#my command of British actors is just this good

[junoinferno]

So, I realized Yara Greyjoy is Kate from Upstart Crow?

I lost track of which Sand Snake died? Did it matter?

And you know what Ellara you have got a lot to say about Oberyn dying now when I don’t remember you having a lot to say at the time. FFS…

Also, Jim Broadbent is in this now?! We can’t just keep having every British actor.

(Why were most of the gifs the stage play?)

And also, took me forever to figure out one of these guys was Mr. Hurst in Pride and Prejudice.

[mariocki]

A young Christopher Lee guest stars as dastardly Larry Spence - a rising star in the world of journalism, turned blackmailer and then murderer - in The Vise: The Final Column (1.16, ABC, 1955); the episode wasn't seen in the UK until 1963, as part of ITV drama anthology Tension

[blurredcolour]

What If We Just Fall?

Oh my goodness @supervalcsi this has been the hardest secret to keep! 'Tis I, your summer exchange gift writer! Thank you for all your hard work as the moderator of HBO War Daily, we deeply appreciate you!! It's been a pleasure getting to know you and I hope you enjoy your summer as well as this lovely interlude with sweet Rosie!!!

Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal x ATA!Female Reader

Flying with the Air Transport Auxiliary has taught you many lessons – including the importance of guarding your heart carefully. It seems fate, however, has much more to teach you when you are forced to make an emergency landing in East Anglia.

Warnings: Language, Era Typical Sexism, Fear, Crying, Kissing, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Rating - T.

Author's note: No descriptions of reader other than the fact that she is not British. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 5729

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October 1944

Meeting a man like Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal was not something you had expected when you volunteered for the Air Transport Auxiliary. In fact, you were not even supposed to land at Thorpe Abbotts Airfield until fate, or more accurately faulty wiring, intervened. Ferrying a Wellington bomber from its repair depot back to the RAF in Norfolk for use in their nighttime bombing runs, you were piloting the five-man aircraft alone – standard practice in the ATA. There was no radio, no navigator, and most definitely no guns. You were a civilian non-combatant and if any Luftwaffe fighter pilots happened to get onto your tail, you simply had to outfly them.

This was not your first Wellington, not by a long stretch, and while you preferred Spitfires for their speed and manoeuverability, these mid-sized bombers were usually fairly docile once they got off the ground. This particular aircraft, however, had been displaying a bad attitude from the moment it took to the air. How it had passed quality control inspection was beyond you. The wonders the mechanics were able to work in short turn arounds were usually feats of precision and skill, but almost immediately you noticed the rudder seemed reluctant to obey your steering commands.

A cascade of instrumentation issues followed before the left engine quit. There was a reason, however, that the ‘Wimpy’ as it was affectionately called by the boys who took the aircraft into combat, was still relied upon by the RAF despite the arrival of four-engine heavies like the Halifax and Lancaster. The Wellington could take a great deal of punishment; lose great chunks of its aluminium and linen airframe, be down one engine, and still get the crew to its destination. It was this reputation you were banking on as you pressed forward to your assigned airfield, hoping the ground crew there would treat this plane better than whomever had done it such a disservice at the repair depot.

You were, by your best guess of the landscape and quick glance at your maps, roughly twenty minutes out when the right engine began to choke and sputter.

“Shit.” You hissed under your breath, pleased no one could overhear you, and dropped your altitude to scan for a safe place to land.

During your pre-flight preparations, you had noted this area was dotted with American airfields as well as RAF; surely you could find a stretch of tarmac to keep both you and this precious piece of war material in one piece. The telltale ‘V’ of concrete, surrounded by still-lush grass waving in the autumn breeze, could not have come into view at a better time. Exhaling in relief as the indicator lights confirmed the wheels had descended at your command, you checked visually that the left was down and had to trust the right and rear were also – with no co-pilot to look for you, there was most definitely no way you could release the yoke and glance out the window yourself.

Hoping the allies would recognize you for a friendly, you lined up to make your landing, the right engine quitting on you as you decreased your speed. Holding your eyes open wide with focus, you leaned forward in your seat, gripping the yoke almost painfully, willing the aircraft to stay aloft to meet the first few inches of runway. The silence in the cockpit was agonizing, a tense ringing in your ears replacing the normal, companionable thrum of the engines, sweat stinging at your eyes and prickling in your armpits. Seconds drew out into hours until at last your tires – all three of them – bumped down to land on the runway.

With a sigh of relief, you quickly pulled up on the flaps, frowning deeply as, with no engines to throw into reverse, the large object in motion seemed reluctant to come to a stop. Mortifyingly, you overshot the end of the runway, skidding to a halt some one hundred meters in the grass like a wet-behind-the-ears trainee, and yet…and yet both you and the plane that you had been charged with delivering were still in one piece. Not at all where you were intended to be, but landed safely, for now.

The sound of several vehicles approaching from down the runway refocused your attention and you pulled off your leather flying helmet, smoothing your hair before gathering your things into your flight bag. Climbing from the dead aircraft, you were greeted by a host of astonished male faces.

“Jesus Christ, she’s a dame!” One of the younger men exclaimed, not so quietly, from the back of the crowd and you did your best to keep a straight face.

“I’m so sorry to intrude on your airfield, gentlemen, ran into a little trouble during my flight. I appreciated the safe place to land.”

Several eyebrows shot up at your distinct lack of British accent, at least one astute gaze dropping to the gold wire weave badge bearing the name of your home country just below your shoulders.

“Well, we’re just glad you’re alright, ma’am. We got very nervous when we couldn’t raise you on the radio.” The owner of said astute, piercing blue gaze spoke, a hint of…New York, was it?...colouring his tone.

“Ah, of course, we aren’t connected to radio in the Air Transport Auxiliary, sorry for the confusion that must have caused.” Stepping forward you offered your hand as you introduced yourself. “Second Officer, ATA.”

“Robert Rosental, Major, United States Army Air Force. What happened up there?”

It took a moment to register that he had asked you a question, the feel of his palm pressing against yours as he shook your hand in greeting more than a little distracting. Inhaling sharply, you turned back to look at the troublesome aircraft.

“Rudder was slow to respond, then I started losing my instruments one-by-one before the left engine cut out. I was hoping to make it on the right, but when it started to go, I knew I had no choice to put it down as soon as possible.”

“You flew that all by yourself?” Another member of the crowd piped up and you nodded patiently.

“Standard practice in the ATA, just me.”

“Maybe that was the real problem.” It was hard to tell where exactly the snide comment, spoken under some ignorant boy’s breath, had originated from.

You noted a flash of anger in Major Rosenthal’s eyes before he started to scan the crowd for the source of it, but this sort of response was something you had certainly encountered before.

“I’m sorry I didn’t quite catch that, could whoever said that please repeat it? I’d really appreciate the opportunity to improve on the over seven hundred ferry flights I’ve made since 1941, including one hundred with this very type of plane, so please, speak up.” A sort of stunned silence overtook the group, several of the men wearing bemused smiles, others a look of shock, while the rest shuffled their feet awkwardly in the grass. “Hn. My loss, I suppose.”

“I’m assuming you’re a long ways from where you ought to be?” Major Rosenthal chimed in, the luscious thatch of hair of his upper lip highlighting the way his mouth hitched up at the corner in amusement.

“You would be correct, Major, might I impose upon you for the use of a telephone?”

Some directions were shouted to tow your aircraft to a spare hardstand as it seemed there were replacements planes of their own expected in a few hours and you turned to address the same man Rosenthal was giving orders to – Lemmons, you believed.

“Please be careful, its not a metal skin, it’s linen.”

The look of shock on the boy’s cherubic face framed by copious curls spilling from beneath his knit cap finally broke your control, a small grin sneaking onto your lips as Major Rosenthal led you over to his jeep. Unclipping your parachute from your waist, you tossed it and your flight bag into the back, sliding into your passenger’s seat and finally feeling the ability to relax somewhat.

“Over seven hundred flights?” He glanced at you as he drove, and you nodded softly.

“There are a lot of planes needing to be moved around this island.”

“And here I thought my boys had it rough needing to hit thirty…” He shook his head, driving past the control toward a sea of the all-too-familiar Nissen huts that populated every airfield you had ever visited.

“Ferry flights and combat missions are in no way comparable, Major, the worst thing I face up there is usually English weather.”

The pair of you shared a laugh as he pulled up in front of a long row of buildings. “My CO will want to talk with you, unexpected guest and all.”

“Of course, caused quite the ruckus didn’t I.” You laughed ruefully, sliding from the jeep to collect your gear, startled as he beat you to it.

“Follow me.” He nodded warmly, holding open the door to lead you inside.

After a brief meeting with a very busy Colonel Jeffrey where he put ‘Rosie’ at your disposal, you were ushered into an empty office to use the telephone and contact your superiors. Providing a detailed report of your flight, you were instructed to sit tight pending further directions – most likely an RAF repair crew would be dispatched to try and get the plane operational, but they were also loathe to keep you grounded and out of the rotation for too long. Providing them with Jeffrey’s secretary’s number as the point of contact, you stepped out of the office to find Major Rosenthal waiting patiently in the hallway.

“You must be starving…”

“I would not say no to some food, by any means.” You smirked and followed him back out to the jeep for the short drive to the officer’s mess. “You sure its alright for me to eat in here? RAF doesn’t usually…”

“I insist.” He nodded and opened the door for you once more.

With a grateful nod, you stepped into the space flooded with natural light where row on row of tables covered in crisp white linens stood empty. Given that it was an odd hour for a meal, somewhere between breakfast and lunch, it was no surprise that you were practically alone in there. A server in a white coat quickly approached and Major Rosenthal looked to you to place your order from the choices on offer before requesting just a coffee for himself, pulling out a chair for you to sit before setting your kit in the empty chair beside you.

“This is really quite civilized, thank you again. I apologize that I’m not really dressed for the occasion…”

He chuckled warmly and shook his head. “You look prettier than me after I fly, though I’m quite confident you start out that way, too.” He winked and you smiled shyly, busying yourself with laying your napkin across your lap.

