According to myheritage.com (helpfully supplied by misfitina), I am none other than Emmy Rossum. Yes, it's true. Using the pic in my userpic right now, it first fed me a bunch of crap about being David Beckham. I was flattered and went to the washroom to have a look, but it turns out I'm not. I am, in fact, HER:



But considering Gerard Butler in that crap, I'd rather be Emmy here:



Mmm, Meg Giry.

Speaking of which, I've had some disturbing fanfic desires lately. Like I want to write about "Mysterious Cities of Gold". Anyone remember that? But something filthy, like about Mendoza pulling Esteban aside and telling him Zia's alright for a tumble, but he ought to wait until he gets back to Spain for a "real woman" before he talks about settling down or whatever. Or Mendoza pulling Esteban (or any of them) aside and doing something else. Gah. And I'm still mulling over my Elizabeth Bennet/Georgiana Darcy lust.

I also want a story about Tom Ripley (Highsmith) in Alien. Just because. I mean, what does the master manipulator/mimic do when faced with a big alien?

Why am I thinking these things at all?

I do know that someday the right Buffy-centered plotbunny will hop my way, and I will know that I am the right person to write it. Just hasn't happened.

This is one of those films that suffers for its ingenuity, at least as far as later viewers are concerned. That is not to say that the film is any less important/well done/interesting than it was fifty years ago. What it is to say is that at this point, I’ve seen so many reviewers call other things "the Rashomon of _________" that it’s like raising a kid on The Lion King and then letting him find out about this guy named Shakespeare when he gets to high school.
( kurosawa! )