I’d love to say it’s been a relaxing weekend, see but I’ve been feeling strangely tense and agitated for no real reason at all. Luckily I got into work this morning to find the answer to one of my most immediate worries sitting in my inbox, pills which is a fairly positive start. Other good things: I’ve got a gooey chocolate croissant straight out of the microwave, and somebody else is making the tea.
Although, actually, my own tea is so much better.
As I’d already hinted, I spent my Saturday hanging out at the tallest cinema in Europe and surviving on a diet of Haribo and cherry cola. I have one of Cineworld’s Unlimited cards that I never seem to get the use out of, so made a bit of a marathon out of it and watched three films in a row. And I’m a little surprised because out of the three, my clear favourite was the new version of Pride and Prejudice.
I’m only four entries along here and I think I’ve already mentioned that as a general rule I hate historical pieces, and I remember being forced to read Jane Austen by a high school English teacher looking to do something, anything to challenge me in that particular class and hating her. I spent most of the movie giggling like a schoolgirl though, and I’m sure a lot of that scripting must have been Austen’s. I’m sure a lot of my enjoyment was also to do with the casting – I can’t help but adore Kiera Knightley and her charming giggles and the sparky personality I find so evident in every role I see her play. Matthew MacFadyen as Mr Darcy unfortunately acted as if he had a stick up his ass for the majority of the film, which is a shame as the one scene in which he cracked a smile was a moment to behold. Essentially the film looked great, the script was strong, it was well-cast and I’d thoroughly recommend it.
Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride was as sweet in its own warped way as his films usually are, with some moments of sheer utter brilliance. My last viewing of the day was Broken Flowers, the new Jim Jarmusch film starring a Bill Murray who rather worryingly resembled my dad. It was ultimately a very frustrating affair, a slow burner which ended just as you found yourself being sucked into the story despite yourself.
On Sunday afternoon I nearly keeled over in shock as my sister finally remembered to bring me the latest Harry Potter book, which I now get to read and comment on about six months after the rest of the world. So that’ll keep me out of trouble for a few days. Oh, who am I kidding, I’ll have it finished tonight unless anybody has a vacancy for a pixiegirl at their Hallowe’en party.