I write fan fiction and doodle in my free time.Mostly about Harry Potter.
Poetry alludes me still.Watching: Nirvana in Fire (Lang Ya Bang)
Waiting: Colonia, Regression, Beauty and the Beast, Hannibal's revival
Emma
INFP/ISFJ. Harmionian. Emma Watson-er. Writer. Doodler.
A blog about Harry Potter and things that inspire me.
Reading up on people’s lists on why they think Ben Whishaw should be among the candidates considered for the role of young Albus Dumbledore, and stumbling on: “Arguably Whishaw lacks the presence and force to play a character as imposing as Dumbledore.”
Well, arguably, you don’t know that he had just wrapped up playing John Proctor on Broadway, with the previous actor to take up the role being Liam Neeson, and he had done it brilliantly.
How is that for lacking the presence and force to play an imposing character?
.
On another note, I do want to see Ben Whishaw in the Harry Potter verse as any role lol
I’m sure J.K Rowling will write him a wonderful role should he really get on board!
In 1994 I, an 11-year-old idiot, walked into a rehearsal room in the Old Athenaeum in Glasgow and was welcomed by the fucking Sheriff of Nottingham in a voice which made the room tremble. We sat down and my audition started, reading straight off the page dialogue so unavoidably brilliant that all you needed to do was read it straight off the page.
I did not get the part.
I was too young.
I did, however, receive a long, hand-written letter from Joyce Nettles, the casting director, thanking me for auditioning and expressing regret that it hadn’t worked out. The only time this has ever happened. I think Alan may have had something to do with that.
Two years later he was back, looking to cast the same parts in the film version of the same play. Now I was not too young and in the Winter of 1996 I spent two months (off school!) in the beautiful East Neuk of Fife, making a goddamn movie directed by Alan Rickman, written by Sharman MacDonald starring Emma Thompson, shot by Seamus McGarvey etc etc etc, working with all manner of brilliant people, some of whom are close friends and occasionally colleagues to this day. Just sickeningly lucky.
When I left school and wanted to try and do this sort of thing for a living, Alan arranged a meeting with his agent.
The first audition that agent got me was for Harry Potter.
When I arrived at Leavesden Studios for the first time and met David Heyman for the first time, he told me he’d just had a call from Alan telling him how wonderful I was and that he’d be mad not to hire me. He hired me.
When we got on set, (That set. That fucking glorious world of Jo Rowling’s mind brought to life so that we could walk around in it and touch it and be part of showing it to the entire world.) Alan introduced me to practically every great British actor I’d ever heard of. Telling them, “this is my boy.”
When I told him how much I’d enjoyed the production of Private Lives he was in, he invited me and my best mate to New York to stay with him for a weekend and see it again. He booked shows for us to see every night, he took us on boat rides, he showed us the Big Apple.
When my friend Donny wrote a play that he wanted me to be in, I sent it to Alan, hoping for some advice on where we might get it put on. He received it when he was stepping on a plane. When he landed he emailed me back, having read the whole thing and loved it. Two days later we received a printed copy of the play with mountains of suggested edits, cuts and thoughts scrawled across it in his handwriting, and a two page letter with praise for Donny and advice on who to take it to.
He did the same for the next four drafts. This. Never. Stopped. In twenty years, all my experience of Alan was like this. He’d be on a mad press trip round the world, having just finished a broadway show and be about to start shooting a film - with several other projects as an actor, director, writer, board member, mentor bubbling away in the background - and if I needed anything he would immediately spend hours of his time helping me. AND, amazingly, I know of at least a dozen other people who had this same relationship with him. He was our fairy Godfather. He was the whisper in the right ear at the right time. He was the reassuring message when he sensed, always correctly, that we needed it most. He was new head shots or carpets or travel money when times were tough. How he found the time, let alone the will for all this is a mystery to me. He was the most generous, wise, supportive, talented, charismatic, empathetic person I think I’ve ever known.
The last time I saw Alan he had, unbeknownst to me, been in hospital for the previous ten days. He got out that morning…and kept our theatre date. In a strange way I’m glad of that frightening episode, as it made me realise that even he was a mortal of flesh and blood and a certain age and he might not always be there. That evening when we parted, I hugged him and told him I loved him and I’m very glad of that now.
On monday morning I will start rehearsals for a new play. It will be the first time since I was thirteen years old that I have engaged in such a project without being able to call on Alan for advice and support and I am utterly terrified. I can only hope that enough has rubbed off that I’ll be able to take it from here. I’m honestly not so sure…
Goodnight, Alan. I will miss you every day.
❞—Sean Biggerstaff (via severusnapers)
(via alanprickman)
The tragedy unfolded at nearly seven in the morning, and the moment my ears caught the news, I was wide awake with disbelief: I didn’t believe what I just heard. I kept thinking to myself that, yes, perhaps this was someone’s half-witted, poor joke that would receive a good amount of due backlash and repercussions later on.
Only, it wasn’t.
The moment I saw the news posted on BBC (just 33 minutes ago, as I could starkly recalled), the unfathomable wave of loss rushed over me in a flash.
The great legend that is Alan Rickman was no longer with us in life.
He left so suddenly that I could barely comprehend the news I was reading before my eyes. It was horrible; he died of cancer at just the age of 69. And we are just a bit more than month away from his birthday as well.
The shock remained, still does, in my system for hours and hours as I tried to grapple with this devastating news.
I have a checklist of his films that I had watched and would want to watch next, and I simply can’t believe that it will, from now on, cease to lengthen. Forever. Period.
I didn’t cry, not until I read Emma Thompson’s tribute to him, not until I reached these words: “Alan was my friend and so this is hard to write because I have just kissed him goodbye.”
After reading these words, I couldn’t help but weep like a child for a man I have never met.
It was hard not to see how charismatic, sensible, humorous, and down-to-earth he was even just watching through the few interviews and talkshows that he was on. Even more so, it was hard not to be aware of the fact that he was a caring, kind, and gentle man—one of the best human being—through the stories told from those who had had the fortune to work with him before.
Perhaps it is silly to take his sudden departure so personally, but when you have dug through the internet to search for any material related to him, every interviews, every story, every bits and pieces of news you could get your hands on about him, even though you never knew the man, it is extremely difficult not to think that you have, to a certain extent, connected to this beautiful soul.
He was as much a brilliant actor as he was a human being, and it is just utterly saddening for me when I thought back on how much I desperately wanted to become an actress worthy enough to maybe stand next to him in a play or a film… I still do actually… very, very much.
You have had a wonderful, amazing, extraordinary career, sir. You are a great source of inspiration for young actors and actresses who want to try this profession out.
Thank you, dear sir, for everything that you have contributed as an actor and as a man on a whole. It will forever remain an immense pleasure to watch your beautiful works.
My thoughts and prayers to your family. It is very hard to think or even comprehend the fact that I have to use past tense to talk about you now.
May you rest in peace.
I will miss you a lot.
Harry Potter Aesthetics: Women of Beauxbatons
“And I thought Hogwarts was better; boy was I wrong.”
“It’s just a morality tale, it’s obvious which gift is best, which one you’d choose –”
The three of them spoke at the same time: Hermione said, “the Cloak,” Ron said, “the wand,” and Harry said, “the stone.”