Well, how often do I get to see things first, eh? Very hardly ever. Of course, this means no watchee Robson (Wire In The Blood, also on Friday night), but Fitz trumps Tony any day.
On Sunday, a large silver airship puttered past the kitchen window in the early morning. It would be eyebrow raising enough (except that the weekly flyover by the Baron Von Richthofen makes everything somewhat less surreal by comparison), but the morning after the first Cybermen episode? Eeep. Apparently, the airship did it again this morning. Double eep.
I've always found the Cybermen scarier (and, apparently, a shade less bitchy) than the Daleks, and, even on a second viewing, it was still pretty good. In fact, given that I've only just seen the other two parter, it was like watching a new episode, because everything had now taken on new and different meaning.
I gotta wonder, though, if there's an AU Torchwood, does that mean there's an AU Doctor, or had he been there before the time war? And if there's an AU Doctor, possibly only on his 7th regeneration, can't we use him instead of spawning forty years worth of bad fic? And can I choke on my anorak any more than I just did?
Too many time travellers in my life just now. Peanut Gallery came to the same conclusion when watching the Goodnight Sweetheart mini marathon on UKTV (I will spare you my usual compare and contrast to Life on Mars post) and wondering if the old coins acquired and taken back into the past now existed in a paradox...oooh, my aching 'ead.
Speaking of time travellers, popped another episode of Adam out of the box. This time it was blackmailing satanists. No, really. Well, we knew they were evil because they'd installed a mini railroad in their stately grounds for the tourists. At least, I believe that was the gist of various critcisms laid at the feet of the guest nasties, and, I suspect, the worst breach of etiquette, with sacrificing the help way down the list (these shows are always so laughingly Tory in sentiment).
Mind you, as much as I aesthetically abhor the ubiquitous tea room/loo/gift shop in all big houses/castles/cathedrals in the UK, after trudging around Italy, desperate for a sitdown and a cuppa, I shall no longer begrudge them. In fact, I will praise them (like I should). Note to self: byo thermos and shooting stick when next in Europe.
Forgot to mention the spider incident on Thursday. Peanut Gallery thought I was squealing over Peter Wingfield (unleashing yet another dreadful accent) in Smallville. Well, yes, but no. Twas, in fact, my spider squeal, as the, or one of the, large huntsmen in my room had decided to go for a stroll across the ceiling. Now, I try to be firm but fair: it's live and let live so long as they stay behind the bookshelves and curtains, etc, but if they wander about above me or hang over the doorway, well, that's it. PG had no interest in attempting to shoo the bugger outdoors so I'm afraid it was the final solution, alas. Poor spider. Like the other one, he'd picked his moment badly (and it was a he). If he'd gone walkies an hour earlier, I'd have never have known.
So, aside from giant, blue crystal seeking spiders, there was Wingfield in Smallville, followed by Sharpe. Oh yes, both my lads, on one night. Alas, I was rendered a little too distracted to fully enjoy it, and it was Sharpe's Gold in any case. I actually, really, prefer the book. The film version is so silly, more Adam Adamant than Sharpe. And now I must resist the urge to go there and place Sharpe in Clemens/Spooner/Nation type frolics.
Friday night was Robson in Wire in The Blood. And also Waking the Dead, because my need to explode with goop at frequent intervals kept me up all night.
Saturday was spent mostly sulking in room. There were lots of 50s westerns: Wanted Dead or Alive and Rawhide on dvd, and Maverick and Gunsmoke on telly. TV westerns, I note, are very claustrophobic, with none of the painterly, plein air vistas that are a signature motif of the film genre. Hardly any films bother with sweepings horizons or Constable like views these days (unless there's an Aussie behind the camera, and I honestly wonder why that is so). Odd, that films seem to be all about the close up these days, or scenes swarming with (bad) cgi. There's no space or air in films these days (Brokeback being a noted exception). Have you noticed?
Also indulged, or rather just lay there, whimpering and sniffling, as the Flint double washed over me. Those films are disturbingly influential. There are all the bits Austin Powers stole, of course, but dear me if I didn't noticed that The Incredible also seemed to have borrowed heavily from Mr Flint. Oh dear. Shockingly bad films, but colourful and fun and perfect to watch when sozzled with flu, and thus too tired to be bothered with plot, characterisation, narrative or meaning.
Sunday afternoon/evening/night....oh dear. Meant to watch other things, but I thought I'd just put on an episode of Life on Mars, just to make sure my Gene wasn't being too rude, too loud, too crude or too harsh or violent or snappy (and he wasn't), but I was having so much fun, I was just watching episode after episode, after episode...
Couple of things I've noticed: foreshadowing. I really need to work on a foreshadowing post, because they love it on LOM. If it's not Sam telling Joni it's a beautiful life (to be repeated by Joni before she carks it), or Test Pattern Girl telling Sam that Daddies aren't to be trusted, or all of episode five foreshadowing eight, really, ditto the red dress in #4, then in #3 there's Sam's wonderful Playstation line, but when he holds the gun out, he's not actually pointing it right at Gene, because that would be dangerous, but it looks like he's pointing it at Gene. Hmmmm...
Futher to the is it all the dream of a young Sam, is the line episode 4 closes out with, sung by RW:
"If is for children
It's probably just coincidence, but...
Also interesting on the commentary how Sam's tv brackets were supposed to fall down (but it imperiled the 70s tv too much), so he sucks at that, and how The Railways Arms was supposed to be shot up at the end of #4, Warren's revenge being a little more immediate and explicit. (I'd been avoiding listening to that particular commentary in case I heard anything that yanked the chain hard on my fic, but I think it'll do).
I was also bemused to hear John go all luvvie. Tres swishy.
There was more, but my mind's gone a blank again, alas. I shoudn't have indulged in all that pervy lusting over The Guv and Sam, because guess what I've got today, boys and girls. So happy I have a hot water bottle at my desk these days.
But it does mean there's no Tom Hollander tonight. Bugger. I so wanted to see him. I even re-watched The Libertine last night. Johnny, Jack, Richard and Tom and a fistful of dildos and, well, it's a Restoration piece, ain't it. About as subtle as an episode of Are You Being Served. It's a little too clever and try hard, methinks, but the lads are all excellent and they make the film.
Our Man Flint
Star Wars condensed to 20 minutes
Philip Glenister fic
BLOWING THEIR TRUMPTON (LOM scaryarse spoiler)
Here's the skinny (V. Mars)
Duelling sleuths (Bones)
on being uncool
Russell Crowe on Set of "American Gangster" - August 9, 2006
All cashed up
Cillian: ‘My wife is my rock’
Breakfast on Pluto
Meet the modern Macbeth (Worthington)
More style than substance
Thom out of tune
As a singer, he's out of his Depp
Jack rues dearth of local films
Life on Mars
The riddle of China's Area 51
The Television Has Disintegrated. All That’s Left Is the Viewer.