Brief announcement - I'm moving in two weeks, due to landing my first professional job. The rejoicing is outstripping the logistical anxiety, but the logistical anxiety is intermittently acute. I shall be co-metropolitan with
grehoundliz and vastly closer to my
glimmergirl. By which I mean, in Philadelphia.
In other news, I've started watching
Firefly.
( Read more... )The last time I was at
glimmergirl's, though, we watched "Serenity," and while I'm not hooked I am intrigued, to the point of *cough* tracking down *cough* a few episodes online. The show strikes a decent balance between believeably dusty and oh-please-shoot-me gritty, the organizational structure of the ship's crew is pleasantly closer to Robin Hood's band than the Starfleet hierarchy, and in a truly radical step the established couple is actually
married. And Joss is writing the dialog, so it's all quite watchable.
I'm still bitter about the Buffyverse, though.
I've been re-watching my way through my video library over the last few months, first as post-comps relaxation and now as an accompaniment to packing.
Shakespeare in Love still doesn't contain any acting that exceeds what Cate Blanchett's baby toe does on an off day, but it's a highly enjoyable, merrily anachronistic romp all the same. One of the things that makes
SiL work as well as it does is the fact that the anachronisms are all surface ones used for comic effect. Thus, water-taximen accost Shakespeare with scripts and waiters in the local tavern recite specials involving gooseberry coulis, but major truisms about social conventions and the social role of women are maintained. Will can't divorce his wife; Viola has to marry Lord Colin Firth.
Watching
SiL also provided a good setup for a line on the commentary track of
Love Actually, in which someone says "Oh, I like the musical theme here," and someone else replies "Yes, I like it almost as well as the first time I heard it in
Shakespeare in Love."
Other recent viewing includes
Best in Show,
The Winslow Boy, and
Gosford Park. For some reason my Liam Neeson collection isn't calling out to me, perhaps because enormous swaths of al the films I have are really depressing.
K-19, radiation peril in the deep (though perhaps it would inspire me to make some progress on the Alexi/Misha slash I started a couple years ago),
Michael Collins, Irish politics, 'nuff said,
Lamb is so visually depressing it almost doesn't need the plot to send me in search of several stiff rum and cokes, and
Rob Roy is a long slow slide into disaster that only turns around at the last minute.
Gun Shy should be tolerable, though. Perhaps I'll watch that tonight.