So, thoughts still roiling and Richard Armitage isn’t helping
I’d wanted to be halfway through what I had to say about Love, Love, Love and Richard Armitage by now, but the election and Armitage’s statements about it are really in the way right now (apart from the stuff that is going on in real life).
This is the problem — Richard Armitage on stage opens my heart.
Richard Armitage, when he says stuff like this, closes it.
Love wins in the end is such a nonsensical statement that I can’t even think where to begin with it. It’s ridiculous to quote a statement that Sandra makes in order to get Kenneth to sleep with her as evidence of some lofty life philosophy. She tries to make it sound like some actual philosophical attitude but really it’s just a come-on line, in the play, as in the 1960s. (Sorry, on this one, the baby boomers were wrong. You may not like missiles and the Russians but someone has to deal with them — as Mr. Thornton, mutatis mutandis, knew quite well: someone has to live with the machines.)
So the writing about Armitage’s work will have to wait until I can somehow erase what he’s said from my thoughts for a while. Because that statement makes me want to vomit and I’m spending all my time swallowing my gorge rather than writing.
I’m sticking with the general project but it might be a day or two.