Ten hour shift at work, then two hours editing photos. I’m pork pied, mate.
Wait, that’s not correct deployment of Cockney rhyming slang. I’m… cream crackered. That’s the one. I’m ball and hooped. I’m down for lent. I’m Shredded Wheat.
... Beat, is what I meant by that one. Indeed. Hmm. Yes.
So I did watch some Umbrella Academy last night. I think I like it you know. It’s self-indulgent, undisciplined, preposterous - but that’s part of its maximalist appeal. It is rooted in genre, it deals in cliche and trope, but it does so with a confidence in its own right to exist that is as endearing as it is naive.
It simply thinks that it is really good, and never hesitates or second-guesses itself, and - so far at least - that rubs off on the viewer.
Ellen Page helps. The actors are all great, ludicrous and larger-than-life, clearly having all the fun, but Page is grounded and nuanced and quiet, in a way that anchors the show as a whole. She’s the audience’s way in, an achingly ordinary woman surrounded by greatness, a clever and wry and solemn figure who doesn’t quite have enough talent to wrench herself out of the mundane. And, yes, I’m not far into it, and clearly she’s going to awaken latent powers at the pivotal moment and become a Jean Grey-esque demigod - but for the moment she’s just like the rest of us, and that’s fine with me.
OK, it’s late and I’m on the open tomorrow, I’m gonna jump in a canoe and paddle.
...Skedaddle. Obviously.
Bubyeeee x
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