Hello Loves. It has been a couple days. Sorry about that.
Normally, in these little missives, I’d like to interview/explore/investigate actual people or places that you might be able to interact with as well – but for today, I urge you all, especially if you need a break from psycho-sexual thrillers (Black Swan, which, I loved, but sometimes you don’t need implosion of the human soul, you know?) or on the other extreme, Nicholas Sparks’ weepers (which, again, COMPLETELY HAVE THEIR PLACE, and I am CERTAINLY NOT denying that I keep a DVD of “The Notebook,” as well as a packet of Theraflu in my nightstand drawer, lest I happen to be alone in the house…or just shameless…) or bro-tastic comedies (sure. The Hangover. Yes. Funny. Silly men, scary tiger, but really?) but instead need a …almost ‘grown up,’ all-purpose film (think movie-as-cashmere-blanket – you don’t necessarily NEED it but once you have it in your presence, at least for a little bit of time you’re just…grateful, pleased, and content). In any case, don’t let the mildly oblique title dissuade you – The King’s Speech is…wonderful.
And not just because Colin Firth (who, and I honestly ask of those, among you recall his early performance in the 1987 Hallmark Hall of Fame presentation of “The Secret Garden”? Because: oh yes, I did. And I swooned. And I still do) is in it. Or Geoffrey Rush (a thousand baskets of peonies for you, dear Australian thespian), or even heroine of every Merchant Ivory movie I may or may not have watched from adolescence onward, Helena Bonham Carter, or because (swoon, part deux) Guy Pierce is in it… no.