About the house packed with people and their loneliness
But the hour is so late
Take some weight off your chest
Let's just pray for our fates and then give it a rest
I have this strange feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. I don't know why, maybe it's some new variety on my depression. Maybe I'm just not looking forward to fencing tonight, since everything's been a mess since I started.
Finished watching Our mutual friend yesterday. Cried my eyes out, of course. But now I feel a bit dirty, what with watching a televised version of a Dickens book without reading it first. I should probably make amends as soon as possible, only I can't take up another until I'm finished with Martin Chuzzlewit. God, I must have been grappling with that book for over a year. Boz, never have you disappointed me like this.
Anyway, since Our mutual friend was abundant in nice costumes and pretty hairdos and even prettier fops - and since I'd like to fiddle with something until this feeling of dread disappears, here is - you guessed it - another, albeit small, picspam.
First and foremost, of course: Gentlemanly preening. Aww.
Yeah, so the part of Eugene Wrayburn is played by Paul McGann. But not any Paul McGann...
...But Paul McGann with Twirly Moustache of Doom!
Which, you know, actually is quite handy because I think I will forever think of Mr. Wrayburn with a twirly moustache of doom.
Still pretty, though. And I chose defiantly to believe that that is his own hair.
Eugene and Mortimer: Practically married. In the manly man-Victorian way I touched upon earlier, of course.
(Thought: Paul McGann is John Worthing in an old TV version of The importance of being Earnest. Must see more of his foppyness. Too bad it seems to have disappeared.)
This guy is just an extra with no relevance to the plot. That did not stop me from capping him and his lovely costume. I have brought you fame, book-carrying guy!
What's this? A kind, non-abusive, non-alcoholic and sane father in my Dickens? Well I've never!
Steven Mackintosh in the role of John Harmon. Evidently shocked by landing the main role, his face has frozen in a permanent expression of mild concern.
The crew appearantly tried not to bring attention to it by giving him a pair of small Wergeland-glasses of PURE WIN.
A little-known part of Victorian life: Shops where men could buy unconvincing moustaches.
Peter Wight is adorable as Bella's father, by the way.
Shirt of perfect flounsyness, gold watchchain, cravat... Who cares if the guy in this has the personality of mashed potatoes? I certainly dont.
So yeah, not terribly excited by the John/Bella love story. Come on, who doubted these two would get together? If he'd only not been a bastard NOT TELLING HER THE TRUTH we'd gotten on with it a lot faster, too.
Pretty hair time!
Now the Eugene/Lizzie love story, that's an entirely different matter.
Oh Victorian stories of forbidden love hindered by class, what havoc you play with my heart.
Shy Victorian kissing time!
And then of course I cried like a pussy when she told him they must never meet again.
"But hey," I thought. "It's obvious what will happen. The Harmon fortune will fall in Lizzie's hands through some unselfish act by John, or maybe the Boffins, and everybody will be so thrilled they forget about the class difference. And er, Eugene will find he won't cheat after all."
And then, of course, I spit my juice out and go "WHAT?!" (I love this shot, though)
Then I enter the phase of denial. "He's dying," says the doctor. "Obviously he can't," I think. "My best friend is dying as we speak," says Mortimer. "No, shut up," says I. "We must be return quickly, or it might be too late," says Mortimer. "Dickens, you bastard," says I.
And then I bawl some more when they eventually get married because HE'S DYING (don't ask me why I suddenly became so girly, I can't explain it myself) and then I hold my breath at what is obviously to come --
- Then I find I have to hold my breath for half an hour while the remaining stories are resolved.
Timothy Spall utterly steals the show.
John Harmon shows he's got some balls after all.
AND THEN I can finally punch the air and think "Godamnit Dickens, if you wrote it like that - you're a terrible cunt."
So then everybody's married off, the money is fairly distributed, the bad guys are dead - and poor, poor Mortimer is exactly where he started. Only his best friend is married off and doesn't live with him anymore. And he says so: "I shall be lost without you." Poor guy!
Time for Victorian manly-man boating trip. And Eugene says to Mortimer, "You, who I love next best in all the world..." Would it be too much to ask if Mortimer, Eugene and Lizzie could live together as some delightful threesome? Guess so.
And in the end I'm deaded by a velvet waistcoat.
...And I can't help but be reminded that it's about three weeks until I'll see the guy in it in real life :-D
That got quite longer than I intended it to. Ah well. Waistcoats, people!