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Dec. 11th, 2004
"Dans le verre et dans la pierre..."
Dec. 11th, 2004 03:30 pmI have now seen Notre-Dame de Paris, the musical. It is without a doubt one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my entire life. I am madly, desperately in love with the whole thing.
I shall probably shortly expire of my love, being as it is likely to be unrequited; and as you all know, being as I am poet, my heart cannot long withstand that anguish of unrequited love. So I shall die. You can put it on my headstone:
She saw Notre-Dame de Paris and promptly expired of love.
It doesn't have a very good ring to it, does it?
Nevertheless. It was beautiful. I cannot even choose a single favourite moment, because every time I try I start out with, "Oh, I loved Dechire, but Le Temps des cathredrales was so beautiful, and I'm still singing Les Sans-papiers--Oooh, and Florence was the bestest song ever, and Condamnes, and Lune, and--and--" &c.
As you can see, my tastes seem to run towards Gringoire and Clopin, but I'm not exactly surprised by this.
At any rate, the entire family will be forced to see it. Mum has been enticed by hearing that Phoebus truly is as bastardly a bastard as he is the book (though I think even moreso, perhaps); she hated the Disney movie because of his good-guyliness. Da' has been enticed with promises of absolutely stunning choreography. Waen, alas, is not in the least enticed, and has been decorating the Quasimodo tree and pretending not to hear me. I shall have to serenade her.
Oooh, and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
erinpuff, I loved Gringoire's makeup. ^____^ I am such a silly silly, but it looked nice, I thought. Actually, I loved everyone's makeup, I confess it here. I loved everyone.
I do think, though, that it's like the third Harry Potter movie (feel free to impale and mangle me now for making an allusion to The Great Evil That is HP): if one doesn't know the backstory, one is going to be rather lost. They do a decent job of making up for what they take out, though.
NO DJALI! *wails and dies*
But that's all one. It's beautiful. It's fantastically, indescribably beautiful, and I am passionately in love. I shall give it my heart. I shall tear myself to pieces for its sake. I shall spend my entire life struggling vainly to get cast in it, even as an extra, despite the fact that it would be easier to be Esmeralda than an extra when one considers all the jumping about the extras do. In the meantime, I will dance to it, and sing it. If possible, I shall buy myself a soundtrack. In the meantime-- In the meantime--
I need icons. Like whoa.
*sponges offerinpuff*
I shall probably shortly expire of my love, being as it is likely to be unrequited; and as you all know, being as I am poet, my heart cannot long withstand that anguish of unrequited love. So I shall die. You can put it on my headstone:
She saw Notre-Dame de Paris and promptly expired of love.
It doesn't have a very good ring to it, does it?
Nevertheless. It was beautiful. I cannot even choose a single favourite moment, because every time I try I start out with, "Oh, I loved Dechire, but Le Temps des cathredrales was so beautiful, and I'm still singing Les Sans-papiers--Oooh, and Florence was the bestest song ever, and Condamnes, and Lune, and--and--" &c.
As you can see, my tastes seem to run towards Gringoire and Clopin, but I'm not exactly surprised by this.
At any rate, the entire family will be forced to see it. Mum has been enticed by hearing that Phoebus truly is as bastardly a bastard as he is the book (though I think even moreso, perhaps); she hated the Disney movie because of his good-guyliness. Da' has been enticed with promises of absolutely stunning choreography. Waen, alas, is not in the least enticed, and has been decorating the Quasimodo tree and pretending not to hear me. I shall have to serenade her.
Oooh, and
erinpuff, I loved Gringoire's makeup. ^____^ I am such a silly silly, but it looked nice, I thought. Actually, I loved everyone's makeup, I confess it here. I loved everyone.I do think, though, that it's like the third Harry Potter movie (feel free to impale and mangle me now for making an allusion to The Great Evil That is HP): if one doesn't know the backstory, one is going to be rather lost. They do a decent job of making up for what they take out, though.
NO DJALI! *wails and dies*
But that's all one. It's beautiful. It's fantastically, indescribably beautiful, and I am passionately in love. I shall give it my heart. I shall tear myself to pieces for its sake. I shall spend my entire life struggling vainly to get cast in it, even as an extra, despite the fact that it would be easier to be Esmeralda than an extra when one considers all the jumping about the extras do. In the meantime, I will dance to it, and sing it. If possible, I shall buy myself a soundtrack. In the meantime-- In the meantime--
I need icons. Like whoa.
*sponges off
erinpuff*
Sah! I got lots done to-day, during the day! We can only hope this carries through to to-night's present-writing!
At any rate. This morning I cleaned my room up, because the window-people have left, and now it does, admittedly, look better than it did before, although I'm going to have to memorise the things in my carefully filed stacks all over again. No matter. It's done.
I helped Mum and Waen make piroshki (which I did not spell correctly) by the absolutely super-duper dozens, and I've begun Wuthering Heights. I made dinner, though I confess that "dinner" consisted approximately of couscous and apples.
I got in all my treadmilling for to-day and am already trying to memorise Le Temps des cathedrales; I have made myself a Vagabond costume for watching NDdP.
I watched it again, incidentally. I am certainly in love with it, because it doesn't make me cry, but it does make my heart hurt. Not, you will understand, necessarily sadly--just heart-hurty. Especially Le Temps des cathedrales, though Florence does too. I shall not cry. I am just feeling a little lonely and confused when I hear it. This, I think, is the way Soujin loves, because this is how she has felt many times before when she was in love with someone, or something (and, being Soujin, this is assuredly not an irregular occurrence, love).
At any rate, am waxing pathetic. Shall be off to get some actual work done.
Ai me.
At any rate. This morning I cleaned my room up, because the window-people have left, and now it does, admittedly, look better than it did before, although I'm going to have to memorise the things in my carefully filed stacks all over again. No matter. It's done.
I helped Mum and Waen make piroshki (which I did not spell correctly) by the absolutely super-duper dozens, and I've begun Wuthering Heights. I made dinner, though I confess that "dinner" consisted approximately of couscous and apples.
I got in all my treadmilling for to-day and am already trying to memorise Le Temps des cathedrales; I have made myself a Vagabond costume for watching NDdP.
I watched it again, incidentally. I am certainly in love with it, because it doesn't make me cry, but it does make my heart hurt. Not, you will understand, necessarily sadly--just heart-hurty. Especially Le Temps des cathedrales, though Florence does too. I shall not cry. I am just feeling a little lonely and confused when I hear it. This, I think, is the way Soujin loves, because this is how she has felt many times before when she was in love with someone, or something (and, being Soujin, this is assuredly not an irregular occurrence, love).
At any rate, am waxing pathetic. Shall be off to get some actual work done.
Ai me.
