#accent is not a hollywood heartthrob accent but it is TO ME. when i was in the closet in queens i was way too weird and squirrelly to get

[came-out-of-the-coffin-desisted]

trying to sit through maid in manhattan and i have to say the version of this movie i imagined in the blockbuster romcom section in 2008 before ultimately picking the other boleyn girl (which changed my life in arguably a bad way) was a lot better than this

[moneypowerglorymiddleofmiami]

heartthrob ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

note: the year is 2007, and as all romcoms do— none of this makes proper sense. (inspired greatly by notting hill, 1999)

summary: a coffee shop, the owner, hollywood's most famous actor, and a meet-cute

warnings: a cuss word here and there

genre: romcom

“Hello,” A baritone voice came after the telltale toll of the shop bell— baritone yet young, vaguely familiar but definitely not someone she knew well. “Are you open?”

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute!” She yelled back from the kitchen. She pursed her lips as she gave the cupboard a final thrust, the dodgy thing has always been a right pain in the arse.

“Hi, how can I help you, sir?” She asked cheerily as she emerged from the side door, the soles of her boots tapping loudly against the aged wooden floors.

She paused in her steps when she saw the sopping wet figure at the door, standing awkwardly and apprehensively at the threshold. Droplets of water trickled down from the sleeves of his coat down to the WELCOME rug placed conveniently at the entrance. “Oh, gods! Are you alright?”

“You don’t happen to have any tissues in here, do you?” He asked with a tight smile.

“Unfortunately, no. We’ve run out at the moment.” She scrambled to grab the nearest tea towel from the cabinet before rushing over to help him. “This’ll have to do.”

“Thank you.” Their fingers grazed as he took the fabric from her hold. “I’m sorry for making such a mess.”

“It’s fine! The floorboards needed a bit of a clean anyway.” She joked with a half-hearted grin in an attempt to ease the atmosphere. “I can have your jacket dried in the back if you want.”

“Oh, I can’t possibly intrude any further.” He waved his hand to veto her suggestion before tending to himself once more.

“You’re not from here, are you?” She asked with a sudden interest. With each minute he spent in her presence, she felt like she was closer and closer to figuring out exactly who this man was. She’d seen him enough times, surely. His name was at the tip of her tongue.

“The accent wasn’t a dead giveaway?” He grinned at her.

“Well, you get your occasional round of Americans here and there.” She shrugged her shoulders. “The sunnies were a bit on the nose though.”

He clicked his tongue, quickly pulling the pair down his face and placing it against the neckline of his shirt. “The weather report said it was going to be sunny.”

“Weather reports are dodgy.” She raised her eyebrow knowingly.

“I’m guessing it doesn't rain often where you’re from?”

“Twice every year,” He pursed his lips. “But I’m never around enough to know how true that actually is.”

“Sounds like you travel a lot.”

“A fair amount. My work keeps me away from home.”

“Ah,” She nodded her head. She must’ve seen him in a travel advert somewhere. “What do you do exactly?”

“Well, I’m an actor.”

She stopped to look at him more carefully, tilting her head sideways from one direction to the next to get a hint. She met his gaze momentarily, her eyes squinting as she wracked her brain for any clue of who he might be. He looked at her expectantly.

The dozens of movie posters she'd seen at the cinema came to her with a dazzling clarity. Ecstatic by her epiphany, she slammed her hand against the counter loudly— inducing a painful bang and an equally pain-stricken howl almost immediately.

“Are you OK?!” He asked with a panicked edge to his tone. He shoved the tea towel down his pocket carelessly as he ambled over to her. “I don’t know the emergency numbers here so I’m gonna have to either carry you or drag you— whichever comes first.”

She laughed loudly in amusement whilst nursing her hand, the pain slowly ebbing away as he continued to fuss over her. “I can’t believe it! Luke Castellan is in my depressing little shop!”

“Wait, fuck, are you sure you’re OK?” Luke mouth twitched, as if contemplating whether this was an appropriate time to laugh. He looked at her as if she’d gone insane. Maybe she did, maybe she actively was. This oddly seemed like the stuff of delusions.

“Yes, I’m fine!” She flipped her wrists as if to show him. “Healthy as a horse.”

He cracked a smile at her comment.

The bell let out a loud clang as a young man peeked his head into the shop, his umbrella left out in the street to protect him from the rain. “Luke! I’ve been trying to contact you for the last hour!”

“I suppose that’s your cue to leave then.” She smiled bashfully, the embarrassment catching up instantaneously. She was rubbish at this.

“I guess it is.” He hummed lowly with a grimace. He gave her a once over. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Luke, maybe hurry the fuck up?” The young man grumbled impatiently.

“Right,” She nibbled on her lower lip. “Thanks for coming around.”

“I’ll come back and actually buy something.” He said as he turned to leave.

“I’ll put you up to that.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

She was in the middle of a yawn when a loud voice called from across the street, a familiar tea towel gripped between ring-clad fingers and a head of black curls bobbing through the crowds.

It was still quite early in the morning, but Notting Hill was buzzing with life.

“Hey!” Luke yelled as he hurriedly walked towards her, expertly maneuvering himself between the masses of people and the stalls that lined the road. “I accidentally brought this with me. I had it cleaned and everything.”

“Thank you,” She said as she received it. The keys to the shop dangled between her fingers, waiting to be used. “You could have done away with the old thing.”

“It felt right to give it back.” He gave her a smile, more performative than yesterday— dazzling and charming, nothing less from an actor, of course. “It might have been sentimental, being in a display cabinet and all.”

“Well, it’s memorabilia from a royal wedding some decades ago.” She responded with a blush. “My mum likes to collect these things.”

“At least it’s got some national value to it.” He raised his eyebrows.

“There’s that, yeah.” She chuckled. “My mum’s gonna be relieved, I’m sure. Thank you, Luke— may I call you Luke?”

He stared at her for a moment; what for? She wasn’t exactly sure, but it was certainly magnetic. She couldn’t move away and it felt like everything else aside from the man in front of her was a blindspot. Her eyes met his, and Luke’s grin grew imperceptibly wider and her heart thumped indescribably faster.

“Sure, yes, definitely.” Catching himself, he stood straighter. His face looked ruddy, either owed mostly to the sunbeams warming his skin or the excitement thrumming underneath his flesh. “I’d like that.”

He stuffed his hand into his pocket, just in time to tend to his phone’s shrill ringtone and its incessant vibrations. Luke groaned as he pulled it out. “It’s probably my manager. I have to go, unfortunately.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear, equally as red as his cheeks despite the lack of direct sunlight against her skin. “Sorry to hear that. Have fun spending the afternoon slaying monsters.”

“The movie's about a bunch of kids on a cruise ship actually,” He laughed as he began to walk away backwards, his eyes completely fixated on her.

“Well, have fun doing that then.” She waved him off with an amused smile.

“I doubt it.” He winked at her before turning around at the curb then jogging down to god knows where.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“Hey, mum.” She greeted when she walked into their shared flat, the whistle of the kettle loudly whooshing from the kitchen. “Did someone ring the shop while I was gone?”

It took her mother a minute to respond, too enraptured by David Beckham’s impeccable left-leg hurl into the opposing team’s goal. She listened attentively to the live play-by-play narration as she made herself a cup of tea, the announcer was basically gripping his seat with anticipation. Telltale cheers of a victory echoed through the walls.

“Mum?” She called again.

“Oh, yes, sorry, dear!” Her mother replied distractedly. “There was a young bloke that called… think he mentioned his name was Luke.”

Thank the gods she was alone in the kitchen because the silent giddy squeals and foot stomps were definitely concerning. Christ, was this real life?

She cleared her throat and feigned nonchalance. She drummed her fingers against the marble surface of the counter, her nails absently digging against old remnants of a sticker. “And what did he say?”

“He said he’s staying at the Ritz under Hermes, so give that name to the concierge if you wanna call.” A beat. “Have you gotten yourself a boyfriend?"

“He’s not.”

“Be more definitive,” Her mother snapped. Teasingly, she added: “Not ever or not yet?”

“I’m not so sure, actually.” She clicked her tongue, wracked by pensive thoughts of juvenile daydreaming. She was getting ahead of herself, surely. She needed to approach this from a rational perspective: Luke Castellan had a whole life in Hollywood, decidedly not London. He had a bombshell girlfriend back at home with a career just as luxurious as his. He was a star burning brightly and she could barely get herself to flicker.

“Doesn’t sound like a ‘not ever’ to me.” Her mother responded with a lilt to her voice.

She swallowed thickly at how foreboding it sounded.

[ilovewhiteroses]

Play Pretend

Pairing: Actor!Ty Shaw x Female Agent Reader Genre: Fluff, humour, drama Warnings: Some smut and curse words Rating: 18+ Notes: - This time I wanted to write about another Boyd character, Ty Shaw from the 2022 movie 'Vengeance'. - The story is set in an alternative universe, where Ty is an actor who does romantic comedies - Thank you @jessamydreams for the main idea and Dax @ruflirtingwithme for the southern euphemisms  💕💕

 Ty Shaw, the charming actor, has hired you as his agent and assistant. One day he was invited to a wedding. Since he was single and didn't want to go alone, he asked you to play his girlfriend

Despite becoming a popular actor, Tyler Clayton Shaw remained the nice guy he always was. Born and raised in Texas, Ty has always valued family and his mom taught him to always respect women. He liked hamburgers, especially when they came from a fast food restaurant called ’Whataburger’, and he also liked conspiracy theories. People told him that he had both the looks and the talent to be an actor. Ty himself toyed with the idea several times, and finally decided to move to New York to find an agent and go to auditions. The plan worked and soon after he became the new heartthrob of romantic comedies.

Unfortunately, however, poor Ty has had a hard time lately. His sister, Abilene died last year, and now his girlfriend broke up with him a few weeks ago. In addition to all this, his career began to decline and the good roles avoided him. Ty was so distraught by these that he decided to retire from filming for a while. He didn't leave his house and didn't answer the phone to anyone except his mother or grandmother. This went on for a few months until one day Ty decided: he would return to acting, but this time he wanted more dramatic roles. He fired his old agent and moved to Los Angeles.

You were sitting in front of your computer as you just uploaded your resume to a job search site. You worked as an agent and assistant in Hollywood and now you were looking for a new job. Your most recent client was a talented, young actress who was suddenly overtaken by popularity and unfortunately, that came at a price. She went to clubs to party more than to work on sets. At first you tried to help her, but even after several requests she refused to change so you quitted. You hoped that your new client would be a much more mature and responsible person.

You didn't have to wait long, a few days later your phone rang.

"Hello! Am I talking to Y/N?” asked a pleasant male voice with a southern accent.

"Yes, it's me."

"Great! My name is Ty Shaw.” the name was familiar to you. "I recently moved here from New York and I'm looking for a new agent. I read your resume and called to ask if you would work for me. You don't have to answer now, I'd like to meet in person before that." he said kindly. You agreed and decided on where the meeting should be.

 The meeting took place in a fancy restaurant, which was popular among celebrities. Ty told you about his career and why he moved to Los Angeles, and you told him about your past clients. You found him likable. In fact, even a handsome guy. No wonder that fans were so into him. He was tall, blond, and blue-eyed - like the prince in the fairy tale, only in person. In addition, all this was accompanied by a deep, sexy voice... but stop it right there! Your job was to take care of his acting career, you weren't allowed to think about other things.

So you started working for him. You called several directors and producers to let you know if they know of any drama projects, because your client was looking for just such opportunities. Until there was nothing interesting, Ty started to workout again and paid more attention to his inner peace, because deep inside he still couldn't move on from the bad things that previously happened to him. Over time he opened up to you and told you what hurt his soul. You listened to him and gave him advice. You not only looked for good roles for him, but you paid attention to him as a person and he appreciated that.

When there was something that caught his interest, you called the director and went to the meeting with Ty. He was considered for one of the lead roles in a yet-untitled family drama, which would be a great opportunity for him to make a comeback. Filming will start in a few months, and Ty had time to immerse himself in the script and prepare for the role.

Lately, you've realized that you're not just co-workers anymore, but friends. Ty often told you about his childhood in Texas and his family, sometimes he was explaining you wild conspiracy theories. You liked it that he was so honest and sweet with you. Of course, just like all celebrities, Ty also went to parties, but with responsibility, because the paparazzi were everywhere and he didn't want to bring shame on himself and his family by being photographed in a drunken state. You were very happy about this.

One day when Ty got home after swimming in the ocean, he found an envelope in his mailbox. Official and film stuff was sent to your office, personal letters went to Ty. Inside the envelope was an invitation: it turned out that his childhood best friend, Gerry was getting married in the Bahamas. Ty whistled as he read the text with a tasteful font.

"Wedding on an island? Look at that! Gerry, things turned out well for ya!" he said approvingly as he ran a hand through his hair and entered his house. It suddenly dawned on him that he hadn't seen Gerry for a long time, but Gerry must have read about him on some celeb gossip website and knew about his breakup. Shit! Everyone will go with their partner, and he didn't have anyone. Ty didn't want to be pitied for being single. He had to figure something out: who could he take with him? He looked at the names in his phone and caught his eyes on yours. It's true that you were his agent, but at the same time, you were also his good friend. He thought about what it would be like if he asked you to play his girlfriend.

In the late afternoon, you were in the kitchen putting the dirty dishes and cutlery into the dishwasher when the bell rang. You went outside and saw Ty.

"Hi! What's up?" you asked as you let him in and invited him into your apartment.

"Nothing special. I mean…the thing is…well…” Ty was visibly embarrassed, searching for words. "I was invited to my childhood friend's wedding."

"That’s great! And where will it be?” you asked as you went back to clean up. You didn't leave it there just because he was present.

"In the Bahamas." Ty replied, rocking himself back and forth slightly in confusion.

"Wow! Then it will be very nice! And who are you taking with you?” you asked. Only after a few seconds of pause Ty spoke.

"Well, that's why I came. I was thinking what if… well… if you pretended to be my girlfriend.” Hearing the request, the glass almost fell out of your hand.

"What?" you couldn't believe your ears. In your career, you have never been asked by a client to do something like this.

"You can say no, I would completely understand it. I could look for someone else."

"No, it's not that, it's just that I'm your agent and I don't know if this is a good idea."

"Look, let's just pretend that we're together and after that we can go back to the old ways." Ty said, somewhat relieved.

"Well, if you insist on it, then fine, I'll pretend I'm your girlfriend. But no funny business!” Ty put his hand over his heart.

"I promise I'll be a gentleman the entire time, ma'am."

"Okay then. Now that you're my “boyfriend”, in return, tomorrow, you have to come look at clothes with me for the wedding." you told him with a grin. Ty rolled his eyes and smiled.

So that's how you became Ty Shaw's new girlfriend and you hoped that you would give an authentic performance. And then, what trouble can come out of this? You go and have a good time, that's all.

 To get used to each other, you arrived on the island a week before the wedding and stayed in an elegant hotel room. The furniture in the room and the bathroom were decorated in white and cream colors, and the balcony provided a magnificent view of the blue ocean. You unpacked and looked around.

"This is breathtakingly beautiful!" you said leaning back on the bed.

"It is. This is the most beautiful hotel room I have ever been in.” he said and sat next to you on the bed. You closed your eyes and rested for a few minutes, because you were exhausted from the flight. Ty looked at you in silence, admiring your beauty. For a moment, it was as if he felt something for you…

You opened your eyes and sat up.

"What shall we do?" you asked him.

"I think we should go and eat at a restaurant and then have a good night's sleep. We'll see Gerry and his family tomorrow.”

"Okay."

You went out for dinner then Ty signed autographs and took selfies with some fans. After returning to your room, you quickly brushed your teeth, had a shower and put on your oversized t-shirt and panties combo.

"I'm done, you can go now." you said to Ty who was sitting on the sofa waiting his turn.

"I’ll go then." he said while looking at your nice legs. For a moment, just for fun, he imagined what could be under your t-shirt...

"Where do you want to sleep?" you asked him, jolting him back to reality.

"Well, uh, the sofa will be fine for me, you just sleep in the bed." he replied scratching his head in confusion.

