Merchant Ivory

…Is actually the name of two people, and not a seller of elephant tusks as I always assumed.

Lately our house has been very British. Tea and crumpets, croquet, bad teeth, the whole nine yards. And you should hear my excellent British accent. George simply loves it when I start in with it.

Me: Good Morning, Guvnah.

G: …um, ok. Morning.

Me: And what, pray tell, is on the docket for today’s Shhhedool?

G: Stop it.

'Ello. Me name is Madunna.

It is all because we have been simply steeping in Merchant Ivory films and period dramas. Simply steeping I tell you.

We watched Howards End a few days ago. Have you seen this movie? It is not, as I assumed, a movie about a man named Howard and his magnificent rear-end. Rather, it is about class struggle in Edwardian England. I know, I know, try to contain the unbridled joy. At the very least it starred Helena Bonham Carter, who I adore in spite of her teeth, and Emma Thompson, who I adore for Nannie McPhee. (Shuddup). Also, Anthony Hopkins chomps his way through the film. And there is a house named Howards End for some inexplicable reason.

Next, we marinated in The King’s Speech. I would watch Collin Firth do pretty much anything. He’s so genteel and kind and precious and mannish. Plus, Geoffrey Rush is there, speech instructing. And Helena Bonham Carter. Hi again, Hel! The movie was excellent, couldn’t recommend it enough. George even teared up during said speech. He thought I didn’t notice, but I did. I always notice. Also, hearing Susan’s British accent “attempt” during the ride home was exquisite. No one mangles an accent like my Suzie.

Mr. Darcy dresses to the left.

We started watching the new PBS mini-series Downton Abbey, starring Elizabeth McGovern, of many 80s things, and Maggie Smith, of many awesome old lady things, and a castle which I adore and want to live in. The jury is still out, but Graham Norton liked it, so I probably will, too.

And finally, last night, we watched The Remains Of The Day, with Sir Anthony Hopkins (of liver with fava beans and Chianti fame), and once again the regal Emma Thompson (of I-divorced-Kenneth-Branagh fame). The story revolves around a butler whose life is not his own; it is given over to serving others. And once he realizes that and makes a grab for happiness it slips through his fingers. Not really the feel good movie of the year (1993). Kind of dreary and sad, really. I guess not all movies can be Moonstruck happy.

I think that next I will rent Maurice. The major theme in these movies seems to be angst and the struggle to repress each and every inconvenient emotion, and of course that is true with this one, too. Plus, super gay Hugh Grant and Rupert Graves and hot man on man romps. Yay!

Hugh make the softest pillow...

Anyway, Chip Chip! Cheerio! I wanna really, really, really wanna zigga zig ah. Carry on.

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One Response to Merchant Ivory

  1. BrendaM says:

    Mmmm, Colin Firth. *sigh*

    We also have gone over to the Brits in this house(not a huge leap for me, huge Anglophile here). We’ve been finishing up The Tudors and had an Elizabeth chaser. Good stuff.

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