Digital Spy Watch News and Information Board
Nini wrote:You stated an opinion on something they disagree with. Because it fills some void in their lives, they hold onto their opinion like someone will take it the fuck away from them and faced with a critique a little more robust than "I don't like her because she's shit" they can't actually defend their position so they shoot you instead.
Exactly. This kind of thing upsets me. You can't critise anything anymore without the inevitable "my fist says otherwise" or the "yeah but he/she/you/your mum's crap" retort. Saddening.Sput wrote:They're cunts. It's something inherent to the British mindset, I feel, trying tear down anyone who has the guts to try hard and get good at something. Depressing, really.
The New Malpass.
Speaking of trying hard to get good, my LAMDA Speech and Drama exam is tomorrow morning and I'm desperately trying to last-minute learn lines.
There are my pieces - sorry for making the post a bit long. What do y'all think?
1. “The Glass Menagerie” – Tennessee Williams
Tom:
What do you think I’m at? Aren’t I supposed to have any patience to reach the end of, Mother? I know, I know. It seems unimportant to you, what I’m doing, what I want to do – having a little difference between them! . . . Listen! You think I’m crazy about the warehouse? (He bends fiercely toward her slight figure) You think I’m in love with the Continental Shoemakers? You think I want to spend fifty-five years down there in that – celotex interior! with – fluorescent – tubes! Look! I’d rather somebody picked up a crowbar and battered out my brains – than go back mornings! I go! Every time you come in yelling that God damn ‘Rise and Shine!’ ‘Rise and Shine!’ I say to myself, ‘How lucky dead people are!’ But I get up. I go. For sixty-five dollars a month I give up all that I dream of doing and being ever! And you say self – self’s all I ever think of. Why, listen, if self is what I thought of, Mother, I’d be where he is – GONE! (Pointing to father’s picture) As far as the system of transportation reaches! (He starts past her. She grabs his arm) Don’t grab at me, Mother! . . . I’m going to the movies! . . . (Crouching towards her, overtowering her tiny figure. She backs away, gasping) I’m going to opium dens! Yes, opium dens, dens of vice and criminals’ hang-outs, Mother. I’ve joined the Hogan gang, I’m a hired assassin, I carry a tommy-gun in a violin case. I run a string of cat-houses in the Valley! They call me Killer, Killer Wingfield, I’m leading a double-life, a simple, honest warehouse worker by day, by night a dynamic tsar of the underworld, Mother. I go to gambling casinos, I spin away fortunes on the roulette table! I wear a patch over one eye and a false moustache, sometimes I put on green whiskers. On those occasions they call me El Diablo. Oh, I could tell you things to make you sleepless! My enemies plan to dynamite this place. They’re going to blow us all sky-high some night! I’ll be glad, very happy, and so will you! You’ll go up, up on a broomstick, over Blue Mountain with seventeen gentlemen callers! You ugly – babbling old – witch . . . (He goes).
2. “Playing Sinatra” – Bernard Kops
Norman:
Sandra darling. Let’s start the party now. Please. We have to wait for no-one. That trifle looks too inviting.
(He sits down, puts on a paper hat, smiles, leans across and puts one on her head.) Let’s start, please. I love just the two of us. (He starts to sing ‘Happy Birthday’.) Sandra, I don’t want people. I have no vacancies. I am all full up with people. Take some trifle. Don’t wanna wait.
I don’t think he’ll be coming. (Ending his song.) Happy birthday to me. Who is this Phillip? Where did he come from? ‘We know nothing about him. (Singing to the tune ‘Who Is Silvia’.) Who is Phillip? What is he? That comes from outer darkness...’ Sorry. If he were the good King Arthur I would fear him. I fear any stranger except Mr Frank Sinatra, but then, he’s no stranger.
(Quietly.) Sandra! Five thousand pounds withdrawn? Yesterday? Look! This is an entry in your own little Building Society book. There! Five thousand pounds withdrawn. What have you done with the money? Or did Minerva cost that much? Has your love for me gone completely overboard? (Now heavy.) WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH THE MONEY? (He holds her wrists, is hurting her.) Tell me or I swear I’ll murder you. What have you done with that money?
Darling! Please!
Sandra, you and I – we don’t have a separate existence. If we are not us who are we then? What have all the years meant? Nothing? Am I nothing? I feel so sorry for you.
I’ve had enough. Think I need you? All my life you’ve used me as an excuse for your own fears, because you think you’re ugly as a turd. But now you’ve gone too far.