"Sure?"

"Sure."

You packed away your used clothes and were preparing for a new set for tomorrow, when Ty took off his shirt and flashed you his sexy, naked upper body. As much as you liked the sight, you tried to stare at him unobtrusively. He's your client! The sentence echoed in your head. Ty went into the bathroom and you got into bed and turned on the TV until you both fell asleep.

You woke up in the middle of the night and went to Ty. You woke him up softly. You took off your t-shirt and leaned in to kiss him. A little later you and him were rolling naked on the bed...

Your phone's alarm went off. You turned it off and went back to bed for a few more minutes. You buried your face in your hands. You had a very sexy dream last night that seemed quite real. You couldn't help it because Ty was a very attractive guy. But even then, you were already embarrassed by the thought of how you would be able to look him in the eye after this.

  In the coming days, you met Gerry and his future wife, Vanessa, their relatives and the other guests. Fortunately, you played the boyfriend and girlfriend with convincing authenticity, and everyone believed that you were a couple in love. Meanwhile, you and Ty sometimes went for a walk on the beach, hand in hand, and to avoid the fans at the restaurant, you took dinner up to your room. After a few days, you both felt as if you had been in a relationship for a while. You laughed a lot and debated various interesting and less interesting theories. In addition to these, of course, sex was also discussed and you learned a few intimate things about each other.

When you went swimming in the ocean, you put on your sexiest bikini. "Lord have mercy!" Ty said to himself. While you were happily swimming, he started to fantasize...He imagined kissing your neck and untying your binding top and bottom, and then you would make love on the beach...You often hinted at naughty things and looked at each other's bodies when you had the chance. Although you were still sleeping in the bed and he was still sleeping on the sofa, the sexual tension between you was obvious.

 Three days before the wedding, you went partying at one of the local clubs. You danced a lot and drank tequila. When you were no longer thirsty, you asked Ty to teach you some southern euphemisms.

” Good Golly Miss Molly! I’m bein' two sheets to the wind.”

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I'm fucking drunk! Hehe!” Ty said laughing so hard he almost fell off the bar stool.

"Say more of these!" you pleaded.

"What's that, sweetheart? You likin’ the southern style? Okay, listen: Bless yer heart. It can mean good, but it can also mean fuck you.”

"Oh. Then I'll pay attention when I say it."

"There is also: To be six ways from Sunday. It means my brain is so scattered it's thinking six ways from Sunday or I got so much to do, I'm just six ways from Sunday.”

"These are so good!" you told him biting your lip. As a result of the drink, his accent came out even more, which you found very sexy.

"Right?" Ty asked and looked into your eyes before grabbing your shoulder. "I think it's time..hehe..to go back to the ho..tel."

You somehow managed to get back to your room. You didn't turn on the light because it would have disturbed your eyes and then the moonlight illuminated the room just enough.

"I think... I'll go and take a shower." you said and were about to head to the bathroom when Ty grabbed your arm and pulled you close. You looked deeply into each other's eyes. Your heart started beating faster than it should. Emboldened by the alcohol, Ty kissed you as an experiment. You closed your eyes and felt his soft lips on yours. When Ty felt you weren't protesting, he held you closer to him and you tilted your head a little to the side so you could kiss each other more passionately. You stopped and pulled your clothes off each other. Not long after, you found yourself naked in bed. Ty started kissing your breasts, licking your nipples. This made you moan out loud and he took that as encouragement and went lower. He gently bit your thighs and then started to pleasure you with his tongue in your most intimate part. It was so good and he was doing it so well that you started to squirm under him and grip the sheets wildly. When you were wet enough, Ty stopped.

"I'll bring a condom, don't go anywhere!" he said enthusiactically.

"I won’t." you said and laughed.

Ty came back and tore the condom open with his teeth, put it on him and leaned over you. He kissed you and carefully placed himself inside you. You imagined him to be just like this... You scratched his back while he moved his hips with wild thrusting movements. You had such a crazy good time that you were surprised that the bed didn't break. You've wanted this ever since you met him and now your wish has finally come true...

 The next day you woke up with a hangover and a headache. Before you got out of bed, you saw your crumpled clothes on the floor and you looked behind you to see Ty lying on his stomach and snoring loudly. This was already suspicious to you, then you looked under your covers and saw that you were naked...

Oh God, no.

The realization sobered you up almost immediately, although your head still hurt. What happened last night? You had a couple of drinks and laughed a lot, then you got back to your room and... well, exactly what you thought happened.

You felt terrible, you felt like you made a mistake.

You got out of bed and looked for painkillers, while Ty slowly regained consciousness. He turned on his back and opened his eyes.

"Hey! What are you doing?” he asked lazily. You didn't dare to answer him. You took the medicine and pretended to pack in your bag in your embarrassement. When you heard Ty swearing softly to himself, you felt nervous. As embarrassing as it was, you had to settle things. You walked over to him and sat on the edge of the bed.

"My head hurts like hell! Wait a minute? Why am I naked and what are my clothes doing on the floor...and yours?" he asked as he slowly scanned the room with his eyes before returning to you. "Did we…?"

"Yes. I'm afraid. Look, this shouldn't have happened.”

"Fuck no! Fuck!" Ty said angrily as he got out of bed. "No! This shouldn't have happened! Just because we pretend to be a couple, we shouldn't have done it!"

"We drank too much that night and we both lost control." you tried to explain the situation. Ty tried to say something but couldn't find the words. You just looked at each other in silence for a few minutes, then he spoke.

"You're right. We were both drunk and then... As embarrassing as it is, let's try to pretend like nothing happened."

"It won't be that easy." you told him between deep sighs.

Another few seconds of silence followed.

"You know what? I think it would be better if I went to another room until Saturday, so that I could clear my head and think about us. Will we still be able to maintain our working relationship and friendship after this?" he asked with sad eyes. You nodded, you also thought it would be better if you separated for a while. Ty also took painkillers, showered, and then called the reception to ask for another room. He gathered his belongings and left.

 You didn't see him until the day of the wedding. You were trying to think about what to do next. It is certain that you can no longer regard each other as mere friends. You hoped Ty wouldn't think of firing you. The thought felt like a punch in the stomach.

 Saturday has finally come. You wore a peach-colored dress with straps, because the invitation stipulated that the guests should wear brightly colored clothes. You went to the beach, almost everyone was already there. Until the ceremony started, you admired the wonderful decorations and flowers, while you chatted a little with the people you met during the week.

"Where is your boyfriend?" asked one of the bride's friends. You had to come up with something fast.

"Well, um. He still had a few phone calls to make, but he'll be here soon." you replied with a forced grin. Once everyone had arrived and taken their seats, the ceremony began, but Ty was still nowhere to be seen. You were just starting to worry when luckily he appeared and sat next to you.

"Am I late?" he asked, adjusting his cufflinks.

"No, it's just beginning." you answered You took a closer look at him. He looked so good in his elegant suit that it made your heart flutter. Feelings swirled inside you. You wanted Ty to be there with you and not. You wanted him, but at the same time you didn't. You enviously looked at Gerry and Vanessa, the happiness on their faces and sighed sadly.

You tried to have a good time at the wedding party, the delicious food and drinks made you forget your bad mood for a while. You talked to Gerry's mom and you saw Ty talking to several women. As you watched him cheerfully chatting with them, you didn't like the sight, in fact, you were almost jealous. To overcome this feeling, you quickly went to the bar to have a drink and then looked for a good guy to dance with. You found a dance partner in one of Gerry's colleagues. He was very nice and couldn't help but compliment you on how pretty you were. While you were dancing, you noticed Ty, who was also dancing with a woman he was talking to earlier. He was looking at you intensely, as if he wanted to annoy you.

A little later, you sat at one of the tables and looked at your phone. A slow song started playing and Ty walked over to you and held out his hand.

"May I ask you for a dance?" he asked you like a southern gentleman. You nodded, put down the phone and gave him your hand. He led you to the dance floor and gently put his arm around your waist. You started swaying to the slow tune.

"I forgot to say, but you look beautiful."

"Thanks, others have already said it." you replied somewhat sarcastically. Ty could feel that you were angry.

"Look. I would like to apologize for requesting another room and disappearing for a while. I thought about the two of us and what happened. The fact is that I've had a lot of fun with you for the past few days and well...I have to admit, the sex was amazing too. We took our role a little too seriously." he smiled in embarrassment and continued. "Despite what happened, I would like you to remain my agent, but after this we can only have a working relationship, nothing more. I hope you understand." he said in a more serious tone this time.

"Yes." you answered. His words nearly broke your heart...

Slowly everyone left, you also returned to the hotel. Ty wished you goodnight and gave you a kiss on the cheek before going to his own room. Tired and with a heavy heart, you washed off your make-up, showered and then tried to sleep a little. The next day you and him took the early evening flight back to Los Angeles.

 Ty was about to start shooting the movie soon, which would hopefully bring him back to the top league of Hollywood. He kept his word and now really only saw you as his agent and assistant. You only spoke on the phone and only met in person when you gave him a script. You were bitter that your friendship turned into this, but you kept to your agreements.

Lying in your bed at night, you thought about Ty a lot. It true that he was an actor, but when you were on the island, you felt that his feelings for you were genuine. The way he looked at you, that look was everything. Then you remembered that night. His kiss on your lips, on your body, the smell of his skin, the weight of his body on you, your lustful moans... You had to admit, you missed him.

 A couple of weeks later you got a text from Ty.

Can we talk? In person.

You wrote back yes, and then your doorbell rang. You were surprised, but you went outside and it turned out that he was standing at the gate. You let him in into your apartment.

"If you're wondering, there were more roles, but none of them were of interest to you..."

"That's not what I came for." he cut you off suddenly. "I want to talk to you, tell you something." he said seriously. You gulped.

"What would it be?"

"Um." Ty looked away for a moment, then continued. "You know that I'm already preparing for the role and I've been thinking about things, including us. When we were on the island and when I realized what we had done in the morning after the night, I panicked and was confused. I needed some time to clear my mind. We've been getting along so well so far and you know, I've been toying with the idea of what if..." he pointed to you and then to himself. "You and I...we'd try. Because let's face it, we're two adults who know each other pretty well and know what's under the other's clothes." Ty said half-jokingly.

"Are you serious?" you asked because you thought he wasn’t.

”If I wasn’t serious, I wouldn't be here now and I wouldn't have said these things."

Hearing his words calmed you, because you were convinced that he had come to tell you that he could no longer work with you and that you were fired.

"Well, you know, what you said, they crossed my mind too, but… if you're really serious about this, then I think we could try.” you said with a half smile.

You talked about that you will start dating and will take it slow and see how things will go later between the two of you.

💕

Tags: @harlekin6, @thecorilove86, @ruflirtingwithme,

@i-like-the-eyes, @suziejolie @drowningnikki

@slasherbaby, @jessamydreams @kingredking

@merryandrewsworld, @e-dubbc11, @destiny-rahl​

[abirdie]

Gael Garcia Bernal: The Dear Heart Of 'Diaries'

Article from the Washington Post, 25 September 2004 (x)

By Hank Stuever

Gael Garcia Bernal: the Mexican actor, who is so very right now and here in town for, you know, just a day -- the whole thing with the big hotel suite and the half-eaten plate of fruit and dos publicistas tappa-tapping en los BlackBerrys over there. (Mujeres! Silencio!) He's promoting his new Che Guevara movie, The Motorcycle Diaries, and everyone who has seen it is going on and on about how saintly his portrayal of young Ernesto Guevara de la Serna is and how sumptuously the movie's 8,000-mile trek across South America unfurls onscreen and oh, btw, critics agree: Bernal's got Che's iconic, serious stare down pretty good.

Green eyes, we write in the notebook. (Big duh.)

Also can testify that Bernal is about 5 feet 7, though it long ago ceased to be news that the hotties of film are pocket-size. More notes: He turns 26 in November. He has a proud, long nose that sometimes blushes red when he laughs. He's wearing one of those Salvation Army-seeming plaid western-cut shirts that often turn out to be designer-label, a pair of deep blue vintagesque jeans and some scuffed lace-up boots the color of old asphalt. His hair is cut bubblegum-mishap short.

Awright, already, he's de-lish. Did we need to bring that dogeared copy of 501 Spanish Verbs with us? Of course not: Dude went to drama school for a while in London when he was a teenager; not long after he starred for six months in a Mexican soap opera called El Abuelo y Yo (Grandfather and Me), and this particular fact has dogged him in every interview. ("People think I did all these soap operas," he shrugs. "I did only that one. And it taught me a lot — it taught me I never wanted to do another soap opera.") When it comes to Spanish, he can bend it to his will, the way Nicole Kidman can do in English, with whatever accent directors like Walter Salles and Pedro Almodovar need him to speak in — Mexican, Argentine, Castilian.

During our interview, he spends an hour dissecting, in English, the current state of Pan-American politics, extolling his sensible, leftist-tinged childhood, and at one point he quotes from foreign-policy magazines.

We hold up our end of the conversation with such questions as:

"So, um, like, what do you do when you're not working?"

"When I'm not doing this?" Bernal asks, motioning around at the movie-star-with-movie-to-sell air particles of feature story nonsense. "I like to do all the things I cannot do as much. My common days are very different now. I would, if I could, I would be home" — Cuernavaca, just south of Mexico City — "and I would sleep until whatever time. Swim, play futbol. Read and go to lunches and the lunches become dinners. Visit family, organize a party for that night."

Halfway through the image of Bernal swaddled in high-thread-count sheets until whatever time, a half-theory privately knocks around in our pea brain:

Gael Garcia Bernal, or someone very much like him, is exactly why so many of us faithful, independent-minded filmgoers still cram ourselves into the creaky seats of dumpy art house cinemas, even as the years tick by and things like Netflix, the Sundance Channel and the nicer stadium-seating art houses came along to replace them. No, you want to see Bernal's movie surrounded by drabness, because you get a better transport to the happy, imaginative place that way. The stale popcorn, the Fandango.com ads, the bathroom with only two toilets. (Cineplex Odeon Dupont Circle 5, we mean you.)

We do it because we're always waiting for that next small-time heartthrob — male, female, or sometimes just the foreign scenery itself. It's the subtitles and the eyes. It's whatever we can't get from those American goofballs who do those blech movies that tend to be about guys who go on canoe trips where a horny bear in the woods tries to hump them. Or whatever.

Bernal would never do that to us.

Hollywood beckons and he rolls his eyes because it offers him roles like, uh, okay, here's the pitch: He's an undocumented leaf-blower yardman caught up in a caper that only Jackie Chan can make right, if only they could understand each other's Engrish, ha ha.

"I'm open," he says. "I am, I am. But so far in the U.S. what they have offered doesn't even get close to the kind of things that excite me. Nothing is quite right, so I think I'll just stick with what I'm doing. I have to stay … hmmm … congruent to myself."

And so that's why certain filmgoers are inclined to sneak off to his "small little movies" (as he calls them) in the middle of the afternoon, get the large Diet Coke and consider the combustion in contemporary Spanish-language cinema that the rare actor like Bernal can harness. You feel like you've just gone somewhere, talked fast, smoked cigarettes. They call him the Marcello Mastroianni of Latino film when they're not busy calling him the Marlon Brando of it.

All that smoldering, the aching of youth! One, please, for the 2:50 showing of Y Tu Mama, Tambien. (That hormonal breakout hit, a coming-of-age road trip from 2001 starring Bernal and his childhood friend Diego Luna — people mix them up, still.) Or the 4:45 showing of Amores Perros (from 2000, translating as wordplay for "Love Is a Bitch," a chronologically scattered tale of how one car wreck in Mexico City changes three lives). Or the 3:10 showing of El Crimen del Padre Amaro, from 2002, about the sinful lapse of a young priest (Bernal, natch) caught up in a small-town mess of church corruption. Its release in Mexico naturally put hard-line Catholics there in a state of non compos mentis, which both baffled and delighted Bernal.

Some of his key appearances have been as himself. Fresh from Y Tu Mama, he and Luna graced the Oscar ceremony last year, cleaned up in their tuxes, to present a small award, and Hollywood swooned. He was seen dancing all night at parties at Cannes. For a while he dated Natalie Portman (well, that's what the tabs reported) and you almost can't stand the fleeting idea of how gorgeous their children would have been. (Cancel that. They broke up.)

