Speaking of The Sweeney and The Profs, had to stay up late late on Saturday night taking the tree down with the insane number of boxes of baubles. I put on the Beefcake special, which is amusing, but mainly for the clips and as for lauding Bodie while deriding at metrosexuals, has he not actually watched the show? Bodie, especially in S1, was all about the pink shirts and the girlie drinks.
Or, as PeanutGallery quips everytime Bodie walks into a bar:
Bodie: "I'll have a snowball and the girliest drink you have for me bird."
Barman: "Right then, that's two snowballs."
Okay, so you had to be there. But the actual clips accompanying the "Bodie and Doyle: Gay Icons?" bit had me crying. Wheeze. The Bullshitters has a lot to answer for. Then it was happily time for the real thing. Bodie! Doyle! Regan! Carter! Happiness and Joy.
The Sweeney is just about finished it's run alas, and they seem to be in that not caring any more mood that closing shows get. There was a scene there where Carter spouted so much slang that I was just about crying out for some little little yellow SBS subtitles, it being v.late and making my brain hurt having to turn all that 70s London copper speak back into English.
Never mind, it was all great fun and lots of hard men being hard in front of some truly outstanding examples of 70s wallpaper. Wallpaper really reached its nadir in the 70s, didn't it. Ever since it has seemed to be cringing in the background and promising never to do it again.
Mind you, the boys gave the wallpaper a bit of a run for its money with their ties.
So that was fun.
Fun also was Sunday night's entertainment, featuring, coincidentally enough, two of my very favourite works, works I was actually examined on in my final year at school, not that I can remember what I wrote about. I was lucky I was into them so much, because I got top marks (at school and state level), something I very rarely ever did unless enthused (it drives folks mad that I can't be bothered when I'm bored, but you know, bored). Tired now so I'll spare you the deconstructions of plot and character and, being hormonal in extremis, just limit my comments to phwoar! and some incoherent dribbling.
First up, Mr Darcy and Co in Pride and Pejudice. The film version. I've decided I like the film and tv version equally yet differently, as they each have something to offer which I like, and manage to cover the small failings in the other. Matthew's Darcy I really liked (I was once worried that I wouldn't), and it was an interesting choice to play him as socially awkward, at least with girls, rather than merely stiff and snobbish. It kind of worked.
I just love the first scene at the first ball where Darcy puts down Liz and Liz slings it back at him. He is so hooked, from that moment. It makes me smile. It's very well done. Liz just trails out and Darcy follows her with his eyes. Hook, line and sinker. Heh.
I'm surprised at how much I love Keira as Elizabeth. I mean, I've never liked Keira, just for her name (I new a Keira, once) and as for King Arthur, well, I suppose it was just a really bad role with really bad costumes, but still. But she is just perfect as Elizabeth and she made me laugh and cry and love her, so kudos to Miss K.
In fact Marian had a Miss K moment because I couldn't stand her at all as they seemed to have used the dreadful King Arthur as a template, but suddenly in #12 she turned into the P&P version of KK with the line "These may be my last words and I will not be shushed." I just really liked her then. Suddenly she sounded human and funny, not snotty and bitchy. More of that please. More Emma Peel, less Spice Girl. Ta. But knowing RH, probably not. It's one step forward, three steps back for that show.
Anyway, loved P&P. And there was even bonus Tom Hollander. Yay.
Then there was Macbeth. The James McAvoy version, and wasn't he just a searing vision of burning eyes and tight leather trews. Oh my. Throw in Joseph Millson, and, squeal, Richard Armitage, and you have me thrashing in delight. And it was damn good. For a re-telling. it was a damn sight more faithfull than those re-imaginings the Yanks do, where only the names stay the same, and sometimes not even that. I loved the three garbos. I loved the whole idea of the cuthroat world (literally, here) of the celebrity chef. I giggled over "the Scottish chef". I loved the three stars standing in for Cawdor. I adored the phone message presaging the ghost of Banquo (and privately I was much bemused by cousin Joe playing cousin Banquo - heh).
So I love Macbeth. I love what they did it with - very clever. I loved that they kept all the main points. I was so into it I never thought of Truffaut The Wonder Dog or Blackadder once. And I loved James, Joseph and Richard. Woof!
So very sexy. And it was nice to see Richard out of the, albeit canonical but not quite like that methinks, leather drag and into a very nice suit (suits you, sir). And James. Steaming up the screen or what? What an intense little chap he is. And Joseph, well, get that tongue in there, my son - heh.
