Brideshead Revisited~Charles and Sebastian Montage

I've just finished reading Evelyn Waugh's Brideshead Revisited. I loved it--but more on that later. Now I'm working my way through the BBC series. Here's a montage of Charles and Sebastian I found at Youtube. It's set to 80's pop music instead of the baroque theme of the series, lol, but it works!

Music: All of My Heart by ABC

Video montage by: cffc

My Shadow in the Sun, Part Thirteen

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Slash Fiction
Rating: Mature Content

LINK TO PART ONE: http://jrosemary.blogspot.com/2007/12/my-shadow-in-sun.html

~

For the next hour, Jeremy repeated Richard's opening lines as Sean and I taught him to slow down and project his voice. The three of us also discussed how to present the opening: should Richard be standing by himself, speaking to the audience? That was the tradition.

But I had been intrigued by the way Loncraine handled the opening when he directed Ian McKellen in the 1995 film. Richard's first few lines were part of a speech given in honour of his brother, King Edward IV, in front of a hall full of supporters. So when Richard said, "Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this son of York," he conspicuously nodded at his brother.

But the scene soon shifted to Richard alone, relieving himself in the men's room, as his bitterness and self-mockery came to the fore. At one point, he seemed to spy the audience through his reflection in the mirror--that's when he began addressing us directly. It was a brilliant piece of staging.

"It'd be hard for us to pull that off," Sean said when I mentioned this. "We're not doing a film."

"No," Jeremy said slowly, "but what if Richard is rehearsing a speech? It's supposed to be in honor of Edward, but he gets frustrated and tears up his notes as he starts mocking himself--and, just like the film, that's when he starts addressing the audience directly."

Sean rubbed his chin. "That's worth trying," he owned. "And it's not really plagarizing, is it?"

"Not at all," I said, grinning. "Productions of Shakespeare always steal shamelessly from each other." I nodded at Jeremy. "Let's take it from the top. I'll find you some index cards to rip up--"

The doorbell interrupted me. "That must be Cherise," I said as I went to answer it.

Sure enough, she was at the door. She threw her arms around me as I opened it. "Thank you so much for the part!" she gushed.

I smiled as I returned her enthusiastic hug. What a cute kid she was. And I did mean kid; as far as I knew, she had only just turned nineteen.

"Don't thank me--you earned it," I assured her. "I've been wanting to get you into bigger parts. Besides, I like the way you played up Anne's confusion and grief at the auditions."

She beamed at that as I helped her off with her coat and ushered her into the living room.

"You know Sean," I said. "And this is Jeremy--he'll be playing Richard."

"Hey, Sean!" Cherise said as the two of them hugged. Then she turned to Jeremy and smiled as she held out her hand. "Hello," she said with a teasing sparkle in her eyes. "I understand that you'll be seducing me."

Jeremy managed a nod at that as he shook her hand. But he didn't speak a word to her. I frowned, wondering how his sudden coldness would affect the rehearsal. Damn Jeremy--he kept crawling back into his shell whenever he had to interact with a stranger. I just hoped that Cherise wouldn't misinterpret his coldness as racism.

But Cherise must have decided that Jeremy was crippled with shyness. She gave him a gentle smile and then took a seat on the couch. Falstaff promptly jumped into her lap, so she lavished her attention on the cat.

I sighed with relief as I turned back to Jeremy. "I'll get the index cards and we'll try the opening again. Then we'll be ready to rehearse Richard's seduction of Lady Anne."

Jeremy nodded. But as I turned to leave the room in search of the cards Sean caught my eye. I knew at once that he was as eager as I was to see how Jeremy would play the seducer. Yes, Jeremy had done that scene at the auditions--and he'd done it fairly well, considering. But now the real test would begin.

My Shadow in the Sun, Part Twelve

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Slash Fiction
Rating: Mature Content

LINK TO PART ONE: http://jrosemary.blogspot.com/2007/12/my-shadow-in-sun.html

~

Sean began his campaign to rescue Jeremy via seduction that night. He might have spared a thought for my feelings--but no such consideration crossed his mind.