His movies are always in exotic, crumbly locations, and we are there, because Bernal is there: the back roads of the Mexican interior, or ascending to Machu Picchu as a soul-searching Guevara or click-clacking around the cobblestone streets of Spanish villas in transvestite stilettos seeking revenge against priestly pedophilia at a boarding school, as he does expertly in Pedro Almodovar's next surrealistic offering, Bad Education, which will open this year in New York. (It's scheduled to open in Washington in January. Sorry, kids. Delayed for possible Oscar-sensitive reasons of timeliness, and to not get in the way of Diaries. He's one of those stars: Two big projects colliding in the art houses of the world.)

If Salles' Motorcycle Diaries, which opens Friday, doesn't make you feel like an earnest college sophomore with a crush on the Marxist professor who teaches your Latin American history class, then we don't know what will. Predating the muss and fuss of the Cuban revolution, the film is an epic, richly hued journey into the formative years of Che, back in 1952 when he was Ernesto Guevara de la Serna, an Argentinean med student in his early twenties.

Ernesto takes a year off school to travel on a 1939 Norton 500 motorcycle with his best pal, Alberto Granado (played by Rodrigo de la Serna), across and up the South American continent.

Guevara, a devoted diarist as a young man, took notes about the people and places he saw, and the gulf between rich and poor (it helps to open his eyes when his rich girlfriend dumps him). The further Guevara and Granado go, the more Che becomes Che, seeing native people and their lives transcending the bourgeois notions of government and ownership and greed. By the time Che's working with lepers in the Amazon, Salles' movie (and Bernal) have reached a subtly beatific realm. In case you're not quite feeling it, Salles ups the noble-people quotient with black-and-white still portraits of the working-class people the young men encounter along the way.

"We prepared for four months," Bernal says of the research phase, and the crew shot the film more or less chronologically, following Guevara and Granado's original itinerary. "I read 1,001 books about the land and biographies [of Guevara]. We traveled. We practiced on the motorcycle three times a week. We asked permission from the gods, and also the local political and cultural centers…. When finally we started shooting, I wondered if we were prepared enough for this daunting task. We got on the bike and the road started to appear and things started to happen the right way, without you even noticing."

Bernal was born in Guadalajara and raised in Mexico City. Both his parents are stage actors. He has been thinking about Che Guevara for half his life — and even played the revolutionary in a two-part miniseries on Showtime about Fidel Castro, which he would appreciate it if everyone forgot. It goes back, for him, like most kids, to middle-school social studies class.

"It happens when you are about 12 or 13," he says. "When you grow up in Mexico you have a very strong connection to Cuba. As a kid you listen to this story, it's incredibly, incredibly exciting to hear. [The revolutionaries] changed Latin America forever and they changed the world. So you start early, identifying with where [Guevara] comes from, and identifying with his ideas in a way, and identifying with the struggle, and therefore you're able to agree with it or criticize it. Leftist ideas redefine themselves constantly. I think my generation is much more critical of what works in Latin American socialist movements and what didn't. There used to be a stigma that any leftist revolution had to come with violence. I don't think we believe that anymore," he says, mentioning Zapatistas in jungles who carry wood carvings of rifles instead of actual guns, just for the symbolism.

You think this sounds a little pinko coming from the mouth of a movie star? Well, you try embodying Che Guevara and see what you feel like talking about when it's over. When Bernal speaks of politics and the world, it's not with fire. He leans back. He almost whispers. It's seductive, in a way.

Early in the shooting, Alberto Granado, now 82, was visiting the set, Bernal says. And he offered this advice to the actor: "He told me, don't try to copy Ernesto's voice, or his mannerisms. He said, 'Use your own voice. All Ernesto was was a 23-year-old Latin American like you. Traveling around. Seeing things.' And I realized that what the movie needs is that universal experience. Granado was right. I have a right as does any person to tell the story of Che."

When it was over, months later, having lost weight to play the asthmatic Guevara as the trip takes its toll, Bernal found himself still wanting to travel.

When the film was finished, "I felt serenely confused, like in a serene state of almost understanding something bigger, and then not quite understanding it. All the time I felt like that," he says. "It redefined my priorities. I have moments where I understand what has happened to me, and then moments where I don't. I wanted to just get back on the road and travel to anywhere." (He sort of does that now, subletting apartments in New York and London, spending four months in Spain working with Almodovar on Bad Education, spending a little time back home in Mexico. He recently spent a month in Austin, shooting an independent film called The King in which he plays a character named Elvis — "the bastard child of an evangelist preacher," he says.)

He says he can't believe how hamstrung American actors arewhen it comes to saying anything political. He wonders if the United States has forgotten how to hold a real election, with real debates. He shows up in gossip columns lamenting the lumbering, impervious quality of American imperialism.

"The U.S. is a great nation that's becoming a war machine. But it is a great people, which can save it," he says. "Some of us fall into traps where we can't say what we think. But it shouldn't be this way. Actors are free. That's the nature of being an actor, to do anything you want to do, to say anything. It's why we're here. And if I were an American, I could be pigeonholed for what I just said."

He'd go on, but our lecture has to end here, for it is time to throw us out and escort in another reporter. It happens to be a student journalist from American University, and she seems excited to meet the Mexican Marcello Mastroianni, but trying to keep it all in check, remain cool.

She shakes his hand, ready and willing for her revolutionary inculcation in the hotel suite of Gael Garcia Bernal. She's exactly the age where a young woman's thoughts turn to putting that Che poster on the wall, and we envy her.

[orrested]

LOADING FILE . . .

ID #960213:   JAMIE DUNWOODY. EVAN RODERICK. —  GENDER: CIS MAN.    PRONOUNS: HE/HIM.    AGE: TWENTY-SEVEN.  YEAR: SOPHOMORE.    STUDYING: ARCHITECTURAL ENGINEERING.     CITY OF ORIGIN:  KELSO, SCOTLAND.

NOW PLAYING… I WANNA DANCE WITH SOMEBODY BY WHITNEY HOUSTON.  A FADED POSTER OF YOUR PERFECT BODY PINNED TO SOMEONE’S WALL, TOUSLED BROWN HAIR AND A SMILE THAT RIVALS THE SUN, COMING HOME TO WORN FLOORBOARDS AND LEARNING TO BREATHE AGAIN, BRAND NEW CLEATS TO BE JOYOUSLY BROKEN IN, THE RELIEF OF NOBODY KNOWING YOUR NAME – A BLANK SLATE.

IF THE WALLS COULD TALK, THEY’D TELL YOU HE USED TO BE A TEEN HEARTTHROB. 

CONTINUE… ?

HIMBO RUGBY FULLBACK! DEFINITELY NOT THAT ACTOR GUY!

full name james caine dunwoody alias caine kelly nicknames jamie, jim age twenty-seven date of birth february 13, 1996 hometown kelso, scotland nationality american + scottish gender identity cis man pronouns he/him sexual orientation bisexual (somewhat closeted)

height 5’11” eye color blue hair color light brown tattoos none scars none

parents annabel dunwoody (barista), gabriel kelly (film exec, retired actor) siblings chloe kelly (younger half sister) roommate tbd significant other none teams rugby

your parents meet in glasgow: your father filming, your mother reaching for a dream bigger than a small life in a small town. this isn’t love. he leaves her with a baby, and she goes back to that small town. this is love: your ma scooping you up and putting you on the counter to help her cook, your grandpa playing catch for hours in the backyard, something tiny and tight knit and warm. your father comes back when you are old enough to be interesting. when you are old enough to be marketable. jamie dunwoody is whisked off to los angeles before anyone can  do a damn thing to stop it, and caine kelly is born.

you are a charming child and you grow into a pretty teen. your father knows how to market and you learn to be marketable. to flatten that distinctive accent into a blonde all-american boy next door. bit pieces, kid shit, until you are old enough to be every high school girl’s first fantasy. movies, magazines, modeling, a song or two, rumors about you and a member of some girl group you’ve never met before in your life. hair dye, dieting, invasive questions you learn to answer with easy laughter. you’re hot shit. you’re hollywood’s boyfriend.

you grow up. this in itself isn’t the problem: your career keeps booming, parts keep coming in. you are the problem. you don’t like, so much, to be looked at, and you are not so easy to control, not as desperate for your father’s love. you miss your ma, and sitting on the counter, and racing through backyards. after a downward spiral at twenty-one you walk out of a photoshoot and you never look back.

it takes years to learn how to be a person. you find yourself in little moments: making cranachan, your first proper go at rugby, planting your ma’s favorite flowers and watching her smile. to be jamie again, the dunwoody lad, and absolutely nothing else. you decide, eventually, that university would do you some good: new location, new opportunities, new education. you’ve settled in roots and you’d like now to grow. you have the smarts and the money for daskalos, and, well – not the commonest resume. with your new old name and sharp accent and glasses and lack of bottle blonde, with your utter disappearance from pop culture and entirely new demeanor, you’ve no interest in telling anyone you were ever anything but jamie, their fullback, friendly face and warm teasing and open shoulder to lean on.

love is a cautious desire, to be handled with care. you’re pretty still, and you’ve learned to be alright with admiring eyes. the need for something deeper – the romanticism you can’t quite shake – sits quietly in your chest, in need of coaxing. you’d like to love somebody. you think you might be good at it, if you can trust you’ll be wanted as more than another fuck.

MARILYN: DO YOU WANT TO SEE ME BECOME HER?

[foodieforthoughts]

When the ball drops

Summary: It's your third year in the Big Apple and you still haven't found your midnight kiss for when the ball drops, until tonight.

Pairing: Henry x Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Fluff!!!

A/N: Happy New Year to everyone! ✨ Watching the ball drop on New Year's Eve in Times Square is my ultimate bucket list! Also not beta read, so don't mind the errors, just had to get done in time before @infinite-shite celebrates New Year's before the rest of us! This baby deserves all the love in the world ❤️

*divider by @firefly-graphics

Title: When the ball drops

The cackle of people's laughter ringed through the pub as the hours ticked by. In contrast to the cold winter air of New York, the inside of the enclosed space felt warm. You quickly pulled on your apron and slid behind the bar, relieving your co-worker from their shift. He hugged you for the New Year that was to ring in about an hour later, happily weaving through the crowd towards the staff exit.

You sighed, grabbing the dish cloth to clean some glasses.

The excitement of coming to the Big Apple had quickly died down for you. You had dreamed of living in the city like the various shows potrayed, feeding lies that everything is magical and full of opportunities in this concrete jungle. But you could disagree with all the contradictions between facts and fictions and align them in a PowerPoint presentation. Not only were you yet to secure your dream job, you lived in a mediocre place with little to look forward to everyday.

Another sigh left your lips, your shoulders slumping despite the merriment around.

"That would be the second time you sigh." The crisp accented voice of a stranger sounded from across you. "What's the matter, love?"

You knew who he was. You ogled at his pictures on a regular basis, especially when he became Superman. But he looked nothing like the Henry Cavill you saw on the red carpets. Clad in a plain blue shirt, jaw sprinkled with the hint of a stubble and hair combed to perfection, Henry titled his head at you with a smile. You looked around at the other patrons, unsure if he was talking to you indeed.

Henry chuckled at your look of confusion. He took a seat at the barstool and grabbed the menu from the stand. With a dish cloth still inside the glass tumbler, you stared at the Hollywood heartthrob. The pub you worked at was frequented with celebs on a regular basis, the only downside being you usually worked for the day shift which meant by the time you rolled out of work, the big shots were only just waking up.

"Can I get-"

"Guinness?" You interrupted him. You meant to say it in your head but the word left your mouth before you could control your lips.

But Henry didn't flinch. He just smiled widely, the dimples in his chin dipping charmingly and his eyes shining like the brightest star under the flickering strobe lights. He slid the menu back towards you and clasped his hands together.

You blinked your eyes several times to rid yourself of the flutter in you belly as Henry smiled at you softly. He watched as you got him a glass and filled it up with his beer. Your hands trembled so much with the nervousness of serving an A list actor, who not only was doing well in industry but was exceptionally sexier in person, that you were worried the foam gathered at the top would dribbled down the sides. Noticing your struggle, Henry extended his hands and placed them over yours to secure his glass.

Electricity. In the most clichéd scenarios of romance movies, you felt a jolt of electricity when your hands touched his, the sparks travelling down your spine to your toes. Sucking in a sharp breath you handed him the glass, chiding yourself over your hyper aware mind.

"What is a pretty lady like you working in a bar at this hour?" He asked, sipping his fermented pint of alcohol.

"Coworker has plans with his girlfriend, like everyone tonight." You shrugged your shoulder, going over to another customer ordering drinks. You could feel Henry's eyes on you as you readied the customer's order. The sound of giggling girls pulled your attention just as the man left with his drink.

You walked back to where Henry sat, nursing his beer. "Anything to go with that?" you enquired, rearranging the shot glasses under the bar counter.

"I am still wondering how, in the world, a pretty woman like you, is stuck here."

You scoffed, more to yourself than him. "Because this supposed pretty woman is single as fuck." The mirth in your voice hid the sense of self pity edging at the corners of your mind. It had been three years since you had first arrived in the city with a possibility of reaching for the stars in both personal and professional life. You had been left disappointed with the jerks and assholes you ended up with, ultimately sitting at home and questioning your choices in men.

You noted the softness creasing at the corners of Henry's eyes. The last thing you wanted was to be seen as a miserable bartender at the end of the year, so you cleared your throat and smiled at him. "What is superman doing at a bar, in New York, alone?"

Henry chuckled. His gravelly thick laughter ringing louder than the music in your ears. "I was just stopping by the city, thought I'll stay to understand what the big deal is with the ball drop."

"Oh my God. Watching the ball drop and kissing at midnight is the most romantic thing you can do with your partner. You should be at Times Square!" Your excitement over the whole New Year's Eve shenanigan was flowing through in your speech.

"Too crowded." He shook his head, groaning and sipping his beer.

You rolled your eyes. "As opposed to this cramped pub?"

Henry chuckled again, throwing a wink at you. You felt the familiar flutter in your belly. You peered at him under your lashes, Henry seemed to be having his eyes only for you tonight. The giggling ladies were desperately trying to grab his attention while sipping on their Margheritas wearing their embellished dresses with low cuts and frills. You glanced down at yourself and frowned. Over the faded blue jeans and white t-shirt, you wore the black apron with the pub's insignia on the left breast. You suddenly became profoundly aware of how 'basic' you might look in comparison to the other ladies.

Self doubt clouded your mind. You politely smiled at Henry and hurried to the other side of the bar to serve the other customers. Maybe Henry only wanted someone to play the horizontal hokey-pokey with him for the night, or maybe he was bored and since you were obligated to talk nicely with him, he had pitched a conversation. Whatever the reason, you did not like how the multiple scenarios would end. You knew your feeble, fragile heart. You would get hurt, one way or another.

"Hi," Henry appeared again in front of you. He had his beer in his hand, his other elbow resting on the counter. "Did I offend you in some way?"

"No. But you are pretty much making me realize, how miserable my life is." Your voice sounded bleak against the booming voices. Tucking your hair behind your ear, you watched the couples snuggle up to each other. It had been ages since you had felt the loving embrace of a man, even longer since you had shared a meaningful kiss with someone special.

"What would you have been doing instead?" Henry's voice pulled you out of your desolated reverie.

"I would be in Times Square, with my significant other, which I don't have. We would get some drinks while standing on the outskirts of the crowd and watch the countdown."

There was a stir of activity in the pub as someone announced that there were only 90 seconds to the ball drop. You hadn't even realized that time had passed so quickly whilst you had juggled your conversation with Henry.

"Well, you have the drinks," Henry reached forward to grab a glass and poured half of his beer in the empty tumbler. "We are at the outskirts of the crowd since everyone is huddled near the TV." You nodded as you watched the couples gather near the enormous flat screen mounted on the wall. "We aren't at the Times Square, but we are in New York."

