"Yes. You're the manwoman."
So. Right. Movies watched recently: Pride & Prejudice (the new one), The Libertine, and Stage Beauty.
Pride & Prejudice: Was no Colin Firth but the dude who played Darcy was *~HOT~* and so I am willing to forgive his not being Colin Firth. As well as this movie's not being the miniseries in general. Spent most of film giggling like girl. Possibly evidence that self is big girl. Briefly turned into puritan at end when I found myself shouting "NO NO YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED MAKE OUT" at the screen. Plz be keeping your wet kisses out of Jane Austen. On a whole though, it was a lovely film, and I reiterate aforementioned giggling.
The Libertine: ...I think the Academy Award should go to Johnny Depp's nose for the vast amount of work it put into portraying the gradual process of falling off of his face. Egads, I wanted to take a bath after seeing this one. I DID take a bath after seeing this one. The fact that great deal of the cast from the above turned up again here was a little alarming. It wasn't a bad movie, but one that glamorizes grotesqueries, and thus a pretty difficult watch. Also, Most Uncomfortable Sex Scene ever.
Stage Beauty: Think Shakespeare in Love, except set about sixty years later, less afraid to get down in a frilly dress, the role of Queen Elizabeth being played instead by Nell Gwynn, and very willing to show dudes kissing. Are there historical nitpicks? Yes. Are there ridiculously modern sentiments spattered all over the place? Yes. Did I love this movie? Fuck yes. Plays with gender roles without being too sledge hammery about it (only a few slips here and there), and does the entirely novel thing of portraying its bisexual main character as, gasp, actually doing it with guys on occasion! (as opposed to refusing to have the balls to own up to it and leaving it to a blink and you'll miss it implication. THE LIBERTINE I AM LOOKING AT YOU) Plus: androgny is kinda hot. Plus: discussion on the means of approaching Shakespeare. Plus: Othello. Plus: a central romance that for the most part takes a back seat to the more important issues, but somehow also manages to be completely enjoyable. Plus: Zoe Tapper seriously needs to be in more movies. I APPROVE OF WOMEN WITH CURVES. However I approve of women without curves in this movie as well. Billy Crudup, I am looking at you.
But I'll admit it, one of the biggest flaws I felt was that it needed more back stage antics between the female and... female leads.
“Tommy it just won’t Do,” stomped Ned, petulantly.
Thomas stared at him. “Did you just sack your dresser an hour before the performance?” Ned fluttered the fan in front of his face in perfect innocence, although the sneer that touched his very manly lips said otherwise as to his intention, he spoke in a high, offended tenor:
“I know not of what you speak. Miss Mallory and I had creative differences and she chose to let herself go, as it were. No ‘sacking’ has taken place. It was all conducted in an orderly fashion, and by her own free will.”
Thomas crossed his arms. “And calling her a useless, bloody minded bit had nothing to do with this at all?”
Ned tossed his head in irritation. “She kept stabbing me with the needle.” He collected himself, and flipped the fan over a few times. “…I may have offered some strong advice in the matter.”
“May have… you’re half done up, and we need a Cleopatra, and you’ve sacked-I beg your pardon-have strongly advised that your dresser run out shrieking in offense,” Thomas shook his head, “…we’ll just have to put you in something else.”
“Will noo-ot,” sang his female lead.
“Is it your theater now?” he pointed out.
“I’m Cleopatra,” Ned pointed out.
“And you’ll wear a bloody bag if it comes to that.” Thomas growled and stormed out of the room, down the steps where the stage master stared at him questioningly. He threw his hands out. “We need to find another seamstress. I need a good swift blow to the head, make it quick-one moment.” He swung out the door. London smelled strongly of rotten fruit that evening. There was the usual mill waiting outside. He scanned the crowd curiously. Drunken men, gentleman, a prostitute… finally his eyes picked out a young girl who was currently engaged in what looked like a fine display of evasion tactics from the wandering hands of a quite ardent admirer. She had a plain look, and a tattered, patched dress.
“You there.”
She turned with a blink. “Sir? -oh!” she gave her would-be companion a smart slap. “…sir?” she said again, more uncertainly.
“Name?”
“Maria Carter, sir, but I…”
“Do you do your own stitching, Miss Carter?”
“What?”
“Can you sew.”
“Yes?”
He grabbed her by the arm. “Come,” he said, and pulled her to the shouts of everyone and their toothless mother who felt cheated out of back stage privileges. He dragged her through the dressing room door, where Ned was still making an art out of tapping his foot in ladylike disapproval.
