mockturle06: (Avengers)

I was going to say no weeds or household chores were hurt in the making of this post, but I did have a bit of a hack at the jungle on Sunday, and I was bitten by four spiders, or one spider four times, I wasn’t really keeping track.

And I ended up having to do the washing after all, despite the BOM promising a day of clouds and showers. I had my playlist all worked out in my head and I then woke to blue skies and sunshine. I felt abused.

Never did get near that playlist because my phone played up properly, my laptop went bung and my old tablet, the last refuge of a scoundrel, had 500 updates to process, as I’d been using phone and laptop instead of late. Just not my day.

Saturday was better. Didn’t go to the science march, I know, I know, but I wasn’t sure if I should (job politics) and besides, I’d already arranged a pilgrimage to Beatdisc on Record Shop Day, thence (look, I saved and reused one of those thences I edited out from my arcane documents) to see the NT Live screening of Hedda Gabler.

Missed the rush at the record shop, and there was still plenty of, I was going to say cool stuff, but that would not be strictly true. More a collection of items of curiosity to enthral and amaze. I certainly found a few things that made my inner teen squee. Though at the till later the record shop dude took one look at the purchase I’d but on top and pronounced that the store was a scared space and there was no judgement there. Then he saw the purchases I’d been hiding underneath. Silence. Scanner boops. More silence.

Oh dear. Well, one was a joke purchase because I’d previously referenced the band when reading a dry technical glossary and said it all sounded like new wave album titles and I could see the vinyl onesies already. Then, when I went to the Belvoir to see The Dog/The Cat, that very band started playing on the tannoy as I sat down in the bar/foyer. So when I found their vinyl offering in the very cheap pile, well, I figured I ought to, since it was obviously meta meme of the week. One has to just go with it, you know?

So, onto Hedda Gabler. I do not like the play, because Hedda is a flaming hellbeast of a mega-bitch who destroys other people out of boredom and deserves everything she gets, vacuous she-demon that she is. But it’s one of those plays actors and directors love more than the audience, I think (I’ve yet to meet anyone who has ever seen a version say they liked it, quite the opposite) so it’s frequently staged, and with actors worth seeing. So I go.

And I adore Ruth Wilson, I’ll see anything she’s in, even this, and she almost made me feel sorry for Hedda. Almost. Yes, very artistic, turning the blinds into nourish prison bars to represent how trapped she was, but she did it to herself, for no reason. That’s the problem with staging it in the modern day – why doesn’t she just leave? In the era in which it was written there were less options for women (no jobs, bank accounts or property) but now, it’s not good, but it’s not impossible. Why make such a mess?

Ah well, it’s always easier to be on the outside looking in. The Sarah McLachlan interludes (I think it was SM) were more amusing than intended because I’d only just been thinking of the big Buffy finale that week and humming Sarah McLachlan to myself, so it was a bit meta to see the histrionics to the old Sarah McLachlan tunes, it was like seeing someone else make the same creative choices, and wondering if I should, too (yes, probably, it’s all very Hedda in my head world).

So I liked that, and I liked how Ruth made her so manipulative and more than a bit mad.

There was a line when Kyle Soller walks on about how his aunt is pleased to see him alive and well. I seconded that, as I kind of loved him in Poldark. He seemed to be using something near his native accent here, but it kind of worked, and is still playing the good-hearted and clueless cuckold, but hey, that’s his thing and he did it well. Often the role is played as deserving of betrayal, but here he was simply a man-boy well out of his depth, and there was a sweetness and naiveté there that engendered sympathy. He’d simply tied himself to the tail of a hellcat out of bedazzlement and a sort of wishful thinking, and didn’t really deserve everything that happened. Anyways, I love Kyle.

And Rafe Spall. Oh my. I know I’ve not been keeping up with my British telly since it all moved to the premium channels, but since when did Rafe turn from young oik to hot stuff? Because, man, hot sex on a stick. I know the judge is supposed to be mad, bad and dangerous, an apex predator, but, man, sign me up. He stalked and swaggered about the set in a very sharp suit, and the scene where he throws Hedda about and spits tomato juice all over her, that gave me very confusing feelings. Whimper.

Oh yes, those boys. Poor Kyle wrestling noodles every night and Rafe rinsing and spitting the tomato juice. Every night, and twice with matinees. Properly actorly stuff, boys. I applaud your commitment.