Major Rosenthal was not the first handsome airman to cross your path in your line of work, there had been countless men who had either jeered or flattered you. But after opening your heart to several early on and promptly losing them to a ruthless enemy, you had learned better than to let yourself fall for such girlish stupidity again.

“Having a second breakfast Rosie? Oh…oh I’m sorry I didn’t see you were entertaining…”

“No apologies Croz, one of the lovely ladies of the Air Transport Auxiliary dropped in for a visit.” He grinned and introduced you properly to his friend and Group Navigator Harry Crosby who was apparently only finishing his breakfast now.

“A pleasure, well I’ll leave you two to it. Make sure Rosie tells you about his love of jazz.” His knowing grin at his friend drew an exasperated exhale from Rosenthal, but before he could protest, the server was returning with food and hot beverages that were fit to make your mouth water and Crosby had disappeared.

“I don’t think I realized quite how hungry I was…” You murmured, fixing your drink to your liking before seizing your utensils to dive in.

“Well then, please, enjoy.” He leaned back, cradling his cup in his hands to allow you to enjoy your meal.

After a few bites, once you were feeling somewhat less ravenous, you tilted your head. “Artie Shaw or Benny Goodman?”

He raised an eyebrow slowly before huffing an incredulous laugh. “Artie Shaw, if I must.”

You nodded thoughtfully as you took a deep sip of your beverage.

“What other planes have you flown in your seven hundred ferry flights?” He parried with a question of his own.

“Oh, all sorts - Tiger Moths, Hurricanes, Mosquitos, Spitfires.”

He nodded thoughtfully, smoothing the edge of his moustache with his forefinger. “Favorite plane to fly?” He inquired.

“To fly? Spitfire, without a doubt.” You answered easily, licking a bit of food from your upper lip. “That plane knows what I want it to do before I even think it. Landing however…one the test pilots famously said, ‘she’s a lady in the air but a bi–’” you quickly cut yourself off with a rueful twist of your lips “she’s something else ‘on the ground.’” You finished the quote with more appropriate language inserted.

Rosenthal’s eyes danced with mirth as he enjoyed a hearty laugh at that and you could not help but notice the reddish hue to the whiskers on his upper lip, highlighted by the sunlight streaming in the windows. You wondered if that was where he had gotten the nickname ‘Rosie.’ Jarring yourself from such dangerous thoughts, you quickly turned back to your meal and peppered him with more questions about American jazz greats, enjoying the way he enthusiastically and engagingly spoke about the various band leaders he preferred and why before turning back to you with further questions about your service in the ATA and life before that. Conversation came dangerously easy between the two of you, an undeniable overlap of interests and motivation to contribute.

You were admittedly attracted to the man as well, but for the sake of your sanity, that was something you were going to have to set aside for as long as he continued his brave yet perilous missions over enemy territory. The mess gradually began to fill as true lunch time arrived, your meal and his coffee long finished, and you were about to get up and find somewhere else to wait out the repair crew when one of the servers approached with a message that they had already arrived and were looking for you.

A short drive to the hardstand revealed the four RAF men hard at work on the Wellington under the curious eye of Lemmons and others who were occasionally drifting by.

“When I get my hands on whatever git did this to this poor Wimpy…” You could hear the threats and grumblings emanating from inside the fuselage and pressed your lips together, hoping it was the previous repairperson they had it out for and not you.

“Gentlemen?” You popped your head into the bomber and were greeted by several flustered men.

“Ah there you are Ma’am, how on earth did you keep this lobotomized plane in the air for so long?!”

“Well you know, a good old Wimpy can always get you home…or at least a friendly field.”

“We’ve got…a good few hours ahead of us but then I think you’ll be able to finish the last leg of the journey.”

“Thank you very much, I’m sorry to take you away from your more pressing work. Can I get you anything?”

“Crew Chief Lemmons has been very helpful, Ma’am, but thank you.”

You offered the young man a smile of thanks over your shoulder before shuffling over to set your belongings on the grass. The afternoon was fair, the weather still warm, so you figured it was as good a place as any to wait it out. To your surprise and pleasure, Rosenthal settled onto the ground beside you, picking up your conversation right where you left off as you listened to the men work through the thin skin of the aircraft, watching the sun make its way to the western sky to sink toward the horizon.

“You know, Major, you really ought to come visit London some time. We may not have Artie Shaw or Benny Goodman live in concert but there’s still a great deal of jazz to be enjoyed.”

“Please, you can call me Rosie if you’d like.” He smiled softly and you nodded in response, not wanting to have been so bold without his permission. “You stationed that close that you can just pop into the jazz clubs?”

You nodded quickly. “White Waltham, near Windsor Castle. Very short train ride. Used to fly with the Spitfire girls out of Southampton but I wanted a chance to fly the twin engines…maybe even someday I’ll get inside a Halifax or a Lanc…but that was definitely not going to happen in a ferry pool right next to the Spitfire factory flying only short-range flights.”

“These four engine beasts are definitely a whole other ball game,” He gestured with a thumb over his shoulder towards a B-17 looming behind him, dwarfing the Wellington with is height and breadth “would you still be alone?”

“ATA sends a flight engineer on four engine flights, but no co-pilot.”

He nodded thoughtfully, looking about to add something when the RAF repair crew suddenly emerged, grinning in satisfaction.

“Should be all set Ma’am, care to give it a whirl?”

Nodding quickly, you looked to your companion softly. “Thank you very much for an unexpectedly pleasant standby, Rosie.”

“My pleasure.” He responded with a grin, sliding to his feet and holding out his hand to pull you to yours.

Clipping your parachute in place on the back of your thighs, you slid on your helmet before climbing into the aircraft to try starting the engines. Running through an extended pre-flight check with one of the maintenance crew, they cleared you for take off, Rosie waving to you before driving off in the direction of the control tower. Beginning to taxi out, you could not help the grin as he returned to guide you down the runway, pulling off into the grass and waving once again from where he stood in the driver’s seat of his jeep.

Opening the cockpit window you shouted down to him, “See you in London, Rosie!” before taking off to the sound of his laughter.

To your delight, Rosie heeded your suggestion and made the trip to London – several times in fact, over the course of the winter, otherwise keeping in touch with you via letter. Despite the logical, cautious part of your brain demanding that you keep your feelings for him at bay, feelings that constantly threatened to swell and overwhelm you with each passing meeting and letter, you still found yourself constantly fretting for his safety. Awaiting his next contact, the next proof of life, with bated breath and firmly denied distraction whenever a friend or colleague would tease you about it.

How utterly rude it was of fate to throw such a perfect specimen in your path. Particularly one that could so very easily be taken away with the same rapidity. For not only was he breathtakingly handsome, but his understated confidence and capability in all things so far encountered simply made you yearn to discover his more hidden talents. To have survived so long in an occupation where the life expectancy was six-weeks, just forty-two days, and then sign up for a second tour after meeting his mission quota – yes, he’d had luck on his side thus far, but you had seen luck abandon far too many in the last few years.

The driving pace of your own worked helped distract you, undertaking training in the four engine Halifax bomber in December before the calendar turned to January 1945, and then onto February. Your commanding officer soon indicated you had nearly accumulated enough hours to begin flying Lancasters – much to your delight and eager anticipation. The pace of the production and demand on the frontlines required more ferry pilots for the British answer to the B-17 and you were more than ready to meet the challenge head on.

Not far into the month, however, you found yourself stranded near Diss on a weather delay, unable to fly back to White Waltham. With no trains until the next morning, you decided to hitch a ride to Thorpe Abbotts to take Rosie up on his standing offer to ‘drop by anytime.’ What greeted you, however, was a very concerned looking Crosby and no Rosie in sight. Sitting you down in the same spare office you had used to call in your emergency landing last October, the obviously under-slept man seemed to be having some difficulty getting down to the point.

“Major Crosby, I can assure you I am no stranger to the variety of outcomes of aerial combat, would you mind telling me as much as you are able before you asphyxiate from lack of oxygen?” You coaxed firmly, quite certain he had not taken a breath in over a minute as he paced anxiously in front of you.

His head jerked up at the sound of your voice and he nodded once before sinking heavily into the chair opposite you before taking a deep breath, to your minor relief, and beginning to speak.

“Rosie went up on a mission on the 3rd and we’ve had no news of him since he dropped out of formation.”

Your spine went completely rigid, snapping you almost painfully upright in your chair as you nodded in a cool, detached manner at the news. This. This was precisely the reason why you had been guarding your heart and fighting your feelings and putting every moment of wonderment and each smile of adoration you felt for the man in a small internal box for safe keeping. Because this very situation had seemed so very inevitable.

So why did it still hurt so damn much.

“No news is, is usually good news in these cases but it takes a while for us to hear…. well anything.”

You gulped once, twice in rapid succession as you nodded again before clearing your throat forcefully. “Well, Major, I have to go but,” grabbing a piece of paper from the desk, you scrawled the contact number for Ferry Pool No. 1, rapidly blinking as your eyes threatened to cloud over with tears “will you call if you hear anything? That you can share of course.”

“Of course I will, did you need a ride somewhere?”

You shook your head almost violently, looking forward to the walk to the pub in Diss, a good roadside cry would fix everything surely, before you had to show your face in public. Practically dashing out of there and off the base, you barely made it out of earshot of the gatehouse before your tears bubbled over. Fine lot of good all your cautious and careful planning had done you – you had been half a person in Rosie’s presence only to have the very emotions you willfully denied snap back at you tenfold now that he might very well be…and you never once got to see how his eyes might light up if you had told him how you really felt. Feel.

All the logic in the world could not save you now as you blindly sobbed your way towards town, stubbornly wiping at your nose with your handkerchief. If you had really lost him, a very real possibility that twisted your gut painfully and drew an extremely dramatic series of hitching sobs from your breast, he had deserved better. He had deserved to know that he was cherished and admired rather than just a friend to you, and on that front, you had failed so miserably you just might never forgive yourself.

The weeks of watchful waiting were long and painful. No news came, no messages awaited you at Pool Headquarters, no gossip on the bases you visited. Until the morning of the 26th when, to your great relief, and amusement, you learned that the man was alive and well, enjoying a hero’s stay in Moscow, of all places. The newspaper article quoting the absurd volume of vodka he had endured consuming brought a long-absent smile to your face and lightness to your chest, the news beating Major Crosby’s phone call by, at most, thirty minutes. All as you were on your way with your flight engineer to your first routine Lancaster ferry flight.