The countdown read 60 seconds with the red numbers counting backwards. Henry stood up and leaned forward on the counter. You watched with bated breath as he grabbed the strap of your apron and pulled you towards him.

His hand rested lightly on your cheek, his thumb grazing your cheekbone. The smell of beer, his perfume and musk enveloped you, bundling you in everything that signified him. You gazed into his cerulean eyes, the fleck of brown going dark against the blue ocean. Your hands hung by your side, flabbergasted by the surprising turn of events.

"I might not be your significant other," His breath washed over your heated face, his eyes transfixed on yours. "But we can perhaps change that."

"Happy New Year!"

Like the fireworks going off on the One Times Square Building, when your lips collided with his, there was a burst of colorful sparks celebrating the union of two people from across the pond. Henry pulled your face closer to his by grabbing behind your head, his fingers threading through your hair. You finally could think straight as you moaned into the kiss, holding onto the collar of his shirt as the pub erupted with loud cheers. In that moment, everything seemed perfect in the world. You felt your legs turn to jelly as Henry pulled back, breathing through his mouth, tugging at your lower lip with his teeth.

The smug smile on his face returned as he sat back on his barstool. You grabbed onto the counter for support as you gulped lungful of air.

"Did that count as something for when the ball drops?" He asked, sipping his beer and watching you from the brim of his glass.

You nodded. The heat on your cheeks traveled down to your chest, a grin spreading on your lips. Biting your lip you reached for the other glass of beer Henry had poured. "Happy new year to me." You announced before clinking your glass with Henry's.

✨HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYS✨

[klstheword]

I’m Your Man

PRESS QUOTES

“Immensely enjoyable, intriguing and complex.”“The film has an arthouse breakout potential, which might rival that of the similarly female-led German comedy Toni Erdman.”“Astute casting, of which the German-fluent Stevens is a stand out, will be a key selling point.” Screen International “Maria Schrader makes a witty, thought-provoking return to features in this fusion of science fiction and modern romance.”“Schrader's beguiling Berlinale competition entry could cultivate a substantial audience in international art houses — abetted by the rising profile of its helmer -fresh from her Emmy win for Netflix's 'Unorthodox' - and the canny casting of British heartthrob Dan Stevens as a boyfriend entirely too good to be human.”“Stevens is a wry revelation, progressing from rigid, unworldly physical comedy to near-living, breathing emotional turmoil, programmed or otherwise.”"Eggert's flinty firmness and Stevens' buttery elegance prove ideally mismatched from the off — their performances gradually compromise and meet in the middle, borrowing a little of each other's suaveness and steel along the way." Variety “There's no doubt about it, it's all in the eyes: an ice-blue stare, locked on you, promising satisfaction and loyalty without asking for anything in return. That's what love is, and Dan Stevens is the humanoid robot here to give it to us.”“German actress Maria Schrader returns to directing for her third feature, undoubtedly her most well-rounded, exciting work yet.”“The script, co-written by Jan Schomburg, is what catapults I'm Your Man beyond comparison, into something diamond-sharp – witty, hopeful, wry, sincere, and sly all at once.”“Schrader's thoughtful romantic study digs into mundane neuroses and existential fears with wisdom, and empathy, making sure to keep you guessing long after Alma and Tom have stopped gazing into each other's eyes. Romantic yet level-headed, charming but always clear-eyed.” The Playlist “When the odd couple begins to cohabit, the robot is a catalyst for self-reflection and self-doubt in this comedy-drama that's as thought-provoking as it is funny.”“Schrader draws sharp character comedy out of the premise, aided by terrific performances.” “British actor Dan Stevens — speaking fluent German with an English accent — is a consistently amusing physical performer, while Toni Erdmann star Sandra Hüller puts in an enjoyable turn as his handler. But Eggert is the star of this show. She communicates Alma's exasperation, frustration and soul-searching in a way that delicately balances comedy and drama.”“The female lead gives the story more than just a fresh spin. It's a chance to ponder on the psychology of attraction from the perspective of a professional woman with a complex interior life, free from the testosterone that drives many examples in the genre. And in an age of isolation, social media and online dating, I'm Your Man seems startlingly relevant.” Deadline “Dan Stevens is a soulful robot in winsome romance from ‘Unorthodox' director.”“Eggert, whose stern, tired expression eventually gives way to the deep sorrow beneath the surface, grounds the character's transition into credible emotion.”“The movie's thematic trajectory crystallizes in a bittersweet third act, as a series of poetic moments draw the story back to the roots of Alma's struggles, and suggest that no perfect code can solve her problems when the best antidote is her own ability to talk them through.” IndieWire “A gorgeous romantic comedy that explores ever deeper questions as the plot progresses.” Blickpunkt Film “Delightful.”“Tom is perfectly cast, as Stevens narrowly borders on the threshold of uncanny valley with perfect timing and body language. His stilted posture, swift movements, and uncomfortable stares also add a level of subtle connotation to the illusion of artificial intelligence.”“I'm Your Man is an energetic recount on the cycles of modern love.” Filmhounds “Dan Stevens is as perfect as can be in the role. Not only is his German perfect, but so are his mannerisms, his quirky robot tics, and his inability to act and feel human. It's not an over-the-top comedic performance, but Dan Stevens brings just the right amount of subtle "I am a robot" humor to the role that it made me burst out laughing multiple times.”“It's a light and easily enjoyable film to watch, with a lovely piano-based score and gorgeous shots of Berlin.”“Directed by Maria Schrader, I'm Your Man is a charming, entertaining sci-fi romance with superb performances and a smart story about the grand complexity of love.” First Showing *****“Slick, sophisticated and satisfying this dating movie with a difference sees things from a distinctly female perspective exploring love and desire in a scenario may remind you of another recent German comedy Toni Erdmann which also starred Sandra Huller as a put-upon professional.” “Maria Schrader directs with supreme confidence adapting her script from a book by Emma Braslavsky, and adding a suggestive cinematic spin to her intuitive grasp of the subtle dynamics of love and dating, and the chemistry behind acting, in a film that reflects the reality that love relies just as much on the lows as the highs to be emotionally fulfilling for the human psyche.”“Maren Eggert is superb as the thinking woman's love interest in a performance that is fraught with emotion as well as thoughtful dignity, never resorting to histrionics or melodrama.”“Benedict Neuenfels makes this a pleasure to look at with his lush summery landscapes of Germany and Denmark.”“But the film belongs to Dan Stevens who gives a nuanced performance in a difficult role as a robot that teeters between the ideal emotionally intelligent man and a geeky robotic guy you may even and have dated yourself and eventually grown to love – and even fancy – for his truly masculine take on life.” Filmuforia "Maren Eggert inhabits Alma in a way that's so persuasive and naturalistic it barely feels like a performance at all." The Hollywood Reporter "With the energy of a studio era leading lady from the 1940s or 1980s, Eggert effortlessly succeeds and invigorates as an intelligent woman who also exudes an intoxicating confidence." IONCINEMA "Eggert plays her with a brusque, self-possessed wit that may remind some viewers of Greta Gerwig…" "Sensationally funny and gently science-fictional the film's embrace of uncertainty calls to mind Toni Erdmann." The Telegraph, UK "Eggert plays this tug of war with compelling subtlety, leading with her apprehension but flowering emotionally in brief glimpses of unfamiliar joy, too." "It's in the tiny glances that catch you off guard, the rush of adrenaline and pleasure that you thought only belonged in fairytales that suddenly color your world a little bit warmer and the script catapults “I'm Your Man” beyond comparison, into something diamond-sharp – witty, hopeful, wry, sincere, and sly all at once." The Playlist "A beautifully different, breezy yet poignant love story that is nevertheless full of deep truths." Berliner Morgenpost "Like a successful flirtation, no scene, no gesture is without meaning, and there is always something to laugh about." Süddeutsche Zeitung "It is a mind game that tells of the all too human with wit and charm. Ingeniously, this film questions our very real relationship patterns, holds up a mirror to us humans. An artifice that turns the tables for once and turns the man into an object, completely attuned to female needs." Heute journal "An abysmally funny commentary on contemporary life in the midst of algorithms." taz "The fine dialogue and the great ensemble should fulfil the dreams of 74 percent of all cinema-goers." Spiegel Online "Eggert grounds the character's transition into credible emotion." IndieWire

[brian-in-finance]

Last month, British GQ ran a lengthy interview with Jamie Dornan, wherein several paragraphs were devoted to the actor’s thoughts on how the Fifty Shades films had impacted his career. After all, that was the Northern Irish heartthrob’s starmaking vehicle, one that elevated him from former model and TV actor to genuine movie star.

That trilogy drifted memorably into the center of a perilous cultural Venn diagram: movies that lots of people saw and critics almost universally hated. Said Dornan: “It’s done no harm to my career to be part of a movie franchise that has made more than $1 billion.” But the franchise also won him a Golden Raspberry for Worst Actor, and put on global display his overpowering weariness with the project. It could forever have consigned him to being just the latest handsome Commonwealth actor to put on an American accent, bomb in a starring role, and head back to the world of Masterpiece Theatre and BBC cop shows, forgotten by Hollywood in five years.

But while the line about the $1 billion franchise turned into a pull quote, that’s not the most interesting thing he said. “Whether A Private War, Anthropoid, or Belfast, or whatever comes next, the line in the press is always, ‘It’s the best thing he’s done since Fifty Shades,’” Dornan told GQ. “As if I am still needing to prove myself; I am still paying penance for that choice to get me back to where I was beforehand. Look, I get it, and, to be honest with you, it spurs me on. It lights a fire in me. If that means people saying, ‘Oh, actually he’s not that bad,’ well, so be it.”

So, with deep and sincere apologies to Dornan, I’m going to do the exact thing he complained about. Because anyone who wrote him off as the anthropomorphic torso from the S&M movies should check back in—he’s on a hot streak right now. Even a casual glance into Dornan’s non–Fifty Shades career reveals a gifted, nuanced actor with genuine comedic chops. This is who he’s been all along; the big monkey’s paw of a franchise is just far enough in the past now that it’s easier to notice.

When Dornan got cast as Christian Grey, the first season of The Fall had just aired on British and Irish TV. Dornan played Paul Spector, a therapist and family man by day and a serial rapist and murderer who has Belfast on edge by night. Dornan didn’t have an easy job; he was tasked with holding down half of a cops-and-killers show with no less a costar than Gillian Anderson on the other end of the teeter-totter. Paul, in contrast to other famous fictional serial killers, was a laconic, mysterious figure who spent much of his screen time lurking and listening. There were no monologues about liver, beans, and wine for Dornan to chew on; he had to get the job done with subtle gestures and hushed line readings. But he delivered, and was rewarded with a BAFTA nomination for his trouble.

From there, in between Fifty Shades of Grey and Fifty Shades Darker, Dornan starred in a pair of 2016 films about last stands. One, The Siege of Jadotville, features Dornan as the commander of a U.N. peacekeeping force who find themselves surrounded, outnumbered, and cut off from retreat, reinforcement, or resupply during the 1961 Congo crisis. Dornan—sporting an impressive Freddie Mercury mustache for the role—delivers a compelling performance in a forgettable movie that fizzles out. Anthropoid is more memorable. Dornan and Cillian Murphy play Czechoslovakian World War II commandos who drop in behind enemy lines on a mission to assassinate Reinhard Heydrich, the Nazi potentate and architect of the Final Solution. When they succeed, the film depicts in brutal, unflinching terms the Nazi response: torture, mass executions, and a climactic shootout in a Prague church. Anthropoid avoids the mistake many World War II movies make of portraying the Nazis as merely the opposing team, toning down the brutality and barbarism for a more popcorn-friendly tone. Instead, Anthropoid makes Saving Private Ryan look like Moana; it might be the best movie Dornan’s ever made, and having seen it once I’ll probably never watch it again.

During the Fifty Shades run, Dornan would periodically put down Christian Grey’s whips for a starring role in a depressing and violent work, but since he’s been liberated he’s taken on an interesting series of challenges. In many respects, Dornan’s career is reminiscent of Daniel Radcliffe’s. Like Dornan, Radcliffe knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that his first big role will define his career no matter what he does. Freed from the expectations of embodying a popular character, he’s taken on a series of interesting smaller and independent projects: Swiss Army Man, Guns Akimbo, Imperium, and so on. For Dorman, his post-franchise run has taken on a lighter tone than his previous era of work; in fact, he’s had a musical number in each of his past three movie credits: Wild Mountain Thyme, Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar, and Belfast.

Just in the past year, we’ve seen Dornan put the whole package together: the smoldering intensity that made him a sex symbol, but also a gift for comedy that might not come through in The Fall or Anthropoid, but made him a fixture on Graham Norton’s couch. Dornan is by no means the standout performer of Belfast; come award season he’ll probably take a backseat to costar Caitriona Balfe and a thunderous Ciaran Hinds. But as the loving and principled but somewhat unreliable paterfamilias, Dornan absolutely clicks in Kenneth Branagh’s memoiristic film. He was miscast as the romantic bachelor, but born to play the sexy dad. He’s still magnetic when he needs to be—see the “Everlasting Love” scene for evidence this is still a professional hot guy—but Dornan’s shockingly easy to buy as a paternal figure, the perfect blend of fierce protectiveness and silly self-deprecation that everyone wants from a dad.

That sense of humor comes through in Wild Mountain Thyme as well. There’s no redeeming the movie as a whole, being as it is a ludicrous amalgam of confused accents and kitschy stereotypes and features one of the most bizarre plot twists ever committed to film, a contrivance that’s all the more confusing because it has zero impact on the plot of the film—but Dornan does his best, and manages to get more than a few laughs with slapstick gags and Halpertian facial reactions.

But he may have reached his apotheosis in between the releases of Thyme and Belfast, as a lovesick henchman in Barb and Star. Dornan mostly plays an able comedic straight man—though the over-the-top silliness of Kristen Wiig, Annie Mumolo, and Damon Wayans Jr., in that film would make anyone look like a straight man by comparison—but he more than holds his own. And though he plays neither Barb nor Star, he gets his big moment with “Edgar’s Prayer,” a Lonely Island song nested inside this latter-day Austin Powers movie.

Look at him mugging for the camera and kicking his legs in the sand. That’s not the cardboard cutout he was dismissed as after the Fifty Shades movies, or the stewing, austere figure from The Fall. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that actors like Brad Pitt and Chris Hemsworth started out as nothing more than eye candy, because they went on to show that they’re funny, as well. That’s what Dornan is doing now.

So as 2021 comes to a close, I find myself in an unexpected place: One where if Jamie Dornan’s in a movie, I’m probably going to see it, no matter what it is.

(gif from tenor.com)

Remember… he was miscast as the romantic bachelor, but born to play the sexy dad. He’s still magnetic when he needs to be—see the “Everlasting Love” scene for evidence this is still a professional hot guy—but Dornan’s shockingly easy to buy as a paternal figure, the perfect blend of fierce protectiveness and silly self-deprecation that everyone wants from a dad. — The Ringer

[dlwritings]

Never Have I Ever | Tom Holland

masterlist found here

pairing - Tom x reader word count - 2,193 warnings - implications of sex and mention of nudes A/N - for the two anons who requested | the Never Have I Ever bit is based on this classic One Direction interview

summary - You and Tom had been dating for a while, and a stupid iCloud hacker caused some intimate pictures to leak. When things get a little awkward at an interview, your cast mates had your back.

It’s in the moments when life is going really well that one should start to get suspicious. Especially when your life is so publicized, you should always be on your toes.

You should’ve known when things were going so well with Tom that they were bound to come crashing down eventually.

Your relationship had been going on privately for about six months. You met on the set of Spider-Man: Far From Home. You weren’t playing an important character or anything, just one of the background students going on the European trip. Something about you just caught Tom’s eye. The more time he spent with you, the more he realized he was falling for you.

However, your publicists were both very strict about your relationship needing to remain private. While nothing about the two of you being together was illegal, the world didn’t exactly need to see Hollywood heartthrob 23-year-old Tom Holland parading around with up-and-coming singer-slash-actress 18-year-old (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Everyone on your teams could already see the headlines, and they wouldn’t exactly do wonders for either of your images. Tom would be seen as a perverted cradle robber, and you would be seen as a ladder-climbing slut. It was pretty much a lose-lose situation.

