And I was like… hold on, who is that handsome Irish fellow…
O’Donoghue was born and raised in Drogheda, County Louth, in a Roman Catholic family. He initially attended Dundalk Grammar School, and then The Gaiety School of Acting in Dublin. At age 16, O’Donoghue went to Paris, France, for a month to learn the French language. Colin’s early career was mainly split between theatre and television work in Ireland and the UK. In 2003, Colin won the Irish Film and Television Award for “Best New Talent” for his role as Norman in “Home For Christmas. (Source)
I didn’t even know he was Irish till now. It’s freaky hearing him use what must be close to his own accent, same as when I hear Saoirse Ronan with her normal accent.
Noel Clarke, I’m used to seeing him pop up in mad things. Like Who and Trek. DIAMOND GEEZER.
SHIT! Now Laura Haddock has turned up!
This is the only thing I’ve seen her in apart from Da Vinci’s Demons:
I don’t follow any actual porn blogs as that’s what porn sites are for. But my dash is often peppered with pictures of attractive women because of the gynephiles I follow. (There are also lots of pictures of attractive men because of the androphiles I follow but since I don’t fancy men, my eyes kind of skim over those pics unless they exhibit startlingly good photography.)
Here’s an example image:
The model’s name is Hailey Outland. I don’t have the photographer’s name, sorry, I even tried using TinEye to find out who it was. I’ve picked a deliberately safe-for-work picture here but, obviously, Tumblr delivers every variation of nude / naked you could ask for, every pose inviting, every pose targeted at us. I’m talking about this picture but I’m talking about all those pictures too.
So, I look at the picture. As a gynephile, I’m attracted to the model; she’s beautiful.
But then what?
This person isn’t my friend or even an acquaintance. I don’t know her, I’ll likely never know her. Maybe I’ll fantasise about her? Well, I could try but it’s pretty difficult as I don’t think her type is fat, middle-aged men. I mean, I could be wrong but judging from the female friends I have of her age, that’s not who they go for.
The picture is presented, obviously, to be looked at. It invites and nurtures our scopophilia. Moreover, it is bereft of complication. It is saying: here is a beautiful woman on a beach, she is wild and mysterious and here for you. We don’t see the photographer, their assistant(s), the make up artist, the stylist. We don’t see the time it took for the model to travel there, or that she’d maybe had a dodgy kebab the night before and was desperately trying to contain explosive diarrhoea. We don’t know her personality. Does she like cats? Is she into snowboarding? Is she actually a deadly CIA assassin using modelling as a cover for her international death spree? We don’t see that her feet hurt or that she’s got cramp in one of her calves from posing in an awkward position for too long while the photographer was fiddling with their grey card.
Annie Sprinkle covered this construction of fantasy perfectly in her Anatomy Of A Pinup:
No, instead of all that, my brain goes: mmmm, she’s gorgeous! And I can almost see her boobs!
We are encouraged into the dream of the scantily-clad woman waiting for us on the beach. The narrative of the picture is artful in its erasure of the reality of the woman and the creation of the fantasy. If you look around, at the pictures of women you see everywhere, there is a fundamental breakage between the narratives they portray and actual real, living, breathing women. (You may wish to look at the male gaze if any of this is novel to you.)
I wish I could look at pictures of attractive women on Tumblr and see through the picture to the actual person, to know her as a human being. But that’s impossible and, for the models, highly un-desirable. Imagine the nightmare for them if millions of sweaty old men could actually, you know, interact with them.
In the back of our minds, we know it’s bullshit, we know we’re lying to ourselves when we look at pictures of attractive women on Tumblr and imagine witty, flirty conversations with them. We’re not only being sold the idea of the woman, we’re being sold the idea that we are someone she would actually be interested in. When we see her youth and beauty, we can pretend that we are as young and as beautiful even though, truthfully, we aren’t and never were.
We know it’s a lie.
But we’re sad and lonely and alone.
So, we keep scrolling. We keep looking. We keep fantasising.
I’m only twenty minutes into S4E1 of Elementary and I’m already loving it way more than any recent Sherlock.
I know that’s heresy round these here parts and I’ll now get run out of town by Cumberbatch fans but eh.
Jonny Lee Miller brings a depth of pain to Holmes that’s missing from what Cumberbatch is allowed to portray. Note that I’m not saying that Cumberbatch is incapable of equalling Miller, I’m saying he’s not allowed to. The whole tone of the BBC foray is basically Who with naughty bits, it’s all YA to me. There is acceptable peril, acceptable character development, acceptable consequences. Acceptable, nothing too deep, nothing that’ll truly disturb.
There is never darkness like Miller’s Holmes kicking the shit out of a pusher and then stealing his stash. Darkness that makes you question the whole character and if they’re the hero at all.
And then we have Lucy Liu as Watson. An actress who could make a character’s night’s sleep riveting. She is the perfect Watson. She is insightful, resourceful, methodical, detailed. Yes, she is not the equal of Holmes in raw detection but she knows this and is fine with it because she’s still a damn fine detective. There’s no bumbling, save-me-sides comedy because, really, why would Holmes, the greatest detective mind in the world, hang round with a buffoon? No, Liu’s Watson is a sidekick associate detectives would fight over.
And I love that’s there’s a deep, loving friendship between them but zero sexual tension. It would have been so easy to heteronormalise the whole thing into some interminably drawn out OOH, WILL THEY? WON’T THEY? bullshit.
I want more TV which shows the tremendous redemptive power of intense platonic friendship. Every time a show degenerates into the asinine doggerel that is most TV romance, a little part of me whimpers and dies. And every time we have something like Elementary, where women and men work together as equals, I cheer.