Jeremy returned to my place, as ordered, at about seven. Sean was there to greet him at the door. I was seated on the stairs, petting Falstaff, as the scene unfolded. That gave me an excellent view.

"Come in," Sean said. "Here, let me take your coat."

I watched him help Jeremy with the coat, despite the kid's obvious discomfort as he shifted his cane from hand to hand. I rolled my eyes at that as Falstaff rubbed his head against my knee.

Jeremy relinquished his coat and then noticed me on the staircase. He nodded at me. "Good evening," he said.

I nodded back and even managed a welcoming smile. "Good evening. I asked Cherise--she'll be playing Lady Anne--to come as well. She'll be here in about an hour."

He opened his mouth to say something, but Sean put an arm around his shoulders and steered him into the living room. I saw Jeremy stiffen at that, but he didn't know how to object.

Sean had enough sense to play it cool after that. I knew how his mind worked: first he had to be forward with the kid, touching him or brushing against him at every opportunity. Then he would draw back, leaving Jeremy with mixed messages. The poor kid would be wondering if Sean had really been coming on to him, or if he'd just imagined it.

Sean didn't always play games like that--with less skittish prey he would be upfront about his intentions. But Jeremy required special handling.

I decided to turn a blind eye to Sean's mechanisms and focus on directing the kid. No--Jeremy wasn't a kid, I reminded myself. We were the same age. I shook myself and then came down to the living room. I asked Jeremy to stand up and rehearse Richard's opening lines.

He nodded and then gave me an uncertain smile--a smile that I believe he meant as a peace offering. "I'll try not to drool in the middle of it this time," he said, reddening as he spoke.

I could guess what it cost him to make a joke about that. I remembered how furious he had seemed with himself when he drooled during the audition. But I also remembered how effective that drool had been, given the scene. Jeremy had been able to show, in brutal fashion, how Richard despised his physical shortcomings.

I took a deep breath--I'd have to be honest here. "Jeremy, when you wiped the drool off your face with that bitter laugh, you gave us a real glimpse of Richard's self-contempt. I'd like you to keep that in the performance."

He stiffened at that. "It must be convenient for you to have a Richard with cerebral palsy."

I shrugged, determined to remain honest with him. "It doesn't hurt," I said.

"Oh, come off it Jeremy," Sean said. He'd been standing by the bookcase, but he knelt down to pet Falstaff as he spoke. "You're a good actor--you'd have had the part regardless," he continued, looking up from the cat. "Having cerebral palsy just gives you a leg up on understanding Richard, that's all."

To my surprise, Jeremy's face lost the trace of Richard's bitterness. He even managed a smile. "My mother said the same thing to me when I accused her of trying to buy the part for me."

"She was right," I assured him. "Look, I didn't appreciate your mother giving us the donation on the condition that we mount Richard III. It's the last play I'd have chosen. But the chance to direct you in the part makes it worthwhile. You are a good actor, Jeremy--and you know first hand what it's like to deal with Richard's infirmities."

Jeremy cocked his head at me, ignoring the compliment. "Do you hate the play that much?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I don't hate it--I just don't like propaganda. And that's what this play is: Tudor propaganda slandering the last Plantagenet king."

"No it's not," Jeremy said.

I raised my eyebrows at that. "Even if you believe that the real Richard was guilty of murdering his nephews, surely you don't think that Shakespeare's over-the-top caricature of him was accurate."

"It's not a caricature," he insisted. "Look, Shakespeare took these Tudor sources with their outrageous accusations against Richard--"

"--And added a few of his own," Sean cut in.

"And added a few of his own," Jeremy admitted. "But what did he do with them? He made Richard a monster, true, but--God!--what a seductive monster. Richard gets the whole audience on his side. We sympathize with him, we admire him for overcoming his disabilities and we can't help but root for him. He's a real person, not just a caricature."

He paused and looked me in the eye. "The caricature is Henry Tudor. That's who the audience--especially Shakespeare's Tudor audience--should be rooting for. But who remembers Henry when they think about Richard III? He has nothing to attract him to us. For all his supposed virtues, the audience doesn't give a damn about him."

