It’s still Richard Armitage for me
Like many of us, I’m experiencing a certain amount of withdrawal from the near daily updates of pictures of Richard Armitage and videos and articles related to Love, Love, Love, Berlin Station, and Romeo & Juliet. There was something enjoyable to looking even when I didn’t find. (Auch wenn ich nicht fündig wurde — I love that turn of phrase.) Perhaps because the odds were so good and the materials were so frequent.
Pondering my ongoing preoccupation (and the fact that it seems to have survived November 10th), I find myself thinking two things. One is that the photos we have (and there are SO many photos now) almost instantly call forth a reaction, a memory of all of the positive feelings over the years. But the second and more important one is that I’m still replaying Love, Love, Love and my days in New York in my mind.
Armitage on stage is like Armitage nowhere else. He’s alive there, in his element, in a way I’ve seen him nowhere else, with an incomparable energy, a dazzling skill, a presence that is both intimate and generous. I think that’s what I’m pondering when I replay that time in my mind, where that comes from. The question — how does he do this? — still lacks a complete answer. In the end, there’s nothing I want to watch so much as him, however that happens (pictures, stage, screen).
I imagine the spring will be sparse but I’ve got the next play to hope for.