Other tv I watched was The Invasion. I got it for my b-day but I couldn't watch it right away because I felt I needed a break between Troughton tanties, and I'd been watching Robin Hood again before daylight (the damn baby crow had me up for a 5am feeding). Sadly, I'm a bit sick of Much and his whining now, though I've stood it far longer than others, which shows what a high tolerance I have (snerk). I don't think it serves the character or the show, but asking a Troughton to dial it down it like asking a dog not to bark. It's just in his nature. But, still.
As it happened, I didn't have much choice about a delayed viewing, but I finally watched it, or, at least, some of it. The animation was okay, but more importantly, a cool way of filling in lost episodes and I don't know why they didn't think of it sooner. The other thing was how scarily current the plot still was, with the whole evil tech company, Jamie's iPod and the automatic phone service which Zoe makes self destruct (you go Girl!). The other thing that struck me was did RTD know this was coming out on dvd, because it highlight how much of a ripoff his Cyberman story was. I mean, serious ripoff. Invasion is the better story by far, btw. And bonus points for Benton being a man in black, albeit briefly (how they should have done Torchwood) and the Brig in his secret airplane base. Yay to the Brig. Monochrome happiness.
Also tried to watch The Avengers, but was thwarted yet again. There's a bit I simply must put up on YouTube though, just to illustrate why I love the show so much. Does anyone know any good dvd/video grabbing software?
As for the rest of the weekend. Well, I tried, but not hard enough. I could say I was suffering a week long sinus headche, pms, sunstroke and travel sickness and food posoning and the stress of another birthday, but this rarely ever suffices.
I really should have just said no to everyone and kicked back with my tea (Yorkshire Tea Xmas blend which I really love and has been my source of restorative solace), Haigh's chocolate frogs and a fistful of dvds, as planned.
But dear friends rang up and promised seafood lunch and as that was all I wanted to do on Friday, moping down at the Quay with my chai iced latte and two fried crab claws and trying to convince myself that it was a lovely day (it was) and I wasn't the least bit miffed about being stood up be everybody, again.
So I agreed. Alas, there was an unspoken addition of someone I loathe to the party and getting stuck in the back seat of a hot car in stop start traffic with some I can't stand who kept putting me down and punching me, hard, every time they thought they were witty, and, well, pretty soon the ordeal started to show. I'm sorry, but I was just miserable, lacking the steel to hide it and wishing myself back into an alternate timeline where I was still on my veranda with the morning papers and my birds. Then they didn't like the restuarant because the only one not full was the very expensive one and,oh well. I feel horrid that I wasn't jollier but I was just so damn miserable, not to mention about to pass out (I did ask if I could just leave and take myself home on the ferry but they actually restrained me from going so it wasn't like I didn't try to rectify my mistake). Had hey told me person X would have been there, I would have said no. I hate it when people don't give me all the facts because then I make bad choices based on faulty intelligence. There were no WMDS and it was not a fun lunch.
But I did get a god. There was only one hippy shop left in Manly (it used to be nothing but), and, with the windows filled with Buddhas and fairies, I joked I'd only buy something if they had a figure of Cernunnos. Well, bugger me if ol' hornhead was lurking on a shelf up the back. I'd never in my life seen one before, and I've been dragged through more hippy shops than I care to count. Of course I had to get him. He's sitting down amongst my trees now, hopefully happy.
Maybe the best gods always require journeys of hardship and suffering.
So what was Sunday's excuse? I was desperate for a high tea ala The Empress and so I booked into the Intercontinental as they promised a courtyard, a piano and three tiered plates. What I got was a lobby, muzak (the best of Kenny G) and a self service buffet set up on one trstle table featuring stale British Rail sandwiches and the world's smallest scones and, oh yes, the watery tea was extra. Yes, extra. And at effing $4.00 a cup, too. Bugger me. Worst excuse for a tea ever. Shockingly bad. I'd have 'em up under the Fair Trading Act if I could be arsed. But I can't, so I'm just telling you, don't ever go there. Never, ever go there. It was horrid. I was very upset.
I would have been better served at home with my own tea set, my own scones and sandwiches and one of those Herald giveaway classical cds. Harumph!
And, to add injury to insult, it was pissing down out of grey skies and freezing cold when we came out, but when we finally got home, it had been lovely sunny and perhaps too warm the whole time.
So that was it. One buggered birthday. Next time, I'll stick to tv. It never lets me down. Well, it didn't last night.
The Case of the Canny Counsel
Are you sure about those 007 twunks, Jonathan?
Clash frontman Joe Strummer leaves £1m will
The Fairmont Empress
Ken Russell quits Big Brother
Plan sparks a fight to gladden Boney's heart, if not his organ
Satanists trapped between the devil and the Holy See
FBI to store arrivals' full fingerprints
Did NASA probes kill life on Mars?
Magnusson dies at 77 with his family by his side
. . . but a 'punch' for boy who hugged Tigger