It’s two in the morning. Carl’s at a shoot—which could mean intensive work on synopses or dishes or something vaguely connected to one’s responsibilities, but I went for the triple bliss of lush costume drama, Russian poetry, and opera—resulting, as it so often does, in morose romanticism and intoxicated hyper-idea production.
I saw Onegin, one of those costume dramas I’ve been meaning to watch for ages, but couldn’t get past the opening credits for one reason or another. But, about half way through I started to perk up.
Do you know that sudden jolt of recognition when you see something that’s going to be important to you in the future? Onegin is like that for me. I’m not sure why. The story is almost too pretty, too perfectly constructed to allow the right inversions just at the end.
But, I don’t know. I just kept thinking this is important. An exciting flash of recognition. Something about the characters, the settings. Everything felt evocative. Like I would happily borrow the sets and construct my own story to play out in them.
Or maybe it’s just the recognition of myth; always fertile ground for improvisation and adaptation.
Anyway, must just scramble off a few quick sketches while the ideas are fresh.
But, can I just say how NICE it is to get a transfusion of art again? I’d been feeling utterly realistic lately. It was getting annoying.