So, even though I don’t like the play and loathe the character, and setting it in contemporary times made it just look like one of those HBO shows of rich people behaving badly (if it was Midsomer or Lewis there’d have been a nice juicy murder before the last act), the performances were stunning, so well worth the ticket.

And besides, I rounded off the day with yum cha and bad 80s vinyl. My idea of a grand day out.

Oh, one last bit about The Dog/The Cat, what with all the tech going whizz fizz this week I didn’t notice, but Lally Katz, who wrote The Cat, liked my tweet about liking their Battlestar Galactica joke.

Oh my, I must remember that some people find and read my posts (usually I work to the sound of silence and presume I’m just talking to myself in an empty room).

Ian Rankin also liked my tweet about Beatdisc, the local vinyl emporium, so my likes page is worth printing and framing right now. Squee.

Sorry, just had to share with someone, somewhere, anyone. Because squee.

Sunday we made eggs ala Sir Ian McKellen, which, by the way, is now the go-to recipe, and I was thinking how I’d collected recipes posted by Ian McKellen, Tom Hiddleston and Hugh Jackman. All Marvel boys, I noted, and I’d seen them all on stage, more than once.  That’s the Marvel universe, proper theatre actors who can cook.

The DC boys? I’ve never seen any one of them on stage, I don’t think many have ever been on stage, ever anyway, and I’ve never seen a recipe posted. Can’t act, can’t cook. I think I might have put my finger on the reason why Marvel films are way better than DC. Get you a man who can do both.

I know, I shouldn’t write stuff like that, you never know who might see it, but no-one ever reads this, and the point still stands, the Marvel boys have way, way more theatre creds than the DC boys (do they have any?) and I have lost count of the number of Marvel actors I’ve seen on stage (Ian McKellen, Patrick Stewart, Hugh Jackman, James McAvoy, Benedict Cumberbatch, David Tennant, Cate Blanchett, Rose Byrne, Chiwetel Ejiofor, David Wenham, William Hurt, Elizabeth Debicki…). DC actors: 0.

I mean, sure, the DC boys can fill out a t-shirt, but hasn’t the genre moved on from the 80s? (Any DC actor who does have theatre creds gets a pass but I can’t recall hearing of any appearing on stage in London or New York, so, you know).

In fairness, TV DC does fare better, with the casts of Preacher and the Arrowverse, although, Preacher aside, that’s mainly musicals (she sniffs). Not sure if Lucifer’s Tom Ellis has ever strut the boards (but Lucifer is back on telly and so far so fun).

And anyway, I’m allowed to be pissy and grizzly. Today is the day I was supposed to see Jude Law live on stage in Obsession at the Barbican. And I’m not. I had third row – whimper. I’d hoped I’d be better from being hit by the car, but nope, and the double family tragedy means no visits, and the house repairs mean no money, so, nope. NT Live it is, then. At least there’s that. Thank fuck there’s that. But you know – pout (even if it did promise to be entirely the sort of Euro-theatre I’m not that keen on). I’m missing Jude, dammit.

I’ve never seen a recipe from Jude, but I’m sure if I asked nicely. It’s the nicely part that will always trip me up. Ah well, maybe that’s why I hate Hedda. Takes one to know one.

The wonderful world of weird: https://plus.google.com/u/0/113197665355692280218/posts (warning: contains ivory dildos and Pine)

mockturle06: (Chris)

For a very brief window, due to a random rearrangement of desks, I am working with folks who can sing the Jetsons’ theme song, quote Are You Being Served and The HitchHiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, appreciate Tom Hiddleston and know the difference between Godzilla and a dinosaur.

Sweet. Do you have any idea what a joy and relief it is to have someone not only get your jokes, but sling it back? To get your pop culture references instead of thinking you’re just making weird random outbursts because you’re mentally ill (well, probably, but also quoting Hanna Barbera).

Or maybe it’s just the leftover crème eggs I bought (there’s still like four left, oh dear) when I’ve nothing else to eat. Gotta go clean and lay off the crème. Maybe the sugar high is making me silly. But I’m not solely responsible for the chocolate eggs disappearing. At first the cleaner was blamed, but I pointed out that, despite my overtures at friendly (I’m always working back late at festive times with leftover chocolate) the cleaner keeps behaving like I’m trying to poison her.

‘Well, that’s stupid’, dismisses my colleague. ‘Who’d clean up the mess?’

Man, I’m gonna miss it when we rotate again and the straights are back.