So, you kept it on the downlow. Your friends, immediate family, and fellow castmates knew, but you never went public about it. This didn’t mean you couldn’t go on dates together, but PDA had to be minimal to non existent. This wasn’t a huge deal, because you weren’t one to make out with your boyfriend in public anyway. So, everything was going fine.

Again, that was when you should’ve realized everything was about to go to shit.

There were a few weeks when Tom was filming in Prague and you didn’t need to be there, so you were home in London. During those weeks, it was only natural for you and Tom to have some intimate conversations. You were both young, and going from almost daily sex to none at all wasn’t easy. You sent him a few pictures, he reciprocated, there were a few steamy phone calls and some text messages here and there, but that was it. It was all normal young adult behavior. The only thing was, neither of you were considered normal young adults.

You got the phone call in the dead of night. One phone call you might’ve missed, but the endless stream that was coming in was impossible to ignore. You saw the caller ID read Monica - manager, so you answered it, feeling panic settle in your chest immediately. Monica was a friend at this point -practically an older sister- but she would have no positive reason to call at 1:00 in the morning.

“Everything’s fine,” she said as soon as you picked up.

“Monica-”

“Someone hacked Tom’s iCloud,” she said.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “So?”

She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Apparently, the two of you have shared some, um, intimate phot-”

“OH MY GOD!” you screamed. “NO! No way! FUCK!”

“It’s okay,” she said, trying to calm you down. “It’s okay.”

“It’s very clearly not okay!” you shouted. “My naked photos are on the internet! You know who has access to the internet?”

“I mean-”

“Everyone!” you said. “And you know who is a part of everyone?”

“(Y/N)-”

“My mom!” I shouted. “My mom is going to see naked photos of me. She probably thinks I’m still a virgin! Oh my god. The whole world is going to think I’m a slut.”

“Okay, but you’re not a slut,” Monica said, her voice soothing.

“But-”

“It’s very important to me that you know that this does not make you a slut,” she said. There was that older sister vibe coming out. “Everyone shares nudes, alright? Someone else stealing and sharing those doesn’t make you a slut. Okay?”

You took a stabilizing breath. “Okay.”

“We took the picture down where it was originally posted,” she said. “I’m sure people have already saved it though, but you know what? It’s going to be fine. We’ll tackle the PR when it comes up. There’s nothing we can do about it now except handle it like adults and remind the world that you and Tom are both adults.”

Tom.

“Okay,” you said again. “Thanks for calling me.”

“Try and get some sleep,” she said. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Sleep,” you scoffed. “Right.”

As soon as you hung up with Monica, you called Tom. He picked up on the first ring. “(Y/N)-”

“Why’d you put it on the cloud?” you shouted, unable to stop yourself.

“Everything backs up automatically!” he said defensively. “This isn’t my fault!”

“Well it isn’t my fault!”

“I’m not saying it is!”

“Whose fault is it then?”

“The 40-something-year-old pervert who hacked into my account and leaked the photos!”

You couldn’t help but let out a short laugh. Tom did the same, and you ran a hand through your messy bedhead. “This is a disaster, Tom,” you mumbled.

“I know,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you said, waving a hand dismissively even though he couldn’t see it.

“You know, it’s going to be brought up next week during press,” Tom said. In your sleepy state, you had forgotten that next week, you were starting press for the film. You sighed into the receiver.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” you said.

The following week came, and neither you nor Tom had responded to any of the internet’s comments on the nudes. Your publicists both decided it would be best to address the situation only when it arose during an interview. That way, the words could come directly from your mouths without any chance of misinterpretation or poor wording from a tweet or Instagram post. It would also come across as more professional than if Tom blabbed about it during an Instagram live.

The first interview that happened was on Jimmy Kimmel Live. You had both done an interview with Jimmy before, and he was one of the nicest guys on late night TV. You hoped he would be kind about it all. Maybe, if you were lucky, he wouldn’t even bring it up. To make the night even better, you would be sharing the couch with Jake, Jacob, and Zendaya. You knew you’d be a little bit more at ease with them there.

Everything about the interview was going fine at first. Jimmy was asking you all questions about the film and what life behind the scenes was like with such a crazy cast. After the commercial break, Jimmy informed the audience that you would be playing a game. The game, of course, had already been approved by your PR team. That didn’t mean you had any idea what it was.

“We’ve asked Twitter to send in their best questions for never have I ever,” Jimmy said. “Now, I’ve not seen any of these questions, but they have been cleared by our team.” Jimmy handed the five of you paddles that read I HAVE on one side and NEVER on the other. “I will be playing too, because I think it’s only fair,” he said with his usual smile.

You could hear your heart beating in your ears, but you painted on your superstar smile to mask your nerves. Surely the questions wouldn’t be that bad if Jimmy’s team cleared them.

“From Paula comes, Never have I ever danced naked in the rain,” Jimmy said.

“In the rain?” Tom said.

“Naked?” Jacob clarified. Jimmy nodded with a laugh as he flipped it to the NEVER side. Everyone put NEVER except Jacob.

“Alright, Jacob?” Tom laughed.

“Listen, we’ve all had some wild nights, alright?” he said. “This is a judgement free couch.”

“Alright, next,” Jimmy said with a laugh, “comes from John: Never have I ever joined the mile high club.”

You and Tom looked at each other for a millisecond that you hoped wasn’t caught on camera. Even though it was a lie, you put NEVER. There were some things you just weren’t going to reveal about yourself, even if the whole world had already seen you naked. Jake put I HAVE, and swore he wouldn’t say who he joined with. 

“From Alex: Never have I ever-” Jimmy cut himself off with an awkward laugh. You could tell he wasn’t too thrilled with the questions either. You wondered if someone would get fired after this. “Never have I ever been naked in public.” More questions went by like that: smoked a joint, slept with someone twice or half my age. All things that could stir up PR nightmares and just made you into a liar. 

Jimmy started to read the next. “From Kayla: Never have I ever-” It was evident he was upset, and you wondered for a moment if he’d even read it aloud. “Never have I ever taken a nude photo.”

Laughter spread across the audience as you all played with the paddles in your hands. You couldn’t even get yourself to look at the camera, and Jimmy threw his paddle over his shoulder. “Whoever picked these questions,” he said with a slight laugh, “is in for a stern talking to tonight.”

“Honestly, what did they expect?” Jake asked. “You give us these paddles, and you really think we’re suddenly going to answer these questions? Like Yeah!” He waved his own paddle in the air. “I’ve done all the drugs! Cocaine, heroine! Marijuana is a pussy’s drug.” At this point, you couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or serious. Still, the audience laughed, and Jake threw his paddle behind him too. He looked at the camera and pointed at it. “We know what you sick perverts want,” he said, “but listen here. These kids-” He pointed at you, Tom, Zendaya, and Jacob. “-are media trained superstars, alright? You really think that Tom “Spider-Man” Holland is gonna stand up and say, This morning, I woke up, rolled a joint-” He was doing a terrible British accent while miming his actions and had everyone dying. “-and then took a dick pic before running through the streets of Los Angeles butt ass naked? You really think this guy is gonna say that? They’re not gonna say that!”

Zendaya took the paddle from Tom and took yours as well, then put them together so the I HAVE sides were touching and both sides of the paddle said NEVER. “They might as well say this, Jimmy,” she said, thrusting the paddles back into your hands. “Never, and never. Never. Never.”

“Yeah!” Jacob agreed. “You all are sick!” He folded his arms across his chest with a sarcastic huff, and everyone applauded him while laughing. You almost had tears in your eyes.

Within a few minutes, the show went to commercial break, and Jimmy apologized profusely to the five of you, mostly to you and Tom since everyone knew the questions were directed more at you. “I honestly had no idea what the questions were,” he said. “I have no idea why they were cleared.”

“It’s fine,” you said. “I think it’s safe to say though that you guys-” You looked at Jake, Zendaya, and Jacob. “-saved us.”

“We’ve always got your back,” Zendaya said, giving your arm a comforting squeeze. You smiled and laid your head on her shoulder while Jacob reached out and squeezed your hand. Jake was talking quietly to Tom, and you could see in both of their eyes that Jake was saying something meaningful. Tom was smiling appreciatively and nodding along.

By the time you and Tom got back to your hotel, the clip of you on Jimmy’s show was already trending. You showed Tom all the tweets, and the two of you shared a laugh. “Glad we can laugh about it now,” Tom said, getting under the covers of the bed beside you.

“Oh believe me, I’m still crying inside,” you said, “but the others made it a little easier.”

“And I didn’t?” Tom teased.

“You’re the one who got them leaked in the first place,” you said.

“You said-”

“I’m joking, div,” you said, hitting him with one of the pillows. Tom laughed and lightly smacked you back. You eventually curled back up to his side, and Tom put his arm around you.

“In all seriousness,” he said, “I’m really sorry this all happened.” You looked up at him to see him already looking down at you. “It’s not fair that this shit is already happening to you. I feel like, like I’m supposed to protect you, you know? And I just fucked that right up.”

“You don’t need to protect me,” you said. “That’s an extremely outdated gender role.” You placed a kiss to his neck, just below his jaw. “But I appreciate you looking out for me. We can’t control the rest of the world. Just ourselves. Just because I can’t trust the rest of the world to respect my privacy doesn’t mean I can’t trust you.”

You were both quiet for a long time, and just when you thought Tom had dozed off-

“You’ll still send me nudes when I’m away, right?”

“I hate you.”

----- ----- ----- -----

TAGLIST

@bangtan-serendipity | @planetdemon | @the-singing-clown406 | @tomshufflepuff | @bluelalal | @grandloser | @jackiehollanderr | @mindset-jupiter | @bisexual-sk8r | @feel-like-gold | @runaway-apple | @miraclesoflove | @marvelismylifffe| @wonderbyers | @coraz0ndcristal| @lizmarvel​ |  @hannihannelora

[d-criss-news]

Darren Criss on his marriage and new role in ‘American Buffalo’

When Darren Criss settles into our Alexa interview at a chic cafe in West LA, he’s friendly and direct.

“I am an outspoken person in real life, but in the media, I find I’m very reserved,” he observes. “I’m asked questions about myself that I haven’t really had to think about. That is a really strange occupational hazard. It would be like if you asked your dental hygienist, ‘Do you think your career choice stems from your interest in cleanliness as a kid?'”

Reading between the lines: The actor-producer-songwriter du jour resists the sound bite.

Criss, 33, may be the consummate showman, but in person — apart from a hint of chipped black nail polish and a pair of gold-rimmed aviators that nod to his love of costume — he seems more cerebral theater nerd (a flag he flies proudly) than flamboyant hunk.

Before long, Criss is expounding on big themes in a delightfully thespy manner. Conversations branch off, reverse direction, then run off on entirely new paths.

“I like keeping myself in balance by taking constant left and right turns,” he explains of his career. “The party trick? You think I’m doing all this stuff spontaneously, but it’s not without a significant attention to detail and planning. I don’t freak out if it doesn’t go as planned, but whatever it is, I will optimize it. Drop me off anywhere, and I will make [it] as awesome as possible.”

For a significant and impassioned fan base, Criss is the guy who sang, danced and heartthrobbed his way through a starring role on “Glee.” He’d go on to become an unsettlingly cheerful killer in 2018’s “The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story,” a nuanced performance that won him an Emmy and a Golden Globe.

In 2020, things are getting even more extra.

The day of our interview, he was flying to NYC to begin rehearsals for David Mamet’s “American Buffalo,” now set to begin previews April 14 at Circle in the Square Theatre (a delay after Broadway shuttered over the coronavirus pandemic). He will play Bobby — one of a trio of hustlers trying to make it rich — alongside Laurence Fishburne and Sam Rockwell.

“I try to do a show in New York every two to three years,” says Criss (who’s previously starred in “How To Succeed in Business Without Really Trying” and “Hedwig and the Angry Inch”). “It will be great to be in New York doing one of the great American plays with a great American playwright.”

He’s also experimenting with new formats, namely executive-producing, writing songs for and starring in the new satiric series “Royalties,” which will debut on the short-form video streaming platform Quibi this spring.

In May, he’ll channel the golden age of cinema in “Hollywood,” the hotly anticipated Ryan Murphy-helmed Netflix series, which Criss also executive-produced. (Not to mention his work for Elsie Fest, a musical-theater festival he co-founded five years ago.)

If your head is spinning, that’s all part of the plan.

“I love giving strangers an excuse to connect,” he says. “I just enjoy quirky things and quirky people. And that comes from the idea of challenging people’s expectations. At the end of the day, that’s my biggest driving force — that you can do something weird and have it be cool.”

Born in San Francisco, Criss knew early on that he wanted to follow an original path. He taught himself piano, studied violin and, at the age of 10, made his professional theater debut.

“Had my parents wanted me to be an actor, I wouldn’t have done it,” he reflects. “But I realized I had a knack for it. I’m literally a parrot: I like mimicry, music, accents.”

His hobby, he insists, is practicing his Japanese. A dream vacation, he says, would be a sojourn at Middlebury College’s language immersion program. “It’s where they send the CIA to learn Farsi. I would love it!”

While a student at the University of Michigan, Criss gained fame with his contribution to the YouTube cult hit “A Very Potter Musical”, which led to the co-founding of the musical-comedy sensation StarKid.

“At the time, studio execs didn’t understand the power of social media. In my early 20s, I was this Internet force with my friends, but going to play piano at [a bar] twice a week. I was living a double life, with Billboard-charting albums, and yet, how could you explain this to a casting director? They were like, ‘You make Internet videos?’ It was absurd to them. Nobody [at the time] knew how to monetize that.”

During his mainstream breakout as the chiseled Blaine Anderson — who famously covered “Teenage Dream” on “Glee” — Criss earned what he describes as a “master’s in putting music and the camera together,” an experience that has served him well in both “Hollywood” and his genre-defying Quibi show, where he’ll play a songwriter aside big-name musician guest stars.

While Criss has played several high-profile gay characters in his career, he says he’ll no longer accept such parts, telling Bustle in late 2018: “I want to make sure I won’t be another straight boy taking a gay man’s role.”

In February 2019 he married his girlfriend — writer-producer-musician Mia Swier — in New Orleans. The experience can only be described as an immersive extravaganza.

Their first “dance” was a rendition of “The Ballroom Blitz” by British rock brand Sweet, with Criss on guitar and Mia on bass. They were later serenaded by friends Lea Michele and John Stamos.

There were umpteen costume changes (during the evening’s silent disco, a Vera Wang gown and Armani suit were traded for matching sequin T-shirts). Although Vogue covered the festivities, Criss says much remains under wraps.

“I want to show people all the things that really go on [in my life], but I’m also quiet about it,” he reflects. “The wedding is a good example. I remember thinking,’I wish everybody in the world could see this, it’s the coolest thing I’ve ever pulled off.’ When I put myself into something, I give it everything I’ve got. That was a big representation of who I am and who my wife is and what we do.

It’s non-conventional, out-of-the-box thinking and that also led Criss and his wife to open the Hollywood piano bar Tramp Stamp Granny’s, in 2018. Mia (whose family founded The Mercury Lounge and Bowery Ballroom in NYC) takes the lead on the project, although Criss says he still occasionally tickles the ivories there, a throwback to his leaner years working piano bars.

If you ask nicely, he may even sing. Crew Credits: Fashion Editor: Serena French; Stylist: Anahita Moussavian; Fashion Assistants: Nicole Zane and Haley Wells; Grooming: Jessica Ortiz at Forward Artists using Shiseido; Tailoring: Amber Doyle

Photographed at Dear Irving, 55 Irving Place

[chilling-seavey]

Nothing Revealed/Everything Denied (c.s.) - Chapter Seven

A/N Thanks for the few sweet messages I got about this lil novel! You have no idea how much they mean to me! 🥰

Auditions for the other roles progressed throughout the weeks since Christian was first hired and there were rumours that a big-name actor was to be in line for the main character – Christian’s character’s brother. It was an important hire as the chemistry between the actors had to be perfected in order to make the characters seem as genuine as possible. Christian couldn’t hide his excitement and a few nerves as he headed into the building for their first read through as a full cast, manuscript tucked under his arm.

