On set #WhiteCollar antics - #MattBomer likes to get songs stuck in people's heads. - @futoncritic
Actually, that's very amusing. I've had friends (key word here: had) that used to do that. So freaking evil. Now that I know young Matt has the capicity for mischief he's suddenly become much more interesting. Always pretty, but so far the bland soundbites weren't doing it for me. More little tidbits like this, please.
And speaking of coming in praise of young Bomer, from the Chicago Tribune (big Chuck spoiler for those as yet unspoiled, and good luck with that, so SPOILER WARNING!):
If the show had had another Matt Bomer on its hands, the entire Shaw arc might have been less painful. Bomer gave the character of Bryce Larkin winning insouciance (which is why USA gave him a very similar character in the successful "White Collar"). - Chicago Tribune
I wouldn't say Bryce and Neal were similiar (if anything, I could do with seeing more of Bryce in Neal's character, and, oh, how to attempt that sentence without going to wrong places) at all. I think Bryce had more substance (that whole duty and loyalty thing that always warred within the boy) and I really believed his deal with Sarah (as opposed to Kate who was a less tangible macguffin than the bloody music box) and the whole thing with Chuck, which was constantly re-written and all tangly but Neal would never trust or protect Peter the way Bryce trusted and protected Chuck, for reasons never adequately explained (Papa Bartowski only trusted Bryce because he was nice to Chuck). Bryce, though we never really got to see it, had a lot of stuff going on.
Unlike Neal who is probably one of the first wholly Gen Y anti-heroes, as in all about his needs and his instant gratification and his timetable and, basically, he's a spoilt brat without the moral compass that made The Saint or The Mavericks so much fun to watch. You never knew which way they'd jump, which was half the fun, but at least they knew right from wrong and would stand up if they had to. Can you imagine Neal standing up? No, running is more his thing. Not very heroic.
Bryce, meanwhile, made every sacrifice and even ceded the girl to the (supposedly) better man. Oh, Bryce, you doomed romantic hero, you. (And a damn sight sexier than Neal's constant whining and wibbling over Kate. Give it a rest, will you?)
What Bryce and Neal do have in common is that they're both very, very good at their chosen professions and they both enjoy the work they do, though Neal is a touch cheekier, Bryce is way cooler. And why? Because Chuck gave us flashbacks where we got to see Bryce being super hot and super cool in action. With Neal, we just get the odd brag, the odd snippet, but we rarely see him being this self professed shit hot art thief. Show and not tell, dear WC writers. Cause I tell ya, just a couple of flashbacks to Neal in the before time would be a real insight into who he was then and who he is now.
But we interrupt this train of thought with a huge flying cockroach. Arrrgh!!
Okay, I give up, I cannot type and duck at the same time. Besides, counting down to Burn Notice. Yay. Shutting down El Diablo in ten, nine...
Thurs: Alas, I was so tired by the time Burn Notice rolled around I was barely following it, and, hey, it was Burn Notice, so not good. Oh well. More fun was baby Geds on a homicidal tear on Rex, yes, it was a pre Brandtner appearance, and wasn't he just pretty. And psycho. And gay. Yeah, well, it was an old episode and the old killer queen trope was still reigning supreme. Who cares when he spent most of the set up wandering about sans shirt? Heh.
And I am remiss, I did get one egg for easter, a Cadbury creme egg that I savoured on Saturday with a cuppa on the veranda. Little Butchie, the semi-tame butcher bird, was practically perched on my shoulder, doing whatever the birdie version of smacking his lips was, if not outright having his little tongue lolling out as he drooled and drooled but no, I wouldn't let him have it because a) it was chocolate and b) mine. Since then the poor wee mite has been tearing through every nest in the neighbourhood, looking for another egg as large and wonderful as the one I'd found. Poor kid, I've ruined him noow, because, like, obssessed much? That egg is going to haunt his dreams. Poor Butchie. I'm sorry. I didn't even know he was that into eggs until he did the whole slobber thing.
Ah, well, Butch, we can never get the things we want. Though I did get a couple of wishes yesterday. Two annoying people away and, best yet, the nasty boys on the bus were kicked off for fare evasion. Oh, how I sank into my seat, smirking behind my Agatha Christie. Because they were really giving me curry and there's a dozen of them and they're all on day release and thus a touch intimidating. So that was happiness.
The fic in my head is tearing away like a runaway carriage (shouldn't joke, my great whatever grandma was done in by same) but whatever, it's off and it's all I can do to get down the main plot points and fill in the details later, though in the name of expediancy I might take a leaf out of the crap WC writers playbook and just say "shit happened, you won't believe what happened, moving on...". Honestly, considering the number of times somebody just walks into a room and says they've been having adventures, rather than actually filming said adventures, I'm quite certain the only previous experience these hacks have had are on cheap sitcoms or soap operas.
On an unkind yet karmic note, I'm chuckling over the fate of the man previously known as Xander, because he remains one of the nastiest people I've ever had the misfortune to. Came out for a con once and was a complete shit, so much so that we, my little gang o'pals at the time, thought he was uncomfortable at the whole con thing so, seeing the lad in the hotel bar, we sent over a quality bottle with our kind regards. So he stalks over, thumps the bottle on the table and snarls at us that he can buy his own drinks and stomps off. Which I thought was uncool. Worse, refusing a drink an Australian has bought for you as a friendly gesture is the worst, the worst, the absolute worst insult you could ever, ever, it's just not done. It was boorish behaviour and I dare say there has been little to remediate my poor opinion of the "gentleman". To borrow from the show: ::cough::karma::cough::
James Marsters though was a delight though and somewhere in a remote alternate universe we're married because, I swear, I have rarely had a conversation with anyone that hit so many points of common interest and thought. Jane Austen would understand. It was just a silly moment but, sadly, there have been precious few people with whom I've had such delightful conversation, and either he's a far, far, better actor than I've ever given him credit for or he really could have been a BFF in another life. Ah, well. Thems the breaks, I guess.
Much like, despite all the renovations they've done to this building, the seat where I used to sit with my beloved, my heart of hearts, my true love, my soulmate, him, it's still there. I'm not sure if I'm pleased or dismayed. I wonder how Peter would feel, if he had to live in a city without Neal, and walk past that empty seat, day after day.
PM update: Oh, I just had the most lovely time in the park. First off I managed to get there using the secret Get Smart route, which is just a series of tunnels, but it's enough to amuse this easily amused soul, and it's only rarely that I get the secret lift to the basement, so I pretty much go down in the lift, then emerge up into the park. Actually, probably more Prisoner or The avengers than Get Smart, but you get the gist, it's just evocative of 60s spy silliness.
Anyway, it seems to have forgotten it's Autumn and has instead thrown up the most glorious summer day, a real heavy eucalypt scented, insect buzzing hot summer day, the very sort of day I'd yearned for over the Xmas break (or even the Easter break), but never got. It was so lovely I nearly didn't come back. Then they might have had to send someone to fetch me, and they would have stayed, too. That's how perfect it was.
And I've just realised the obvious about Neal and Peter, that they're both puzzles to each other that they need to solve. Well, I never claimed to be quick on the uptake. Story still racing away. I think the moral now is 'be careful what you wish for'. Oh dear...
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