“Here’s your damned replacement.”
Ned stared. The girl, for her part, glanced backwards, glanced forwards, eyes large. “Mr. Kynaston,” she breathed. “I am a great admirer of your--”
“You must be joking,” said Ned, gaze fixed over her head.
“Yes. Absolutely jolly, this is,” said Thomas.
“I--” began the girl.
Ned waved his hand over the general space she occupied. “This is ridiculous.”
“I--” attempted the girl.
Thomas slapped a hand down on her shoulder. “This is what you get at such short notice. You’re an actor. Improvise.”
“I--” tried the girl.
“This is not a dresser!” exploded Ned. “This is…some tatty thing you’ve picked off of some corner!”
“I beg your pardon!” snapped the girl, who flushed as she found herself at the startled attention of both of the men in the room. Thomas made a deep indicative noise in his throat. Ned sighed with a greatly dramatized roll of his eyes and shoulders.
“Very well,” he said, flicking his hair derisively. “She’ll do for now.”
“Glad we’ve come to an agreement,” said Thomas, and left them to it. The girl stood awkwardly for a second after he had gone, frozen with her shoulders raised, as though she were still being steered about. The actor surveyed her with an unimpressed stare.
“I can sew,” she said, in a wounded voice. He cocked his head at her.
“Yes, but do you have a name?”
“Yes. Maria Car--”
“Let’s get to work, Maria.” He swung around, presenting his back to her. “There will be three costume changes. The first is there, the second is there. This one requires I be sewn into it. Do you think you can manage that?”
“I can try. I....”
“And I don’t want any red on it, so I’d suggest you keep to the point of the matter, and make sure it does not go into me.”
“Mr. Kynaston,” she said, “Will you be telling me where that point is?”
He gestured, vaguely. Though even in vagueness there was a graceful turn in his wrist. “Basket on the table. Your predecessor was very thoughtful in making arrangements for her replacement. But don’t take it as a sign of comfort. I need you on your toes, and anyway this likely only temporary. Although,” there was a faint crook at the corner of his lips, as he looked over his shoulder, “…make it so you can’t see the stitches and I’ll keep you on for an extra week. How’s that sound?”
She curtsied. “Fair enough, sir.”
He did the same. “Glad to hear it.” He clapped his hands together. “Now get to it. Curtain calls, my dear. Let's see how this works?”
Pride & Prejudice: Was no Colin Firth but the dude who played Darcy was *~HOT~* and so I am willing to forgive his not being Colin Firth. As well as this movie's not being the miniseries in general. Spent most of film giggling like girl. Possibly evidence that self is big girl. Briefly turned into puritan at end when I found myself shouting "NO NO YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED MAKE OUT" at the screen. Plz be keeping your wet kisses out of Jane Austen. On a whole though, it was a lovely film, and I reiterate aforementioned giggling.
The Libertine: ...I think the Academy Award should go to Johnny Depp's nose for the vast amount of work it put into portraying the gradual process of falling off of his face. Egads, I wanted to take a bath after seeing this one. I DID take a bath after seeing this one. The fact that great deal of the cast from the above turned up again here was a little alarming. It wasn't a bad movie, but one that glamorizes grotesqueries, and thus a pretty difficult watch. Also, Most Uncomfortable Sex Scene ever.
Stage Beauty: Think Shakespeare in Love, except set about sixty years later, less afraid to get down in a frilly dress, the role of Queen Elizabeth being played instead by Nell Gwynn, and very willing to show dudes kissing. Are there historical nitpicks? Yes. Are there ridiculously modern sentiments spattered all over the place? Yes. Did I love this movie? Fuck yes. Plays with gender roles without being too sledge hammery about it (only a few slips here and there), and does the entirely novel thing of portraying its bisexual main character as, gasp, actually doing it with guys on occasion! (as opposed to refusing to have the balls to own up to it and leaving it to a blink and you'll miss it implication. THE LIBERTINE I AM LOOKING AT YOU) Plus: androgny is kinda hot. Plus: discussion on the means of approaching Shakespeare. Plus: Othello. Plus: a central romance that for the most part takes a back seat to the more important issues, but somehow also manages to be completely enjoyable. Plus: Zoe Tapper seriously needs to be in more movies. I APPROVE OF WOMEN WITH CURVES. However I approve of women without curves in this movie as well. Billy Crudup, I am looking at you.
But I'll admit it, one of the biggest flaws I felt was that it needed more back stage antics between the female and... female leads.
“Tommy it just won’t Do,” stomped Ned, petulantly.
