this entry was going to be about something else, but got overtaken by Sherlock Holmes
I have managed to start the new year pretty much the same way I ended the old one, which is to say, sick. This is something like my fourth bout of illness in the past five months, and I am horribly tired of it, but I am at last feeling okay enough to be on the internet again. Which at the moment means reading through my favorite collection of h/c stories, because if you have to be contagious and quarantined, it's awfully nice to read about other people being taken care of.
Which is not to say there have not been a lot of very nice things, aside from being sick. Among other things, I went to see Sherlock Holmes with my dad (before the plague struck, that is). I loved it just as much as I was expecting to. First and foremost because of Watson. I have something of a sidekick kink, and I loved the bickering, bantering familiarity he had with Holmes, and that he got to be awesome and competent and gentlemanly and save Holmes a bunch of times. I firmly believe in his awesomeness, and it makes me sad when I see him stupidified. The plethora of Holmes/Watson stuff was, of course, my favorite part (Holmes being all jealous and needy, oh my *heart*! and his insistence in the shared dog!), but I liked all the characters. In a perfect world I would have liked a little more Mary, but then again, it might have gotten in the way of my Holmes/Watson love, so maybe it's best. (I have kind of a soft spot for Kelly Reilly, though - I saw her as Desdemona opposite Chiwetel Ejiofor's Othello a couple of years ago, and I always get a bit of a thrill from seeing her because of that.)
Plotwise, I thought it was kind of silly and unsurprising - it was always going to be the rational man of science overcoming the seemingly supernatural with the power of his brain, so even when the specifics were being pulled out seemingly at random, the general trajectory was pretty predictable. That said, I didn't really care, because it was Holmes and Watson, and I was in it pretty much for the relationship and the fun little details. Speaking of which, Watson's limp! I don't know why, but I got ridiculously excited when I noticed it.
It was kind of funny, seeing it with my dad, who was all, "virgin sacrifices what?" And of course I couldn't explain to him that the reason I was all giddy and bouncing in my seat was not about the virgin sacrifices, but rather the epic love of Holmes and Watson. Nor could I reveal that the whole scene were Watson got blown up made me positively gleeful. It is possible that I am a cruel person, but I love nothing more than stories in which the sidekick gets exploded and the hero takes a break from his hero-ing to express remorse and concern. Or masquerade by the bedside, as the case may be. SO GLEEFUL. Coming out of the theater, my dad remarked on the gratuitous violence of the explosion scene; I would happily consign the slaughterhouse scene to the label of gratuitous (ugh, those pigs), and I wouldn't have minded if they had cut out some of that whole action sequence with the boat, but I am treasuring every single moment of that explosion scene. They gave me a slow-motion scene of Holmes being agonizingly sure that Watson had just gotten blown up, it's like they crafted it around my kinks.
I really want to go see it again, but I'm probably not going to be able to make it, so I will just wait impatiently for it to come out on DVD. And in the meantime, fic! From what I've seen of my flist, a lot of people are delighting over wonderful stories that I click on to discover that I've already read them, having gone through a significant Sherlock Holmes phase a few years ago. I am really excited about the idea of an invigorated fandom, though.
Now I have over a week of LJ to catch up on. If there's anything particular you think I should know about, please do leave a comment, because I'm not sure how much catch up I'm up for.
Which is not to say there have not been a lot of very nice things, aside from being sick. Among other things, I went to see Sherlock Holmes with my dad (before the plague struck, that is). I loved it just as much as I was expecting to. First and foremost because of Watson. I have something of a sidekick kink, and I loved the bickering, bantering familiarity he had with Holmes, and that he got to be awesome and competent and gentlemanly and save Holmes a bunch of times. I firmly believe in his awesomeness, and it makes me sad when I see him stupidified. The plethora of Holmes/Watson stuff was, of course, my favorite part (Holmes being all jealous and needy, oh my *heart*! and his insistence in the shared dog!), but I liked all the characters. In a perfect world I would have liked a little more Mary, but then again, it might have gotten in the way of my Holmes/Watson love, so maybe it's best. (I have kind of a soft spot for Kelly Reilly, though - I saw her as Desdemona opposite Chiwetel Ejiofor's Othello a couple of years ago, and I always get a bit of a thrill from seeing her because of that.)
Plotwise, I thought it was kind of silly and unsurprising - it was always going to be the rational man of science overcoming the seemingly supernatural with the power of his brain, so even when the specifics were being pulled out seemingly at random, the general trajectory was pretty predictable. That said, I didn't really care, because it was Holmes and Watson, and I was in it pretty much for the relationship and the fun little details. Speaking of which, Watson's limp! I don't know why, but I got ridiculously excited when I noticed it.
It was kind of funny, seeing it with my dad, who was all, "virgin sacrifices what?" And of course I couldn't explain to him that the reason I was all giddy and bouncing in my seat was not about the virgin sacrifices, but rather the epic love of Holmes and Watson. Nor could I reveal that the whole scene were Watson got blown up made me positively gleeful. It is possible that I am a cruel person, but I love nothing more than stories in which the sidekick gets exploded and the hero takes a break from his hero-ing to express remorse and concern. Or masquerade by the bedside, as the case may be. SO GLEEFUL. Coming out of the theater, my dad remarked on the gratuitous violence of the explosion scene; I would happily consign the slaughterhouse scene to the label of gratuitous (ugh, those pigs), and I wouldn't have minded if they had cut out some of that whole action sequence with the boat, but I am treasuring every single moment of that explosion scene. They gave me a slow-motion scene of Holmes being agonizingly sure that Watson had just gotten blown up, it's like they crafted it around my kinks.
I really want to go see it again, but I'm probably not going to be able to make it, so I will just wait impatiently for it to come out on DVD. And in the meantime, fic! From what I've seen of my flist, a lot of people are delighting over wonderful stories that I click on to discover that I've already read them, having gone through a significant Sherlock Holmes phase a few years ago. I am really excited about the idea of an invigorated fandom, though.
Now I have over a week of LJ to catch up on. If there's anything particular you think I should know about, please do leave a comment, because I'm not sure how much catch up I'm up for.