And there was I thinking that clipped and proper english accents represented icy, 'stuff and nonsense' emotions. Lean's BE proved me wrong
In this horribly lit excursion, we are told that this is a very attractive man who has everything in 'Good ole first world Blighty' but chooses on a whim to make real its fantasies built on the briefest of moments.
I've always had a problem with Loren's English and here it annoys no end.
I keep expecting that fish mouth to open and close making loud ungainly Neapolitan sheep noises while the rock hard, lacquered coiffed, brown mask slips to reveal the ugly emperor underneath.
And I suspect this is how the studios sold us many Euro actors as 'attractive''. People were unused to foreigners living next door and put down any red flags of repulsion to ''well, they're foreign right?'' An excuse on which Bardot's career was built. Sassoon did not push big hair to hide humungus skulls for nothing.
But this TV knock off was not made to compete with Lean's gentle direction.
It's purpose was far sinister.
The remake attracts curiousty for 70's morals, nostalgia for picture postcard Surrey and permission to deride the folk who lived there.
The railway station is run by the budding imposed demographic - miserable women and immigrants , the carefully chosen male replacement.
The subtext of errant men, boring men, abusive men and slavishly devoted providers is taken for granted as the parade of bug eyed women read their scripts glumly.
BTW - did Rosemary leach say she was 28? Maybe I heard wrong.
Anyway - Burton tries to resurrect the passion he owned in Anne of The Thousand Days but looks like a hungry rat against this hunk of Italian prosciutto. Seventies eyebrows with a fake tan don't do anyone any favours. But the lie must be upheld. Fashion was designed by men for men. Now it's four caterpillars on the brow bone, 34 pairs of eyelashes and swollen toilet plunger lips.
Women were being led by the Loren into questioning their contentment all the way through to ungodly ungrateful selfish thoughts.
One would have thought that this seemingly happy marriage needed spicing up not an adulterous distraction for which we were told Burton and Loren are blameless. Surrounded by money, house, kids , job, the awareness that others were in dire straights did not bring gratitude or emotional loyalty. How disappointing.
This disgraceful copy was to push feminism when it was not needed and destroy the divine feminine. It is funny that real women would never think like this publicly until tall, wide shouldered, silicone pumped, big headed foreign men made it seem exotic. No one had a problem with Danny La Rue, Les Dawson or Edna Everage, but tricksters never know when to stop. Seems the stage and government has always been for free may sons.
In this horribly lit excursion, we are told that this is a very attractive man who has everything in 'Good ole first world Blighty' but chooses on a whim to make real its fantasies built on the briefest of moments.
I've always had a problem with Loren's English and here it annoys no end.
I keep expecting that fish mouth to open and close making loud ungainly Neapolitan sheep noises while the rock hard, lacquered coiffed, brown mask slips to reveal the ugly emperor underneath.
And I suspect this is how the studios sold us many Euro actors as 'attractive''. People were unused to foreigners living next door and put down any red flags of repulsion to ''well, they're foreign right?'' An excuse on which Bardot's career was built. Sassoon did not push big hair to hide humungus skulls for nothing.
But this TV knock off was not made to compete with Lean's gentle direction.
It's purpose was far sinister.
The remake attracts curiousty for 70's morals, nostalgia for picture postcard Surrey and permission to deride the folk who lived there.
The railway station is run by the budding imposed demographic - miserable women and immigrants , the carefully chosen male replacement.
The subtext of errant men, boring men, abusive men and slavishly devoted providers is taken for granted as the parade of bug eyed women read their scripts glumly.
BTW - did Rosemary leach say she was 28? Maybe I heard wrong.
Anyway - Burton tries to resurrect the passion he owned in Anne of The Thousand Days but looks like a hungry rat against this hunk of Italian prosciutto. Seventies eyebrows with a fake tan don't do anyone any favours. But the lie must be upheld. Fashion was designed by men for men. Now it's four caterpillars on the brow bone, 34 pairs of eyelashes and swollen toilet plunger lips.
Women were being led by the Loren into questioning their contentment all the way through to ungodly ungrateful selfish thoughts.
One would have thought that this seemingly happy marriage needed spicing up not an adulterous distraction for which we were told Burton and Loren are blameless. Surrounded by money, house, kids , job, the awareness that others were in dire straights did not bring gratitude or emotional loyalty. How disappointing.
This disgraceful copy was to push feminism when it was not needed and destroy the divine feminine. It is funny that real women would never think like this publicly until tall, wide shouldered, silicone pumped, big headed foreign men made it seem exotic. No one had a problem with Danny La Rue, Les Dawson or Edna Everage, but tricksters never know when to stop. Seems the stage and government has always been for free may sons.