Climbing into the cockpit, you took the brief moment of solitude to close your eyes, inhaling deeply as you whispered words of gratitude to whatever higher entities had clearly been watching over him. Perhaps luck was never going to run out for Robert Rosenthal. Clearly you were a fool for thinking that was the eventuality here.

“Ma’am?” The timid voice of your flight engineer, Naylor – though everyone called him Tiny Tim for the young man hardly ever spoke above a whisper, pierced through your thoughts and you jolted back to reality quickly, offering him a reassuring smile.

“Let’s pop over to Wales and deliver this bird, shall we?” You did your best to display nothing but confidence in the task before you.

He smiled back with a nod, just as eager as you to get this great beast of a plane into the air. To say that heavies became the primary planes on your delivery roster would have been an overstatement, but they were most definitely a constant. As was the ever-present thought that someday soon you would find yourself face-to-face with Rosie once again and just how to handle that day of reckoning was certainly something you found impossible to decide upon.

Should you confess and apologize on sight? Wait for a few weeks for him to settle back into life on base before unloading your feelings onto him? Or continue on as you had before? The way your stomach plummeted like a wounded bird at the last option was a clear illustration of how impossible it would be to pretend you simply regarded him as a friend. But there was a growing fear as well. For all of your focus on concealing and compartmentalizing your own feelings, you had not once allowed yourself to consider how he might feel for you. Aside from some flattering comments that may have been construed as flirtatious, he had never displayed anything but the highest calibre of warmth and social graces towards you. But you found yourself constantly pondering just how Rosie might react to a confession of what had flickered into an irrepressible blaze in your chest.

In the end, you spent more time sitting with those concerns than those for his very well being, the unseasonable warmth of February continuing on into March, with more sunny days than you had grown accustomed to after living in England for so long. April was only a few days away on the calendar when your next ferry run took to you St. Mawgan to deliver a Lancaster to the RAF Overseas Aircraft Despatch Unit. Where exactly the aircraft’s journey would end was a point of mystery and you were admittedly envious of the pilot who would sit in the lefthand seat next and take it beyond the relative safety of England’s shores – territory that was strictly off limits to you as both a civilian and especially as a woman.

Parting with your flight Engineer Martens in the all-female WAAF mess, the girl avidly ensconced in a conversation comparing beaus with the girls stationed in Cornwall, you headed back out to pick up a damaged Spitfire that had just arrived from France, desperately in need of a visit to the repair depot. In the process of inspecting the aircraft, to ensure you knew precisely what damage you would be needing to overcome, a remarkably familiar voice broke through your concentration.

“She certainly still looks like a lady on the ground…rather mistreated, but definitely a lady nonetheless.”

Straightening and turning far too quickly, you cracked your head on the underside of the fuselage, earning a look of sympathy as his hands cupped your shoulders to pull you closer, out of danger of inflicting further harm to yourself.

“Rosie…” You whispered, staring at him, unable to stop your fingers from reaching out to brush his cheek, to confirm he was real.

The muscles of his face crinkled beneath your touch as he broke out into a smile, an expression you immediately echoed despite the unbidden prick of tears in the corners of your eyes.

“Hi there.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed sharply, face growing slightly solemn as he lay his hand atop yours, pressing your palm fully against his warm skin. “I’ve been a complete fool, and I’m not sure if you can forgive me.” You tilted your head, brows furrowing in bewilderment. “The world out there is dead set on tearing itself apart and I…” His tongue darted out to wet his lips nervously, an emotion you were quite confident you had never seen overcome him before. “The entire time I was struggling to get back here just to tell you. To tell you how much I care for you. You are much more than just a friend to me, and I was an idiot to think I was okay with putting this off until the war was over.”

Eyes widening as the man seemed to be stealing the very thoughts from your head and putting them into words before you even had the chance, you sniffled playful and wiped at a stray tear that had managed to sneak down your cheek. “Don’t you go taking all the credit now, Robert.” You chided warmly, earning a stunned look from him in return. “It has taken two complete fools to deny what we’ve become, wouldn’t you say?”

Huffing a soft laugh, Rosie conceded your point with a nod as he grasped the unbuckled ends of your leather flying helmet, tugging your face closer. “I love you, you incredible woman.”

Taking a notably shaky inhale, you nodded quickly, a few more tears spilling over. “I love you, too, Rosie.” You struggled to speak around the knot of emotions in your throat, fully intending to reciprocate with some sweet term of endearment, not quite certain you could manage.

Mercifully, his lips had the grace to press against yours and save you from trying to say anything more. Grasping the fleece collar of his bomber jacket, you pressed closer in the shadow of the plane you ought to be inspecting, but the Spitfire was doing a fine job of shielding you from prying eyes and five more minutes in the arms of the man you loved – yes, it was love – and had been separated from could easily be made up courtesy of the stiff tail wind you expected on your flight to Southampton.

The rasp of his facial hair made you shiver at the slightly ticklish sensation as he maintained a firm grip on your straps, delivering kiss after kiss as if to make up for lost time. An uncontrollable grin stretched across your lips, making it nearly impossible for him to continue and so he shifted to focus on erasing any trace of tears from your cheeks, only encouraging your grin to curl wider until you were simultaneously giggling and trembling at the feel of his moustache against your jaw.

“Someday, we’ll have a lot more time, and I’m going to spend every second of it kissing you…” His eyes were filled with a fiery intensity that made it awfully difficult to draw breath and you shifted forward to press your lips to his flushed cheek in turn.

“I’m going to hold you to that, Robert Rosenthal.” You nodded firmly as you pulled back, arching sharply as his hands slid to rest against your shoulder blades, his mouth landing on yours fiercely.

“First Officer, are you quite ready?!” The shrill bark of an encroaching member of St. Mawgan’s ground crew wrenched the pair of you apart as effectively as a physical intervention, a shared look of reluctance passing between you as you quickly straightened your clothing.

You noticed his eyes flick to your shoulders to admire your new rank badges.

“You’ve been busy.” He murmured and you smiled with quiet pride.

“Fly Lancasters now, too.” You nodded and pointed over his shoulder to the plane you had flown in that morning before turning to address your intruder as he called your name once more. “Nearly ready, thank you so much for your patience!” You poured on the sweetness in your tone, noting the way Rosie’s eyes narrowed slightly as they returned to your face.

Biting back a giggle you blew him a kiss before emerging around the nose to greet the harried RAF man. “Major Rosenthal of the USAAF has never seen a Spitfire before, he asked me to show him around.”

“Thank you again for your indulgence, Ma’am, they are definitely fine planes. But I will let you get on with it.” Rosie played his part admirably, the set of the intruder’s shoulders easing somewhat.

“Yes, yes, well we need you out of here in five.” He turned to look at the clipboard in his hand and your gaze met Rosie’s once more.

“It was my pleasure, Major. I’d best be off.”

“Of course.” He nodded firmly, eyes remaining locked on yours as he mouthed ‘love you’ making your heart lurch erratically for a few beats as you mouthed it back. “Safe flight.” You spoke aloud.

“You as well.”

Noting the RAF man was once again paying attention to his surroundings, you turned to finish your quick once over of the plane before stepping up onto the wing and slotting into the narrow cockpit before pulling the side flap closed and starting the engine. Once the coast was clear, you blew one last kiss to Rosie, laughing brightly as he made quite a show of catching it and tucking it into his pocket.

“Until next time!” He shouted and you nodded brightly, pulling the canopy closed.

Because there most definitely would be a next time for you and your man of endless luck, and that was something that you no longer wished to deny.

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

Masters of the Air Masterlist

Postscript - thank you ever so much to @precious-little-scoundrel for proofreading this for me!!

[sgiandubh]

Autopsy of a gay lie: the Wikipedia trail

“You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you can not fool all of the people all of the time.”

― Abraham Lincoln

For starters, sorry for the length and numerous screencaps. It is an investigation, after all and these are sorely needed.

Never underestimate the conjugated power of Internet, a Sunday afternoon and the lightbulb moment that can happen while baking something, because you know, people have also to reward themselves at some point.

I might have fucked up my foolproof Lemon Squares recipe, but I regret nothing. It took me three hours I could have gratefully used to finish that spirits post, but this is too damn good not to share.

Remember Meow Kabob's cross my heart and hope to die pinky swear she found confirmation of Data Lounge's allegations on Wikipedia, out of all places? How she regularly unburies that infamous screenshot listing S under the Wiki "Gay Actors" category? How she told us, filthy and uneducated shipper mob, over and over again, that story about STARZ people scouring the Internet far and wide and scrubbing any gay reference related to S, as soon or shortly after he was cast as JAMMF?

I can confidently prove now Lincoln's perennial truths I quoted above apply to this situation.

I was just pouring my lemon juice, eggs, flour and sugar mix over the hot and nutty shortbread when I stopped in my tracks: 'wait a second, isn't Wikipedia an open source project? BUT OF COURSE IT IS, SILLY COW - yes, I very often talk to myself like that. RUN. NOW. I HAVE TO KNOW.'

Sure enough, like death and taxes, the full edit list of S's Wikipedia page was there for everyone to see:

Even better, since Internet is forever, we have full access to all these edits and can take screenshots.

This is how Sam's Wikipedia odissey started, on November 11th 2007, when he was the complete underdog:

A ' strapping lad with natural dark blonde hair and 6'2'' tall', ideal for the role of Alexander the Great - pious silence and RIP. I grinned, because it sounds well, naïve? It also sounds gay, perhaps? What else does it prove, other than the gay crowd has an acute interest for novelty and a wandering eye?

Nothing. Not even remotely related to S.

Also, note the two classification categories: British TV actor stubs/ British actor stubs. Mark them, they stayed still and alone for a looooong time.

Up until 2009, in fact, when the wikientry was no longer considered a stub and even got several category additions:

Then again, some movin' on up, on that semi-dormant page, in 2013. Totes normal:

By early 2014, even more interest in S commands an expanded webpage and a longer, more detailed, category listing:

Let's quickly peruse 2015...

