All 2 entries tagged Narnia
March 08, 2005
All right, so I never felt like that about the fox in Robin Hood. For one thing, he was a fox. For another thing, green really isn't my colour. But seeing as Layla has seen fit to confess her first crush to the world, it makes mine look normal in comparison, and it was…
Caspian, in the 1989 BBC adaptation of the Chronicles of Narnia (i.e 20 year old Sam West, skipping round in doublet and hose and a big shiny gold helmet). Graced with such costars as a giant fluffy mouse with an earring and a couple of chubby kids straight from drama school, how could he fail to look good? He was the king, I tell you, the king, and he ruled over his clunky polysterene ship with a wonderful authority and a shiny plastic sword. Whether facing monsters made out of cardboard and stickyback plastic, or giving his all to the wooden dialogue he was given, he was the king.
But alas, his story has as tragic an end as that of Robin and Layla's – after six weeks of swaggering round in tights,within two minutes of screen time he wooed and married a lurex wearing fairy with the worst eighties hairdo in the world, and the last I ever saw of him was sipping out of a goblet evidently fashioned from empty washing up bottles, and trying not to get entangled in the mass of frizz as he kissed his bride.
And there endeth my sad tale.
February 25, 2005
On our jolly way down from English today (fifth floor), the lift stopped on another floor, and the doors opened. Fair enough. This happens quite a bit. (We have long since had to come to terms with the fact that Literature is not the only thing that happens in Humanities, painful as it is)
But instead of looking out on to the green felt world of languages (fourth floor), or the haphazard scarfy world of theatre-studies-or-whatever-happens-on-the-third-floor, the open doors revealed a long dark corridor, stretching blankly off into the distance, with no sign of human habitation. This, apparently, is the first floor of Humanities, and it has since transpired that nobody I know has any idea of what goes on there, or even knows of anyone who has actually been there and survived the experience. Until today, I had no idea it actually existed.
So what does go on on the first floor? The lights are dimmed. There are no notice boards, no neon posters saying 'Look, here are People doing Things.' There is, in fact, both a distinct lack of people and things. I think it might be a bit like Narnia, only appearing when someone or something wants you to see it… only Narnia had snow and talking animals and lots of warm wholesome meals and milk before bedtime, none of which I think would happen on the first floor.
I get the feeling that once you set foot here, you might never be allowed to leave again. So be warned. If you're alone in the lift, and it suddenly slides open on a dark lonely corridor, don't be tempted to get out. You may never find your way back…