The assorted finds of Artefact Publishing

Sri Lankan incidents

I watched the movie Ladyhawke last night. There is an excellent film there beneath the horribly inappropriate score (80s pop complete with synthesiser) and the weak ending. If I were to redo it, I would include more interactions between the main trio and society, if only to show up that they are not part of it, and make it more formal in tone. By the latter I mean more than simply altering the speech register of the characters (there was one particularly jarring moment when Navarre said “Thanks”), but also in the structure and feel of whole scenes, using a high style. There is a real sense of this already, which is brought out in the contrast between the character of Phillipe Gaston and those he travels with; I would simply extend it. This encompasses symbolic and metaphorical elements, too: the plight of the lovers might easily be likened to the relationship between oneself and God, or between the conscious and subconscious selves, meeting truly only in fleeting moments but influencing each other throughout. This turns Phillipe into a true priest, the only one in the film (including Father Imperius).

Given that I doubt I will make such a remake, I think I shall just use the core concept in a roleplaying game some time. It would fit easily into most of the games I know I’d like to run.

The reason for the title of this entry is that, having seen the movie last night, the following occured this morning. I was roused from my bed by a loud rapping, which continued despite my ignoring it for a while. When I got up, there was no one at the door, and I assumed it was someone next door being especially vigorous with their knocking. Then it came again, and I saw it was a seagull which was pecking at one of the lounge windows from its perch on the deck railing. I wandered over, and the seagull retreated. I stayed still, and it came back and resumed its pecking on the other side of the glass, interspersed now with a soft, partial rendition of that seagull cry I love so much. Impressed by its perseverence, I went back to bed, thinking it would soon get bored. But no, it continued, and I went for another look. This was repeated a few times, when I decided I would much rather be lying down in the quiet. I went out onto the deck, and approached the retreating gull. Eventually, and only when I came within a few feet, it took to its wings, soaring up and around in great swoops, before coming down to land only a few feet from me. I left it then, for clearly it had some purpose that was not to be easily interrupted.

When I returned later, it was gone; I thought of a short piece I wrote some years ago, and wondered if I shouldn’t have done something else.

Posted by jamie on November 10, 2002 11:04+13:00