How did I fail to realize until tonight that Steve from Coupling and Norrington from Pirates of the Caribbean are the same actor? (At least in the case of The Office I have the excuse that I'd never seen an episode before tonight, so I could be startled that Mackenzie Crook is in fact that beaky in real life. Even if I now think he looks peculiar without a supernatural glass eye.) Now every time I watch him draw on Jack Sparrow, I'm going to be hearing his impassioned defense of the lock on the toilet door. There's a man with talent.
It also occurred to me, somewhat earlier this afternoon, that I have always associated the descent of the Wild Magic on Trewissick in Susan Cooper's Greenwitch (1974) with Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill's "Pirate Jenny."
And from out of the night, over the roofs of Trewissick from the dark inland moors, came sailing again the phantom ship of Cornwall, single-masted, square-rigged, with a dinghy behind, that had sailed up out of the midnight sea in the haunting. Silently it skimmed over houses and roads and quayside, and this time it was not empty, but had a figure at the helm. The drowned man, dripping and intent, whom Jane had seen glide up out of the sea, stood high on the deck at the wheel, steering his black dead vessel, looking neither to left nor right. And with a glad shriek all the great crowd of shades rushed on to the ship, dragging with them the struggling painter . . . The phantom sails filled again with a wind that no man alive could feel, and the ship sailed away, out to sea, out into the night, and on Trewissick quay the Old Ones were left alone.
But I'm more amused by the other.
It also occurred to me, somewhat earlier this afternoon, that I have always associated the descent of the Wild Magic on Trewissick in Susan Cooper's Greenwitch (1974) with Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill's "Pirate Jenny."
And from out of the night, over the roofs of Trewissick from the dark inland moors, came sailing again the phantom ship of Cornwall, single-masted, square-rigged, with a dinghy behind, that had sailed up out of the midnight sea in the haunting. Silently it skimmed over houses and roads and quayside, and this time it was not empty, but had a figure at the helm. The drowned man, dripping and intent, whom Jane had seen glide up out of the sea, stood high on the deck at the wheel, steering his black dead vessel, looking neither to left nor right. And with a glad shriek all the great crowd of shades rushed on to the ship, dragging with them the struggling painter . . . The phantom sails filled again with a wind that no man alive could feel, and the ship sailed away, out to sea, out into the night, and on Trewissick quay the Old Ones were left alone.
But I'm more amused by the other.
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