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So today I'm a bit improved.
I had a rather late night, what with the nausea confirming that this is a bout of flu instead of a simple cold that's run me over like a truck of manure. I'll skip tomorrow at work too - I could probably go in, but I'd rather not compound misery with agony.
I spent yesterday consuming four pots of tea and watching Harry Potter (Sorcerer's Stone), before Lori took pity on me and took me to Scarecrow to find Sense and Sensibility. It was hiding down in the director's section under Ang Lee instead of under the British films or up under Austen in Literary films, and so I got Truly Madly, Deeply and An Awfully Big Adventure instead. (I went back today for S&S, once I'd hit the website proper-like.)
Bawled my eyes out. I mean, for a Rickman kick, those are just... He starts out dead! And in the second one, he doesn't come onscreen until the second hour and then ends up dead! Waah!
Still, Sense and Sensibility was much better. He plays such a quiet, background character, and after all his lovely good deeds in the background, he finally gets the girl. Plus. Costume drama. Rowr. I watched it twice - once through, and then once with Emma Thompson's commentary. I'll save the third viewing for tomorrow, and listen to the director's commentary. Haven't decided to do Pride and Prejudice before or after, though.
It's not just Rickman, either, though he's a fine, distinguished figure of a man. It's Austen, whom I esteem and adore, and I'd have her babies if she weren't a couple centuries dead and buried. (Darn those pesky details. Maybe they can dig her up and mine her DNA and I could have little Jurrassic-Austen babies.)
I'm such a romantic sap.
Interesting quote I mined from the commentary: "Where do you find good obstacles for a love story anymore? They've all collapsed. Anybody can marry anybody, or not even marry them at all." There's a point - one reason why I adore Austen (in addition to her lovely prose and complex social commentary) is that she's writing about a period with immense class boundaries that arise to block the beloveds from consumating their desire. Modern romance just doesn't have those sort of boundaries (unless you take a stab at high school, which is why Emma adapted so well to Clueless.) Slash, if written around modern mores, still has a few of those boundaries left. The one which really presses my buttons is the adversarial attraction - enemies who should hate each other, and may, but that much passion leaves a whole lot of room for steamy hot sex.
Ah well, don't mind me and my feverish little brain. I'm off to check email and then to bed.
I had a rather late night, what with the nausea confirming that this is a bout of flu instead of a simple cold that's run me over like a truck of manure. I'll skip tomorrow at work too - I could probably go in, but I'd rather not compound misery with agony.
I spent yesterday consuming four pots of tea and watching Harry Potter (Sorcerer's Stone), before Lori took pity on me and took me to Scarecrow to find Sense and Sensibility. It was hiding down in the director's section under Ang Lee instead of under the British films or up under Austen in Literary films, and so I got Truly Madly, Deeply and An Awfully Big Adventure instead. (I went back today for S&S, once I'd hit the website proper-like.)
Bawled my eyes out. I mean, for a Rickman kick, those are just... He starts out dead! And in the second one, he doesn't come onscreen until the second hour and then ends up dead! Waah!
Still, Sense and Sensibility was much better. He plays such a quiet, background character, and after all his lovely good deeds in the background, he finally gets the girl. Plus. Costume drama. Rowr. I watched it twice - once through, and then once with Emma Thompson's commentary. I'll save the third viewing for tomorrow, and listen to the director's commentary. Haven't decided to do Pride and Prejudice before or after, though.
It's not just Rickman, either, though he's a fine, distinguished figure of a man. It's Austen, whom I esteem and adore, and I'd have her babies if she weren't a couple centuries dead and buried. (Darn those pesky details. Maybe they can dig her up and mine her DNA and I could have little Jurrassic-Austen babies.)
I'm such a romantic sap.
Interesting quote I mined from the commentary: "Where do you find good obstacles for a love story anymore? They've all collapsed. Anybody can marry anybody, or not even marry them at all." There's a point - one reason why I adore Austen (in addition to her lovely prose and complex social commentary) is that she's writing about a period with immense class boundaries that arise to block the beloveds from consumating their desire. Modern romance just doesn't have those sort of boundaries (unless you take a stab at high school, which is why Emma adapted so well to Clueless.) Slash, if written around modern mores, still has a few of those boundaries left. The one which really presses my buttons is the adversarial attraction - enemies who should hate each other, and may, but that much passion leaves a whole lot of room for steamy hot sex.
Ah well, don't mind me and my feverish little brain. I'm off to check email and then to bed.
