and while I'm here, Little Dorrit part 3
Not much to say about Little Dorrit this week--though I continue to love it, and am disappointed when it ends every week--except that I'd suspected that part of my problem with William Dorrit is that he is more or less King Lear, and this week pretty much confirmed that. And my desire to punch him in the face from last week has now spread to the rest of Amy's family, except for Frederick. (I love him, and his big dramatic moment this week.)
Part of me is amused by how much work it must be to constantly have grates and windowpanes and fences on hand to shoot the characters through (the icon sort of illustrates this, though not fantastically), but it *is* an effective visual metaphor, and it was interesting to see those open shots this week, in which Amy is looking up, up at an Italian forest shot through with light, or a frescoed ceiling--especially in contrast with the grayish, washed-out world of the Marshalsea and its surroundings. And especially given how *brief* those shots are, how seldom they're given prominence before we're back to seeing Amy through a leaded window, or looking down on her from above while she's trapped between columns.
Part of me is amused by how much work it must be to constantly have grates and windowpanes and fences on hand to shoot the characters through (the icon sort of illustrates this, though not fantastically), but it *is* an effective visual metaphor, and it was interesting to see those open shots this week, in which Amy is looking up, up at an Italian forest shot through with light, or a frescoed ceiling--especially in contrast with the grayish, washed-out world of the Marshalsea and its surroundings. And especially given how *brief* those shots are, how seldom they're given prominence before we're back to seeing Amy through a leaded window, or looking down on her from above while she's trapped between columns.