I've been watching WAY too much Inspector Lewis on PBS. Actually, the problem isn't Inspector Lewis himself, but his sergeant, James Hathaway. Oh mama. James Hathaway makes my motor run. Big time.
Hathaway is a young, 30-ish detective whose childhood friend has just spattered his own brains all over the altar of a church in Oxford. Apparently, Hathaway had been in training to become a priest when his childhood friend reached out to him the second and final time about being being gay. Hathaway told him God couldn't forgive the sin, and the friend eventually just killed himself.
No one is cutting Hathaway any slack. The gays hate him for pushing his friend over the edge. Inspector Lewis hates him for not initially telling what he knew about "The Garden", a church program to "cure" gays. Hathaway has no one else to turn to. Then the person who is killing all of founders of "The Garden" tags Hathaway as being next to go. Hathaway is down to feeling nothing at all when he turns to his dead friend's only-ever girlfriend, or rather she picks him up and takes his wretched self home with her.
The power in this piece of video is that Hathaway is usually glib, somewhat introverted, brilliant, focused like a laser, and absolutely charming. Check out minutes 7:00 and 9:00 on this one. (In between the juicy bits, the "adults" are trying to figure out what's really happening.) Mmm.. Tasty!!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jQXTknUPuvU&feature=related
After a late, late evening with James Hathaway and a mighty fine, late-night tumble with The Husband, I was woken this morning by an autistic child whining loudly and insistently about being trapped in a sports bra that she couldn't untangle.
Bump.
Big time.
1 comment:
I love Inspector Lewis! Glad you had a good evening, but ouch for reality biting... hard. :p
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