Secondly, I've been a bit obsessed with this movie, Bright Star, lately and therefore decided to picspam it. I really love it, I find it extremely beautiful, sort of poignant, tragic and moving. I've always had a fondness for Jane Campion's movies (The Piano being one of my all-time favorites). Ben Whishaw (who I have a bit of a crush on ;P) is great as always, and Abbie Cornish is too (her meltdown scene is really heart-breaking and convincing). Another thing to love about the movie is of course it's beautiful score, which really adds a certain feeling to the movie, especially in combination with Keats' poetry spoken by Whishaw. To sum it up, a beautiful movie, which I highly recommend. :)
Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art —
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like Nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors —
No — yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft swell and fall,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever — or else swoon to death.
Fanny: My stitching has more merit and admirers than your two scribblings put together.
Keats: Goodbye, minxstress.
Fanny: And I can make money from it.
Keats: Are you frightened to speak truthfully?
Keats: Well, tell me then.
Fanny: No. I'm not clever with poetry.
Keats: Well, neither, it seems, am I. Still I have some hope for myself.
Fanny: I think hope useful. Hope and results are different. One doesn't necessarily create the other.
Keats: Would practice help?
FannyIt might. I wasn't always able to stitch so well. This is the first frock in all of Woolwich or Hampstead to have a triple-pleated mushroom collar.
Keats: Isn't that an identical one behind you?
Fanny: My card's completely full. But you don't dance, Mr. Keats. I love to dance.
Keats: I don't feel like dancing.
Fanny: Is your brother still ill?
Keats: He's no better.
Keats: Sit next to me, Miss Brawne. My prospects in the world feel very faint.
Fanny: This room is so poorly cared for. Please try one. I'm anxious they'll cause him to choke.
[Mr Brown takes another biscuit]
Fanny: No! Try another and I swear I shall bite you.
Keats: Take care. She has sharp teeth. She has sunk her fangs into my poor poem and shook it apart.
Fanny: I am very sorry I couldn't love your Endymion completely, Mr. Keats. Perhaps I did not say, but I thought the beginning of your poem something very perfect.
Keats: Would you like to go by the pond or through the woods? I've explored all these paths, which are more in number than your eyelashes.
Fanny: My eyelashes? You know, it amazes me you can sit opposite Mr. Brown all day. I've never heard him say one thing of wit. Not one.
Keats: You favor wit?
Fanny: I rate it the highest.
Keats: You like the fashionables?
Fanny: Yes, I do.
Keats: Men who say things that make you start without making you feel?
Fanny: Things that are amusing.
Keats: Minx? Are you unwell? I've never seen you so quiet?
[she goes over and sits next to him]
Toots: She sewed it all night long.
Fanny: It's a pillow slip.
Keats: And I will rest Tom's head upon it.
Keats: Invite me again, alone.
Fanny: Come for Christmas.
Fanny: I was wondering this morning if you're sleeping in my bed.
Fanny: You see, I believe you are. We rented Mr. Brown's half of the house this summer while you were journeying in Scotland. Which room do you sleep in?
Keats: The one overlooking the back garden.
Fanny: That was my bed. For proof, pull it from the wall and by the pillow, you will find a figure I drew with pin holes.
Keats: Is the figure you?
Fanny: It's a fairy princess.
Keats: Should I be feeding her?
Fanny: She refuses to eat. Would you teach me poetry? I'd... I'd Like to understand it. I don't know how to begin.
Fanny: Can you say something of the craft of poetry?
Keats: Poetic craft is a carcass, a sham. If poetry does not come as naturally as leaves to a tree, then it had better not come at all. [....] I am mistaken. I am not sure I can teach you.
Fanny: Was I too rude? I... I can apologize.
Keats: I'm not sure I have the right feelings towards women. I'm suspicious of my feelings.
Fanny: Do you not like me?
Keats: I'm attracted to you without knowing why. AII women confuse me, even my mother. I yearn to be ruined by shrews and saved by angels, and in reality, I've only ever really loved my sister.
Fanny: I'm annoyed by my sister as often as I love her. I still don't know how to work out a poem.
Keats: A poem needs understanding through the senses. The point of diving in a lake is not immediately to swim to the shore but to be in the Lake,to luxuriate in the sensation of water. You do not work the lake out. It is an experience beyond thought. Poetry soothes and emboldens the soul to accept mystery.
Fanny: I love mystery.
Keats: I found your fairy princess on the wall in my room.
Fanny: And you could make her out?
Keats: She wears a butterfly frock.
Keats: You wrote Miss Brawne a valentine card. Are you lovers?
Mr. Brown: John.
Keats: Is that the truth?
Mr. Brown: Easy.
Keats: You sent a card, Charles! You have the income to marry, where I have not. Did you accept him, Miss Brawne?
Mr. Brown: John, I sent that valentine... It was only a jest.
Keats: For whom? I'm not laughing. Miss Brawne is not laughing!
Mr. Brown: John, I wrote the valentine to amuse Fanny, who makes a religion of flirting. John, she's what? A poetry scholar one week and, what, a military expert the next?
Keats: You disgust me.
Mr. Brown: It is a game. It is a game to her. She collects suitors. John... John...
Keats: There is a holiness to the heart's affections. Know you nothing of that?
Sam: We're going to live next door. The Dilkes are moving to Westminster, and we get six months half rent! So we'll be in the same house. We can all play football.