Not interested. Sorry Sandra. Argument over. Let’s be friends. (He goes to the table, eats voraciously.) Try some of these cakes. They’re absolutely scrumptious. Mmmmm! Sandra, I’m saying this in the nicest possible way, in a spirit of conciliation. You fell for the oldest trick in the world. You of all people. You fell for a pathetic conman, didn’t you? You just gave him that money. Admit! Admit. Anyway, it’s not really your fault. That’s the whole point about conmen; they’re so believable.
3. “An Ideal Husband” – Oscar Wilde
Sir Robert Chiltern:
There was your mistake. There was your error. The error all women commit. Why can’t you women love us, faults and all? Why do you place us on monstrous pedestals? We have all feet of clay, women as well as men; but when we men love women, we love them knowing their weaknesses, their follies, their imperfections, love them all the more, it may be, for that reason. It is not the perfect, but the imperfect, who have need of love. It is when we are wounded by our own hands, or by the hands of others, that Love should come to cure us – else what use is love at all? All sins, except a sin against itself, Love should forgive. All lives, save loveless lives, true Love should pardon. A man’s love is like that. It is larger, more human than a woman’s. Women think that they are making ideals of men. What they are making of us are false idols merely. You made your false idol of me, and I had not the courage to come down, show you my wounds, tell you my weaknesses. I was afraid that I might lose your love, as I have lost it now. And so, last night you ruined my life for me – yes, ruined it! What this woman asked of me was nothing compared to what she offered to me. She offered security, peace, stability. The sin of my youth, that I thought was buried, rose up in front of me, hideous, horrible, with its hands at my throat. I could have killed it for ever, sent it back into its tomb, destroyed its record, burned the one witness against me. You prevented me. No one but you, you know it. And now what is there before me but public disgrace, ruin, terrible shame, the mockery of the world, a lonely dishonoured life, a lonely dishonoured death, it may be, some day? Let women make no more ideals of men! let them not put them on altars and bow before them, or they may ruin other lives as completely as you – you whom I have so wildly loved – have ruined mine! (He passes from the room.)
There are my pieces - sorry for making the post a bit long. What do y'all think?
1. “The Glass Menagerie” – Tennessee Williams
Tom:
What do you think I’m at? Aren’t I supposed to have any patience to reach the end of, Mother? I know, I know. It seems unimportant to you, what I’m doing, what I want to do – having a little difference between them! . . . Listen! You think I’m crazy about the warehouse? (He bends fiercely toward her slight figure) You think I’m in love with the Continental Shoemakers? You think I want to spend fifty-five years down there in that – celotex interior! with – fluorescent – tubes! Look! I’d rather somebody picked up a crowbar and battered out my brains – than go back mornings! I go! Every time you come in yelling that God damn ‘Rise and Shine!’ ‘Rise and Shine!’ I say to myself, ‘How lucky dead people are!’ But I get up. I go. For sixty-five dollars a month I give up all that I dream of doing and being ever! And you say self – self’s all I ever think of. Why, listen, if self is what I thought of, Mother, I’d be where he is – GONE! (Pointing to father’s picture) As far as the system of transportation reaches! (He starts past her. She grabs his arm) Don’t grab at me, Mother! . . . I’m going to the movies! . . . (Crouching towards her, overtowering her tiny figure. She backs away, gasping) I’m going to opium dens! Yes, opium dens, dens of vice and criminals’ hang-outs, Mother. I’ve joined the Hogan gang, I’m a hired assassin, I carry a tommy-gun in a violin case. I run a string of cat-houses in the Valley! They call me Killer, Killer Wingfield, I’m leading a double-life, a simple, honest warehouse worker by day, by night a dynamic tsar of the underworld, Mother. I go to gambling casinos, I spin away fortunes on the roulette table! I wear a patch over one eye and a false moustache, sometimes I put on green whiskers. On those occasions they call me El Diablo. Oh, I could tell you things to make you sleepless! My enemies plan to dynamite this place. They’re going to blow us all sky-high some night! I’ll be glad, very happy, and so will you! You’ll go up, up on a broomstick, over Blue Mountain with seventeen gentlemen callers! You ugly – babbling old – witch . . . (He goes).
2. “Playing Sinatra” – Bernard Kops
Norman:
Sandra darling. Let’s start the party now. Please. We have to wait for no-one. That trifle looks too inviting.