He paused once more, looking thoughtful as he leaned on his cane with both hands. "Sometimes I think Richard III was Shakespeare's way of thumbing his nose at the Tudors. He played the game and made a very heroic Henry Tudor. But he made sure that Henry Tudor couldn't hold a candle to Richard in the mind of the audience."

I smiled at him, impressed by his reasoning and his passion. "You may have a point," I owned. "I'm not sure I'd go as far as to say that Shakespeare was thumbing his nose at the Tudors--but I'll grant you that Henry Tudor is far more of a caricature than Richard."

Sean smiled too as he stood up again, abandoning Falstaff. He stepped up to Jeremy and casually draped an arm around his shoulders. "That's all well and good--but can you drool on command?" he asked.

Jeremy somehow managed to grin and sigh at the same time. "Yes," he said. "I suppose I can."

LINK TO PART THIRTEEN: http://jrosemary.blogspot.com/2008/01/my-shadow-in-sun-part-thirteen.html

My Shadow in the Sun, Part Eleven

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Slash Fiction
Rating: Mature Content

LINK TO PART ONE: http://jrosemary.blogspot.com/2007/12/my-shadow-in-sun.html

~

"That boy needs to get laid," Sean commented as he collapsed onto my couch.

I grinned. "Probably," I said, falling into the armchair.

Jeremy had left as soon as we got back from Dana's. He scarcely managed a polite goodbye. I shook my head once again; where had that hostility come from?

I was tempted to excuse Jeremy. He had no idea how to interact with people; he was too shy and awkward. I thought back to his behavior at the audition. He was cold and withdrawn--he hadn't spoken to anyone, as far as I could remember. Yet he sprang to life with each part he read. It was as if someone plugged him in when he performed.

"Seriously," Sean was saying. "I'm sure that's his problem--he thinks no one will look at him because of his disabilities. That's why he's so fucking unbearable."

"Then he ought to hire someone," I said without sympathy. So much for excusing him.

Sean laughed. "That's the first time I've heard you speak in favor of prostitution."

I folded my arms across my chest. "I think Jeremy brings out the worst in me," I grumbled.

"Well, one of us ought to do something about him--out of pure charity, if nothing else." He jumped to his feet and started digging into his pockets. "Shall we flip a coin?" he asked as he pulled out a quarter.

I stared at him. "Do what about him?" I demanded.

"Sleep with him, of course," Sean said. "Show the boy a good time, make him feel desirable, et cetera. Heads or tails?"

I shut my eyes for a long moment, almost hoping that Sean would disappear by the time I opened them. After last night, some part of me must have believed that Sean and I could start over--that maybe things would work out this time.

God, what a fool I am.

"That's your solution?" I asked, unable to keep the contempt out of my voice. "Sleep with him? You don't even know that he's gay."

"He is," Sean insisted. "Or, at the very least, he's not straight. Come on--this'll work."

He gave the coin a few practice tosses, but then stopped suddenly as he caught sight of my expression. He stared at me for a moment and then put the coin back in his pocket. Then in one graceful, fluid movement, he was kneeling at my side.

"Rob, I'm all for trying again with us," he said, grasping my hand. "But I'm not the monogamous type. You'd have to accept that. I'll promise to take precautions; I'll promise to be discreet--but I can't promise to be faithful. It'd be a lie."

Well, he was always honest. I'd give him that. And the look he was giving me right now would have sold me--if he hadn't just been talking about laying someone else.

I leaned toward him and ruffled his hair with my free hand. "It's not going to work between us," I said, managing a smile. "So if you want to try your luck on Jeremy, be my guest. Just don't leave him an emotional wreck--not until after the play."

Sean gave me a bittersweet smile in return. "Oh, don't worry," he said, bringing my hand to his lips. "I'll let him down easy. But you might handle him even better, you know. There's some chemistry between you two. Just think, if you could bring yourself to an open relationship--"

I shook my head at that and retreived my hand. "He's all yours," I said. Then I stood up and started toward the stairs, leaving him kneeling there. "You can hang out here if you want," I continued, calling over my shoulder. "I'm going for a run to clear my head."