Thomas stared at him. “Did you just sack your dresser an hour before the performance?” Ned fluttered the fan in front of his face in perfect innocence, although the sneer that touched his very manly lips said otherwise as to his intention, he spoke in a high, offended tenor:
“I know not of what you speak. Miss Mallory and I had creative differences and she chose to let herself go, as it were. No ‘sacking’ has taken place. It was all conducted in an orderly fashion, and by her own free will.”
Thomas crossed his arms. “And calling her a useless, bloody minded bit had nothing to do with this at all?”
Ned tossed his head in irritation. “She kept stabbing me with the needle.” He collected himself, and flipped the fan over a few times. “…I may have offered some strong advice in the matter.”
“May have… you’re half done up, and we need a Cleopatra, and you’ve sacked-I beg your pardon-have strongly advised that your dresser run out shrieking in offense,” Thomas shook his head, “…we’ll just have to put you in something else.”
“Will noo-ot,” sang his female lead.
“Is it your theater now?” he pointed out.
“I’m Cleopatra,” Ned pointed out.
“And you’ll wear a bloody bag if it comes to that.” Thomas growled and stormed out of the room, down the steps where the stage master stared at him questioningly. He threw his hands out. “We need to find another seamstress. I need a good swift blow to the head, make it quick-one moment.” He swung out the door. London smelled strongly of rotten fruit that evening. There was the usual mill waiting outside. He scanned the crowd curiously. Drunken men, gentleman, a prostitute… finally his eyes picked out a young girl who was currently engaged in what looked like a fine display of evasion tactics from the wandering hands of a quite ardent admirer. She had a plain look, and a tattered, patched dress.
“You there.”
She turned with a blink. “Sir? -oh!” she gave her would-be companion a smart slap. “…sir?” she said again, more uncertainly.
“Name?”
“Maria Carter, sir, but I…”
“Do you do your own stitching, Miss Carter?”
“What?”
“Can you sew.”
“Yes?”
He grabbed her by the arm. “Come,” he said, and pulled her to the shouts of everyone and their toothless mother who felt cheated out of back stage privileges. He dragged her through the dressing room door, where Ned was still making an art out of tapping his foot in ladylike disapproval.
“Here’s your damned replacement.”
Ned stared. The girl, for her part, glanced backwards, glanced forwards, eyes large. “Mr. Kynaston,” she breathed. “I am a great admirer of your--”
“You must be joking,” said Ned, gaze fixed over her head.
“Yes. Absolutely jolly, this is,” said Thomas.
“I--” began the girl.
Ned waved his hand over the general space she occupied. “This is ridiculous.”
“I--” attempted the girl.
Thomas slapped a hand down on her shoulder. “This is what you get at such short notice. You’re an actor. Improvise.”
“I--” tried the girl.
“This is not a dresser!” exploded Ned. “This is…some tatty thing you’ve picked off of some corner!”
“I beg your pardon!” snapped the girl, who flushed as she found herself at the startled attention of both of the men in the room. Thomas made a deep indicative noise in his throat. Ned sighed with a greatly dramatized roll of his eyes and shoulders.
“Very well,” he said, flicking his hair derisively. “She’ll do for now.”
“Glad we’ve come to an agreement,” said Thomas, and left them to it. The girl stood awkwardly for a second after he had gone, frozen with her shoulders raised, as though she were still being steered about. The actor surveyed her with an unimpressed stare.
“I can sew,” she said, in a wounded voice. He cocked his head at her.
“Yes, but do you have a name?”
“Yes. Maria Car--”
“Let’s get to work, Maria.” He swung around, presenting his back to her. “There will be three costume changes. The first is there, the second is there. This one requires I be sewn into it. Do you think you can manage that?”
“I can try. I....”
“And I don’t want any red on it, so I’d suggest you keep to the point of the matter, and make sure it does not go into me.”
“Mr. Kynaston,” she said, “Will you be telling me where that point is?”
He gestured, vaguely. Though even in vagueness there was a graceful turn in his wrist. “Basket on the table. Your predecessor was very thoughtful in making arrangements for her replacement. But don’t take it as a sign of comfort. I need you on your toes, and anyway this likely only temporary. Although,” there was a faint crook at the corner of his lips, as he looked over his shoulder, “…make it so you can’t see the stitches and I’ll keep you on for an extra week. How’s that sound?”
She curtsied. “Fair enough, sir.”
He did the same. “Glad to hear it.” He clapped his hands together. “Now get to it. Curtain calls, my dear. Let's see how this works?”