Michelle was already upstirs when he arrived, bouncing on her toes at the sight of him and she rushed over squealing and threw her arms around him.

“What’s going on?” Christian laughed, setting his hand on her back in surprise at her sudden embrace but she pulled back just as quickly.

“You’ll never guess who’s in that room.” Michelle whispered, glancing to the closed double doors of the conference room where the meeting was to be held.

“I’m nervous! Who?” Christian asked.

“Dean-Charles Chapman and Tom freaking Holland!”

Christian’s face fell with shock, “You’re kidding. You’re fucking kidding.”

“I’m not! They looked at me and smiled! I adore Dean and although I never followed Tom much before but wow I’m a little starstruck.”

“You weren’t starstruck for me.” Christian frowned teasingly.

“Maybe I was. Just good at hiding it.” Michelle grinned. She took his hand and pulled him towards the room. “This is big for you, Christian! This is incredible! For you and for me!”

“Tom Holland and Dean-Charles Chapman are going to work on a film with me?” Christian breathed, pausing outside the double doors to take a breath.

“Perfect timing. They got them between gigs, so they were both free. Can you believe that?” Michelle gushed. “Dean’s going to play Henry! Which means you’re going to be with him like…a lot! And Tom got the role of John, your second in command. You are playing their commander!”

“I love their work…oh my gosh.” Christian set a hand to his head. “You’re making me nervous!”

“Sorry!” Michelle smothered her grin. She reached for the door handle, “Ready?”

Christian nodded and they headed inside.

Sure enough, the 20-something heartthrobs themselves were sat around the table of other cast members with a few script crew and the director and they both smiled when they came in.

“Sorry we’re a bit late.” Christian said, shooting a grin to the room as they took their seats, “LA traffic waits for no one.”

“You’re right on time.” David assured them. He introduced everyone in the room and their parts they were to play and finally introduced Michelle to the newcomers, the writer of the script.

Christian smiled proudly at her as everyone congratulated her and complimented her work, her cheeks flushing pink at the flattery. He caught Dean’s lingering stare on her, and Christian’s smile faltered a second before looking down to his well-read manuscript.

The read through began and Christian sat patiently through the first scene as he wasn’t in it, watching everyone scan along with the lines as Dean and the young actress playing his love interest spoke back and forth, the script manager taking control of the action lines. Dean’s British accent was real which already made Christian nervous…he wondered if people could tell his was going to be faked when on screen next to him.

Michelle cut into his internal worries with a quick suggestion as the writer and the director agreed and they moved back a few lines to try it again. Christian took a breath as his big entrance approached and when it was his cue, he spoke the line he practiced so often in his living room and he felt Michelle grin at him.

Dean returned his lines with ease, as if his character was already second nature. Christian knew Dean had much more acting experience in big box-office films, especially having already been in a war film with enough knowledge of how to act the part with perfection, but it still made Christian nervous regardless and he found himself stumbling over a few lines as he tried to read through his scenes. For those scenes he wasn’t in, he watched his co-workers silently, analyzing their speech patterns and techniques to try and soak in some good knowledge, but his mind kept drifting to his personal inexperience. He didn’t feel as special has he had when he had started, and he felt terribly guilty for thinking that.

He couldn’t help but notice Dean’s lingering glances on Michelle and their shared smiles between lines. The way he could make her blush was insane and Christian tried to keep his stare on his manuscript to keep from glaring at the famous actor across from him. He couldn’t get his friends’ words out of his mind, trying to piece together how he really felt about the shy screenplay writer sitting by his side, but all he knew was he sort of hated the way Dean was looking at her.

Dean was everything he wasn’t; experienced, exotic, rich. Christian could think of seven hundred more self-deprecating adjectives comparing himself to the slightly older man across the table from him, all of which made Christian struggle through his last few lines within his distraction. That only led to him comparing his momentary struggle to Dean and Tom’s ease, feeling like an absolute fool in front of all the professionals.

Probably wondering why they have to work with such an incompetent fake wanna-be actor-

His thoughts were interrupted by Michelle’s hand on his knee and he glanced over to her to meet her reassuring gaze and friendly smile.

“You okay?” she asked softly as everyone started to pack up. Christian hadn’t noticed he had been stuck in his mind the last few scenes and he could only muster a small smile and a nod.

A hand on his shoulder startled him and he looked up to see Dean standing behind him, “Good work today. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

“Right back at you.” Christian grinned, taking his offered handshake and then watched him leave.

“Not so bad, huh?” Michelle chuckled.

“Yeah.” Christian let out a heavy breath.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Michelle patted his shoulder as she stood up. “Everyone starts somewhere. You know that.”

“I know.” Christian got up with her admits the emptying conference room and he held the door for her as they headed for the elevator together.

They stood in silence as they watched the numbers count down to the parking garage, processing the fact that they just sat and worked in a room with two of Hollywood’s biggest names for nearly three hours.

Michelle finally broke their calm silence, keeping her eyes on the elevator’s digital screen as she spoke a soft, “One day someone young actor is going to be stumbling over his lines when in the same room with you.”

Christian bit back his blushing smile.

[darthspideys]

clean -- prologue

a/n: as promised here is the prologue, chapter 1 will be posted next Sunday and this is going to update on Sunday, hope you guys enjoy this summer journey :) 

                                                    ---------

The traditional summer break of an average american school is one hundred and four days. One hundred and four days of summer, less romantic than five hundred but still something. But that's for teenagers, adults don’t get off during the summer and if the calendar is to be believed there are only three months of summer which means ninety days. Ninety days of summer, sixteen weeks, three months, all the time anyone has until it comes again next year. Summer is the time for new experiences, good times, the feeling of the sun on your skin and the feeling that anything is possible. Some people think that summer has its own kind of magic, and the reason why it's in the middle of the year is to remind us to keep going, if only for the knowledge that it’ll come again next year. 

Or maybe none of this is true, maybe summer has no magic- or maybe it’s not the season but the people we meet during those days. 

You were not thinking about any of this as you walked down the sidewalk towards the Olympic Park. You were thinking about what you had to do when you got back to work, and debating if you should’ve left in the first place. In the year that you had worked your new job you’d only taken one lunch break but it was sunny outside and you decided for the first time that you wanted to be outside. It were half of your job anyway, looking at the scenery around you and picking pieces out of it. your music filled your ears and you looked around the park, snapping a couple of quick photos on your phone for future reference. For a moment, you wished you had your full camera on her, maybe snap a couple of quick shots for the Atlanta folder but you made a note to do it next time, even if there were a next time. 

You started staring at your phone again when you ran right into someone. The impact were quick and it sent your notebook tumbling towards the ground and your phone too. As your notebook hit the ground, a set of hands grabbed your phone before it followed. you grabbed the notebook quickly and sorrys tumbled out of your mouth before you stood up to meet eyes with whoever it were you ran into. 

Spider Man were staring right back at her. “Oh shoot-” You shook your head to make sure you weren’t imagining it. “I just ran right into you-” You paused, and started mumbling again, “And your you.” 

“I would hope so.” He smiled, and You swore he were laughing at your which admittedly were warranted by the way Youwere acting. “I believe this is yours.” He handed your your phone. 

“Thank you.” You nodded, “Uh, what are you doing in Atlanta?” You paused and realized you were being weird again. “Wait that were super personal and totally none of my business considering that I just randomly ran into you-”

He laughed, “I’m shooting a movie actually. Can’t tell you what one though.”  

“Oh top secret, I know it’s marvel then.” You replied, “Surprised you were able to keep that one in the bag at all.”  

“You guessed, I didn’t tell you anything.” He shrugged. 

“And you just confirmed it, isn’t that just as bad?” You asked him, laughing a little at the look on his face when it sunk in. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” You said as your phone began to buzz in your pocket, you glanced at it quickly and saw that it was from work. “Oh shoot-”

“Work?” He asked. 

“Yeah, yeah.” You nodded, “Looks like I’ve taken one minute to long on my break.” 

“What do you do?” He asked her. 

“This is getting very personal for a standard sorry I ran into you conversation.” You replied, raising an eyebrow. 

“Maybe it’s not standard.” He said with a smirk. 

“Are you suggesting this is a meet-cute?” 

“I don’t know what that is.” 

“Hollywoods Heartthrob hasn’t even watched a rom-com classic? Disappointing but also surprising. This is front-page news, I’ve got to call entertainment weekly right now, maybe teen vogue they need to do a puff piece on this right now.” You pulled out your phone for a dramatic effect. 

“For the record I have. I just didn’t know the term.” 

“Sure.” You teased, as your phone buzzed again. “Ugh, the one time I go out that’s when they need me.”

“So are you going to tell me what you do or-?” 

“Photojournalist.” You said quickly. “I work up there-” You pointed up at the building behind them and his face moved into surprise when he read the logo on the building. 

“I’m officially worried now. If I see a headline about the meet-cute thing I will know who to blame.” He smiled, half teasing but you could tell that he wasn’t one hundred percent sure. 

“Emphasis on the photo before the journalist. It’s all about the shots and not about the scoops.” You told him. 

“How long have you been sitting on that one?” 

“Longer than you would think. I was waiting to use it on my parents at Thanksgiving.” your phone buzzed again and the screen showed a count of fifteen text messages. “Well this has been fun but I really have to go-” You smiled and started to walk off but something stopped her. You couldn’t tell what it was but something stopped you in your tracks, You turned around and became aware of the sun on your face. It wasn’t the sun that made your turn back around and give him your number, that was something You knew for sure, but then again you couldn’t quite explain what possessed you to do it. 

But you pulled your card out of your pocket and wrote your cell phone on the back. “Here.” You breathed your heat almost beating out of your chest. “In case you need a media contact.” 

“Media Contact?” You heard him say before You speed-walked off. You almost ran back to work and were out of breath when you made it back to your desk. 

Cary was already sitting in your desk chair when you made it back. The other woman spun around in the chair dramatically and smiled when she saw. “Well well well, she’s back,” She said in her patented Irish accent. Cary had been born in the US but moved to the UK when she was five, then moved back to go to college and stayed. “What took you so long on what I believe is your first lunch break ever?” 

“Haha very funny. For the record, it’s my second. Now get out of my chair.” You made a motion for Cary to move, and Cary got up dramatically. “Shouldn’t you be on your home turf with what did you call them, your people? The actual writers?” 

“You know I’ll always have a soft spot in my heart for you, love. You're my favorite camera nerd.” She joked, “Now what took you so long? I requested you as my photographer for my new assignment.” 

“You're never gonna guess who I ran into today.” 

[realmauricioalejo]

you don’t have to say you love me...

☆ — wilmer valderrama, cis male, thirty-nine. hey, did you see MAURICIO ALEJO MARTINEZ’s latest instagram story? he’s been killing it as AN ACTOR over at ALLIANCE STUDIOS though i hear he’s worried about being typecasted into ROM COMS so he’s trying to break into the ACTION GENRE. people on set have praised him for being so PROFESSIONAL + RESOURCEFUL but they’ve also said he can be DISTANT + COMPETITIVE. at least he’s killing it in the industry.

why don’t you tell me you love me, too...

History

Mauricio was never supposed to be a superstar, his family had very humble beginnings. He was born in the poorer area of Medellín, Colombia, the second child to be born to his parents. It was the 80’s and the Colombian telenovela market was booming. One of the biggest studios, Camarón, was exporting novelas to the entirety of Latin America, to great success. Mauricio’s start in the industry was out of chance, his mother worked as a custodian at Camarón and had many friends that let her know all of the gossip and ins and outs of the studio, that way she knew whenever there were open calls. Mauricio was pushed by his mother and partly by his father, to audition, at first he did badly, but eventually the casting directors saw something in him, enough to put him in small roles on some telenovelas, usually playing a son or younger brother who didn’t have many lines.

 Out of the three children, he was the only one who managed to get his foot in the industry, his older brother never liked it, and his younger sister was never cast, despite countless attempts. Mauricio’s early to mid teenage years were spent booking small television roles and commercials that aired all over Colombia, and Latin America. All of the money he made went towards the family, and allowed them to have nicer things and move to a better area. Despite the good that it was providing his family, his siblings resented him, because Mauricio was treated like the golden child, the one that was giving honor to their family name.

His first big role was that of Jenny’s younger brother in Jenny la Fea, when he was 19. He had honed his craft enough at that point to be able to pull of the lovable younger brother, and Colombia began to fall in love with him.

Landing that role is what made his career boom, landing him bigger and better parts, and as he was getting older, he was getting actual romantic parts. As he entered his twenties and began to bulk up, he began landing parts that only leading men ever got. He was shaping up to be a full-blown telenovela hunk, with photoshoots lined up so that girls and women could hang up his pictures worldwide.

Mauricio had enough money at this point in his career, to move his family into a mansion in Colombia, and even moved himself to Mexico, having outgrown the Colombian market. He also paid for his brother’s rehab, and tried to get him the best treatment. He had always been troubled, but whenever Mauricio’s career took off, he always had to contend with familial issues. It was a constant pull in different directions. 

On top of that there was the fact that he was deeply closeted the entire time. From the start Mauricio had known he liked men, something that he knew was unacceptable for the fanbase he was working for. And especially for his family. They had always been deeply religious and instilled in him that he had to be a man, tough and strong, just like the men he portrayed on screen. And being gay was definitely not a strong quality, despite how challenging it was for him.

Being alone in Mexico, trying to make it big in an even larger market was a task for him, but one that he was prepared to take on. He was cast in novelas alongside many of Mexico’s heavy hitters, during this he got especially close to one of his co-stars, Tiago. He and Tiago were viewed as one of the best friendships in the industry, the two played rivals in a telenovela, Rosa, but were close as thieves in real life.

The truth was that he and Tiago had fallen in love, countless hours on a set, long nights in trailers, and hotel rooms, had brought out the truth that they were both smitten by each other. They were inseparable but kept up the façade to everyone that they were just friends, afraid that their careers would end up in flames.

They kept up their charade long after they had wrapped up filming together, and moved on to other telenovela projects, finding time to spend together in secret. Both dated women for the media but knew where their true hearts were.

Mauricio was wrapping up his last telenovela when the worst moment of his life happened, he and Tiago had been photographed kissing during a moment of passion on a balcony of one of Mexico’s most exclusive hotels, and said photograph was being spread across all the tabloids in Latin America.

He and his team had no idea what to do with everything happening. So many of his fans were put off by the reality that their heartthrob could be gay. It was surely going to affect what roles came his way, and it did. His team advised him to deny, deny, deny, and double down on his relationship with Maria, another actress who needed the spotlight. Tiago had already denied it was him in the photos, and cut him off completely, choosing his career over their relationship that had spanned years at that point. Mauricio refused to play into the game, tired of hiding and came out.

His coming out process wasn’t easy, he decided to film a video that he uploaded to the internet, where he explained how his life had been up to that point, making sure to not include Tiago’s name. He was met with mostly negative feedback from his community, his fanbase, and some positives from people that felt he was representing them.

His family wasn’t accepting of it at all, and his parents cut him off completely. They felt Mauricio, the son that had brought them such pride, now just brought them shame. They couldn’t see past what they were taught, and let Mauricio know that if he wanted to be accepted as their son, he needed to choose a better walk of life.

All of this left him practically alone, with his career in shambles, it was truly the darkest period of his life. He felt that almost overnight his life had been flipped upside down, all of the illusions that he’d had of the world were stripped away and he was left standing alone with the reality of what it all was.

With nothing left to do, he moved himself to the US, taking some time to himself to recharge and find his footing. He knew that he had to come up with a new plan for his career, he wasn’t getting any of the offers he used to. None of his old fans wanted to see him as the heartthrob anymore, they didn’t buy it.

 His early thirties were a time of change and planning, he had through the Los Angeles scene, met with filmmakers, some that had heard of his story and they wanted to cast him in a film. It was an indie film about a gay man in love with the ghost haunting his home. Mauricio wasn’t sure how he felt about taking part in it, but he wasn’t getting any other offers, so he took it. The movie went on to be a hit in the indie circuit, debuting to a lot of acclaim, and becoming a cult favorite.