2016...

The incorrect Irish descent category stayed there for about ten days, until removed by another user. This is how it is done and it is then added to the list:

2017, 2018, 2019, early 2020, no change in the categories, but all hell broke lose content-wise. From Cirdan, the 'estranged brother' acting in a very gay connotated theatre production I have never heard about, in London, September 2016...

...... to a woman named Tiffany Trach who used to dream the impossible dream, in October 2016 (and she was not the only one, far from it)...

...to some halfwit being rightfully slapped for adding brainless Flukenzie Floozy content in March 2017:

By that time, I was getting supremely bored clicking on links and wanted to pack the tent and throw my lemon squares in the trash bin. But, lo and behold, what do I see on January 26th 2020:

With the tag possible vandalism:

Whodunnit?

A very brave person, hiding under a string of random numbers...

... and one single contribution EVER to the Wikipedia juggernaut. This is what I would call a targeted attack:

It stayed like that, unmolested, for five days only, until the user Spiderpig662 decided enough is enough and did something about it...

....categories being then restored to the previous wording:

The last vicious gay reference on Wikipedia dates back to May 28th 2020 (Ha-wa-wee, anyone?), was labeled as 'hate speech' & promptly removed:

Where wuffter is, in British Cockney slang:

Same modus operandi, this time an IP address, pinging in (you simply can't make this shit up, can you?)...

County Durham, FYI.

I then asked myself when exactly did Meow Kabob appear on Tumblr?

Even more exactly, on...

That is, to say the least, a troubling coincidence.

I do not imply anything, I have no wish to attack anyone. All I am saying, is that particular argument, which this user is shouting anytime she is prompted to, had a very short online lifespan. How could an American woman, who appeared in this fandom shortly afterwards, have known about changes operated for five days only, by an unknown user, on the open source webpage of a B-listed British actor?

I have only one question, Your Honor:

WHY?

I rest my case.

[Edit]: To make it maybe more clear, I now know where the person adding that category lives, thanks to Wikipedia's own tracking system:

No surprises here:

Augusta. Georgia. USA.

Now, yes. Now I rest my case.

[technicolorfamiliar]

Well, it took me a year, but I watched a billion 50+ Conrad Veidt films. Some good, some great, some so bad that I hope I never have to see them again.

This post is a stand in for the entire second half of this filmic journey -- I'll link the original 5 posts that make up the first part below. But instead of reposting all of my reviews for all of these titles (the original posts for these are on Pillowfort), I'll just share some highlights below the cut.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5

Bleaker and darker than I expected, but that makes sense if it's based on a WWI memoir. What happened to Martha was legitimately awful and hard to watch. Stilted performances aside, I would have also liked a whole separate movie about the lesbian spy aunt. But Commandant Oberaertz... [redacted]. He's so hot, despite the character being absolutely awful and creepy and intimidating. I actually said "wow" out loud about his body shape in that costume. That jacket is fitted within a millimeter of its life. How many other films did Connie use this lower register in? Not many, right? It's too much, TOO MUCH. I think this movie took ten years off my life.

I Was a Spy, 1933

Dir. Victor Saville

⭐3/5

Watched Feb 18, Snowgrouse's masterpost

Connie's performance in this is more sympathetic than it has any right to be. The movie very easily could have been sensationalist garbage, and I'm so glad it was handled with relative care and humanity. I liked his whole vibe, I am not immune to party boy Rasputin's charms; "he's got the kavorca, the lure of the animal!" He looks like he stinks, which in this case may not necessarily be a bad thing. I don't even know what to make of all the cooing and baby talk he does with Alexei, or for that matter Drunk!Rasputin dancing and climbing over furniture to get at his ladies. I wish we got to see more scenes with Rasputin and the royal family, how those relationships formed and affected matters of state. We only really get to know about any of that through dialogue among other court officials. And so the emotional turn at the ending was unexpected. The way he cried out after being shot, I've never heard a sound like that come from a human being. Needless to say I did not feel great when the movie ended, but I liked it way more than I thought I would.

Rasputin, Dämon der Frauen, 1932

Dir. Adolf Trotz

⭐3/5

Watched Mar 23, Archive.org

Almost all the performances in this are pretty excellent. The stripped back, realistic style with handheld, newsreel camerawork really suits these actors and the story. Apparently this is a remake of an English film which is based on a play, and it definitely feels like a play. I'm fascinated by this little movie, it's basically an anti-war film about British soldiers in WWI produced in Germany in the early 30s… how did this even get made?? Messages about the horrors of war aside, the homoerotic undertones (overtones?) alone make this a truly unique piece of storytelling for the time and place it was filmed. And those under/overtones are treated pretty respectfully, none of these men are the butt of a joke, how they are with one another is handled with a naturalism that isn't really seen again until maybe the 1950s. And Connie. The range. Can we talk about Stanhope? He's a gruff, messy drunk, a traumatized, hollowed out husk of a man. When Osbourne says something like "you'll be alright when this is over," NO HE WOULDN'T, HE'D BE WORSE. His relationship with Raleigh is interesting too, clearly they were more than casual friends. I didn't believe for a second that the tension between Stanhope and Raleigh was about the sister/fiancée, it's weak, weak I tell you. It's one of Connie's most underrated performances.

Die andere Seite, 1931

Dir. Heinz Paul

⭐3.75/5

Watched Apr 27, Snowgrouse's masterpost

Everyone in this movie looks like a Rankin Bass stop motion character. The ending was abrupt as fuck, Werner Krauss' Jack the Ripper got a lot less screen time and I wonder if they just tacked that onto the end after they realized they spent too much time on Emil Jannings' and Connie's characters. There's a lot of fondling going on in this movie, there's the guy with the bread in the first part, then Connie going all glassy-eyed caressing his globes. Ivan the Terrible is a certified DIVA in that diaphanous, white robe, even with the hard middle part and scraggly beard. What is he doing with his tongue the whole time, though?? Love that he crashes some random girl's wedding, lets her father get murdered by assassins, kidnaps her AND her husband, and brings them both home to his sex dungeon. Connie is doing the most -- the eyes, the gestures, all the greatest hits from his silent film acting tool box, he's whipping them out for this role.

Das Wachsfigurenkabinett (Waxworks), 1924

Dir. Paul Leni, Leo Birinski

⭐2/5

Watched May 29, Archive.org

I didn't like this movie, I just wanted an excuse to post this screenshot. But it actually is a very silly little movie, with what must have been an enormous budget for costumes and sets, and it has some cute physical comedy. Sadly, Connie's in too little of the film to save it from being obnoxious. I did like the Czar's body double who just wanted to work on his needlepoint, and the Court Spanker who was clearly really into his job. And of course Metternich, that sly dog, that velvet-clad scamp. Between the all the foxy, gap-toothed grinning he does and the way he's going to town on that dialogue, he is as always a pleasure to watch. The English version is on Youtube somewhere, so I may go through that and pick out the time stamps for Connie's scenes because I don't think I could sit through this whole movie again, especially not that stupid fucking "Wien und der Wein" song, jesus christ.

Der Kongress tanzt, 1931

Dir. Erik Charell

⭐2/5

Watched Jun 23, Snowgrouse's masterpost

Apparently this movie was considered a flop, and Connie wasn't super happy with this role and others around this time. I think I must have had that info in the back of my mind somewhere going into this movie, because my expectations were pretty low. So, as usual, I actually wound up liking it more than I thought I would. It's a lot sillier than it has any right to be, but yeah it's ultimately a piece of fluff compared to some of the other heavy-hitting films on this list. I love when Connie has a comedic foil like the Marius character, but it could have been a lot better if the dialogue was snappier and the timing tighter. And Connie's character promises to be this bad bitch at the top of the movie, but all we get is one quick, poorly choreographed sword fight and a whole bunch of nothing after that. There's all this build up, I mean, the character is nicknamed The Black Death, and the movie never really lets the character live up to the name. It's a missed opportunity for sure. That said, the Puffy Shirt with the open collar "ensconced in velvet" (to risk yet more Seinfeld references), jaunty hat, knee-high boots with spurs look is really doing it for me. And THERE ARE PUPPIES. Perhaps the most delightful thing that has ever happened in cinematic history. I couldn’t believe it. Connie picked up the first puppy and said, "You big boy, you!" and I hate him, like full Madeline Kahn Mrs. White "flames… on the side of my face." I hate him so much.

Under the Red Robe, 1937

Dir. Victor Seastrom

⭐2.5/5

Watched Jul 17, Youtube

[ollieoliveoboelo22]

Benjamin Tallmadge is a Pretty Boy

Because I have nothing better to do with my time, I have tracked down as many quotes mentioning Tallmadge's appearance. These come from months of research, and I know I definitely missed a few. I'm not trying to start another TURN sexy man war, I just have to share these because some of them are funny.

