Middle Earth and Auden
Like apparantly everyone else, I was delighted by ten minutes glimpse at Hobbit filming, and hit by a wave of nostalgia for Middle Earth, New Zealand edition. (Also, I've seen Peter Jackson in slim form before but it still feels weird in this context, because on the LotR extras he's, err, anything but.) Also, despite the three Sherlock episodes Martin Freeman still at first glance looks like John Simm to me. Andy Serkis is love. Otherwise you can play a spot-the-Richard-Armitage-and-Aidan-Turner, and since no one is shown in costume yet, you can spot them sans dwarf get-up.
Speaking of Andy Serkis, I wonder: given The Hobbit will have its own version of the Bilbo-meets-Gollum encounter, will at some point someone insert that one in Fellowship in the brief flashback so that made-to-look-young Ian Holm goes the way of Sebastian Shaw in Return of the Jedi? And what about the inevitable Bilbo-cheated-first debate among the fanboys?
Star Wars jokes aside, it really was quite an emotional experience to see those Bag End and Rivendell sets again. I'm in the happy position of being fond of both novels and films without being fanatic about either, so while there was the occasional point where I thought, hm, PJ, don't think that was the right choice, that, during the trilogy there was much more which I loved. (And some of the stuff I had issues with was actually Tolkien, not Jackson.) And I bet Jackson will do wonders for the New Zealand tourist industry again, which given recent disasters this year hopefully benefits the general income.
(I wonder, do I still have my LotR icons somewhere?)
Meanwhile, the mood for poetry hasn't left. You know, there are some poems you think you know and then you find out people have only been quoting parts to you and that the entire poem puts those parts in a completely different context. Which is the case for W.H. Auden's The More Loving One with me. I only heard the first two verses, which read like a poignant evocation of unrequited love and acceptance of being the one who feels more. But the last two verses - which I hadn't known until yesterday - really make the poem, because they're quite the opposite of pining, and the wry humour and sensible pragmatism in them make this more similar to one of those 70s divorce songs talked about recently in this very journal than anything else.
The more loving one
Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.
This entry was originally posted at http://selenak.dreamwidth.org/671742.html. Comment there or here, as you wish.
Speaking of Andy Serkis, I wonder: given The Hobbit will have its own version of the Bilbo-meets-Gollum encounter, will at some point someone insert that one in Fellowship in the brief flashback so that made-to-look-young Ian Holm goes the way of Sebastian Shaw in Return of the Jedi? And what about the inevitable Bilbo-cheated-first debate among the fanboys?
Star Wars jokes aside, it really was quite an emotional experience to see those Bag End and Rivendell sets again. I'm in the happy position of being fond of both novels and films without being fanatic about either, so while there was the occasional point where I thought, hm, PJ, don't think that was the right choice, that, during the trilogy there was much more which I loved. (And some of the stuff I had issues with was actually Tolkien, not Jackson.) And I bet Jackson will do wonders for the New Zealand tourist industry again, which given recent disasters this year hopefully benefits the general income.
(I wonder, do I still have my LotR icons somewhere?)
Meanwhile, the mood for poetry hasn't left. You know, there are some poems you think you know and then you find out people have only been quoting parts to you and that the entire poem puts those parts in a completely different context. Which is the case for W.H. Auden's The More Loving One with me. I only heard the first two verses, which read like a poignant evocation of unrequited love and acceptance of being the one who feels more. But the last two verses - which I hadn't known until yesterday - really make the poem, because they're quite the opposite of pining, and the wry humour and sensible pragmatism in them make this more similar to one of those 70s divorce songs talked about recently in this very journal than anything else.
The more loving one
Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.
This entry was originally posted at http://selenak.dreamwidth.org/671742.html. Comment there or here, as you wish.