Tag Archives: Penelope Wilton

The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

What can I say? Well, not the title of this film, obviously. I stumbled over the words for the first one, and add a second film and I’ll have to call it Marigold 2. But to get back to the saying; Marigold 2 is as fun and entertaining as Marigold 1 was. I worried in case the usual thing about a sequel not having the surprise element to offer, would mean it suffered.

But I reckon that a film that makes someone like me laugh out loud in the cinema, can’t be bad. (I’ve been informed that Daughter’s peers are not Marigold fans. They didn’t see No. 1 and don’t plan to see No. 2. That’s their loss.) Us oldies deserve more films featuring old people, even if we are delusional when we believe we are Richard Gere or Lillete Dubey.

The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

Maggie Smith still gets most of the good lines, whether she’s in India or at Downton. Here we have two women aged 79, who start new jobs and enjoy them. One of them finds new love, and so do quite a few others, even when it takes them a while to realise where true love is to be found.

And inevitably there is sadness, although it is dealt with off screen. It’s as with nudity and sex; more powerful when not seen. Sooner or later we all have to check out, and far better we didn’t waste time dunking a teabag into lukewarm water before we do.

Sonny might be an impossible optimist, and he might get a lot of things wrong, but he also gets things right. After all, whose idea was any of this Marigold stuff?

And I’ll have a beautifully lit up courtyard like this, please.

The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

Spoiling at Downton

Can I take it that everyone who intends to watch, has seen Sunday’s episode of Downton Abbey now? Yesterday Facebook was teeming with people who caught spoilers before catching Downton.

Are the makers of the series really wanting to give away what happens every week, or are they hinting so coarsely in order to make us feel proud that we ‘got it’ long before ‘it’ happened? This week it was simply a toss-up between Sybil, her baby or both of them.

Downton Abbey

It’s strange it’s taken them so long to start killing off The Family. We’ve been together eight years now, and there ought to have been more deaths.

The Earl is an idiot. I see that now. I was confused for so long because the actor seems quite a nice man. But had they put someone less sympathetic in the role, I’d have cottoned on to the idiocy long before now. Good for the American heiress that she has finally found her teeth, become a good mother (if a bit late) and is going against what hubby says.

The other week I did expect Sir Anthony Strallan to drop dead in the aisle of the church (on the way in, obviously) but other than that little miscalculation it’s been easy to see where we are heading, week after week.

Not so sure about the accuracy of medical advances back then, but it is hard to know what people didn’t know. And what happened to the disfigured Canadian cousin heir? Whether genuine or not, we need to know. Maybe Matthew will turn out to have wasted Lavinia’s dad’s money after all.

The Best Exotic Marigold film ever

Better late than never. We were afraid we’d be too late (although not in the meaning of being dead) for The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, but I suppose it’s a sign of its popularity that it’s still hanging on in cinemas, and even ones near us.

The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

I often find films amusing, but according to Daughter I’ve not laughed this much for a very long time. So thank you to Dev Patel for his inept hotel manager, and to Maggie Smith and Co for being such marvellous old people, and airing their prejudices and overcoming a few. (The thing is I am beginning to feel very close to needing an Exotic Marigold myself.)

In the early days someone described this film in not terribly flattering words, but conceded it would probably be popular with old people. I’m thinking it must have been along the lines of those (men) who reckoned Mamma Mia! the movie was a bit of a loser. Marigold (as I’ve been calling it for some time) is a tremendously wonderful film!

The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

Almost found myself wanting a hip replacement if I could have Maggie Smith’s lovely doctor. Not sure you’d be in a wheelchair for that amount of time afterwards, however. Being able to tell a call centre where they are going wrong strikes me as irresistible.

Wrinkly oldies are attractive. Almost dropping dead, or actually dying isn’t so nice, but better this way than through needless violence. Going abroad for your old age is not necessarily a good idea, but then staying put in the UK didn’t appear to be much better.

The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

As others have said before me, this is a film that is near perfect.

The Doctor, Downton, a Dover bound Poirot and Dolly. Some Cash.

Along with too much food comes too much television. I wouldn’t mind having it spread out more. At least the entertainment. The food might be healthier to get over and done with, and we can go back to porridge and salad. But since I’m in a minority, I’m guessing my careful consumption of television over Christmas will not be noticed at all. Or missed.