LINK TO PART TWELVE: http://jrosemary.blogspot.com/2008/01/my-shadow-in-sun-part-twelve.html

My Shadow in the Sun, Part Ten

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Slash Fiction
Rating: Mature Content

LINK TO PART ONE: http://jrosemary.blogspot.com/2007/12/my-shadow-in-sun.html

~

Jeremy stayed in his shell on the ride over to Dana's house. I didn't mind, except that he was riding shotgun. I made a stab at conversation, but received only a shrug in response.

To be fair, I think he would have preferred to sit unobtrusively in the back. But Sean had made a big show of giving up the front seat for him. Now Sean was sprawled comfortably in the back and Jeremy was sitting next to me, staring out the window. I rolled my eyes at that and glared at Sean in the mirror. Sean just winked at me in return.

Dana was waiting for us with coffee, hot chocolate, bagels, croissants, sandwiches, pickles and chips. Sean and I exchanged satisfied glances. We scheduled meetings at Dana's house whenever possible.

Dana didn't blink an eye at Jeremy's awkward gait or cane. I performed the introductions as we sat down at her kitchen table. She gave Jeremy a warm smile--for a moment, I feared that she would get up and hug him. Dana is very much the hugging type. Fortunately she resisted the urge.

Jeremy, for his part, made due with a nod. If Dana thought that was cold or unfriendly, she didn't show it. She went straight to business instead.

"Are you set on Elizabethan costumes, Rob?" she asked me as she pushed her plate aside and brought out her sketch book.

"Not at all," I assured her.

"Good," she said. "That would feel wrong--Richard lived a couple of generations before Elizabeth, after all. I made some sketches from his time period, but we don't have the right clothes in stock. And I'd need more than three months to put together costumes that wouldn't look farbee."

"Farbee?" Jeremy asked. Apparently the unfamiliar term forced him to find his voice.

"You'll have to excuse Dana," Sean explained. "She's into living history and reenacting. As far as she's concerned, all historical costumes have to be a hundred percent accurate."

I nodded in agreement. "She uses 'farbee' to mean inauthentic or anachronistic."

Dana laughed. "Supposedly the word is short for, 'Far be it from me to comment on the authenticity of your period clothes, but....' I don't know if that's true, though."

Jeremy smiled--Dana's warmth was thawing him. "But they can't be a hundred percent accurate," he said as he picked out a sandwich. "They have to stand up to stage lighting, don't they?"

"They do," Dana acknowledged. "And we have to be able to get in and out of them fast. But I do my best."

"What about modern dress?" Sean asked, in between mouthfuls of potato chips.

Dana grinned. "That's what I'd prefer. Does anyone here hate the idea?"

Jeremy didn't answer that. He gave me a curious look instead, as if he were waiting to judge me by my response.

In truth, I don't mind modern dress for Shakespeare. There's nothing new about using contemporary costumes for his plays. In fact, it's traditional. I have a picture of a late 18th century production of Macbeth--it shows Lady Macbeth dressed much like Marie Antoinette.

"I'm all for modern dress," I admitted. "Jeremy?"

He stared at me. "It depends on the production," he said at length. "And it depends on the director."

I raised my eyebrows at that. His words could have been neutral, but they weren't. There was a distinct challenge in them.

I wasn't mistaken--one glance at Sean and Dana confirmed that. Dana was suddenly staring down at her sketch book, absorbed by a smudge. And Sean was leaning back in his chair with his head cocked at Jeremy, regarding him with unabashed interest.

I couldn't decide whether to laugh or to grit my teeth. This awkward boy--with cold manners, little conversation and no experience in our community theatre--was ready to judge me as a director.

A couple of hours ago, I reminded myself, I had to assure Jeremy that his mother hadn't purchased the lead role for him. Apparently he'd already forgotten that. He was too busy wondering if I'd make the grade.

I folded my arms across my chest. "Do you have plans tonight, Jeremy?"

He shook his head.

"Good," I said. "We'll start rehearsing with you and Sean this evening. That will give you a feel for how I direct."

LINK TO PART ELEVEN: http://jrosemary.blogspot.com/2008/01/my.html