That was enough to then land him a small role television role as a quirky love interest to one of the female protagonists, people were believing him in the role of a straight man again, only this time it was for an entirely different market.

He landed a couple rom-coms, as the latin lover with an accent that wooed the girl, that did well in the box office, making a name for himself in America. His career was starting to gain traction again, after having almost completely died.

After his biggest rom com, he was on the radar of Hollywood execs, enough that he was eyed for the role of Pedro Plume, the Lunar-lord in Champions of the Universe. It was one of Alliance Studios’ biggest projects in their superhero franchise and he knew that if he were to land it, it would solidify him as a star in the American market.

When he was confirmed for the role of Pedro, it was the happiest day of his life. It meant that he had survived everything that he had been through.

Mauricio is still trying to take control of his career, and focus on big action movies, rather than being pigeonholed as the latin lover, but that is proving easier now that he is the Lunar-lord, and has a couple Champions of the Universe movies under his belt.  

Es que a tus labios, no los entiendo.

[mst3kproject]

1009: Hamlet, Prinz von Dänemark

I spent a buck-fifty Canadian to download this movie. There’s not much you can get for a buck-fifty Canadian.  One sour soother, maybe, or a chipped coffee mug from a garage sale that has a photo of somebody else’s grandparents on it.  So now you know how much Hamlet is worth.

We all know the story of Hamlet, whether we wanted to or not. King Hamlet of Denmark was murdered by his brother Claudius, who then married Queen Gertrude and stole the throne.  We can’t be having that, so the king’s ghost appears to his son, Hamlet Jr, and tells him he must take revenge.  Junior then spends the whole rest of the play wandering around pondering the afterlife and battering his girlfriend Ophelia before finally running Claudius through during a climactic duel during which pretty much everybody else dies, too, except for the ones who were already dead.  Nobody has ever given me a convincing explanation of why these people have names like Horatio and Laertes instead of Svend and Rolf.

I’m definitely not going to try to review Hamlet itself, Shakespeare’s play, because I don’t know a damned thing about Hamlet.  I deliberately went out and murdered those brain cells with alcohol immediately after writing my final exam.  Instead I’m going to have to talk about this movie in itself, how it fares both as a film and as a retelling of this story.

That second point is a big one.  Hamlet has been done, a lot, and as the bots point out with their sketch about their all-percussion version, it’s really hard to do anything unique with it anymore.  If you’re an acting troupe who wants to give it a try, that’s cool because it means people will get to see live theatre, but if you’re making a movie you really need to bring something new to the table.  An interesting interpretation, an actor or director that people really want to see, an unusual setting or time period, something like that.  This Hamlet has none of that.

I am reasonably sure that what the movie is trying to do is to look like a stage play, much as The Magic Voyage of Sinbad was trying to look like an opera.  Sinbad pulled it off with extravagant sets and operatic bombast.  By contrast everything in Hamlet, from pillars to thrones to flights of stairs, looks like it’s made out of concrete.  There is very little music, which somehow makes the whole thing feel even more doom-and-gloom-y than Hamlet already does.  The costumes go for a semi-fantasy look somewhere between Elizabethan and medieval, which is very stagey, and the effect is heightened by the fact that most of the characters never seem to change their clothes. The actors don’t look comfortable in them, though, which means they look uncomfortable in their characters as well. Queen Gertrude in particular looks like she’s too worried about damaging her gown to move easily in it, and the giant chain around Claudius’ neck is absurd.

Adding to the impression that the movie was shot in somebody’s basement, it’s lit very pootly when it’s lit at all.  A lot of shots are quite dull, lit in a way that shows where things are but doesn’t create mood or drama.  The film is in black and white and the characters wear black, or at least colours so dark you can’t tell the difference, which leaves night shots (such as the one where Horatio and the guards are chasing after the king’s ghost) looking like a bunch of heads floating around.

It is, of course, very difficult to judge a dubbed performance. The actors we’re watching appear to be going for a sort of heightened melodrama, part of the idea that we’re meant to feel like we’re watching a stage play.  The dub actors, on the other hand, don’t seem to have gotten the memo.  A lot of them mumble, particularly Maximilian Schell as Hamlet, which is really weird because he’s dubbing himself.  Sometimes they manage to make the Shakespearean English sound very natural, but that often jars with the physical performances.  I have no idea what sort of accents some of them think they’re doing. There are a few who don’t seem to be trying to do an accent at all, while others sound like they’re aiming for British (because it’s Shakespeare?), German (because the movie’s German?) or Damn Worwelf.

Most of the actors are kind of bland-looking, and those who stand out do so because they look weirdly wrong for the parts they’re playing.  Polonius with his little mustache looks like a physics teacher who feels naked because he’s not wearing a necktie.  He’s also dubbed by John Banner, so if you keep hearing this is so klandinkto! every time he speaks… that’s why.  If Hamlet himself looks familiar, it may be because Maximilian Schell was Dr. Reinhardt in The Black Hole, or maybe it’s because he looks a lot like the guy in Atlantic Rim that I referred to as MacGuyver. He’s a very fine actor who won an academy award for Judgment at Nuremburg, but he’s way out of place as Hamlet.  His Hollywood good looks and crooked little smile make it feel like he’s trying to play Hamlet as a dashing heartthrob.

For all that, there are a couple of moments in this movie that I quite like.  The scene in which Hamlet is nodding and smiling to the wedding guests while the Too Too Solid Flesh soliloquy begins in voiceover is quite nicely done.  It gives you a very visceral sense of this man who is forced to bottle up his anger and grief.  I also like that during the Murder of Gonzago scene, the camera focuses not on the players but on the audience reaction.  Claudius and Gertrude smile at each other when the players talk about love, and then grow uncomfortable as the play condemns re-marriage.  Ophelia’s embroidery is an attempt at symbolism, the arum being a popular funeral flower.  Too bad it’s so in-your-face that it loses all subtlety.

On the whole, though, Hamlet is just dull.  The spartan, ugly sets and dark costumes offer us very little to look at, and in some of the darker scenes there’s almost nothing to see at all. The physical and dub performances don’t match, and neither hold the attention.  Watching it feels like a two-hour slog through a tarry morass of depression.

I kind of wonder what the purpose of this movie was supposed to be. It was made for TV in the sixties, and I guess it was an attempt to capitalize on the Germans’ love of Shakespeare – because Germans do definitely love Shakespeare, sometimes considering themselves to have a better claim on him than England because unlike the English, they respect him.  More Shakespeare plays are performed in Germany every year than in England, and in the leadup to World War II the Nazi regime tried to get rid of him, couldn’t, and had to settle for picking and choosing which translations were ‘German enough’ for them (this always reminds me of the joke about Hamlet being better in the original Klingon).

If this is the case, I would like to know what the Germans who saw this movie in its original broadcast thought of it.  Sixty-year-old reviews of made-for-tv movies in foreign languages are hard to find even online, so I honestly have no idea.  I know that people who have seen this English version hate it, and I have a hard time imagining it being much better in German even when you love Shakespeare unconditionally.  The fact that the Germans do love Shakespeare just makes it seem that much more likely that they’d consider this dreary pork-filled version an insult to him.

It’s also interesting to think about what made the Best Brains pick this one out as an MST3K project.  The movie is definitely bad, and in its own way it fits right in with a lot of the black-and-white crap from the Joel era that tries so hard to be important and just ends up being depressing.  Yet the source material remains as something a lot of people would consider untouchable (the Germans being high on that list… although Shakespeare himself, purveyor of fine penis jokes to Her Majesty the Queen since 1591, would probably be totally okay with the MST3K treatment.  He must have heard way more vicious audience commentary).  My guess it was something they considered a challenge to themselves, in the same way as RiffTrax tackled Casablanca just to see if they could do it.  The Amazing Colossal Transplanted Sci-Fi Channel Episode Guide entry on the episode is kind of interesting, as Kevin mentions the feeling that they had to be funnier than usual in order to live up to the play’s legend.

My high school English teachers (the same ones who inflicted The Most Dangerous Game on me) insisted that Hamlet is a play which should make you think.  I’m pretty sure this is not what they meant, but the thing I’ve always found myself thinking about while watching or reading it is the idea of marrying one’s brother’s widow.  The church of the time said that this was equivalent to marrying one’s own sister (Claudius indeed calls Gertrude our sometime sister) and frowned upon it most heavily, and this would have been common knowledge in Elizabethan England because it was Henry VIII’s excuse for divorcing Catherine of Aragon and marrying Anne Boleyn, Queen Elizabeth’s mother (never mind that he’d also fucked Anne’s sister Mary).  By portraying this as villainous behaviour, Shakespeare was sucking up to the Queen, emphasizing that her mom’s marriage was way more legit than Catherine’s.  Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[gallifreyanlibertea]

Oh Captain, My Captain

a/n: THIS IS MY LAST OUT-OF-THE-BLUE AIRPORT AU I SWEAR I’ll get back to the requests and the usuk network event asap so sorry, I was on an airplane back home and this happened. Full offense but idc if this is shitty or if there are inaccuracies in this, I’ve never researched this much. Ever. 

You can pry lovesick! Alfred out of my cold, dead hands.

“The nerve of the woman, honestly.”

Arthur felt absolutely no remorse in monopolizing the conversation.

After all, every flight brought the worst of all things, and as always, they seemed to happen to only and exclusively him. At this point, he had the God-given right to spend however much time he wanted, out of his miserable day, to bitch, whine and complain.

And Francis couldn't do anything about it.

“The bloody hell am I to do if the air conditioner isn't as cold as she’d like it to be?” Arthur scoffed, loosening the ribbon tied around his neck as shoes clacked ferociously in tandem with his long-striding movements. The almost-empty airport’s tiled floors dramatized the otherwise gentle noise and Arthur decided it was fitting. “Or if the peanuts weren't as salted as she'd like, or if the damn toilet was too loud, I'm not omnipotent.”

Francis, on the verge of rolling his eyes, struggled to match his coworker’s pace. “Yes, we get it, your life is hard.”

“You don't get to be annoyed with me, Francis.”

It was true. Francis could do absolutely nothing about it. Their pay was shitty- for the most part, at least- the in-flight company was hardly to be envied, and to top it off, Arthur was considerably less attractive than his other coworkers. Where they were slim, he was lanky, where they had a full, perky butt, he had, well, not that. 

So yes, he had every right to shout into oblivion because somehow, with all the luck in the world, he seemed to attract the most despicable of passengers. Every single time. Every whining adult who thought they deserved much more than the flight had to offer, every edgy teenager who thought they could swipe a free snack off his cart when Arthur wasn't looking, every person who'd call on him expecting a magic cure to their ear barotrauma.

The worst part being that Arthur had to smile through it all. So damn it all, he could be angry, and Francis couldn't protest because he was, although Arthur didn't admit it easily, a beautiful man. Things came easily to him, and it was so bloody unfair.

And all Arthur wanted to right then was to sleep in his own home, curled up under his own sheets, with all that infernal makeup scrubbed off his skin.

“I suppose you're correct there, mon ami.” Francis reached out to grab Arthur by the shoulder, bringing him down to his slower pace, “But did I tell you about those cheerleaders on the fifth row?”

Francis’s lips spread in a triumphant smirk, proving Arthur’s point. “Got a list of the numbers of their whole squad.”

Arthur suppressed a frustrated growl. “Of course, you did.”

“I heard you got a number too.” A snicker and Arthur glared holes into those teasing blue eyes. “To pass on to me, that is. I’ll be calling him tonight, so I suppose I have you to thank.”

Arthur didn't, however, suppress a fierce stomp onto Francis’ foot.

“Would you two at least behave until we get to our hotels?”

And if the flight-attendant life wasn’t glorious enough, the older attendants liked to pretend they had some kind of authority. Of course, Arthur and Francis liked to let them believe that they did. It made it easier to hate them.

As soon as the older woman left, looking over her shoulder only to shoot them a warning look like either of them cared, Francis ran a finger along the inside of the ribbon looped around his neck.

“I see that screwing the passenger in 15A wasn't enough to dislodge that stick up her ass.”

“She did what.”

Arthur was a respectable, courteous, gentleman of a man yet it was gossip like this that made hours bottled up on a flying torture chamber bearable. He supposed that's how he and Francis just clicked, despite hating almost every aspect of each other.

“Didn’t you hear it? The whole rear of the plane did.” Francis muttered nonchalantly, to which Arthur replied with a snort.

“Well, I’m glad I was on the other half.”

Loud laughter. It was despicable really, the things they said, but it passed the time and that somehow made it temporarily okay.

Arthur cleared his throat, averting his eyes from the ones of the clearly annoyed attendants in front of them. “We really should be a bit quiet, Francis, people are looking.”

“Oh, people are indeed looking,” Francis smirked in response, patting Arthur on the shoulder almost patronizingly, eyes cast over Arthur’s shoulder. “Don’t look now, but I think the new captain is making eyes at me.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, footsteps coming to a stop as he came to cross his arms, falling into a makeshift line by an empty lot meant for the cabin crew’s bus to their hotel.

Layovers meant one thing and one thing only- Rejecting Francis’ every offer to drink until they forgot their last name, and holing himself up in his less than enjoyable hotel room, catching up on his online novel before eventually falling asleep. Perhaps this time would be different. Arthur had already agreed to a small drink and an even smaller stroll, but who knew? Francis was fickle if anything, and judging by the way he was looking at their flight captain, he might not have enough time to entertain Arthur for the evening.

“I could eat him up faster than a platter of fine cheeses.”

Arthur spared a faint glance beside him, finding their brand new captain in shallow conversation with the copilot.

There was no denying Francis’ attraction. He was rather attractive, actually. The way his shirt was so tight around the sharp contours of his body, that Hollywood-heartthrob way his hair swept across his forehead. Not to mention Arthur’s secret craving for men in glasses. Or men in uniform, or honestly just men.

And that, right there! That was definitely a look back in their direction. No matter how quickly the man looked away, or how he immediately laughed aloud as if he'd never diverted his attention, Arthur had caught him and if Francis wasn't standing in such a close vicinity, Arthur might’ve thought the look was aimed at him.

Hah, him. Arthur Kirkland. A bitter air host whose most appealing features were his slightly-elven looking ears. Yes, definitely.

Arthur scoffed. “The man is clearly straight, he probably thinks you're a woman.”

“I'd be whatever he wanted me to be.”

The comment rose a hearty chuckle out of Arthur before Francis slapped him on the forearm, eyes wild. “Shut up, he's coming.”

And indeed he was. A slow, shy walk in their direction, boyish smile painted on those adult features. Arthur stepped aside for the man’s convenience as he headed toward Francis, possibly to make a few passes, ask him out for a drink, the whole three-sixty, it was tiring really. He would watch as Francis did the same exact thing once more. Playing coy, then going naughty.

Arthur had already begun selecting what title he would begin reading for the night.

“Bonjour!”

Ah, so it would be this routine tonight. Francis would begin with a phrase in French, to which the victim would respond with a-

“Oh! You're French?”

Right on schedule. The captain had made his way between them. He was an American, it seemed, making him quite possibly dumb enough to fall for Francis’ next line.

“Oh, sorry, sometimes I forget I'm talking in my native language.”

No, he rarely ever did. Arthur rolled his eyes and Francis glared through his smile.

“That's so cool.” The American gushed, “I speak fluent Spanish so I kinda get what you mean!”

Fluent Spanish, oh dear. Arthur couldn’t help wondering what hearing it whispered passionately in his ear would sound like.

Like that would ever happen.

“Spanish, a Romance language,” Francis smirked and the American smiled abashedly in response, accepting the hand offered to him in a firm shake. “My name is Francis. What brings you over to our side of the bus stop, hm?”

“I'm Alfred,” Alfred said and Arthur couldn't help but find it fitting. A name as unusual as the chances of finding a hot pilot. “And actually, I-”

A soft touch to Arthur’s shoulder and Arthur found himself slightly recoiling, eyes glancing up from their position fixed at his feet to find Alfred smiling rather warmly right down at him.

