a dear friend I now have both seasons and no longer am at the mercy of erractic scheduling, and I just wallowed in ad free Chuck-ness. I heart that show hardcore.

Oh yeah, loved everything else (I have my own goat now - grin) and the Peanut Gallery exclaimed "Pumpkiny Wumpkinys!" and ran off trailing orange Halloween streamers (you see what I have to put up with) so that was a big hit, too. Will I wear the t-shirt this weekend, or is it too obscure? Hmmm.
more: fire truck )
mockturle06: merlin in a hat (white collar)
It's only in the high twenties today so it's Go! Go! Go! re getting on the interwbs. Friday was insane, I was up til one or two in the morning unable to sleep on account of the heat, trying to get new mp3 player working (I have lousy luck with those things) and watching Carnivale. Yep, I saw a bit of it, and some of those bits included nekkid DeKay (oh my) though I was having PC probs (El Diablo, the PC of mean, as always) at that exact moment.

Saturday was also 43C or some such so I was up at 4am trying to get the washing done. I've never had washing dry before I've finished the next load before. Watered the poor plants, not that you could tell, but it wasn't all bad as I ended the day with lightning, cannons and bats.
more: shock and awe )
mockturle06: merlin in a hat (Default)
The next time I dare to think my boss is gonna be really pleeased with how across something I am and how I've got it moving forward, just hit ne repeatedly with a two by four, with rusty nails in it. It'll be less painful. Repeat after me, thou shalt not show initiative, thou shalt not show initiative...

That said, I did finally get my half day off, once I pointed out I'd not had the graciously granted half day off (God Save the Queen!) for an entire decade. I dare say it was my legitimate grounds for formal complaint rather than charity that moved them, nevertheless, home in time for Chuck yesterday (and just as well as it started twenty minutes later than the time given in the guide, Foxtel bastards!). Sadly it wasn't as great as Monday's episode, but it was still giggle worthy as I discovered why all the sad, ageing gamers of my aquaintance disregard the show, as I bet there were a couple of nerve strikes there. Mwahaha!!!
more: I get a kick from the cheap fizzy stuff we can no longer call by the c word )

sigh

Dec. 31st, 2009 04:27 pm
mockturle06: (matt)
Rain is good, we need the rain, I like rain (but I'd been looking forward to my banana lounge and a big book all year). I'm also having tech problems enough to drive me to tears and my sole NYE invite got washed out. Sigh.
more: loveable rogues )

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