![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sophieisgodWow, this feels slightly... awkward. It's been a while.
So, due to ongoing technical issues, I haven't *properly* posted for over a month, which sucks. And it's been quite a good month. So this is what has happened.
Nominally, the Star Wars Bonanza was a way of educating those poor, unenlightened souls who *hadn't* seen The Saga in the ways of The Force (i.e.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rose_greenthumb). In reality, the Star Wars Bonanaza was an excuse for myself, templa_otmena and lizzy_loplegs to watch a lot of Star Wars. And we did watch a lot of Star Wars. Probably more than was strictly necessary. Or healthy. But still, it was beyond awesome. And inevitably, we enjoyed it infintely more than the intended beneficiary of the scheme.
And here's where the Star Wars Bonanza got ever-so-slightly out of hand. Borders in York has a graphic novel section. This graphic novel section stocks Star Wars comics. Including the Clone Wars series (but not, bizarrely, Knights Of The Old Republic. The fuck?). Clone Wars comics have been bought. There might also have been the purchase of *whisper* Star Wars novels. Not, I hasten to add, novelizations, but novels nonetheless. And we watched the Clone Wars DVD. Shut up.
The thing is, I have far more interest in the Clone Wars mythology than all the post-ROTJ crap because Obi-Wan/Anakin > Whiny Luke. Also, Jedi used to be cool. Luke Skywalker is in no way cool. He's not even pretty (damn you, disfiguring car crash). The Obi-Wan/Anakin dynamic is so beautifully warped... "You were my brother!" Gaaaah.
So I caught up on Heroes, my favourite new show of the year, and the finale blew my fucking mind. Everyone colliding, and all the angst, and HRG's real name... I won't say more so as to avoid spoilers for those lagging shamefully behind (EMMA!), but Nathan and Peter made me cry. Season 2, now please!
My So-Called Life just got released on DVD in the UK, and it was priced at a very reasonable £28 in Virgin, so I did the honourable thing and bought it. And I love it. None of the characters are entirely likeable (except Rickie. I heart Rickie), and they're all so petulant and unreasonable, and I really like Claire Danes' hair. Any flisties seen it? No RL people have (well, obviously *some* have, but none that I know), and I'm craving conversation about whether Angela's dad is attractive or not, and is Jordan actually retarded or just misunderstood?
Borderline obsessive musicals fan that I am, it's hardly surprising that I got sucked into Any Dream Will Do, the search to find the next West End Joseph. And it was awesome, if sometimes for the wrong reasons. Anyway, this week was the final, and I can say without hesitation that the best man won, not least because he looked the hottest in a loincloth. I'd just like to share with you some of the most special moments of the series for me...
Okay, this is Creepy Lewis getting kicked off. I particularly like his squeak on the power note at the end, and the look of self satisfaction at the end as he (mistakenly) thinks "Nailed that one..."
And this is Foxy Lee singing "Paint It Black". He's a beast.
And now the big one...
Way back when, I informed you lovelies of my impending pilgrimage to see that patron saint of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
obasc, Mr Rochester himself, Toby Stephens (and also the less hot, but equally talented Samuel West) in the Harold Pinter play Betrayal at the Donmar Warehouse in Londinium. Saturday was the day of joy. And it was smokin' hot.
The task of securing tickets fell to Emma, AKArose_greenthumb, and her mother, who were then faced with the toughest of decisions. Did we want to be in the stalls, nearer the stage but on a side angle... or did we want the front row of the circle, right in the middle? They opted for the latter, and thank the lord they did. Because the Donmar is so small, there's only about 3 rows, and they're basically just cushioned benches. Sitting on the front row, there is a handy opportunity to lean on the railings. I was doing just this for most of the performance, placing me directly in the eyeline of St Toby during one particularly awesome scene. It was almost as hot as the Evita eyesex.
Did I mention that Toby was stupendously hot? Seriously. Betrayal is set mainly in the 70s, and the character's wardrobe staple was a pair of tremendously sexy cords. Like, TIGHT cords. And this is the part about Admirable Self-Restraint In The Face Of Overwhelming Ginger Lust. Because the Donmar is a Proper Theatre, we were the youngest people there. As such, we felt it our duty not to bring shame on ourselves with excessive squee. This was hard. Example: In the very first scene of the play, Toby (avec cords, naturally) sits in a chair facing the audience with his legs splayed, and then slides down the chair until he is sprawled in a most desirable manner. This marked the first of many collected intakes of breath. Ooh, I should probably mention that my comrades in theatrical desire weretempla_otmena, pie_face88 and rose_greenthumb. There were also glimpses of chest hair. And Sam West has very nice forearms.
Since this has basically turned into the depraved scrawlings of a woman on heat, I should probably say some things about, y'know, production and what have you. The play was incredible. It's structurally really clever, tracing an affair backwards. I read it the night before we went down, and the actors brought a lot of humour to something that basically reads as angst angst angst with a side helping of bitterness. I loved the staging, there were these huge billowing white curtains which swished round on rails at the end of every scene and marked off bits of the stage. Toby and Sam were just immense, completely charismatic. Toby's character Jerry was a bit of an oaf at times, slightly dense but there's something about him that makes you smile. Other than the hotness, obviously. Sam's portrayal of Robert was incredible to watch, so controlled yet wounded. Ach. Dervla Kirwan was alright I suppose, a bit breathy.
So after the play we meandered down to Covent Garden just in time for Happy Hour at Maxwells, and got vaguely tipsy. Ahem. It was awesome though, because we finally got to meet_faeriequeen, who was supposed to come with us to the matinee but got tickets for the evening show instead. And we had nachos! What more could one desire?