"Tallmadge is one of the most attractive and dashing figures of our revolutionary history… A sketch of him by Colonel Trumbull, shows, under the plumed helmet of the Dragoon, a high-bred sensitive face, clear-eyed, confident and gallant.” -The History of the Town of Litchfield, Connecticut by Alain Campbell White. Page 86

"The picturesque figure of Col. Tallmadge directs attention to him in particular. Henry Ward Beecher wrote of him: ‘How well do we remember the stately gait of the venerable Colonel of Revolutionary memory!’… Col. L. W. Wessells has also left us a boy's impression of him: ‘When a small boy, I have often seen him on horseback, a remarkably handsome figure and splendid horseman.’” White, Pages 135-136

“When Lyman Beecher came to Litchfield in March, 1810, he was entertained by the leading members of the parish. ‘Colonel Tallmadge has just arrived from [Washington],’ Beecher wrote to his wife, ‘to spend a few days. I was invited to take tea with him, and had an agreeable evening. He is over six feet in height, and large in proportion; in countenance and bearing resembling Washington. He is polite and acquainted with men, and his wife and daughters are pious and accomplished.’” -Benjamin Tallmadge by Charles Swain Hall. Page 262

" Col. William Smith Livingston possessed great physical strength, and with Col. Benjamin Tallmadge, had the reputation of being the handsomest man in the Revolutionary Army. They were second cousins” - The Talmadge, Tallmadge, and Talmage genealogy. Page 88

"His person was rather above the ordinary stature, well proportioned, dignified and commanding. His step even in last years was firm and elastic, his body erect, and his whole carriage possessed a military dignity, in which was combined the model of both the soldier and the gentleman.” - Sermon on Tallmadge's funeral. Found in Memoir of Colonel Benjamin Tallmadge edited by Henry Phelps Johnston. Page 145

“Tallmadge a bold and dashing officer, would run what today would be called a department of military intelligence. Tallmadge, according to one of his soldiers, ‘was a large, strong, and powerful man and rode a large bay horse which he took from the British. He was a brave officer, and there was no flinch in him. He was a man of few words, but decided and energetic, and what he was to the purpose.’” - George Washington, Spymaster by Thomas Allen. Pages 50-52

“He [Tallmadge] was over six feet in height, and large in proportion; in countenance and bearing resembling Washington, with whom he was a favorite.” - The autobiography of Lyman Beecher. Page 148

“In 1810 the spirit of '76 was not seriously dimin ished, and many of the principal actors in the stirring scenes of the Revolutionary struggle were still alive. Colonel Tallmadge, one of the most dashing and able cavalry officers of the army." - A biography of Rev. Henry Ward Beecher. Page 35

“A young, handsome officer, attired in a dashing dragoon’s uniform, renowned for his combat exploits, Tallmadge was highly popular with the young women of Patriot disposition.” - General Washington's Commando by Richard Welch

“Tallmadge’s interests in women extended far beyond the issue of their education. Affable, good-looking and flirtatious, he had a keen eye for female beauty, and was attractive to and attracted by many young women, whose names, or descriptions, appear frequently in his letters.” ^ I don't have page numbers for these two because kindle is weird

“Benjamin Tallmadge, a gallant young major whose curls always seemed to be escaping beneath his sharp dragoon helmet, was still rather green, but his keenest of mind was apparent to everyone who met him.” - George Washington’s Secret Six, by Brian Kilmeade. Page 35.

In addition, are several novels and historical fiction that include Tallmadge and also call him pretty. I'm only going to put one here, but there are a few.

“Benjamin Tallmadge. A youth of seventeen years, six feet one inch in height, strong and well built.… His face was attractive” - Brinton Eliot: From Yale to Yorktown by James Farmer. Page 16.

And here are the links to Internet Archive

https://archive.org/details/historyoftownofl1920whit/page/86/mode/1up

https://archive.org/details/benjamintallmadg0000char/page/262/mode/2up?q=six

https://archive.org/details/talmadgetallmadg00intalm/page/88/mode/2up

https://archive.org/details/memoirofcolonelb027409mbp/page/n239/mode/2up

https://archive.org/details/georgewashington00alle_0/page/50/mode/1up

https://archive.org/details/johnharvardlibra0000barb/page/148/mode/1up?q=Tallmadge

https://archive.org/details/biographyofrevhe00beecuoft/page/35/mode/1up

[lyledebeast]

Why Ohio? Queerness and Privacy in The Patriot

Since I learned last week that Roland Emmerich is gay, I’ve been revisiting a lot of my thoughts on queerness in The Patriot.  It is a deeply bigoted text; as Emmerich’s 2015 racist, transphobic account of the Stonewall riots goes to show, queer people are not immune to making bigoted art.  But some things that I questioned the intentionality of seem a bit more intentional now.  My going assumption before I learned this was that Colonel Tavington’s queerness is part of what makes him a villain.  Since the entirety of the film’s claim that Benjamin Martin is a good man and not just another brutal thug like Tavington rests on his family, it made sense that Tavington existing outside the scope of heteronormative domesticity went hand in hand with his brutal behavior.  Now, I wonder if maybe Tavington’s sexuality can be seen to inform his ruthlessness in a more thoughtful way.

Obviously, this is not a main focal point of the film.  On the surface, Tavington commits these fearsome acts because he believes they are necessary to subjugate the civilian population and assure a British victory in the war.  Victory is important to him personally because it carries with it the promise of land, to which wealth and power--”esteem,” as Cornwallis and Tavingon have it--were very much tied in the 18th Century. However, another privilege such esteem carried with it was privacy, and for a queer man in a culture where consensual sex acts between men were punishable by death, privacy was key. Tavington has lost his access to all of these through his father’s irresponsibility. In his present life, he has little privacy. He is surrounded by men in the prime of their lives, but also by the constant threat of violence, and not only from enemy combatants. The British Army was notoriously liberal with punishments, administering public floggings for infractions deemed far more minor than sodomy.  Considering the complete lack of support Tavington appears to have from his fellow officers, one has to question how much security being a colonel actually affords him. Tavington lives within this matrix of desire, fear, and punitive violence in addition to his financial insecurity.  Perhaps he is the most ruthless officer under Cornwallis’s command because he is the officer who faces the direst threats.

None of this, apart from Tavington’s motivation of regaining his status, is addressed in the script, but that does not mean it is irrelevant. to the film. The  director and actors’ choices are just as important to the final product as the writers.’ There are visual cues that both clue the audience in to Tavington’s sexuality and offer insights about how it impacts his behavior.  Not only is the film’s director gay, but Jason Isaacs had already played a couple of gay characters at this point in his career, most notably Louis Ironson in the 1993-1994 run of Angels in America at the National Theatre, and in Sweet November, released shortly after The Patriot, he plays a drag queen. There are noticeable similarities between Tavington and Michael Ryan, the young gangster Isaacs plays in the 1995 television series Dangerous Lady. Michael is violent and ruthless, but at the same time vulnerable on the topic of his sexuality.  That for most of the time in which the series is set, the 1950s to the 1980s, homosexual acts between consenting adults over 21 were legal makes little difference in his Irish Catholic community. While Tavington’s sexuality is less narratively important than these other characters,’ it adds nuance to the rare shows of vulnerability in Isaacs’ performance.

Two brief scenes in particular allude to Tavington’s queerness and the necessity for privacy it creates.  One opens on him thoughtfully examining a blossom.  “This is beautiful country,” he observes quietly. “Everything grows.”  This is the most relaxed we ever see him. The camera shifts to his subordinate, Captain Wilkins, who is anything but relaxed, looking around worriedly as though he fears someone may be watching when a piercing scream comes from a militia prisoner being tortured in the house nearby. When Tavington walks in the direction of the sound, Wilkins behind him, he camera shifts to a wide angle, revealing that they have been standing in a large cornfield, some stalks even higher than the men’s heads.  The realization that they have been hiding from the rest of the regiment together gives us insights into both Tavington’s relaxation and Wilkins’ anxiety. Between the two of them, Tavington seems to have had more experience with such encounters.  

Wilkins’ presence is a significate departure from Robert Rodat’s original 1999 script, which includes a scene of Tavington lounging on a hillside inspecting a flower as his dragoons bring him a militia prisoner to torture, but he is alone.  The filmed scene reveals a discrepancy between Tavington’s words and his actions.  When they first meet, he contemptuously refers to Wilkins as “another Colonial” and asks him, “How can I trust a man who would betray his neighbors?”  Enough to commit “crimes against nature” in nature with him, apparently.  Not only does Tavington trust Wilkins, but he trusts his surroundings more than he probably should.  This scene follows the burning of Charlotte Selton’s plantation, and the militia appeared seemingly from nowhere to rescue her and the children.  The cornfield by this house, which probably also belongs to a Patriot family, is large enough to hide more than just two horny dragoon officers.

Tavington’s comfort in this scene becomes even more ironic when we consider how deeply uncomfortable he appears as he gets his wound treated.    The tent is completely empty apart from Tavington and the orderly, which is odd in itself.  Even if there has not been a recent battle, there would be other soldiers being treated for illnesses and injuries in the infirmary.  Receiving treatment in private is not enough to calm Tavington’s worries.  He is watching the tent’s other entrance when General Cornwallis comes in and turns quickly, startled, when he hears him speak.  That he is still wearing his shirt, awkwardly holding it up as the orderly ties his bandages, speaks to his wariness as well. The wound is on Tavington’s side.  When a slash on Gabriel’s chest is treated earlier in the film, taking his shirt off is the first step.  The only reason for Tavington to still be wearing his is that he wants to expose as little skin as possible.  Anyone walking by either entrance can look in and, possibly, get the wrong idea. Tavington is not only hiding to avoid seeming weak but also to avoid seeming guilty.  In what should be the safest place in the colony for a British officer, he is as anxious as we ever see him.

That he is more relaxed with a Colonials in a cornfield than in a British tent secure enough for Cornwallis himself to visit tells us more than just how dangerous Army life was for a man like him.  It exposes the need for privacy at the core of his motivations.  When Cornwallis gives him the opportunity to choose land for himself, he asks not for the “beautiful country” on the banks of the Santee but for Ohio.  On the surface, the intent here seems to be showing Tavington’s greed, but size is likely not the only attraction it holds for him. Ohio was not a colony at this point in history; it was still mostly populated by indigenous people. The absence of civilization by British standards could be a deterrent for many gentlemen, but for Tavington it represents an exciting possibility.  Ohio exists on the margins of British society, just like him, and where there is little British cultural infiltration, the British legal system has little enforcement. In Ohio, Tavington could not only have land and power, but he could also enjoy a level of freedom hitherto unknown: the ultimate privacy.

This underlying vulenrability does not make Tavington less of a villain, but it certainly makes him something more than an American straight WASP dad’s boogeyman. Although the scenes I discuss here are absent from the film’s theatrical release, they did not simply wind up on the cutting room floor.  The extended cut adds them back to the film, and they are included as deleted scenes on the original DVD release.  They are important to the film because Tavington is an important character, and these scenes capture Emmerich and Isaacs’ efforts to present a nuanced 18th century man who, like the protagonist, has motives and anxieties beyond his stated ones.  Isaacs says of Tavington in this interview “he was a scenery-chewing, awful person, but I believed him.”  Played by a different actor, Tavington might have been nothing more than a cruel, bitchy theatre queen, fun to watch, but entirely lacking in substance. Rodat wrote a Disney villain, but Emmerich and Isaacs delivered a character whose behavior is supported by human and historically feasible reasons.

