Tom Hardy obsession is go.
I really haven't done much in the past few days aside from read fanfiction and obsessively watch Tom Hardy-starring productions. shush. He's a good actor and he's pretty. Post-Virgin Queen there was Martina Cole's The Take (80-90s crime thing which is incredibly uncomfortable to watch due to the sheer nastiness of it, no matter how good the performances were), Stuart: A Life Backwards (utterly, utterly brilliant - and has Benedict Cumberbatch in it!) and Sunday was spent watching Oliver Twist (no singing orphans, thankyou. During which I had the interesting revelation of seeing actors do the same gestures as they have in previous roles but making them mean something completely different. Well, aside from Timothy Spall, who if you stick him in a Dickens production will be playing the cautious, smarter than everyone thinks shabby bloke. With bad hair. Seriously. Tom Hardy does this gesture where he touches his chin and as Bill Sikes it's a whole lot different than it is as Dudley in Virgin Queen. On the other hand, his psycho eyes are always the same - if a Tom Hardy character's eyes do that in any production, RUN. Violence is imminent. Production has confirmed that Oliver must be punted out the nearest window, though I have no idea why they decided to change how Bill Sikes died in this one. And yes, I had to go through the text to check what was correct. Which confirmed that Dickens is seriously turgid and unreadable.)
The twitter cabal has agreed that most Dickens would be improved by velociraptors. And explostions. And that Little Nell and Little Dorrit should be thrown to said velociraptors for being that wet, with the Old Curiosity Shop being destroyed by rocket launcher in the first five minutes... It is a truth universally acknowledged that any young woman with sense must be in want of an RPG.
I won tickets for RED, and Gideon danced the macarena to prove he was worthy. IT WAS GLORIOUS. Helen Mirren. Machine gun. OTP. :happy sigh: Brian Cox having WAY too much fun. Pretty, pretty Karl Urban. Perfect swinging car choreography.
In, er, other winning streaks I re-registered for the Guardian and apparently got entered for a competition to win tickets for Dirty Dancing, which I hadn't noticed as I had the screen on small. Cue Monday and wondering who to give them to since although I know it's supposed to be really fun, I've never been that interested.
Oh dear FSM. It's, what, four days til nano and last night, just before going to sleep last night I suddenly get a bloody fully-formed Inception bunny where Arthur knew Eames back when he was Handsome Bob from RocknRolla (shush. personal canon, okay? Partly because I can never, ever stop giggling when reading a fic where Eames' family is some sort of nobility. No, seriously. That is not a posh accent, fic writers.).
The twitter cabal has agreed that most Dickens would be improved by velociraptors. And explostions. And that Little Nell and Little Dorrit should be thrown to said velociraptors for being that wet, with the Old Curiosity Shop being destroyed by rocket launcher in the first five minutes... It is a truth universally acknowledged that any young woman with sense must be in want of an RPG.
I won tickets for RED, and Gideon danced the macarena to prove he was worthy. IT WAS GLORIOUS. Helen Mirren. Machine gun. OTP. :happy sigh: Brian Cox having WAY too much fun. Pretty, pretty Karl Urban. Perfect swinging car choreography.
In, er, other winning streaks I re-registered for the Guardian and apparently got entered for a competition to win tickets for Dirty Dancing, which I hadn't noticed as I had the screen on small. Cue Monday and wondering who to give them to since although I know it's supposed to be really fun, I've never been that interested.
Oh dear FSM. It's, what, four days til nano and last night, just before going to sleep last night I suddenly get a bloody fully-formed Inception bunny where Arthur knew Eames back when he was Handsome Bob from RocknRolla (shush. personal canon, okay? Partly because I can never, ever stop giggling when reading a fic where Eames' family is some sort of nobility. No, seriously. That is not a posh accent, fic writers.).