Filming Is Set To Begin In February, And AFAIK, The Identity Of The Two Roles Is Being Kept Closely Guarded.

Filming is set to begin in February, and AFAIK, the identity of the two roles is being kept closely guarded. Can't say I blame them for that--especially with Lanthimos' Poor Things (to be released in Dec) is a likely Oscar contender and the inevitable comparisons that the media will discuss. And who could blame the media for that either? They need the juice and with it being Emma Stone and Andrew Garfield. The two are friends, for which I am glad because having real friendship in this business is probably quite difficult.

Which is a little bittersweet for me in all honesty. I don't do the whole 'ship' thing with actors; that's none of my concern/business but holy cow are those two great talents for their generation and I would love to see them work together again for a couple of reasons. First, like I said, just very very good at their craft. Secondly, with the right vehicle you could expect something that would bring to the forefront everything a viewer could ever want. Those two have such skill at getting viewers invested in their characters: what happens to them matters to you, what they feel, you feel. Plus, Ms. Stone seems to prefer/select working with directors and colleagues w/whom she has previously been and thus would be reunited professionally with someone with whom she had great success.

Buuut, it's awkward because the media storm/gossip would capitalize on that and I hate it. Let. Them. Act. Leave the rest alone. I mean, I get PR and how it works for promotion of projects and to some extent, one signs on to that but then again--look to how Daniel Day-Lewis conducted his career if one needs a primer on how to manage a career (albeit his was mostly prior to the extremism of social media and its immediacy). I think Cillian Murphy is another one who really tries to keep his professional life/personal life separate. The media should learn to respect those that wish to focus on the art not the artist.

But going back to the original topic, Andrew G. could excel in the role of the Monster. In interviews, he's intimated a sympathy for those that are perceived as outliers (for lack of a better term). The ostracized for whatever reason as deemed unacceptable by society. Not that Oscar Isaac doesn't, but Andrew has arguably more roles in his career where that dynamic has been at the forefront: Silence, as you mentioned, Hacksaw Ridge, Under The Silver Lake, and Mainstream. Even with The Social Network, Eduardo Saverin spent a good deal of the early scenes attempting to fit in within Harvard's cliquey society. The betrayal and casting out of Saverin in the movie was where the viewer felt what I was talking about above with Garfield (and Stone). Brilliantly done (thanks to the entire cast and crew).

I'll watch what Garfield is in regardless; del Toro is a fantastic director, as is Lanthimos and I'm sure I'll compare and contrast how each handle their own unique projects and ideas and cinematography. I'm looking forward to it.

Lastly: with respect to the similarity of the projects, based on my own viewings as an outsider, Hollywood seems to run with trends. Plus people talk. A lot. And then talk some more. For awhile we were awash in movies featuring astronauts and space in various forms: bios, sci-fi futures, dramas, etc. del Toro has apparently had something like Shelly's work on his bucket list of projects for awhile and Lanthimos has oft used quirky stories to illustrate society and its ways (Poor Things is adapted from the Alisdair Gray story). Wouldn't be surprised if both directors having achieved some success, finally had the means and clout to get their stuff into production. And so studios and everyone talked. And talked some more. Perhaps the trend of social commentary type films will continue to grow and reach a broader audience (it's always been tricky IMO because these types of films can push buttons--as they're meant to do--and some audiences do not wish to think about that.)

Great discussion, thanks!

There's nothing more beautiful than Andrew Garfield's crying face:

I want to hold him everytime... 😭😭😭

(via)

Nobel prize winning poet, Louise Gluck, has passed away at age 80. Among her accomplishments was the Pulitzer prize winning collection "The Wild Iris."

In 2003-04, she served as the Poet Laureate of the United States.

"At the end of my suffering

there was a door"

--opening line to The Wild Iris (1992) by Louise Gluck

Louise Gluck, 4/22/1943-10/13/2023

“It’s the kind of kiss that inspires stars to climb into the sky and light up the world.”

— Tahereh Mafi

Urban sprite

Madrid, Spain – 3.4.12

TULIP WITH THE GUY EVER

this is for peter!! im feral for this man my god this is long for nothing happening- guys i am SO fucking rusty prompt: an act of affection so blatant everyone notices roommate!peter <;3 flower prompts

It’s hard not to look at her. 

There’s so much to observe, so much to place his attention on- how she smiles, the way she taps the sides of her mugs before she sips her tea. She’s a vision in red lipstick and he’s the kind of person that’s blessed to be in her presence. 

It’s a Friday night, and there’s a sweet sort way that she curls into herself. She’s been his friend for just about a minute longer than he’s been in love with her, and he’d like to think he does a decent job at hiding this fact.

He landed on his hip today, from a height far enough off the ground that it still hurts, pain radiating from every step as he walks home. The commute is actually quite far from his internship at the newspaper, but he likes the area he lives, and the woman whose company he keeps while he lives there. He makes concessions. 

Still, he’d been looking forward to the sight of her since the ache began. Her presence had a way of soothing. 

She’s curled up onto an inherited recliner in their shared apartment, and when he bursts their creaky door open in a fluid motion, he’s greeted with this sight. She’s not alone- some friends from her graduate program on their Ikea couch. 

It’s girls night, and it’s his dutiful role to say a quick quip and head back to his room. Her two best friends are over, legs splayed over each other in an open display of affection that he adores witnessing. He could hear the laughter and yelling from outside the apartment itself. He likes how they make her laugh, how they seem to make her heart lighter when he can tell she’s not able to carry the weight of everything by herself. 

“Peter!” She’s the first to even notice he’s around, and he tries not to let the stubborn firework in his chest keep exploding at the thought of it. At the thought, she sees me. Her voice is warm and kind and weightless, and he drinks in  the sight of her. Their floor lamp illuminates her in warm golden light, a coupe glass with red wine held in delicate fingers. 

“Hey, you,” he replies, an unmistakable warmth he can’t seem to rid himself of in his tone. He tries not to seem disappointed, like he’d not been imagining watching an irrelevant TV show, a little too close together until they’d fallen asleep just that way.

As he’s hanging his withered coat, he asks, “What are you guys up to tonight?”

Her friend explains that they are watching the Spy Kids trilogy in order, and she nods dutifully along. 

“That sounds wonderful,” he can’t help but laugh. “I’ll leave you guys be-“ 

And it’s no surprise, when they send a him a chorus of please join, and you’re welcome to be here! 

She stands up to give him a hug goodnight (because she wants to kill him), and he envelops her before he can stop himself. She smells like a mixture of lavender and rose and sweet red wine, and he’s grateful for his heightened senses for a moment; it doesn’t take long to memorize it all. 

It occurs to him that he won’t see her until morning, and he takes in the sight of her again, eyes raking over her. She really is beautiful- lovely in a way that radiates her smile, follows her in action. His hands rest on the curve of her waist, and something and things being made to fit one another cross his mind, against his better judgement. God, he could spend forever looking at her, longer touching her. 

He only pulls away when he hears a muffled pair of laughs, failed attempts at not interrupting a moment. Which is absurd, because there is no moment. None. 

She beams at him despite the laughter of those she holds dear, and it aches saying goodbye to her. She's just down the hall and it hurts to leave.

He slinks off to his bedroom smelling like her perfume, blushing bright red and maybe, just maybe, the tiniest bit hopeful. And he thinks he might of heard the faint whisper of two other people, whispering questions he mulls over every day.

"Just roommates, huh?"

reblog and tag ur answer so I can see please :)