Maybe I’m just being silly because it’s been a hard month, you know, double family tragedy (on top of the anniversary of another), the house falling apart around my ears (though I got the new very silly curtains up and I like them and not seeing the neighbours is very soothing), not seeing Jude Law live on stage in London (I had a ticket) and dealing with yet another restructure and crazy deadlines, half-baked jobs and having high profile projects taken away from me. You know, stuff.

So, anyways, we were talking Hiddles because Night Manager is finally screening out here, and I’d gone and seen the big monkey fillum last week.

I don’t know, I have a childish thing for big monkey films that I’ve not quite grown out of, and besides, I remember the withering judgement that greeted my choice of seeing Godzilla vs King Kong on the big screen once in my yoof, but what film are they remaking now, huh? Not your black and white arty farty films, no sir. No, we’ve got Shakespearian actor, Eton educated young Hiddles running about slicing and dicing pterodactyls in a King Kong movie. Ah, this is where a fancy education will get ya. If he shows up being all broody and serious and I coulda so been 007 in G v K 2.0, my life will be complete, or, at the very least, I’ll be ticking off a very silly box I never thought would ever be ticked. Heh.

As for the film, the whole South east Asian War Film Heart of Darkness aesthetic was very, very silly, and it got a bit Land of the Lost there for a while, and I would have preferred rampaging Skeleton Men (Danger Island) to the noble natives thang (but I guess not) and I was horribly cheated on the promised big spiders and I have a better, wilder, far more dangerous jungle past the Hills Hoist (weeding eludes me) than the Capability Brown park-scapes they strolled through, but yeah, it was an ok popcorn film.

Anything it might have had to say on war, the environment, politics, or anything, really, was flimsy at best, and lost under the wash of the monster mash. I think maybe there was a version that might have said something, at some time, but not anymore. Clearly the test audience of man-babies wanted more monkey eating octopus, less ruminations on geopolitics or the follies of getting involved in land wars in Asia (<- Princess Bride reference).

As for my own jungle, yeah, well. It was perfect weather on the weekend and despite a cracking headache I made it as far as the back door, where I found an enormous (and deadly) red back spider jealously in possession of my left wellie. If I was looking for an excuse, and I was, that was as good as any. Besides, I worked myself into throwing up the weekend before, and the green bin was full. What I really need is a flame thrower, and Tom Hiddleston on standby, armed with sword.

I went out to an actual screening of Doctor Who. I wasn’t going to, but come the long weekend and the cable and internet went out, as it must, and they said it’d be out until late Sunday night at best so no telly and no streaming so screening it was. Of course, the cable and interwebs came back on by Saturday night but I’d already bought the tickets by then, and it wasn’t a bad day out, though hella crowded as everyone in Sydney had woken up with one thought in their head: go to Circular Quay. Yikes.

Had burgers, strolled, or rather scrambled, through the markets. Sampled the malbec at the Dendy. Shrug.

Just so you know, I’ve been sampling malbecs across Sydney, and the best is at Event cinemas in George St. No, really, and their rose is the best, too. Second is the Opera Bar (ditto with their rose). Next is Toni and Guy in Park St (yes, really). Then it’s the Dendy entry (somewhat stale and disappointing) and, at a distant fifth, the Bar at the End of the Wharf, Hickson Rd (but the view, oh the view). Riverside doesn’t even do malbec, and their reds are always sticky and warm and give me migraines. All in the name of art, you understand, my user testing.

So, Doctor Who. Shrug. It was a rehash of much I’ve seen before (but that’s what I get for being a lifelong fan). I didn’t mind it, but I didn’t emerge from the screening thrilled, moved or in any way affected by it. Sigh.

Didn’t even try the wine at the Belvoir. Went straight for a beer (oh dear, not that brand) to wash down the veggie roll (all they offer) as a pre-show snack (and my sole sustenance for the day) before I went to see the return of The Dog/The Cat.

I adored this the last time I saw it in the Downstairs. This was Upstairs and last time I thought the dog part was far, far funnier, but this time the cat part was funnier, if sillier (this is where the rapping cat from my tweet comes in). The crack about Battlestar Galactica still has me in stitches, though. Ditto the cat’s expression, me.

Xavier Samuel has really honed and owned his cat (last time the joke seemed to be more that he was in the cat suit, this time he lived it) but I still like his Ben in the first act, endlessly pulling tinnies out of nowhere (again, way funnier in the smaller space, because they really appeared out of nowhere).

