78 notes &
but-darlings-the-show-must-go-on:
I’m in love with Jeremy Brett.
He was the single greatest Sherlock Holmes. Yet!
In a series on the BBC
I used to watch him here on a & e.
Hair slicked back and impecably dressed.
His only prop could be a single cigarette.
He was an actor in the old regaurd,
who took the stage intent to fully become his part.
He was a sort of dandy in the classic tradition,
a bon vivant filled with bouts of depression.
Sundown sunday, Kensington High Street
in a cabretta with a floral scarf.
London’s yours, man! You got Macbeth tonight.
A scull in your hands in the fire light.
Tobacco and champagne and you’re feelin alright!
A cab across town and a kiss goodnight.
He played a Holmes that was deep and dark with faults -
richly complex & brilliantly detailed.
A “Damaged penguin” with genious intuition,
an animated spider with singular vision,
who’s only need was a case to consume him
to stave his addiction to a certain solution.
David Burke and Edward Hardwicke,
played it perfect as his friend and companion.
A kind hearted, affable Watson.
Everyready with a loyal hand in
any case that Holmes would command him.
I always felt Holmes couldn’t do with out him.
Brett’s wife died back ‘85,
all the grief triggered manic depression.
Could see it in his face - that he was heavily grieving.
(His heart grew thin and finally stopped beating.)
Jeremy Brett!
I never knew you.
OH! Darling!
I dedicate this song to you!
(via fuckyeahgranadaholmes)
