Feb. 26th, 2009

oh my god

Feb. 26th, 2009 01:30 am
karanguni: (Default)
it is like, 2 in the morning and i have stuff due all over the place and what am i doing? I am watching a knight's tale, watching alan-fucking-tudyk and paul-motherloving-bettany and keith-whyareyoudead-ledger and rufus-ohshit-sewell and just, oh my god, why have i never watched this before, the level of awesome and braindeadness and love and i think i'm going to go take a nap now
karanguni: (Default)
During A Knight's Tale DVD commentary:

Brian (Director): [commenting on Heath Ledger's character getting his arm relocated and a rub-down by Paul Bettany at the same time] Again, you're giving him kind of a rubdown while his shoulder's dislocated - I'm not sure that's, uh, medically correct.

Paul: Ah, uh, no. I just like to give men rubdowns when they dislocate any... any bit of them, really.



On Rufus Sewell's "live sex" parties:

Brian: ... troubadours.

Paul: Troubadours used to sing songs about... sex, actually.

Brian: In fact, at the bottom of Rufus' flat, there'd be troubadours to welcome you and sing songs about past visitors.



Before a potential sex scene:

Paul: I think now it's evident that they're about to f-- play chess, or dominoes.



Regarding a line:

Brian: "Revelling the night"; that doesn't happen very much any more, does it? No, unless it's in Rufus' apartment in Prague.

Paul: There was a lot of revelling.

Brian: And I think when Rufus rides up and says "committing the oldest sins in the newest ways", he knows what he's talking about.

Heath's character: As promised you before, you will look up at it from the flat of your back.

Paul: See, another tempting opportunity for a double entendre, and not taken - Brian, I'm ashamed of you.



Regarding Rufus' character getting to Heath's:

Paul: Yes, he's getting under Heath's skin just like herpes might.


I WANT TO WRITE PAUL BETTANY/RUFUS SEWEL FOR ABSOLUTELY NO REASON NOW.

 

A universe of unmapped grief and love
And new master light is beyond
The pleiades and plow and southern stars.

O soaring
Icarus of outworld, burn bright
The traceries of known skymarks,
Slide the highway planets behind
Your clear waxed wings.

Go conquer the everywhere left
Beyond your sad confinement
In a predicted bonehouse,
Witch thrown riddle of flesh
And water.

O soar until nothing
remains but great glittering holes
In the black godspun shirt over your head.

- John Fairfax