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I was planning on updating more regularly once I was done with the ECDL exams, but now I'm sitting here over an entry I've kept adding the occasional half-line to for the last week, and it feels like I've lost the knack of writing completely. Damn.

# Rewatched Casanova, which I actually enjoyed more than the first time, when it took me a while to disentangle David Tennant's Casanova from his Doctor, because the combination of same writer and same lead actor broke the fourth wall a little too much for my taste. There are of course still a lot of elements that turn up again in DW and TW, a lot of Casanova both in the Doctor and Jack, but with more distance from DW it was easier to watch and appreciated the story for itself. It's lovely and tragic and heartbreaking, and while I can't put my finger on it, because neither the story nor the cinematography are ground-breaking or unconventional as such, there's something a bit wild about it that I really liked. What's... I'm not sure if 'odd' is the right word here, but I can't think of a better one, is that even though the second half of the story is depressing and tragic throughout, like with Edith ('That stupid daft man and all his adventures, don‘t burn him!') what lingers in one's mind in spite of everything that followed is the sheer joy of the beginning. (It's the same with Ten, really. For all the angst and pain, what I'll always associate with him even more than that is his joy at travelling and all the possibilities of the universe...)

It also reminded me of what RTD wrote, although in a different context, in The Writer's Tale about how he loved writing liars. From the scene where Casanova first meets Henriette to Edith's lie in the end, when she's taking over the telling of the story, making him believe that Henriette is coming, so that he can die in peace, it's all about stories and pretending and a never-ending back and forth between lies and truth, what the truth really is, and that often it's both this and that, rather than this or that. (In hindsight I wonder if this is where the truth/lie/pretending theme in Jack and Ianto's relationship in CoE came from. Admittedly Fragments would probably have been enough to base this on, but watching Henriette and Casanova, who both lie about their social backgrounds, lying to everyone else, but sometimes not to each other... it's not the same situation, obviously, but something about that did recall Jack and Ianto.)

--That‘s a well-cut jacket. Chinese silk, you‘ve got everything just right. But that‘s a lie, isn‘t it?
--All right, I give up. I‘m just pretending.
-- But when you looked at me, that was real.
-- (nod)
-- So you lie to men, but not women.
-- The men don‘t matter.
-- If you‘re gonna pretend in this city, then you only have to remember one thing. They‘re all pretending. Highborn, lowborn, people in between, everyone‘s wishing they were someone else. All you have to do is lie with conviction. (...) Act better, and you become better.


-- If you‘re busy pretending like everyone else, why not pretend to me? Why tell me the truth?
-- I don‘t know. I just did.
-- It‘s an honour.


-- Look at us. The two great liars.
-- Yeah.
-- This is where it's got us.

# Also rewatched Bob and Rose, and much as I love TW and would absolutely watch another season, however unlikely it seems at this point that this is going to happen, I really would like to see something from RTD next where he doesn't feel obliged to write 'big' (or, worse, 'bigger'), but goes back to do doing character studies like that... (Also, Harriet Jones Penelope Wilton! How could I have missed that the first time?)

(# MD next!)

# This is probably my favourite program by Stephane Lambiel since Ne Me Quitte Pas. I really love what he does with the music here, translating it into a visual medium. The Rigoletto is perhaps more of an eye-catcher, but I've always preferred his serious programs.



solitary summer

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