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Mathemata

@mathemata / mathemata.tumblr.com

Everything of little value and questionable quality. [a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds]
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deviatesinc

Christopher Isherwood, 1935

photo by Humphrey Spender

Tagged: I think about don bachardy quite a lot these days

He turned 80 recently and I failed to notice… *wipes away tear*

Have you by any chance seen the 2007 documentary on the...

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mathemata

Hadn't a clue about the Ivory project (you really are a fount of wisdom!) - what a shame that it was never made. I have seen Christopher and his kind, but it was a while back and I vaguely remember not having been too impressed with it [the memory isn't fresh enough to point fingers at what it was that irked me, but there was definitely something (Pathemata continues to be informative)].

Chris & Don had two screenings at a film festival I was volunteering at a good few years ago, so I'm fortunate to have seen it twice (can't say whether it would've made that lasting an impression otherwise). It made me think long and hard about the nature of relationships and the combinations that seem to suprisingly work (as synchronicity would have it, I had just finished a book of Isherwood's letters and found that 'meeting' Bachardy really helped better understanding them). The film itself, I think, managed a sort of balance - it worked hard to show Isherwood and Bachardy as equals, even as the latter had very obviously gone through uncertainties about his identity ("I can't help it - I'm an unconscious impersonator") and some feelings of inferiority to do with Isherwood's perceived superiority (experience, intelligence, status etc). Also - bringing in Bachardy's paintings (and Isherwood's own squiggles) to help tell the story was a great move. On the down side, it did have some staged scenes (which tend to rub me up the wrong way where documentaries are concerned), but the slight discomfort was strongly outweighed by the overall emotional impact of the film, I thought. Hope you get a chance to see it.

Source: npg.org.uk
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pathemata

Heavens. Above.(!) What have I done? Or rather – what have YOU done? I'm at a loss for words other than „we are indeed drifting into the arena of the unwell“ (ah well, at least we'll be in good company). But easily the most ridiculous in all of this is that he doesn't really look that out of place (thanks to your mad PS skills, to be sure), I mean, is the under-gamekeeper really that different from a garden gnome? Potayto/potahto, I'd say.

Now taking a moment to picture Wilby heading to trim the hedges, only to find Rupert lounging amidst the evening primroses. „Oh not again, Rupert! Come now, we've talked about this!"

[and, just to be clear - if my hyperbolically sad attempts at humour seem at any time inconsiderate towards the privacy of the actors as actual human beings living in the actual world, then it is because it's so well and truly unimaginable, I mean - my idea of trespassing would be an uninvited glance on the street]

And - psst, what was the arts & crafts tag about - did you go anywhere specific?

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It's probably the proportions - with a flimsy white shirt and a ruffled mane, even a pompous stockbroker from the city can look young and vulnerable. So at odds is he here with Clive, the latter showing up in full inpenetrable garb, even though he'd gone upstairs first and ought have had plenty of time to change into his nightwear. I reckon they were after the contrast, wanting us to see a complacent slicked-back git with a slug under his nose and notions of propriety souring his intelligence, put up against a young man, confused, scared and hurt, still in search of his truth. And by gods were they successful.

The hair department really did do a terrific job - haven't been to a professional hairdresser in fifteen years, but all the beautiful hair in Maurice (achieved by ungodly means, one fears) is making me rethink my ways. Then again, propose I make an appointment and turn up with a picture of Maurice Hall, offering them a brief of "I never ever want to think about my hair ever, nor do anything beyond washing it", they'd most likely hand me a wig. Ah, well.

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mathemata

OMG. Smoke-ring-blowing Gladys is one of my most favourite Maurice things. 

pathemata, you have NO IDEA how much I love this scene. Well, you do now.

YES! Gladys and the smoke ring(s) from her torch of freedom rocked - she was witty, vibrant, and independent; these deleted scenes again something that would've added dimension to the final cut. In fact, since my last fumblings on the subject of women in Maurice, I've thought up a small addendum - not only are they sensible and sympathetic, but they seem to also be less stereotypically feminine (e.g. the parallels drawn between Ada and Maurice) - leading one to assume that the 'passion of a vegetable fashion' (temporarily sidetracked here - Gilbert's choice of metaphor regarding homosexual relations in The Aesthete first made me seethe in fury, and then laugh myself to a rather pitiful state as I have always been rather partial to vegetables) is not really down to traditionally established gender roles - no matter how butch, Edna May didn't stand a chance.

Back to work now, or maybe I'll allow myself to bask in the glory of Gladys for a little while longer. Haha!

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