(He sits down, puts on a paper hat, smiles, leans across and puts one on her head.) Let’s start, please. I love just the two of us. (He starts to sing ‘Happy Birthday’.) Sandra, I don’t want people. I have no vacancies. I am all full up with people. Take some trifle. Don’t wanna wait.
I don’t think he’ll be coming. (Ending his song.) Happy birthday to me. Who is this Phillip? Where did he come from? ‘We know nothing about him. (Singing to the tune ‘Who Is Silvia’.) Who is Phillip? What is he? That comes from outer darkness...’ Sorry. If he were the good King Arthur I would fear him. I fear any stranger except Mr Frank Sinatra, but then, he’s no stranger.
(Quietly.) Sandra! Five thousand pounds withdrawn? Yesterday? Look! This is an entry in your own little Building Society book. There! Five thousand pounds withdrawn. What have you done with the money? Or did Minerva cost that much? Has your love for me gone completely overboard? (Now heavy.) WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH THE MONEY? (He holds her wrists, is hurting her.) Tell me or I swear I’ll murder you. What have you done with that money?
Darling! Please!
Sandra, you and I – we don’t have a separate existence. If we are not us who are we then? What have all the years meant? Nothing? Am I nothing? I feel so sorry for you.
I’ve had enough. Think I need you? All my life you’ve used me as an excuse for your own fears, because you think you’re ugly as a turd. But now you’ve gone too far.
Not interested. Sorry Sandra. Argument over. Let’s be friends. (He goes to the table, eats voraciously.) Try some of these cakes. They’re absolutely scrumptious. Mmmmm! Sandra, I’m saying this in the nicest possible way, in a spirit of conciliation. You fell for the oldest trick in the world. You of all people. You fell for a pathetic conman, didn’t you? You just gave him that money. Admit! Admit. Anyway, it’s not really your fault. That’s the whole point about conmen; they’re so believable.
3. “An Ideal Husband” – Oscar Wilde
Sir Robert Chiltern:
There was your mistake. There was your error. The error all women commit. Why can’t you women love us, faults and all? Why do you place us on monstrous pedestals? We have all feet of clay, women as well as men; but when we men love women, we love them knowing their weaknesses, their follies, their imperfections, love them all the more, it may be, for that reason. It is not the perfect, but the imperfect, who have need of love. It is when we are wounded by our own hands, or by the hands of others, that Love should come to cure us – else what use is love at all? All sins, except a sin against itself, Love should forgive. All lives, save loveless lives, true Love should pardon. A man’s love is like that. It is larger, more human than a woman’s. Women think that they are making ideals of men. What they are making of us are false idols merely. You made your false idol of me, and I had not the courage to come down, show you my wounds, tell you my weaknesses. I was afraid that I might lose your love, as I have lost it now. And so, last night you ruined my life for me – yes, ruined it! What this woman asked of me was nothing compared to what she offered to me. She offered security, peace, stability. The sin of my youth, that I thought was buried, rose up in front of me, hideous, horrible, with its hands at my throat. I could have killed it for ever, sent it back into its tomb, destroyed its record, burned the one witness against me. You prevented me. No one but you, you know it. And now what is there before me but public disgrace, ruin, terrible shame, the mockery of the world, a lonely dishonoured life, a lonely dishonoured death, it may be, some day? Let women make no more ideals of men! let them not put them on altars and bow before them, or they may ruin other lives as completely as you – you whom I have so wildly loved – have ruined mine! (He passes from the room.)
James, I must say, I've clicked the link you posted on Digital Spy, and it almost moved me to tears. You have an amazing talent, and it needs to be shared with the world. You are a much better singer than me. 
Bravo.
Bravo.
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Gavin Scott
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Your range is similar to mine.James H wrote:Tenor-baritone.
Although we'll find out as I have a singing lesson tonight and after two glasses of mulled wine, I can't say I'll be much cop!
Yes, you've got a great voice there James, and I think it will only get better with the coming years.
Have I missed something? Annabel Giles: DS Icon??? What the fuck's that all about...
http://www.digitalspy.co.uk/showbiz/a13 ... giles.html
http://www.digitalspy.co.uk/showbiz/a13 ... giles.html
Does that mean that DS technically has the upper hand in this case? Please, someone tell me I'm wrong. Imagine I'm cdd, anything!Hymagumba wrote:it's quite upsetting that it hasn't reached 23 pageson ds, yet on the supposedly superior forum it did within hours
Good Lord!