Maev MacCoille

Kristin Scott-Thomas would make a great Lord Vetinari, if it was possible to adapt a Prachett novel without ruining it.

I saw the name Coldbath Square and instantly conceived a story of Victorian orphans who have adventures in-between being raised by their firm yet fair great aunt and her dotty housekeeper. There’s probably also a cynical cat.

The English really are great at place names, is what I’m saying.

When your seat is right beside the light box, is it technically a spoiler?

Witness for the Prosecution is a perfect Sunday afternoon movie. I spent the whole thing trying to figure out the twist, and still didn’t get it.

Tyrone Power is in the William Holden/Glenn Ford category for me. The narrative needs him to be desperately alluring, and I just don’t see it.

Repost for Irish Film Classifications by Damien Owens, because it's just come up in FB memories and it's still *brilliant*.

Today is the Equinox, and also my birthday - meaning I get cake, and the joyful knowledge that the sun is now starting its annual disappearance.

I was trying to explain living in the 1820s to a group of school children once, and the thing that genuinely blew their minds was the idea that, unless one of them could play an instrument, there would be no music. It’s like they thought it’s come on tap.

I love Joe Orton, I love the precision-engineered chaotic absurdity of his plays, and I love that he was one of those rare male writers who appreciated the genius of Jane Austen.

I cannot for the life of me work out how Northanger Abbey inspired Entertaining Mr Sloane.

Alas, no expectation of why the 1980s led to such a plethora of Lauras. I have to give them nicknames to differentiate them.

Game changer: female shaped swimming goggles.

My old goggles up and died and I replaced them with female-specific ones.

I was dubious, but 100% worth it. No water got in, and I didn’t have big red marks on my face post-swim (a first).

Someday, I want to see a science-fiction story where the robots are like actual technology.

Always needing security upgrades, overloading their central processors if asked to do three tasks in a row, motivated by spite to crash at the worst possible time…

Basically robots as printers

I watched both adaptations before reading the book, and I think the BBC one is far superior.

The plot in the film felt weirdly obscured, and what they did to Tom Hardy’s hair was a crime.

Pondering, as I sometimes do in quiet moments, one of the truly eternal political questions - why does anyone take the job of French Prime Minister?

Signing up to be a political whipping boy is questionable at the best of times, but the French give out more punishment than most.

‪I’m not naming the show, because the obsession with mics in theatre is not the fault of that performer (who did a good job), it is a wider, industry level disease, a directorial addiction that needs to be broken.‬

‪(It just gets on my nerves, all right?)‬

Yesterday I saw a show that I genuinely enjoyed, that was witty and clever, and that mic-ed the lead performer.

If you need a mic for an 80 seater black box theatre, I really don’t think theatre performance is for you. Either get some vocal training, or go and make short films.

It would appear my local M&S has incurred the wrath of a Thunder God or Gods.

Great historical bilingual pun. Last week I learned that the French left wing would caustically refer to the appeasement-pushing British PM as “Monsieur J’Aime Berlin”. I mean, that’s classy.

I wish my local foxes could resolve whatever their deep seated psychological conflicts are, because good lord, the NOISE.

It’s like primal scream therapy for vulpines.

Male spy novelists and creepy as hell sex scenes…why, oh why, oh why.

I want intrigue and moral ambiguity not Thoughts on Smooth Thigh Skin.

The part I get stuck on with this is that the foot and mouth epidemic in 2001 (so only a year before 28 Days Later) was successfully contained to the island of Britain. And unionist politicians argued that NI should be treated differently!

The 28DL virus seems easier to contain, if anything.

Oops…

(I think I assumed Sligo because Ben Bulben was so prominent in the Normal People adaptation)

a close up of a man 's face in a car with a woman behind him . ALT: a close up of a man 's face in a car with a woman behind him .

A journalist described Sally Rooney as “one of Britain’s most famous modern authors.” Sligo up in arms.

I’m going to assume that, for some obscure reason, this journalist enjoys being reamed by the Irish commentariat, because otherwise…

I didn’t know Tim Burton did sculpture.

Who do I have to bribe for a staged adaptation of Pacific Rim?

If we must have a theatre industry that scavenges its big productions from other artforms, can it at least scavenge things I want to see?

It has been redeveloped out of existence, but when Heathrow had the Paddy Pipe it was pretty terrible, especially during the inevitable Christmas delays - everyone flying to Dublin trapped behind a point of no return, with no food or coffee shop, and about four toilets.

One woman carries a carpet across London - quick, someone write a musical about me.

I don’t even watch the Gilded Ages (Julian Fellowes writing about class is a reliable to make me irritable), and this still feels like an attack.

I think the decision to outsource all their CGI to “just in time” delivery has to bear some blame. Watching Fantastic 4, I kept thinking “I haven’t seen a baby this nightmarish since Twilight.”

Now there’s a historical reference where I feel we need to go back several hundred years to revisit some starting assumptions.

Not unusual when talking to English people about Irish history, but even so.

Just received a student discount without asking for it (since I’m not a student).

Does this mean I’ve still got it, or that I drastically need to improve my personal grooming?