[tricornonthecob]

LK 102: The Sulfa Intolerable Acts

(pt1) (pt2) (pt3) (pt4)

Why the fuck does Lt Brampton have such a vendetta against these kids.

OMFG GET A ROOM YOU TWO also goddamn does that 14/15 year old have the proportions of a dorito.

Ah yes, the moment the Chaos Boi opens up and shows even more how much he is a Softboi. 11 year old me did not stand a chance.

oh my GOD THIS GUY HAS SUCH GOOD EQUITATION???

LOL nevermind

Ok but why is this scene going so hard. You can see the shadow where the dude's hand crosses into the light shaft. This is screaming for a redraw.

OH GOD BB JAMES

James watch out ya girl is *catching feelings*

I'm sorry this scene just about killed me as an 11 year old and its killing me now as a 31 year old.

why are his fingees so elegant. Also the animators tried REALLY hard in this frame. His proportions and anatomy aren't wonky, the foreshortening looks correct, they detailed his fucking nose, his fucking pupils are pointed in the same direction and also look like they're focusing on her, the way one ear sticks out because his head is cocked a little (even when he's being sweet he's sassy,) the way his hair is asymmetrical in a way which makes sense to gravity. The expression matches the voice acting!!

They even tried really hard in these sets of frames, too. So did the voice actor tbh.

But also OH GOD THE EMPATHY. She feels like shit for complaining about a piece of jewelry, especially to someone she's roasted before about being uncouth and uncivilized, but instead of calling her shallow like she probably expects, James instead, very gently and softly, shares that he also has a piece of jewelry he wears to remind him of lost family and shows that despite them having such different backgrounds they're really not all that different.

AND THE FUCKING HARP FLOURISH AT THE END??? How THE FUCK is this not setting everything up for the two of them to get together????

I don't know why the way they animated James here kills me but it killed me back then, too. Maybe its the confidence? Maybe its still the rush from witnessing a soft moment between two people catching feels for each other??

Lady Phillips I understand the situation is really tense for the Frillips Polycule but you are going to lose oxygen by constantly gasping for breath like that.

Your honor he's tearing this ethically non-monogamous family apart!

awww shit the Bard with 20 Charisma's about to roll with advantage

CC is wrong, he said "I Thank Mr. Wedderburn for everything he has said against me." but OH MY GOD THE DRAMA, the guy looks like in the moment he's realized what he's done, but then the pain of whatever drama went on in their relationship clouds him over once more and he is swallowed whole by a mad thirst for revenge.

They're both just like "BITCH WHAT IS YOU DOING"

"My country is America" These two are so overjoyed and relieved, but like, clearly what Benji Franx is saying can be construed so hard as Genuine Treason, so him arguing that he isn't a British Subject because the Vibes Of It All logically wouldn't hold much water in that court, so why are they relieved/overjoyed? Is Lady Phillips secretly a Whig and totally supportive of American Independence? Honestly I think she is. She wants to see the system overhauled and burnt to the ground.

Donkey Kong Country

This fucking madlad. The confidence of knowing how to make a getaway in a cask makes me think he's done this before.

How are they still conscious.

yeah girl, take command!

"y'all bitches FUCKIN' LEFT ME HERE???"

Lt. Brampton is so fucking smarmy.

fuckin raycisssts

Moses about to cry and tbh so would I

To be continued

[musewrangler]

#2, 6, 15, and 18 for the fic writer ask game, please!!

Have I mentioned before that you are the coolest for asking me things about my writing? Thank you friend. :D

2. What fanfic do I wish I got more response on?

I think that has to go to my Star Wars Western---Showdown At Alliance Ranch. I had SUCH fun with it and I really worked the research and descriptions. But it is admittedly a very niche thing, so I'm at peace with its humble hit count. :D

6. Have you written any fanfiction featuring OCs? Elaborate.

Ha. This is hilarious coming from you. You're just handing me a microphone and smirking because you KNOW about this. ;D So. Stretches fingers.

Why yes. Yes I HAVE written OCs. xD AND featured them! This is an amusing one, because when I started writing here, particularly the Empire Reimagined series, I was determined not to do any OCs. I think I found so many of them rather shoe horned in with other works and I didn't want my stories to feel like that. I liked the feel of the original canon characters. However, we all grow don't we? And it made sense in my AU to have more characters to make the galaxy more three dimensional. Doctor Henley was the first OC and there was NO WAY he was going to let me just use him and lose him. So even early in my writing, I broke this little private rule and carefully put in a few OCs. Henley, as mentioned. Then Braxten, a medic, and Sergeants Havel and Ellery.

However, in terms of FEATURING one. That didn't happen until my young friend, Matthew Scraps, showed up. I had once again written him as a nice little filler character. A newbie to interact with canon characters in a one shot. But then, I needed some characters for a short series I did featuring Commander Fox and I thought---hey. This would make sense and we've seen him before.

I'm not sure when the idea of putting him on as the head of Piett's security squad hit my brain, but when it did, I realized I had someone I had made indispensable. And then he and Piett developed this wonderful father-son energy. The rest, as they say, is history.

15. Are there words, mannerisms, phrases or scenes you tend to use a lot?

Ha there sure are. I'll try to stay brief. I love thinking of Piett and Veers as exceedingly British. I mean---the actors ARE so that shapes the way I portray them. Thus, both are fairly understated in the wonderful way that the Brits can be, especially when faced with fearful odds. ;D Veers tends to convey a great deal with his 'Iron General' persona. Piett has very expressive eyes and eyebrows so I utilize that a lot in my work. I love having him do little things like tug his jacket into place or rub at his temple to convey various emotions. I find that the way people hold their mouths is very effective with conveying feeling: chewing a lip, pressing them together, allowing the edge to curl a little, scrunching a bit in distaste etc.

In terms of scenes---I have to follow a hurt with a comfort. It may not be right away, but I find I'm not an author that can do hurt no comfort very often at all. So my fics usually have a concluding wrap up with people where they should be, a conversation that needs to happen or healing etc. I love a good confrontation scene between characters and have done a lot of those.

Phrases. Well. Piett will always call Leia 'my dear' and I like that he uses Scraps' full name. Always 'Matthew' not Matt. He and Veers use the 'Good Hunting' 'Safe Stars' when they have to split up to complete a mission. Piett also tends to use 'I'll endeavor' when instructed to do something and it's usually a somewhat playful response.

18. Recommend some else's fic [and tag them if they have a tumblr]

There are so many tremendous writers on here and I confess that I write more than read. But. I would HIGHLY recommend the incredibly talented @hollers-and-holmes. She has done phenomenal things with Tolkein fan work and is a Rembrandt with word painting.

Thank you again for this friend!!

[philhoffman]

This week’s Monday Philm is The Boat That Rocked (2009), AKA Pirate Radio (and a million other names). I’m really glad this is the movie that came up chronologically this week because in addition to being one of my favorites, it’s a warm and pretty lighthearted one.

I could easily watch the rumored five-hour cut of this movie every day. Aside from the government scenes and sex crime, every moment of this film is so much fun. I always think I’ve built it up more in my head than it really is (I think about this film very, very often) but then it hits such a stride in the last hour or so and it’s tremendous fun. One of the most fun movies to watch, I love every second spent on this boat. Certain lines catch me by surprise and make me laugh out loud every time—Rhys Darby is SO funny, he really stood out on this rewatch.

Phil was the first to point out that The Boat That Rocked is an ensemble film, and it definitely is—Carl is the closest thing it has to a protagonist, and even then he spends most of the film in the background. But it’s also undeniably grounded by Philip Seymour Hoffman’s The Count. There might be a few practical reasons that explain why that is—the only American in the script, the biggest star in the cast—but it really comes down to his ineffable qualities, his unspoken power as an actor. Oddly enough it reminded me a bit of A Most Wanted Man, the way everyone and everything else gravitates towards and around his character, his presence. Earlier this week I reblogged a post about how all the famous British comedians in the cast competed with each other to see who could make Phil laugh the most. You can hear his laugh over everyone else’s. He’s always been amazing among ensembles, knowing when to shine and when to fit (but never fade) into the background—Boogie Nights, Magnolia, State and Main, even stealing scenes in Leap of Faith—but by this age (and in roles of authority, perhaps) he’s got a natural command.

I love the Count. My favorite PSH character changes daily but he’s often number one. Maybe it’s stuff I’ve read lately, maybe it’s the fact that I watched it this week and I’m projecting, but I really picked up on his sadness this time. The Boat That Rocked is a comedy about pirate DJs in the 1960s, but it has some depth and a few very tender moments, especially toward the end. The Count sitting alone on the deck, thinking about how the best days of his life are over. Deciding to go down with his ship because music is all he has. Knowing there will be more amazing songs in the future, but he will not be around to play them. The Count of Cool, the Count of Chaos. Always home, always uncool.

There’s a moment when, as the Count and Gavin are stuck high on the ship’s mast, Phil sorta pops his jaw out—and for a second I saw him at 25 again, doing the same exact gesture in My Boyfriend’s Back. That happens a lot, recognizing the slightest gestures across decades, especially as I rewatch his films more and more, always searching for something. He’s 30-something and rolls his eyes the same way he will in a decade. He’s a kid standing with his hands on his hips the same way he’ll stand when he’s 46 years old. He blinks with his whole face the same way his son will someday. He disappears into characters but for a second he smiles or turns away and I can see the man I’ve been so fortunate to come to love. That red-haired, freckle-faced boy, the man who was asked in an interview about this film what music he would save in a fire and said “If I could get out of the house with my family, everything else could burn.”

Phil died nine years ago this week and I don’t want that to be the focus of this review, I don’t want it to be the focus of anything, I still don’t want it to be real. But it bleeds into everything, so I’m just trying to find some softness in it. Before watching tonight, I went to the store to pick up some of his favorite donuts (my favorite kind, too, and I swear I’m not copying him he just has good taste!). Seems like something he’d appreciate. I miss you a lot, Phil.

[kwiyoshi]

彡✎ Unpacking Politics, One Meme at a Time

(Do memes (as it is popular in Malaysian politics) provide a useful way of understanding politics?)

Politics: the only arena where you'll find more plot twists, backstabbing, and unexpected surprises than a season finale of your favorite TV show.