“I just wanted to say, your eyes are the greenest I've ever seen.”

Alfred punctuated this with a light laugh and Arthur merely blinked. Francis mirrored the expression, and Arthur found himself shifting away.

This could not be happening. He had to have conjured the whole thing in his head. A cruel ending to an already grueling day.

“Less than a percent of the population has green eyes, so-” He found himself sweeping a lock of hair behind his ear, eyes traveling back down to the pavement- “I suppose I, um, understand your fascination.”

“I expected that English accent!”

Another laugh and Arthur threw a look in Francis’ direction. One of confusion, one that Francis threw back with an intensity ten times greater.

Was this Alfred fellow chatting him up?

“You have a very British structure, if anyone's told you.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.” Arthur managed a polite smile. Francis now stood in Alfred’s shadow, watching incredulously the captain stepped closer, closing the gap Arthur had created with his shift away.

“You should.”

Oh, my.

The bus rolled into view and Arthur pushed away with a shy smile, joining Francis in their hurried scramble aboard, settling in the back almost as if hiding from that charming smile.

“Arthur, he wants you.”  Francis cooed singsonged-ly.

“Shut up.” Was Arthur’s hissed response before he sank deeper into his seat, peering over the side to watch as Alfred climbed aboard, and to Arthur’s relief, found a seat somewhere in the front.

The goosebumps dotting his arms were hardly from the bus’ air conditioner.

“Leave it to young pilots to grab the first air host they see.”

“And here I was, thinking I'd be the one getting lucky tonight.” Francis thought aloud, head shaking.  

“I'm never lucky,” Arthur mumbled in response.

No, things like this rarely happened to him, and it was a good thing too. Despite always whining about the lack of attention people paid him, it was situations like these that told him just how uncomfortable he would be if he'd lived a better life. Arthur, therefore, appreciated his irrelevance, embraced his mediocre looks.

And ran as fast as humanly possible from anyone who looked at him twice.

“I never got your name, you know?”

Alfred was waiting for him as they departed the bus.

You’d think after a moderately-long bus ride, that infatuation of Alfred’s, or whatever it was that swam in those blue eyes, would’ve simmered away with the realization that there were other flight attendants who could give him exactly what he wanted without any hesitation whatsoever.

No, Alfred stood waiting, with eyes expectant behind the frames of those square glasses, and Arthur found himself craving back that bad luck of his. The luck that would have him attracted to a married man, or someone painfully straight. The luck that would have them anything but attracted back to him.

The luck that would have Alfred already checking himself into his room and not leaning against the side of the bus with that infernal smile on his face.  

“Arthur.”

“It’s a regal name,” Alfred remarked and Arthur shot a pleading look in Francis’ direction. “So, tell me how the cabin crew goes wild. What are you doing tonight?”

Arthur parted his lips for words, finding that he’d long forgotten his language, and Francis stepped in to rescue him, placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder with a laugh. “Oh, Arthur is rather boring, actually. If you want fun I suggest the other two attendants.”

Francis leaned forward to whisper and Alfred mirrored the action unwittingly, expression inquisitive.

“I heard they did body shots on the last layover.”

“Oh jeez!” The look on Alfred’s face was akin to a child coming across a mature scene in a film. His cheeks went rosy, finger pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “That's, um, no. I didn't mean to give out the wrong idea, I'm definitely not looking for that type of wild.”

Arthur shot Francis a look to which he responded with a shrug.

And Alfred was blissfully unaware, gazing at Arthur as if he were Alfred's husband returning home from the war. “It's just us mild folk here, I guess. I can't drink before a flight so I might as well hang out with you guys!”

“Actually, I was going to grab a drink,” Arthur interjected, to which Francis hastily followed up with a-

“Yes, we were doing just that.”

“Great! A little drink never hurt anyone, I'll pay for a round!”

Oh dear, Alfred wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon.

The fact became increasingly evident as the evening progressed. How Alfred stood directly behind as Arthur checked in, how he tossed shy glances in Arthur’s direction as he himself checked in after telling them to wait for him.

“Can I see some I.D., sir?”

Alfred smiled in Arthur’s direction and after a rough shove to Arthur’s shoulder, courtesy of an annoyed Francis, he sent a smile back. One that had Alfred beaming, oblivious to the unentertained man behind the hotel desk.

“Sir!”

“Oh! Yes, give me just a minute, sorry.”

A card was slapped onto the counter before Alfred turned to look over his shoulder yet again, an embarrassed smile on his face, as if afraid Arthur would run away.

“I’ll just go take a quick look at my room and meet you at the bar?”

It was a simple solution that would facilitate the check-in, Arthur thought. Alfred nodded furiously, yet instead of turning back to continue the process like Arthur had assumed, he watched as the elevator doors closed around Arthur, every second of it, that smile beaming on his face the entire time.

Francis snickered, “Wow.”

Arthur blinked, hands smoothing over his suddenly, goosebumped-yet-again arms, deciding that an original response had no place in their current situation. “Wow indeed.”

“Want to stand him up?”

Any sane person would. The transition between no attention to all the attention was quite reeling, and Arthur, if anything, wanted nothing more than to spend the evening alone in his room.

Yet still, he found himself at the hotel bar, taking the seat directly next to Alfred despite the empty ones anywhere else.

Francis watched slyly as Alfred sat one hand gripping the back side of Arthur's stool, the glass of wine in him tinting his cheeks a healthy red.

“Y’know, the flight attendant uniforms are so cute.”

Alfred’s free hand set his glass down atop the table, running a finger along the ribbon on the back of Arthur’s neck.

Arthur inhaled rather sharply, ignoring the look Francis gave him, with those eyes wide, lips twisted up in a knowing smirk. “Well, that is our job, to look pleasing to the eye and keep passengers calm.”

“I can’t even imagine how harder your job would be, Captain,” Francis said and Alfred practically giggled, arm flexing and wow those were some defined biceps coming out of that short-sleeved aviator shirt.

“It took me years of training, you, uh-”

Alfred leaned closer to Arthur and Arthur didn’t know if it was the courage from the alcohol or just the confidence he seemed to carry on those broad shoulders that brought that hand of his up to grip Arthur’s bicep- “You should come down to the cockpit one day, and I’ll show you just how hard it can be.”

He invited Arthur to touch his bicep with a little wink and Arthur hesitantly obliged, finding that it was harder to stop running his fingers over the tanned swell of that arm than it was to start.

He forced his hands back into his lap with a clear of his throat, “That training of yours is quite evident.”

Francis’ eyes bounced back and forth between the two. At Alfred, who seemed to be very interested in the shade of red Arthur’s cheeks were turning, and at Arthur, who averted his eyes, anywhere, everywhere, oh god.

“I’m going to go get myself another drink in my room,” Francis said almost defeatedly, shooting Arthur a warning, I better not have left for nothing look and Alfred gave him a wide grin as a parting gift, turning to the host under his arm with an expression even brighter when Francis was well out of sight.

“Why don’t you give me a personal cabin safety demonstration?” He mimicked the two fingered pointing and Arthur found himself smiling. Just a little. “Shall we take the nearest exit?”

Hell, it was a layover.

The one time Arthur would have anything close to a vacation, the one time he could have some fun on the job, a one time.

A single time, just aching to be filled with a mistake.

And that was what Arthur assumed he would be getting himself into as he parted his lips for a response. “Alright, Captain, shall I demonstrate how to unclasp your belt?”

Alfred blinked, that same no mom, I wasn’t looking at the kiss scene expression seizing his features as Arthur shifted under his arm to smooth a hand up his tie.

If someone wanted Arthur when no one else did, there was no point in playing hide and seek.

“Isn’t it advisable to keep the belt fastened, when we, um-” Alfred paused. He had probably read Arthur’s expression to find that yes, it was not a joke, so he reached into his wallet to pay the bill. “When we’re in for a bumpy ride?”

It was an action confirming that they were indeed going to take the nearest exit.

“I’m sure you’ll keep me safe, Captain.”

Arthur barely caught sight of Alfred’s incredulous smile before he was led, no, dragged, steps charged with the adrenaline of the moment and slight, buzzing intoxication, all the way into a hotel room. One that, by the looks of it, confirmed his bitter suspicion that the captains got better room service.

Arthur didn’t like attention, that was true, but more than likely they were two people seeking out company for the night. He was okay with that. He was okay knowing it was another mistake in his lifelong list of many- after all, with the size of their airport, they would probably never have to see each other again, and Arthur was, if anything, damn good at avoiding people.

Nevermind the fact that walking down the aisles the next day was a right, sore pain, or that Francis had demanded to know everything there was to know about Alfred’s ‘moves’.

Or that the entire flight crew somehow came to know of the fact that he’d slept with the captain.

It was a one-time thing. It was a fleeting, trashy, once-in-a-lifetime mistake that simply had to be made. How many others had the privilege of having a story starring a hookup with a flight captain?

Of course, it’s not like he ever expected to have to tell his children the exact same story- cheeks positively aflame as Alfred chuckled from the kitchen- when they’d asked him how he’d met their father.

[papermoonloveslucy]

LUCY THE HELPFUL MOTHER

S2;E15 ~ December 29, 1969

Directed by Herbert Kenwith ~ Written by Milt Josefsberg and Al Schwartz

Synopsis

Kim and Craig want their own phones, so they take on part-time jobs to pay for them. Kim’s job has her animal-sitting for the local pet shop, turning Lucy's living room into a zoo!

Regular Cast

Lucille Ball (Lucy Carter), Gale Gordon (Harrison Otis Carter), Lucie Arnaz (Kim Carter), Desi Arnaz Jr. (Craig Carter)

Guest Cast

Irving, a baby chimpanzee.

Radish, a talking parrot who says “You did it again, stupid!”

Breath-of-Spring, a deodorized skunk.

Bruce, a sarcastic mynah bird who says “Get away, kid, you bother me.” This quote from W.C. Fields was previously spoken in “Lucy and the Used Car Dealer” (S2;E9).  

The cast also includes baby leopards, a ring-tailed cat, bunnies, hamsters, canaries, doves, and a tank full of piranha (the only 'prop' [fake] animals in the episode).  

This is the only episode to only feature the Carter Family: Lucy, Harry, Craig and Kim.  A season five show will only feature Lucy and Harry, with archival clips of Kim and Craig.  This episode is also the only episode to have an ‘all-animal’ supporting cast!  

This is the final episode of calendar year 1969 and the final episode of the turbulent 1960s. For Lucille Ball, the decade began with saying farewell to Lucy Ricardo with the last “Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour” airing in April 1960. “The Lucy Show” was born in 1962 and ran through 1968. The decade also began with Ball's divorce from Desi Arnaz. In 1961 she married Gary Morton.  The upcoming decade would be quieter for Ball, but not for Lucie and Desi Jr., who would each face failed relationships that dominated the headlines.  

For some unknown reason, assistant choreographer Anita Mann was asked to introduce this dance-less and creature-filled episode on the series DVD. Mann fondly remembers that Lucille Ball was a virtual 'Dr. Doolittle' when working with animals.  

Lucy's phone number is KL5-8231. On rotary telephones the alpha characters K and L corresponded to the number 5 making Lucy's number 555-8321.  A 555 exchange is the accepted screen format to include a telephone number as it will never correspond with a real telephone number.

The episode includes multiple rotary telephones at Lucy's home and work, including Kim's Princess model. Rotary (dial) telephones were first introduced around 1904. In 1962, the touch tone button phone was introduced.  These gradually supplanted dial telephones throughout the decade. The Princess telephone, a compact rotary phone with an illuminated dial, was first introduced by Bell Telephone in 1959.  

Teenagers and telephones was a familiar TV and movie trope of the 1960s.  It most famously is celebrated in the 1960 stage musical and 1963 film Bye Bye Birdie, which features a song called “Telephone Hour.”  Interestingly, Bye Bye Birdie played on Broadway at the same time, just two blocks away, from Lucille Ball in Wildcat.

During the episode, Lucy and Harry are working on contracts for the Kasten account.  The name was previously given to a character played by Phil Silvers in “Lucy and the Efficiency Expert” (TLS S5;E13, above).  

Craig plays a drum solo over the phone for his friend Steve. Steve has been mentioned on several previous episode, but never seen. Later, Craig talks on the phone with Tina, a new name in the long list of Craig's girlfriends.  

To get Craig's attention over the din of his drumming, Kim calls out: “Hey, Buddy Rich!”  Buddy Rich (1917-1987) was a world-famous drummer.  He appeared with Lucille Ball in the film Du Barry Was a Lady (1943) and will guest star as himself on a 1970 episode of “Here's Lucy” (above). 

While Kim takes care of the animals for the local pet shop, Craig is earning extra money gluing wings on toy airplanes for Herbie's Hobby Shop and blowing up 500 balloons for the school dance.

Lucy gets a call from Mary Jane about Bridge Club and the Bowling League. She mentions Hilda, who is the only one who knows how to keep score. When Lucy's Bridge Club was introduced in “Lucy and Eva Gabor” (S1;E7, above) it consisted of Dolores, Maude and Nelly, but no Hilda.  Mary Jane is played by Mary Jane Croft, but she does not appear in this episode.

With his bandaged dialing finger, Harry invokes the name of the inventor of the telephone Alexander Graham Bell (1847-1922). Bell is considered the father of the modern telephone and founded AT&T in 1885.  

Lucy compares her house full of animals to the San Diego Zoo. Located in Balboa Park, San Diego, California, it is one of the most famous zoos in the world. It first opened in 1916 and is still in operation today.  

Lucy sings a lullaby to the chimp:

“Rock-a-bye Irving Hark to my chant. You're kinda cute But you're no Cary Grant.”

Here is yet another mention of Hollywood heartthrob, actor Cary Grant, who was mentioned in the previous episode “Lucy Protects Her Job” (S2;E14) as well as many episode of “I Love Lucy.”  

When Lucy gets a call from a kindly Officer O'Reilly that Kim is in jail for setting off the Pet Shop burglar alarm, she calls him “a nice Fuzz.”  It was a common TV trope to portray policeman with Irish accents and surnames. “Fuzz” was a slang word for policemen (or, in Lucy's generation, 'cops') that was coined due to the fact that so many serviceman coming home with short military haircuts became policeman. Their buzz cuts resembled peach fuzz.  The expression sounds particularly odd spoken by Lucille Ball. 

From 1951 to 1969 Lucille Ball worked on television with: 

chickens

cows

a calf

dogs of every breed

elephants (2 babies and one Jumbo)

many horses

a pony

a lion

chimpanzees

pigeons

sheep

dolphins

seals

bears

birds of all sorts

an antelope

rabbits

donkeys

deer

geese

turkeys

goats

an adorable kitten

a scent-free skunk

a baby leopard

and a ring-tailed cat  

All of these were LIVE animals!  The list does not include prop animals (like the piranha), imaginary animals, offstage creatures, or actors in animal suits!  

Lucille Ball got a lot of experience working with three trained chimpanzees in “Lucy the Babysitter” (TLS S5;E16, above) which not only starred three rambunctious chimps, but a baby elephant as well! 

A tank full of piranha were also featured in the pet shop in “Lucy Gets the Bird” (TLS S3;E12).  The comic payoff of retrieving a devoured item from the tank is repeated here. TV’s “Addams Family” (1964-66) kept piranha as pets the way other families kept goldfish. 

Little Ricky had a mini-menagerie on “I Love Lucy” that included Fred the dog, a frog named Hopalong, Tommy and Jimmy the turtles,  parakeets Alice and Phil, goldfish named Mildred and Charles, and a lizard (who fell – or jumped - out the window).

FISH ON A WIRE! When the piranha fish jumps out of the tank, the wire can be seen attached to the end of the fish. [Unfortunately, the wire can barely be seen in the still photo above.]

DIETARY RESTRICTIONS! Piranha fish are carnivorous and would not eat a leather pouch and paper.  

“Lucy the Helpful Mother” rates 4 Paper Hearts out of 5

The fun of this episode is seeing Lucy working with Irving the chimp. Lucy loved animals and incorporated them in scripts whenever she could.  The finale with her glued to three phones is particularly funny.