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I cannot smile and I don't pose
"I don't like my face at all. It's always, I've thought, been a great drawback to me. I've seen better-looking hot cross buns . . . What I said about my face, don't like it much—don't like anything about it—I don't like to see it at all. So I never do, really, go to see myself on the film, because it discourages me and puts me off for a long time and I lose confidence in myself."
My instinctive reaction to pictures of myself is hereby christened Tiny Ralph Richardson. He had a great face! I've just been watching him in Q Planes (1939), where his debonair, umbrella-carrying Major Hammond is agreed to have been the model for The Avengers' John Steed. He might have minded being up against Laurence Olivier as a very glossy young test pilot in the same year as Wuthering Heights, but I'm watching the smoothly whimsical intelligence agent who's never without his hat, even when he's up to his elbows in cooking. (. . . This film has a girl reporter and a ray gun. Super-secret aircraft. The villains are ambiguously Germanic. It's like pulp sci-fi meets proto-Bond. How in the name of Marconi have I never heard of it before?) I recommend the entire interview, especially the bits where he interviews the presenter. And I'll try to get better about my self-image before I'm seventy-three. I wouldn't mind the motorbikes, though.
My instinctive reaction to pictures of myself is hereby christened Tiny Ralph Richardson. He had a great face! I've just been watching him in Q Planes (1939), where his debonair, umbrella-carrying Major Hammond is agreed to have been the model for The Avengers' John Steed. He might have minded being up against Laurence Olivier as a very glossy young test pilot in the same year as Wuthering Heights, but I'm watching the smoothly whimsical intelligence agent who's never without his hat, even when he's up to his elbows in cooking. (. . . This film has a girl reporter and a ray gun. Super-secret aircraft. The villains are ambiguously Germanic. It's like pulp sci-fi meets proto-Bond. How in the name of Marconi have I never heard of it before?) I recommend the entire interview, especially the bits where he interviews the presenter. And I'll try to get better about my self-image before I'm seventy-three. I wouldn't mind the motorbikes, though.
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Yeah, Oliver is sadly best once he's dead. Is it just me, or was the word ham on that truck? I must admit I spent a lot of that first episode thinking "Paul Grose with longish hair? Yum." and other shallow things. By the second (we watched the first three) I was quite hooked.
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Is it just me, or was the word ham on that truck?
"Canada's Best Hams."
("I always thought he'd grow old and die in the arms of some Jamaican cabana boy, but no, he got run over by a pig truck!")
The first season is the best; it's self-contained. The second has some nice character development; the third loses some of the tightness of focus for me, although it's still got some beautiful things (East Hastings) in it. But the entire series is still worth watching, and then you walk around quoting it for years.