Another tour de force from Michael Sheen. I enjoyed this immensely, who knows how much of it is true mind you. The times were perfectly captured, and it was a prefect performance from Sheen, effortlessly reprising the part he played on the stage.
Interesting to see the part ex BBC Head, John Birt played in the process, perhaps played more glam by Matthew McFadden than was in real life, though I had only previously known him in his latter incarnation. .
I saw this fantastic movie last night – really enjoyed it, I will have to get the book. Stephen Daldry is producing increasingly high quality work.
I always remember him coming on stage at the beginning of a performance of Billy Elliot, the first after the London bombs in 2005, saying how happy he was to see everyone out enjoying ourselves in defiance of the terrorists – it was a lovely moment.
Not everyone enjoyed it – the film does bring up hard questions, and does not exactly succeed in answering them.
Saw this on Friday – fantastic film, not as feel good at the beginning as I thought. Danny Boyle is very much back on form – glad to see it did well at last nights GG’s. Wonder how it will do come Oscar time?
So sad to have heard the news that Heath Ledger was found dead around two hours ago in his Manhattan apartment.
He profoundly affected me with his performance in Brokeback Mountain, a film which I think has a warning for us all – in that it dramatised the senselessness of a life wasted, I can’t help but feel the same today.
What Jack remembered and craved in a way he could neither help nor understand was the time that distant summer on Brokeback when Ennis had come up behind him and pulled him close, the silent embrace satisfying some shared and sexless hunger. They had stood that way for a long time in front of the fire, its burning tossing ruddy chunks of light, the shadow of their bodies a single column against the rock. The minutes ticked by from the round watch in Ennis’s pocket, from the sticks in the fire settling into coals. Stars bit through the wavy heat layers above the fire. Ennis’s breath came slow and quiet, he hummed, rocked a little in the sparklight and Jack leaned against the steady heartbeat, the vibrations of the humming like faint electricity and, standing, he fell into sleep that was not sleep but something else drowsy and tranced until Ennis, dredging up a rusty but still useable phrase from the childhood time before his mother died, said, “Time to hit the hay, cowboy. I got a go. Come on, you’re sleepin on your feet like a horse,” and gave Jack a shake, a push, and went off in the darkness.