Although, since we’re on one of those things that keeps track of who watches what and when, I have to own up to being so technically incompetent that I had the Grandmother watch Dolly Parton last night. She didn’t, but there was no way I could delete her after she went to bed.

Dolly Parton at the O2

So, it was just me and Dolly and most of the O2 arena. Nice blue dress, although having heard that she looks totally different without make-up and wig, I kept wondering what she looks like. Really. Concert was good, but I’d go mad if I had to have those bodyguards escort me everywhere.

I did actually watch a little Johnny Cash afterwards, but found it so painfully embarrassing I had to turn it off. As Roger Whittaker would say, he didn’t have Dolly’s two advantages.

Geoffrey Palmer and David Suchet in The Clocks

Before the country greats we sat down to Poirot. Couldn’t remember much about The Clocks except for the clocks. Could have sworn that I saw bits of Brighton, and I wonder where the crescent-shaped street can be found? Possibly in Dover. Doesn’t matter. It always looks good, and this time the plot wasn’t too outrageous, either. Watched parts of it twice to allow the Grandmother to catch up with the bits she slept through.

The Doctor and Lily

Cyril

After Christmas dinner and two lots of dishwasher on Sunday, I was more than ready to sit down with the Doctor. Despite its Narnia theme I liked it. How like a childless man to take children through a snowy landscape wearing only their dressing gowns and slippers. The only thing that grated somewhat was Matt Smith smirking ‘I know’ each time the children discovered something they liked.

Madge

A good cry was had by all at the end. Nice tree. Nice trees, in fact.

Maggie Smith

In my next life I will come back as the good Dowager at Downton. Those one-liners are a dream. (In my life as a witch I’m much too kind to utter anything like that. Naturally.)

Didn’t expect Matthew and Mary to get their act together quite so soon. And I still want to know what happened to Patrick from Canada. My hopes for Edith and her beau with the trembling smile have grown a little. Might be a case for the ouija board. Shame about Nigel Havers. He’d have been a good addition to this upperclass zoo.

I’m one of those who didn’t mind all that much about the slipping standards of season two, but it was certainly noticeable how much better the Christmas episode was. We’ll have more of the same for next year, please.

Downton Christmas

Another end to Downton Abbey

Well, I thought Matthew looked like a sad vampire at the end, but apparently Daughter didn’t. His colouring suggested he was next to come down with the Spanish flu. The only thing about this killing off of characters is that while you can work out who will be needed in the next series, you know they will live. And that doctor is rather easy with his patients’ futures.

Who’d have thought I’d feel even a little bit sorry for Thomas? I know. I will regret this as soon as we return.

I’m also about to join Sam Wollaston in the Guardian with my dislike for Mr Bates. Not the fictional character, just the actor. They are either toying with us and Mr Bates will prove to be a truly awful man. Or, this lovely character is being portrayed by someone quite fishy looking. Poor Mrs Bates II.

What happened to Patrick? There was no mention of him, even in a pejorative way. Has he been forgotten already, or will he make claim to Downton again at some point?

And why do I keep asking you questions? Does anyone know?

I love Granny. ‘I do hope I’m interrupting something.’

Downton again

Well, they need to keep Matthew alive, don’t they? We decided he can be allowed to be injured, but has to stay alive. The question is who they are going to sacrifice? And who, if anyone, deserves a white feather. I’d have done anything to get one, if it had been me.

In my next life I will be the Dowager Maggie Smith. She’s wonderful! Awful, but wonderful. I thought perhaps that Matthew’s mother was getting a little too aggressive in sending people off to the war.

Mary has grown on me. Can’t quite make out her spiteful sister. I feel sorry for her half the time and hate her the rest. And the budding nurse was never interested in the chauffeur, after all. Oh well.

Love Mrs Hughes. There’s something about those devious women who will stop at nothing to look after their family. Let’s hope Mrs Bates comes to a sticky end, and preferably soon. O’Brien hasn’t improved, but for a moment it was almost possible to feel sorry for Tom. And Daisy has grown up.

We had far too many stops for refreshments. Next week we’ll watch afterwards and save half an hour in commercials.