We get it – politics can sometimes feel like a maze of jargon and complex issues. However, with the rise of meme culture and its integration into politics, could memes be used to further understand politics and its complexity? (probably).

Behind the Laughs

Before answering the main question, let me hit y'all with some nerd facts about how memes came about. A meme is a cultural informational unit that spreads by imitation. The term, which comes from the Greek word mimema (meaning "imitated"), was coined by a British biologist named Richard Dawkins in 1976 from his work titled "The Selfish Gene" (Rogers 2023). Memes come in a variety of format that ranges from videos to still images.

From LOL to Legislation

In today's day and age of the Internet, memes can be found on all sorts of social media platforms that we use on a daily basis. Whether it be viral videos or yet another funny cat or dog picture like the doge meme. Nowadays, there seems to be an ongoing trend of memes being used in politics. I'm not particularly sure how it is being used, but most of the memes I see about politics are just to poke fun at a specific person or political party.

Now for the million-dollar (or in this case ringgit) question, how did memes suddenly become a thing in the political world? The earliest instance of memes and politics I could find is from the year 2000 during a presidential debate in the United States about then-candidate George W. Bush where he mispronounced the word "internet" as "internets." Four years later, he made the same mistake during a debate with John Kerry when he said, "I hear here’s rumors on the, uh, internets that we’re going to have a draft". After the whole conundrum, the response from netizens was eventful. Thus, making Bush one of the first few political internet memes (Klein 2019).

It seems that after George W. Bush became a trending meme in politics in the United States, I guess you could say he sort of paved the way for birthing memes in politics as we know it today. As far as I know, there are a lot of memes about our politics here in Malaysia that I've come across and it gets pretty entertaining considering how our politics here are.

Meme-laysia

As someone that currently lives in Malaysia, I would say that there are a handful of memes that circulates throughout social media when it is nearing elections or when someone that is part of a political party (or one of our ministers) screws up yet again. The political scene here is quite eventful, to say the least, but that does not mean we cannot laugh about it.

One of the most popular political memes in Malaysia is during 2021 when our then Prime Minister of Malaysia, Muhyiddin Yassin suddenly resigned from his position after only being the Prime Minister for one-and-a-half years. As good of a plot twist as this is, Malaysians took to social media to express their confusion and reaction to this news (Lee 2021).

Here is one of the example:

Upon resigning as Prime Minister, Muhyiddin Yassin will assume the role of interim Prime Minister until a new leader, who commands the majority, is identified (Lee 2021).

Humor and Power

Phew. We're finally getting to the most anticipated part. Do memes provide a useful way of understanding politics? My answer to that is, definitely. Based on research conducted by Kasirye (2019), it is found that political memes do have an effect on providing information about politics.

The study also reveals that political parties employ memes to promote, oppose, and criticize various political issues among the populace. Since the majority of messages are created by political parties and actors to further their objectives, memes are spread through social media to reach the targeted political groups.

Due to memes having a visual nature and their ability to grab people's attention, memes are a good foundation to start understanding politics. Thus, memes are a great method for political engagement that appeals to people's cognitive and extrasensory faculties in order to interact with them and shape their opinions. Humor and sarcasm, on the other hand, are used as persuasive strategies in this awareness-raising technique (Kasirye 2019, p. 51).

Final Thoughts and Prayers

Overall, I do think that memes play a part in politics in terms of understanding what is going on or providing useful information. Memes are funny and people like memes due to the fact that they can be on different social media platforms, whether it be in video or picture format.

References

Kasirye, F 2019, 'THE EFFECTIVENESS OF POLITICAL MEMES AS A FORM OF POLITICAL PARTICIPATION AMONGST MILLENNIALS IN UGANDA', Journal of Education and Social Sciences, vol. 13, issue 1, pp. 50 - 51, viewed 8 October 2023, <https://www.jesoc.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/08/KC13_032.pdf>.

Klein, O 2019, The evolution of political internet memes, Kennedy School Review, viewed 8 October 2023, <https://ksr.hkspublications.org/2019/03/11/the-evolution-of-political-internet-memes/>.

Lee, J 2021, Confused Malaysians make sense of country's political crisis through memes, Mashable, viewed 8 October 2023, <https://sea.mashable.com/culture/17175/confused-malaysians-make-sense-of-countrys-political-crisis-through-memes>.

Rogers, K n.d., meme, Britannica, viewed 7 October 2023, <https://www.britannica.com/topic/meme>.

[culttvblog]

Denis Shaw Season: Two Period Dramas

Content warning: a white actor 'blacking up' to play a person of colour.

Next up in this series of posts about shows in which the actor Denis Shaw has a role, we have two period dramas. This exercise in focusing on an actor is taking me into some quite unaccustomed territory; generally I don't tend to take to period dramas, and also in this post you might see why there are some shows which just don't appear on the blog!

The Adventures of Robin Hood: A Guest for the Gallows

This is of course the 1955 to 1959 ITC series about the legendary figure, many of the stories being new ones not based on the original legends. I see that its 143 episodes were also broadcast in the USA, Australia, Malaysia, France, Canada and the Philippines, It is actually still being broadcast in the UK and I see that on first broadcasting it had 32 million viewers weekly (in the US and UK). Imagine that now!

It shows how wildly popular the show was that it had a whole range of merchandise, including a range of Robin Hood shoes, advertised by the picture of Richard Greene, who played Robin Hood. I'm sure it's me, but the show really isn't doing that much for me, although I don't have any huge criticism; this sort of semi-historical drama just doesn't grab my interest and I would rather watch historical documentaries.

Shaw's role in this is limited to the role of a butcher whose clothing Robin Hood commandeers as a disguise.

Virgin of the Secret Service: Dark Deeds on the Northwest Frontier

I'm not sure 'period drama' is the correct description for the next show, whatever Virgin of the Secret Service is. I see that I wrote an introductory post about this show on the original blogspot version of this blog some years ago, and in fact subsequently sold the DVDs and haven't seen any episodes since. On watching this one I have not had any cause to change my impression of the show I originally formed, namely that it can't really make up its mind what it is. It's not a straightforward historical drama but is obviously trying to ape the success of shows like Adam Adamant and The Avengers. I'm afraid it largely fails to do this, although it does have some very good reviews, so clearly does make a hit with some viewers.

Shaw appears in the first episode of the whole series, blacked up as a wasir.

I'm going to have to be my usual over-frank self about this and admit that I can't make head nor tail of this episode. I am not even sure what country it is set in, since it is apparently in British India but somehow involves a Russian princess and black servants. I have now watched the episode all the way through three times and am still no clearer on the role of the wasir.

And this is why some shows never appear on this blog at all!

This blog is mirrored at

culttvblog.tumblr.com/archive (from September 2023) and culttvblog.substack.com (from January 2023 and where you can subscribe by email)

Archives from 2013 to September 2023 may be found at culttvblog.blogspot.com and there is an index to the tags used on the Tumblr version at https://www.tumblr.com/culttvblog/729194158177370112/this-blog

[aredlemon]

I had a weird ass dream. (Probably nightmare)

I was at some place, like my grandma’s house, and I was so paranoid that someone was watching me. Then the same at my home. I looked at a specific spot, next to my desk chair, and there was nothing at first. When I looked away slightly and ten back I saw a figure, mostly obstructed by the darkness of the room. I panicked and stared at it intensely. The same thing kept happening. Outside, at my nan’s home, in a gigantic church. I specifically remember that I was at a big town square, full of people, and noticed the same figure.

Now as far as I knew the way this thing worked was like this:

1) It could transform into an item and move as said item (something like prop hunt)

2) When directly stared at, item form or not, it couldn’t cause any harm nor move (exceptions happened cause this was a dream)

3) I don’t believe it ever completely left, just followed me around

So when I noticed it I ran into the church (absolutely huge, with red carpet and like chandeliers), falling to my knees, and begging a priest(?) to get rid of it. I don’t remember what he said but essentially he couldn’t do anything. Few days pass and it keeps following me. I try to touch it at its item form, it moved around and I freaked. I specifically remember it being a water bottle and going into a shopping bag with other water bottles and moving around whilst I tried to touch it. It was like a snake as it moved but I kept going, the bottle bouncing around in the bag.

Then I was at my other grandma’s house, some other people that had been accommodating me there too. We had a minuscule version on the circus baby plushy except it was a robot, around the length of your calf, and we gave it a water of bottle. As I would turn away from the door so the thing entered and moved closer, we controlled the robot to splash the water at it. I don’t think it did much, just disturbed it.

When I was at a specific museum-like place, something like the wax one, I was struggling with it, paranoia on full, as I kept trying to locate it so it didn’t move. Then I was suddenly back at my first grandma’s house and I was watching it as it in the form of a sandwich. Something happens and I look away for a moment. Then I realise I’ve screwed up. I start spinning like a freaking ballerina to have a 360 vision of the room, making sure I catch it moving.

I don’t particularly remember how I went about it but I tamed it. I think something happened and I was able to, not exactly, control it, but still have it follow my commands. He was like a friend. I believe I talked to it and pleaded with it and it kinda listened. It still appeared and almost made me have a heart attack each time but it also appeared when I called it. Sometimes it took its sweet ol’ time. I remember it changing the way it dressed and I just snapped my fingers to make it wear what I wanted. We were out on the same town square and it appeared not wearing the outfit I had chosen and I just looked at it smugly before changing it.

Also, it wasn’t like a super duper scary monster, like the mandela catalogue and its creepy shadow people, rather just a dude.

He was like 1,70 cm, brown short hair (slightly fluffy too), white but not pale, brown eyes I think. His voice was like any other dude you hear, although I think he was British? Scariest part about the dream. He kinda looked like the actor who played that main demon dude bro in the good place, the one who came to get Eleanor. Anyway, we ended up getting along. A relationship like Narrator and Stanley kinda, we both hated each other but kept interacting.

So yeah, I met this sleep paralysis demon and ended up becoming co-dependant frenemies.