And, because I love you...
So, due to ongoing technical issues, I haven't *properly* posted for over a month, which sucks. And it's been quite a good month. So this is what has happened.
Nominally, the Star Wars Bonanza was a way of educating those poor, unenlightened souls who *hadn't* seen The Saga in the ways of The Force (i.e.
rose_greenthumb). In reality, the Star Wars Bonanaza was an excuse for myself, templa_otmena and lizzy_loplegs to watch a lot of Star Wars. And we did watch a lot of Star Wars. Probably more than was strictly necessary. Or healthy. But still, it was beyond awesome. And inevitably, we enjoyed it infintely more than the intended beneficiary of the scheme.And here's where the Star Wars Bonanza got ever-so-slightly out of hand. Borders in York has a graphic novel section. This graphic novel section stocks Star Wars comics. Including the Clone Wars series (but not, bizarrely, Knights Of The Old Republic. The fuck?). Clone Wars comics have been bought. There might also have been the purchase of *whisper* Star Wars novels. Not, I hasten to add, novelizations, but novels nonetheless. And we watched the Clone Wars DVD. Shut up.
The thing is, I have far more interest in the Clone Wars mythology than all the post-ROTJ crap because Obi-Wan/Anakin > Whiny Luke. Also, Jedi used to be cool. Luke Skywalker is in no way cool. He's not even pretty (damn you, disfiguring car crash). The Obi-Wan/Anakin dynamic is so beautifully warped... "You were my brother!" Gaaaah.
So I caught up on Heroes, my favourite new show of the year, and the finale blew my fucking mind. Everyone colliding, and all the angst, and HRG's real name... I won't say more so as to avoid spoilers for those lagging shamefully behind (EMMA!), but Nathan and Peter made me cry. Season 2, now please!
My So-Called Life just got released on DVD in the UK, and it was priced at a very reasonable £28 in Virgin, so I did the honourable thing and bought it. And I love it. None of the characters are entirely likeable (except Rickie. I heart Rickie), and they're all so petulant and unreasonable, and I really like Claire Danes' hair. Any flisties seen it? No RL people have (well, obviously *some* have, but none that I know), and I'm craving conversation about whether Angela's dad is attractive or not, and is Jordan actually retarded or just misunderstood?
Borderline obsessive musicals fan that I am, it's hardly surprising that I got sucked into Any Dream Will Do, the search to find the next West End Joseph. And it was awesome, if sometimes for the wrong reasons. Anyway, this week was the final, and I can say without hesitation that the best man won, not least because he looked the hottest in a loincloth. I'd just like to share with you some of the most special moments of the series for me...
Okay, this is Creepy Lewis getting kicked off. I particularly like his squeak on the power note at the end, and the look of self satisfaction at the end as he (mistakenly) thinks "Nailed that one..."
And this is Foxy Lee singing "Paint It Black". He's a beast.
And now the big one...
Way back when, I informed you lovelies of my impending pilgrimage to see that patron saint of
obasc, Mr Rochester himself, Toby Stephens (and also the less hot, but equally talented Samuel West) in the Harold Pinter play Betrayal at the Donmar Warehouse in Londinium. Saturday was the day of joy. And it was smokin' hot.The task of securing tickets fell to Emma, AKA
rose_greenthumb, and her mother, who were then faced with the toughest of decisions. Did we want to be in the stalls, nearer the stage but on a side angle... or did we want the front row of the circle, right in the middle? They opted for the latter, and thank the lord they did. Because the Donmar is so small, there's only about 3 rows, and they're basically just cushioned benches. Sitting on the front row, there is a handy opportunity to lean on the railings. I was doing just this for most of the performance, placing me directly in the eyeline of St Toby during one particularly awesome scene. It was almost as hot as the Evita eyesex.Did I mention that Toby was stupendously hot? Seriously. Betrayal is set mainly in the 70s, and the character's wardrobe staple was a pair of tremendously sexy cords. Like, TIGHT cords. And this is the part about Admirable Self-Restraint In The Face Of Overwhelming Ginger Lust. Because the Donmar is a Proper Theatre, we were the youngest people there. As such, we felt it our duty not to bring shame on ourselves with excessive squee. This was hard. Example: In the very first scene of the play, Toby (avec cords, naturally) sits in a chair facing the audience with his legs splayed, and then slides down the chair until he is sprawled in a most desirable manner. This marked the first of many collected intakes of breath. Ooh, I should probably mention that my comrades in theatrical desire were
templa_otmena, pie_face88 and rose_greenthumb. There were also glimpses of chest hair. And Sam West has very nice forearms.Since this has basically turned into the depraved scrawlings of a woman on heat, I should probably say some things about, y'know, production and what have you. The play was incredible. It's structurally really clever, tracing an affair backwards. I read it the night before we went down, and the actors brought a lot of humour to something that basically reads as angst angst angst with a side helping of bitterness. I loved the staging, there were these huge billowing white curtains which swished round on rails at the end of every scene and marked off bits of the stage. Toby and Sam were just immense, completely charismatic. Toby's character Jerry was a bit of an oaf at times, slightly dense but there's something about him that makes you smile. Other than the hotness, obviously. Sam's portrayal of Robert was incredible to watch, so controlled yet wounded. Ach. Dervla Kirwan was alright I suppose, a bit breathy.
So after the play we meandered down to Covent Garden just in time for Happy Hour at Maxwells, and got vaguely tipsy. Ahem. It was awesome though, because we finally got to meet
_faeriequeen, who was supposed to come with us to the matinee but got tickets for the evening show instead. And we had nachos! What more could one desire?And, because I love you...