Fanny: It's a great economy for Mama. But only if you like.
Keats: I had such a dream last night. I was floating above the trees with my lips connected to those of a beautiful figure for what seemed Like an age. Flowery treetops sprang up beneath us, and we rested on them with the lightness of a cloud. Who was the figure? I must have had my eyes closed, because I can't remember. And yet, you remember the treetops. Not so well as I remember the lips.
Fanny: Whose lips? Were they my lips?
Keats: My dearest lady, I am now at a very pleasant cottage window looking onto a beautiful hilly country, with a view of the sea. The morning is very fine. I do not know how elastic my spirit might be, what pleasure I might have in living here if the remembrance of you did not weigh so upon me. Ask yourself, my love, whether you are not very cruel to have so entrammelled me, so destroyed my freedom. For myself, I know not how to express my devotion to so fair a form. I want a brighter word than bright, a fairer word than fair. I almost wish we were butterflies and lived but three summer days. Three such days with you I could fill with more delight than 50 common years could ever contain. Will you confess this in a letter you must write immediately and do all you can to console me in it, make it rich as a draft of poppies to intoxicate me, write the softest words and kiss them that I may at least touch my lips where yours have been.
Fanny: My dear Mr. Keats, thank you for your letter. Lately I have felt so nervous and ill that I had to stay five days in bed. Having received your letter, I am up again, walking our paths on the heath. I've begun a butterfly farm in my bedroom in honor of us. Sammy and Toots are catching them for me. Samuel has made a science of it and is collecting both caterpillars and chrysalises so we may have them fluttering about us a week or more.
Keats: I have two luxuries to brood over in my walks, your loveliness and the hour of my death. O that I could have possession of them both in the same minute.I never knew before what such a love as you have made me feel was. I did not believe in it. But if you will fully love me, though there may be some fire, it will not be more than we can bear when moistened and bedewed with pleasures.
Keats: My sweet girl,
I am living today in yesterday.
I was in a complete fascination all day.
I feel myself at your mercy.
Write me ever so few lines and tell me
you will never forever be less kind to me
You dazzled me.
There is nothing in the world
so bright and delicate.
You have absorbed me.
I have a sensation at the present moment
as if I was dissolving.
Keats: Pillowed upon
my fair love's ripening breast
To feel forever its soft swell and fall
Awake forever in a sweet unrest
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath
Fanny: That's new. From which poem?
would I were steadfast as thou art
Not in Ione splendor hung aloft the night
Fanny: Why do you say "not"? "Not in Ione splendor"? You fear I am not steadfast because I oblige Mama by going to a dance?
Keats: Don't tease, Fanny. Why are you laughing?
Fanny: I shall tell her I am unwell.
Keats: No, go. Go.
Keats: I was wondering where you were.
Fanny: I have been waiting to be with you the whole day.
Keats: Last night there was a... There was a great rush of blood, such that I thought that I would suffocate. And I said to Mr. Brown, "This is unfortunate." My thoughts were of you.
Keats: My sweet creature, when I send this round,
I shall be in the front parlor,
watching to see you show yourself
for a minute in the garden.
When I look back upon the ecstasies
in which I have passed some days
and the miseries in their turn,
I wonder the more at the beauty
which has kept up the spell so fervently.
How horrid was the chance of slipping
into the ground instead of into your arms.
The difference is amazing, love.
Mr. Brown: Go on! Go on, now!
Keats: No, Brown. I get anxious if I don't see her.
Fanny: John, why do you say impossibilities?
Keats: I have coughed blood again. I fear the disease has the upper hand and I will not recover.
Fanny: I can't leave you. I have such clear hope for your new book of poems. John, they are more beautiful than any I have read of Mr. Coleridge, Mr. Wordsworth, even Lord Byron.
Both: O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has wither'd from the Lake
And no birds sing
I met a lady in the meads
Full beautiful, a faery's child
Her hair was Long, her foot was light
And her eyes were will
I set her on my pacing steed
And nothing else saw all day Long
For sidelong would she bend and sing
A faery's song
She found me roots of relish sweet
And honey wild, and manna dew
And sure in language strange she said
I Love thee true
She took me to her elfin grot
And there she wept, and sigh'd full sore
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four
And there she lulled me asleep
And there I dream'd, ah! woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dream'd
On the cold hill side
Keats: We should say our goodbyes now.
Fanny: Shall we awake and find all this is a dream? There must be another life. We can't be created for this kind of suffering.
Keats: I doubt that we will see each other again on this earth.
Fanny: Then why are you leaving? Why must you go?
Keats: Because my friends have paid my way. It is a hopeless hope, but how can I refuse them?
Fanny: Say you are too ill.
Keats: We have woven a web, you and I, attached to this world but a separate world of our own invention. We must cut the threads, Fanny.
Fanny: No. No. I can't. I never will. [...] You know I would do anything.
Keats: I have a conscience.
Keats: Let's pretend I will return in spring.
Fanny: You will return.
Keats: We will Live in the country.
Fanny: Close to Maman.
Keats: And our bedroom will look out onto a little apple orchard and, beyond that, a mountain in a mist.
Fanny: We can make a garden where every sort of wildflower grows.
Keats: And we will go to bed while the sun is still high.
Fanny: And when it becomes dark, the moon will shine through the shutters.
Keats: And I will hold you close and kiss your breasts, your arms, your waist.
Keats: Touch has a memory.
Fanny: I know it.
Keats: Not a word.