Willy Russell / Educating Rita

A play & film by Willy Russell.

Julie Walters and Michael Caine made this film unforgettable for me.

Dr. Frank Bryant: Sod them, eh, Rita! Sod them!
Rita: Will they sack you?
Frank: Good God no. That would involve making a decision. Pissed is all right. To get the sack, it would have to be rape on a grand scale. And not just with students, either. That would only amount to a slight misdemeanour. No, for dismissal it would have to be nothing less than buggering the Bursar.
---
Rita: Have they sacked you?
Frank: I made rather a night of it last night so they're giving me a holiday. Two years in Australia.
Rita: Did you bugger the Bursar?
Frank: Metaphorically.
---
Rita: And when I turned around, me mother had stopped singing, and she was crying. I said, "Why are you crying, Mother?" And she said, "There must be better songs to sing than this." And I thought, "Yeah."

Robert Altman / Gosford Park

A film by Robert Altman.

Classic comedic whodunnit, with the best ensemble cast I have ever seen, but Maggie Smith just steals it as Lady Constance Trentham.

Constance: I suppose it's fun having a film star, but there's always so little to talk about after the first flush of recognition. And why has Freddy Nesbitt brought that awful common little wife of his? Because Isabel asked him to after another gun dropped out; that's no excuse to inflict her on us all. Mary... Tomorrow, I'll have breakfast in bed, and then get straight up into the tweeds. What shirt have you brought?
Mary Maceachran: This green one with the pink stripe.
Constance: Oh no dear, no. No, that's quite wrong. Always something very plain for country sports - the one I wore today will do.
Mary Maceachran: But it's soiled.
Constance: Well you can wash it, can't you?
---
Constance: Tell me, how much longer are you going to go on making films?
Ivor Novello: I suppose that rather depends on how much longer the public want to see me in them.
Constance: It must be hard to know when it's time to throw in the towel... What a pity about that last one of yours... what was it called? "The Dodger"?
Ivor Novello: The Lodger.
Constance: Oh. It must be so disappointing when something just, flops, like that.

Michael Cunningham / Flesh and Blood

A book by Michael Cunningham.

An everyday story of everything. Please read this.

"I only wear silk and linen in the summer," Mary said.
"Perfect," the woman answered.
"And can I tell you a little secret of mine?"
"Please do."
"I put my bra and panties in the freezer overnight."
"Oh, I'm going to try that."
"It's wonderful," Mary said. "And if you get enough sun on your legs you can sneak by without nylons."
"I love the sun. But you know, I freckle terribly."
"You want to watch that if you're fair."
"I'm the exact color of an egg." Cassandra sighed. "Scandinavian stock, all my forebears just huddled round the banks of the fjords and kept marrying the palest girl in the village."

Blueboy / Unisex

Album by laid back popsters Blueboy.

Breathy bossanova mixed with lyrical pop. Perfect soundtrack to a gentle evening.

don't you rain on my parade
i'm happy for once and that's worth celebrating
and did you care when I cut my hair
'cause i wanted you to
(he's falling for you) falling (so catch him)
falling (so catch him) falling (he's falling down)
---
oh i am very very sad
i like kissing my own lips
just like michael i'm completely mad
i like sex at my own pace
i, this nation's narcissus laureate
i like mirrors in bedrooms, mirrors in bedrooms
take me out to the bright lights (let's go)
i wanna walk cute down the streets of soho
take me out to the bright lights (let's go)
i wanna walk down the streets oh slow

James Morrow / This is the Way the World Ends

A book by US sci-fi polemicist James Morrow.

A bitter satire, and a beautifully framed novel, about the end of the world.

Unitarians rejected miracles, worshipped reason, denied the divinity of Jesus Christ, and had serious doubts about the divinity of God. George grew up believing that this was the most plausible of all possible worlds.
...
As the mobile survivors passed by, the third-degree burns victims begged to be shot to death..., their owns hands (weeping, pulpy rubble) being useless to the task. "Somebody please kill me," the third-degree burns victims gasped with curious politeness.