The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex and Cleobloodypatra

[apolla]

So, Rome courtesy of the BBC and HBO has arrived at the Cleopatra chapter. Glad to see they're not painting her as a sex-crazed vapid bint or anything... snerk. One finds it disheartening that 2000-year-old Augustan propaganda is still rife. Your girl Cleopatra was an intelligent and cunning woman.

Anyway, more important things: I finally saw the entirety of The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex. Those of you who know me may be surprised that I haven't seen it through before, not least because I've had the Errol Flynn Signature Collection in my possession since it came out the same day as Episode III. Anyway, I've always wanted to devote my time and attention to it as it so richly deserves. That and I have a great and hearty dislike of Her Majesty Bette Davis. I've a few ideas why, not least that one must be either a Bette or a Joan person, and I am in the latter's camp. The stories my Flynn told of the filming of this particular picture hardly lends itself to a sympathetic rendering of her character.

So, it's not a bad film. Lushly filmed, beautiful music. Even acted pretty well. Adored Alan Hale as the Great and Legendary Hugh O'Neill, cos he always steals whatever scene he's in. Olivia de Havilland beautiful as ever, possibly even more. Errol both beautiful and devilishly charming.

Bette Fucking Davis. I know there are those of you (hey Elise!) who adore The Bette, but I swear I started getting motion sickness from watching her fidget, shake and otherwise twat about. She must have had quite the job digesting all the scenery she chewed up. Such were her histrionics that next to her, Errol 'Hardly Brando' Flynn gives a sensitive, understated performance.

More than that, there's fuck all chemistry to go along with it. Compare it to his other turns opposite Miss de Havilland, and you'll see what I mean. Still, he's beautiful and charming and all the things I have loved so much about him over the years. The nonchalant 'all things considered I'd rather be on the Sirocco' attitude most of all. All falls apart in the last scene or two, though. Perhaps it was the first thing filmed or perhaps he'd got sick and tired of Herself whacking him in the face.

But it's still a pretty fine film, and it's all in spite of Bette Davis. Bloody woman. Give me Mildred Pierce any day of the week.

Whatever, I'm off to bed.