(no subject)
[Into the Woods: The Prince finds that some things--like character archetypes--don't change.
In other words, Cinderella runs away.
Again.]
Somewhere in the woods, strings start softly playing--or is that just the wind in the branches? Something glints in the evening starlight, a single lonely point of light among the trees.
(French horns and a gentle piano part sigh into the accompaniment.)
Out of the Woods comes a stricken, mournful looking figure, artfully taking advantage of the dim light. Music swells; he glances back longingly at the Woods, and then sets his jaw, brushes some moss (left over from that impromptu number with that terribly charming Baker's Wife) from his jacket, and pushes the door open. The Prince looks desolate, perfectly so. He looks crushed (not literally--he never even saw the Giant) but determined; he may even look martyred.
Behind him, the music quiets, and eventually disappears altogether.
In other words, Cinderella runs away.
Again.]
Somewhere in the woods, strings start softly playing--or is that just the wind in the branches? Something glints in the evening starlight, a single lonely point of light among the trees.
(French horns and a gentle piano part sigh into the accompaniment.)
Out of the Woods comes a stricken, mournful looking figure, artfully taking advantage of the dim light. Music swells; he glances back longingly at the Woods, and then sets his jaw, brushes some moss (left over from that impromptu number with that terribly charming Baker's Wife) from his jacket, and pushes the door open. The Prince looks desolate, perfectly so. He looks crushed (not literally--he never even saw the Giant) but determined; he may even look martyred.
Behind him, the music quiets, and eventually disappears altogether.