Benedict Hardie’s roles seem to have been beefed up, or maybe that was my perception. He does arrogant city douche rather too well, but that was funny, too, in a brittle American humour look how awful and unaware he is kind of way

It’d actually be ideal for a small American stage, despite how Oz the dog act (ahem) is, because the second act, with the cat, is very American in its sensibilities and style.

Anyway, I still love it, it’s still laugh out loud cringe at the too familiar funny.

Surreal and still screamingly funny was the Popular Mechanicals over at the STC. Originally a Belvoir production (and it still had Belvoir stamped all over it), one could try and claim that it’s like Stoppard in that it shifts the focus to some minor Shakespeare players, in this case, the mechanicals from Midsummer, but, really, it’s a direct descendant of an Aunty Jack sketch, complete with blustery fart jokes.

There are many theatre jokes, as our amateur thespians scramble to replace their leading man at the last minute (Bottom being famously indisposed), including a boozy old ham who could stand in for any old theatre luvvie you care to think of.

But, really, for all the prefect comic timing, perfect costumes and large performances, the pièce de résistance was the rubber chicken Busby Berkeley sequence, which had me doubled over with laughter it was so absurd and so perfectly staged.

Go for the jokes, stay for the rubber chickens.

I loved that, I really loved it. And I needed silly and it was very silly. Seeing such Oz humour was rather bittersweet, too, as it was the day John Clarke died (yes, I know he was a Kiwi but has anyone been such a part of Australian life?).

Okay, so here comes the Pine update. Much like the crème eggs, I was trying to go clean. Much like the crème eggs, I failed.

It all started last week, when in the middle of doing eight, yes, eight, really super urgent high level jobs my pals in another time zone started beeping me about a Pine sighting in Angie Tribeca. I was thrilled to hear it, but it was a bit of a tangle tracking down Angie Tribeca (Stan has it) and juggling everything else (literally, dropping my phone several times as I was typing as well) and I think I accidentally posted about Pine on my Twitter feed instead of DM-ing my mates, but that’s life with me, all thumbs.

So I duly streamed the Angie Tribeca episode my caring and sharing friends had alerted me to. I’d never seen the show before, or heard of it, tucked away on Stan as it is (a local streaming service, but my fave, more Goulds Bookshop in choices, which is my aesthetic, than Netflix which is like Blockbuster way too much in library or lack thereof).

It’s an odd show, and exactly the sort of show I would have loved in my teens (in fact I pretty much wrote something like it verbatim in my teens, the same notebook that has the modern version of Holmes, oy, such a notebook, I was on fire, but dismissed, and other people get to make these shows instead). So maybe it was just the huh factor, or maybe I’d made myself grow up and try to like more sophisticated fare (as if, rubber chickens, big monkey), or maybe it was 1.30am in the morning, but it was a bit too hard edged silly, but it was only my first go, and Pine was doing whatever the hell he was doing, but you know, whatever, right? He said he had fun, and that’s the main thing.

Frankly, I was disappointed they killed off Timothy Omundson, because I adore him (forever high-scoring because of Galavant). But hey, at least I saw it, and ogled the Pine and only hours after the US screening, oh such times as these. Shortly afterwards it was red lights all round as a router up the road went out (so the recorded message said).

Other Pine included People Like Us, which he’s kind of adorable in (and I could watch on the digital bunny ears, being screened at midnight on a local channel – I was up and unwell) and I sort of worked through a repeat of Finest Hours (cable and internet back on by then, so I was catching up). I’ve seen that enough to know when to look up. He’s so sweet in that. Ah, I miss young puppy-ish Pine.

Also finally finished S1 of Preacher (also streaming on Stan). Forever disappointed I couldn’t get a ticket to see Dominic Cooper in Phèdre when I was in London, or the NT Live screening later (and grouching again over missing Jude Law live on stage), but never mind, he lurks in my DVD collection and now he’s playing Jesse Custer, of all the characters on my bookshelf, and doing a damn fine job of it. I think they caught the essential essence of Preacher, with its 90s dry, dark, gross-out humour, just perfectly fine (although much like Angie Tribeca, I’m not quite there anymore, but I did appreciate it).

To be honest, to see such a faithful adaptation of a beloved book is such a rare and beautiful thing, it was fun just to savour the authenticity and the sure touch of folks who knew what they were doing. It was Preacher. In this age of re-imagined reboots, that’s pretty darn fucking amazing.