[f1]

Pitt stop: actor Brad takes to Silverstone track as Formula One meets Hollywood

With Formula One hosting Brad Pitt and a full-scale film production at the British Grand Prix this weekend making a movie about the sport with Lewis Hamilton as a producer, the two different worlds have adapted remarkably well to make the project come together at Silverstone. The film about Formula One, as yet unnamed, opened filming this weekend in front of the fans with the British Grand Prix as both set and backdrop. The fictional 11th team, APX, has its own garage and pitwall stand for drivers Sonny Hayes, Pitt’s character, and Joshua Pearce, played by British actor Damson Idris. They are running an F2 car converted to look like an F1 car for filming between the usual sessions and races that make up the weekend. Hamilton has been involved from the off and on Friday the Mercedes team principal, Toto Wolff, explained how the team too had been closely involved in the process. “I spoke to the director a few weeks ago expecting him to say he was in Hollywood,” said Wolff. “He said: ‘I am in my apartment in Brackley’, so it’s not all great being a movie director …” “We were involved pretty early when they had the first discussions. We sent Brad to a driving school in France, going through the formula cars from Formula 4 all the way up and that was important.” The picture is being made by Apple Original Films, directed by Joseph Kosinski, who made Top Gun: Maverick, and is produced by Jerry Bruckheimer, a long-time successful Hollywood producer. There has been a strong commitment to making the film as accurate and believable as possible, as Wolff explained. “We tried to be helpful with the narrative,” he said. “Lewis is a producer and he wanted to make sure that when the movie comes out it is as realistic as possible. It’s a very, very good narrative and then there is the effort they put in. “We helped them to use an F2 car and build the bodywork around it so it looks like an F1 car. The garage and the pitwall, all of that, we tried to be helpful and gave them the design so they could be as realistic as possible. When you go into the garage the whole set-up behind is really unbelievable.” The film has the full support of F1, which sees it as another way to further draw in a new audience that have come to the sport in recent years, especially with the popularity of the Drive To Survive series. The mocked-up garage belonging to Pitt’s character, Sonny Hayes, in Apex. Photograph: Dan Istitene/Formula 1/Getty Images Pitt, who is 59 and who has been advised by Hamilton, will play a veteran driver returning to F1 after some time out of the sport. He will drive the car this weekend and the film crew will also shoot the race itself using 20 cameras, the two separate sets of footage will then be merged putting Pitt and his fictional team apparently in the heart of the action. skip past newsletter promotion after newsletter promotion In the genuine article during F1 practice Max Verstappen was the star of the show again. He led first practice for Red Bull, almost half a second up on his teammate Sergio Pérez. In the afternoon session Verstappen was once more on top. He was in fine form at the old airfield but was far from having it all his own way, pushed very hard by last year’s winner, Ferrari’s Carlos Sainz, who was just two-hundredths of a second behind. Williams’ Alex Albon also enjoyed a productive day, third in both sessions. Mercedes struggled, however, George Russell was 12th and Lewis Hamilton 15th in free practice two. Verstappen goes into the tenth round of the season with a commanding lead in the world championship, 81 points clear of Pérez and looking for his sixth consecutive win in his 150th start for Red Bull. His team remain unbeaten in all nine meetings thus far this season. via Formula One | The Guardian https://www.theguardian.com/sport/formulaone

[lunapaper]

Album Review: 'That! Feels Good!' - Jessie Ware

What’s Your Pleasure? arrived at just the right time.  

Along with Lady Gaga’s Chromatica, Kylie’s Disco, Rina Sawayama’s debut album SAWAYAMA and Dua Lipa’s Future Nostalgia, Jessie Ware’s fourth album offered sweet disco pop escapism during the first few months of COVID lockdown, turning the kitchen floor into the dancefloor and evoking sweaty, lustful neon-soaked fantasies. It’s an almost immaculate record; a glossy, seductive cut of pure pop elegance.  

The British singer’s latest album, the beautifully titled That! Feels Good!, further doubles down on the sparkling kitsch and melodrama.  

‘I’ve put aside years of anxiety, imposter syndrome and all that fretting and feeling like I’m not good enough,’ says Ware (via Clash). ‘It’s not necessarily bigger or better than the last album, it’s more about turning the volume up and embodying that real, deep, sexy, bloody gorgeous groove.’ 

If What’s Your Pleasure? was plush and luxurious, then this is frothy and flirtatious fun, dropping the ‘nu’ from nu-disco almost completely with funkier basslines, huskier vocals and richer instrumentation as Ware reassembles the Pleasure dream team, including producer James Ford and singer/songwriter Shungudzo Kuyimba, and even recruits Madonna’s Confessions on a Dancefloor producer, Stuart Price.  

That! Feels Good! is also much hornier than its predecessor, delightfully so. To put it in late 90s pop terms, it’s less ‘If You Could Read My Mind’ by Stars on 54 and more ‘Horny’ by Mousse T. In fact, Ware has made her very own ‘Horny’ in the form of the album’s standout track, ‘Freak Me Now.’ 

It’s rapturous ecstasy bouncing on top of a filthy, limbre, positively vulgar bassline, recalling the sassy and colourful energy of the Spice Girls’ ‘Who Do You Think You Are’ as well as the bawdy fun of ‘Horny.’ ‘Freak Me Now’ is Ware at her most wild and untamed, with joyous yelps and commands to get your body over here and get that ass on the floor – just try to resist it. 

The singer makes for an incredible motivational speaker, compacting positive messages into catchy pop hooks. The ‘Funkytown’-esque ‘Beautiful People’ implores you to give her your love, driven by hypnotic cowbell and a side order of sass. On ‘Free Yourself,’ she encourages listeners to keep moving up that mountaintop, led by euphoric stabs of 90s pop piano in the same vein as Cece Penniston’s ‘Finally.’ 

Playful and tongue-in-cheek, That! Feels Good! showcases a more confident and self-assured Ware. On the title track, she demands, ‘If you’re gonna do it, do it well,’ led in by a chorus of breathless chanting that includes Benny Blanco, comedian Aisling Bea and actors Jamie Demetriou and Gemma Arterton, as well as fellow dance divas Kylie and Roisin Murphy.  

‘Begin Again,’ has her longing for sweaty human contact, strutting across the floor with a sexy samba-adjacent beat as she shrugs off the daily grind. ‘Shake the Bottle,’ meanwhile, is cutting and cool as ice, envisioned as a possible Lipsync for Your Life entry on RuPaul’s Drag Race as Ware amps up the camp, listing off a bunch of paramours who’ve done her wrong. It pushes the limits of innuendo more so than What’s Your Pleasure? as the singer provides instructions on how to make her bottle pop (‘(Ooh-ah!) Flip the switch and flick on the flame/(Ooh-ah!) Pour the love like strawberry rain/(Ooh-ah!) Shake it, shake it and put on the top/That's the way to make my bottle pop!’).  

The album’s true mission statement, though, can be summed up on the champagne-soaked decadence of ‘Pearls.’ Here, Ware proudly considers herself lover, freak and mother, the domestic colliding with the hedonistic in a glitzy cataclysm.  

The singer has spoken in the past about the identity crisis she suffered after the release of 2017’s Glasshouse, struggling at the time to balance motherhood and pop stardom. In an industry notorious for treating women as invisible by the time they’re 30, the track is a bold assertion of Ware’s artistry, sensuality and femininity, taking back her power and unashamed of her desires.  

That! Feels Good! also offers a couple of moments to catch your breath with ‘Hello Love,’ a jazzy summer montage with silky sax and an old-school soul groove courtesy of London Afrobeats collective Kokoroko, and ‘Lightning,’ recalling the sprawling cool of ‘Remember Where You Are’ and the moodiness of ‘Ware’s Devotion era, before ending the party with a bang on ‘These Lips.’  

Shimmering and sensual with its stylish beats and flourishing horns, the singer’s lips are apparently a dangerous weapon: They can turn milk to gold, take you places that you never thought you'd go and even wanted in a hundred countries, maybe more! It’s a perfect combination of the album’s overall sweetness and sexuality, offering a wink and a smile before sealing things with a kiss. 

That! Feels Good! proves once again that Jessie has the Midas touch. Everything she touches turns to gold, from the glistening production to the infectious joy that permeates throughout the record. It perfects the disco formula laid out by its predecessor and takes it to even greater heights with lashings of funk, jazz and French house, delivering banger after banger while never once feeling like it’s outstayed its welcome. 

The album is a gorgeous glitter bomb of camp that would implode in lesser hands, just oozing confidence and sophistication while not taking itself too seriously. Ware’s bawdy humour only adds to the charm, especially refreshing in a genre like dance where cool is everything, though rather stifling. 

Freedom is a sound, pleasure is a right, and That! Feels Good! shows Jessie Ware to be the perfect primadonna, just doing what she wants to do…  

- Bianca B. 

[skinnyscottishbloke]

aaahhhh I finished! final thoughts/spoilers under the cut

first of all, what an utterly delightful and unique show. I loved all the singing along and the musical theater numbers. also the acting was top notch. I never never been disappointed by sarah parish, whether it was in broadchurch or pillars of the earth or the wedding date. she’s amazing. and david morrissey was equally so! he has a commanding physical presence onscreen and a voice to match. played the seedy casino owner perfectly. and his character arc from utter and complete asshole to an asshole who recognizes he’s flawed and actually changes a bit was well played. appearances from mr mosley from downton and one of the zombie nazis from good omens rounded out the “which british actors will I recognize today?” list. lol.

and then of course, the reason for the watch in the first place, our very own mr. tennant. I loved his character in this. so snarky and confident but also sexy as hell my GOD. the slow motion make out scenes took me the fuck out lol. does Carlisle always stick to a strict moral code? eehhhhh not really but you kind of love him anyway. everyone in the town was kind of in that gray area, and that was the point. shout out to whoever decided to satisfy david’s oral fixation by having him constantly eat things - licking the ice cream cone was a gift to us all. (as was licking the inside of the wife’s mouth….OOP yeah still suck on the slow mo make out scenes sorry).

anyway, definitely watch Blackpool. Sixteen years on from when I first saw it and it’s just as entertaining and fun as it was in 2008 : )

Time to continue Blackpool. Last time we did eps 1 and 2, let’s see if we can finish it tonight!! Can’t wait for this part 🔥🔥🔥

(pt 1 of the reactions here)