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Sunday, June 25, 2006

Rule Britannia

So, in the midst of this incredibly busy and draining chunk of life, I seem to be ODing on British-set media. New Doctor Who, Shaun of the Dead. I'm very nearly done with the second Queen and Country novel. I went and saw England v. Ecuador this morning, which was awesome. I am having a very hard time keeping track of my aiches.

And tonight I watched the miniseries The Second Coming, which was apparently quite the big deal back when it premiered in 2003 on Britain's iTV, but I'd never heard of it until it popped up during a Christopher Eccleston search on Netflix. (I'm having a bit of an Eccleston thing right now. Sod off if you don't understand and seriously, this is what it's like in my head ALL THE TIME right now.) Anyways, average-bloke Eccleston goes missing, comes back, and starts claiming to be the Son of God. And it is alternately weird, sad, smart, stupid, scary, hilarious, and challenging. If you're saying to yourself "Oi, Liz, that sounds quite a bit like new Doctor Who, yeah?" well of course there's a damn reason for it: it's written by Russell T. Davies, who's the new Doctor Who show-runner -- and is himself alternately weird, sad, smart, stupid, scary, hilarious, and challenging. Second Coming is more challenging than Who, and nearly lost me several times... Only to win me right back. It sure pokes at your religious beliefs HARD. Why the hell can't America make TV like that, eh?

Oh, right.

Eccleston is so ODD. They used tons of natural lighting for Second Coming and so he'd go from looking beautific to ghoulish in a matter of moments; the key to Eccleston's attractiveness, it seems, is found in minimizing the more cadaveresque aspects of his skull.

But he's got so much damn glee. It just leaks out of those eyes and that grin. Which makes him so incredibly fun to watch. Even as you try and remember that he doesn't play one of the zombies in 28 Days Later.

I think it's Elizabeth next in the queue, but I'm gonna slowly try and wean myself off this British thing, maybe. If only because I can only hold in my bad attempt at the actual accent for so long. And once I slip into that, God save the Queen.


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