And I don’t know why I found some stuff confronting, considering what I submit to in the theatre (fake vomit, rubber chickens, Xavier in that cat suit). I must be getting old, or something. Or maybe watching on my phone is an even more intimate space than front row at the Belvoir. Whatever. They did Preacher. They pulled it off. Yay.

Yes, I know this post is all about actors. Well, trying to see them in the theatre, or at cons, is my version of twitching, only with luvvies (which is why I fume when I have to stay back at work, like punishment, when a rare and elusive blue-eyed bird has alighted only two blocks away – arrrgh).

Meanwhile, I’m wearing a very loud dress today, mainly because I’m acting out (no Jude Law in London), possibly because I was watching stuff from the 60s last night (it screams ‘68, much like that outfit we saw in the markets that was wearing 1984 on its rolled up red vinyl sleeve).

At least I haven’t covered it in tea, so far, like yesterday: perfume allergies, aspirated tea, favourite top ruined. I had to run across to the shops and try and find something that was both cheap and close to my size (it’s all skinny little girls down this end of town, and that ain’t me). I found one jumper, and at first I didn’t like it, but because it was smaller than I usually wear it clung in all the right places, and it has these weird ridiculous 17thC Dutch collars, but I’ve kind of fallen in love with them, too.

Maybe that’s why I’m dressed like a fruit salad today, because I was all Puritan black and white collars yesterday. Puritan, me, ha! Now that’s just silly.

Items of note: https://plus.google.com/u/0/113197665355692280218/posts (warning: may contain Pine)


mockturle06: (Avengers)

Current playlist: Two Door Cinema Club, Bad Decisions

I think I was a little harsh on my previous year-long re-obsession with the Man From UNCLE. Because it was fun. Aside from giving me an excuse to dust off the DVDs and my collection (I was a notorious collector so I have the books, magazines, comics, etc.).

And there were a couple of trips to Melbourne, because the NGV love their mid-twentieth century modernism, and they had exhibitions on mid-twentieth century Danish design and mid-twentieth century Australian fashion and fashion photography.-

There were also that trip to the UK that involved some fun scouting of locations, the accidental mod walk of London (the one that started with Carnaby Street and ended with The Jam exhibition), and seeing the film again in Leicester Square, because I try to be in my shabby hotel room as little as possible in London (you pay $$$ for very little compared to local hotels, for shame, London, for shame).

There was a side visit to Bletchley Park, the ultimate spy theme park, which I also loved (Turing pilgrimage).

Not to mention getting into John Le Carre. My Dad tried to get me to read him when I was younger, because they were proper spy novels, and had no volcano lairs. I left them alone for the very same reason. And I’m glad I did, because coming to them now as a thoroughly embittered civil servant, I get it, I really get it, as its 90% hair tearing office politics and only 10% Checkpoint Charlie shenanigans, if you’re lucky.

By happy coincidence, my reading coincided with The Night Manager on TV and I won tickets to see Our Kind Of Traitor (by then I was fan enough to answer the quiz without resort to Google).

So, yes, my year of wallowing in the spy genre was fun and satisfying. Educational, even (as there’s a lot to learn about the Cold War that I never knew when I was actually living it).

So I don’t want to say it was a waste of time. I loved my days out in London and Melbourne. I loved re-watching old films like To Catch a Thief and North By Northwest. I loved playing my old 60s CDs and records.

I’ve read up on Philby, watched all the films, discovered Agatha Christie wrote a lot of spy novels disguised as ‘Tec fic, revisited Buchan and Fleming and dabbled with Greene.

Yeah, don’t call it a year wasted, because honestly, I achieved little else. But I saw some groovy threads, heard some groovy tunes, saw some pleasing Danish chairs and discovered a new favourite author. Not a waste of my time. Please don’t call it that.

mockturle06: (mr flibble)
 photo mcavoy_gqdec13-jan14au_0004_zpscf130c39.jpg  photo hardy_esquire5v161may14us_0003_zps7c1a1ce9.jpg  photo tom_gqnov13uk_0006_zps7d054af0.jpg  photo rhys-esquirejul13uk_0018_zps8c102091.jpg

This post: Tom Hiddleston adds fuel to James Bond rumours as he’s spotted in meeting with Sam Mendes, Benedict Cumberbatch Films Sherlock Season Four, David Tennant and Catherine Tate talk about their return to Doctor Who, Matthew Rhys Is The Most Charming Podcast Guest of All Time, Why Tom Holland Was Disappointed By His First Time In The Spider-Man Costume, Jamie Bell Says He Would Make a Terrible Spy, Hugh Laurie has heard rumblings about The Night Manager returning, Eddie Redmayne joins Early Man from the makers of Wallace and Gromit, Kit Harington Is Sorry About That Big Jon Snow Secret, Idris Elba to star in Sky's 1970s political drama Guerrilla, Henry Cavill has split from teenage girlfriend, Cillian Murphy confirmed to join Tom Hardy in Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk, Nicholas Hoult is J.D. Salinger in first look at Rebel in the Rye, Tobias Menzies on why Black Jack is so obsessed with Jamie, Sam Heughan on season two and the show’s future, Jude Law returns to London stage in Ivo van Hove's Obsession, Rory Kinnear to make directorial debut, Aidan Turner to keep his shirt on in second series, Tom Ellis's Lucifer will return for a second series, Hugh Dancy Joins Fifty Shades Darker, Colin Firth Might Be Returning for the Kingsman Sequel, Matt Smith cast in new play Unreachable at London’s Royal Court, James McAvoy and Anne-Marie Duff announce divorce, John Boyega to star in Woyzeck at the Old Vic, Patrick Stewart keeps a bag of James McAvoy's hair at home in his safe, Carlyle vows Begbie will be even scarier in Trainspotting 2, Michael Fassbender to play Austrian serial killer, Tom Hardy films new TV show Taboo in Cornwall, Hugh Bonneville says he leads a charmed life, New look at Dominic Cooper’s Jesse Custer )
mockturle06: merlin in a hat (Default)

Had to get a new washing machine (and I miss the old one, it was perfect, my first ever washing machine), which involved cleaning out the laundry (don’t have garage, attic or cellar so the laundry is where the junk goes), though not too much, as it’s only an old outdoor loo. Took a whole day, though.

Actually been getting through some of the to-do list (weeds, gutters) as I’m on the jury roll which means no going anywhere for a year, house arrest, basically. Joy.

Saw the Abominable Bride on New Years, twice, because one was at the multiplex and the other at Riverside and I wanted to experience both venues, because they’re such wildly different venues, with wildly different audiences. I thought it was a quaint yet amusing mash-up of Wilkie Collins and other sensational Victorian novels (that was the term they used). Penny Dreadful without the dreadful, just the Adam Adamant angst over feminism (oh, boys, do go up, and soonish, eh?).

Saw a few other films, Star Wars for one, (took a half day off work over Xmas for that), had several very nice meals, two at a good Italian restaurant in Martin Place (Intermezzo), so good we went back, and at the Sydney Tower, once for my birthday (that was great, they even brought me tiny wee cake) and once again for kicks (less fab but still great). The NT Live films we go to usually involve yum cha or brunch at Emporium, and gelato from Messina by the riverbank afterwards.

Messina has the best gelato, way, way, way better than the ice cream on offer at the actual National Theatre in London (I know because I made an empirical study). The crazy flavours are always a treat, had coco pops gelato last time, oh man.

Been reading spy novels, because MFU bender. Revisiting Fleming, discovering Le Carre (and it’s a good time to read him now rather than before because it’s all embittered civil servant stuff and office politics and oh boy, do I get that now) and Agatha Christie, who writes some of the most cracking spy stories and it’s a crime, ahem, that she isn’t recognised as such.

Naturally I’ve been watching The Night Manager on telly (Tom Hiddleston, yowza), also Black Sails (actually rocking this year and Schmitz gave the best performance since R&G), Outlander, Poldark, Turn, Ripper Street (finally got S3 out here).  Then there were Daredevil, Jessica Jones, Arrow (liking it less), Flash, Supergirl (loving it far more than I thought I would), Legends of Tomorrow, and Agents of SHIELD (we’re a multi-faith household). Also Grantchester (adore this), War and Peace, Frankenstein Chronicles (weird but intriguing), Partners in Crime, And Then There were None, Humans and Murdoch Mysteries. Oh and Once Upon A Time is finally screening out here, three seasons to catch up on, though (and they wonder why we pirate).

Workwise it’s all good. Insane, but that’s mainly external forces. Great team, and I get cake and chocolates and coffee and chilli jam and recipes for potatoes and fish pie and they like the clothes I wear. A part of me is still waiting for the other shoe to drop, because I’m a beaten dog and I have issues, but it’s pretty damn good.

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 )

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mockturle06: merlin in a hat (Default)
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