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bravehobbitses:

Benedict Cumberbatch during the production of Third Star.

It’s such a shame when people cut other people out of pictures of Benedict and don’t give the full, far more beautiful and poignant image.

bravehobbitses:

Benedict Cumberbatch during the production of Third Star.

It’s such a shame when people cut other people out of pictures of Benedict and don’t give the full, far more beautiful and poignant image.

Today is my birthday. I am thirty.

Earlier this year, I discovered a film called Third Star, after finding an actor I had been impressed with was in it alongside another actor I considered myself a fan of. The film, for those of you who don’t already know, is about a twenty-nine year old man who is dying of cancer. On his birthday, he departs for a the Pembrokeshire coast, with his three closest friends, to take one last trip to his favourite place on Earth - Barafundle Bay.

I fell in love with the film, its characters and its cast instantly. It was beautiful, funny, full of realism and when it ended I cried inconsolably. The ultimate truth or lesson of the story is best encapsulated in two narrative lines, spoken by James at the beginning and ending of the film - that his death will not be his tragedy, but that of the people who love him and will lose him from their lives; and that after his death, his loved ones should remember that they were loved by him and that they made his life a happy one, and that there is no tragedy in that.

Around the time I discovered the film, I found that I had an enormous growth in my abdomen (occupying around half of it) - around the size and shape of the oval kind of honeydew melon, or as the doctor described it, ‘a twenty-week foetus.’ It was a form of cyst which is created when the ovary spontaneously decides to create a bunch of cells without the half of the information which would turn it into a baby. They can create teeth, sweatglands, skin - most commonly, hair - and literally any kind of cell the human body is able to produce. Including cancer.

On 8th June, I was sent to hospital to have the growth removed as a priority, as it had grown abnormally large and was affecting my other organs and leaving me in some discomfort.

I went on my own, as I don’t really have any contact with my family - not at all, for eleven years, in my mother’s case; rarely, in my father’s case, as he lives in Glasgow with my stepmum and half-siblings, and I live in Brighton, on the South Coast of England. I am not close enough to anyone else my family that they would visit or want to be notified.

When I got there, I went through a series of question and answer sessions with doctors and anaesthetists, during which I had to explain my pro-human extinction stance, which means I do not accept blood products, life support or any kind of life-extending treatment beyond basic surgery. Repeatedly, I tried to explain that it was not a religious decision and that I was not a Jehovah’s Witness. Still, it was put on my forms that it was because I am pagan (most of you will realise this is bollocks).

On this day, I was unworried. I packed, I went; in a non-fatalistic sense, I was unconcerned as to whether I would wake up, because I was prepared for the possibility and saw that in all likelihood, if I didn’t wake up I’d be the last to know.

When I came to, I found that the surgery had gone well. As someone with a lifelong interest in the paranormal, I admit to being mildly disappointed at not having an opportunity to get some answers.

I was taken to a ward where the nurse treated me like shit, so I discharged myself and called my friend, Faye, who came to pick me up a day earlier than expected, and took me home to my friend/housemate, Julie. Between them they took care of me.

Faye - who is the only person I know who didn’t cry at Third Star and identifies herself as being most like Miles - admitted that earlier that day it had suddenly hit her that I would be made unconscious for my operation, and that she had been genuinely shaken by the realisation.

That statement, beyond anything else, made me realise for the first time in many, many years, that I actually do have some people in my life who genuinely, honestly give a shit. I have long lived under the impression that most people - even the ones close to me - only really have a passing interest, and didn’t consider it an issue. Just a fact that I accepted. I have always been fiercely, fiercely independent.

Fast forward a few weeks of very shoddy healing, gaping stitches and going back to work much too soon. I was recalled to the hospital by a very peculiar letter from a doctor asking for “a chat about all this”, who told me with barely contained excitement, that pathology (who were not supposed to test my cyst at all, because of my views) had found a discrepancy. They’d roundtabled it at a doctors’ meeting. You see, inside my cyst, wrapped in a huge ball of hair, but not attached to any skin, was a lump of skin cancer. Inside my cyst, inside my ovary.

It turned out that I had, in fact, dodged the weirdest bullet in the box.

I’d like to say it was a sobering moment (I wouldn’t), but the doctor and I sat in the consultation room giggling. The oncology nurse was clearly appalled. After all, this was as serious as cancer.

What it did mean, however, was that - at twenty-nine years old, like James - my life had swerved strangely closer to the themes of the film I had so recently fallen in love with. Part of me, predictably, wonders if on some sub-conscious level I had already made that connection. I probably hadn’t.

But that brings us to now, and the pictures I have posted above. Today, I am thirty. I spent the last few days in Wales, on my own pilgrimage to Barafundle Bay and other places key to the story I love. The friends I took with me - Faye and Julie - were the ones who were there for me when I was ill. The third friend, Vicky, who shares my birthday and has been my best friend since she turned fifteen and I sixteen, and with whom I have been through some of our bleakest times, was unable to make it because of work commitments (she works for the ambulance service - clumsier people needed her). She is really my Miles and I love her dearly. I missed her, this weekend. I did, however, have my Bill and my Davy and I cannot thank them enough for everything they have done for me. Including learning to crochet, in order to make me Iron Man gloves, driving hundreds of miles while really, really poorly, and studying for a Masters in Psychology on the train so that there was time to enjoy our weekend.

We all got soaked to the skin walking back along the cliffs from Barafundle in the dark, and we never even got to light our fireworks because of the rain.

Today, though, as we travelled back from Pembrokeshire to take Faye to Newport station, we took a little detour to The Mumbles, where Adam - the actor who played Bill and co-produced the film - owns a coffee shop. He had told us on Twitter that he was working today, and we’d said that we’d pop in. When we walked in, Adam was nowhere to be seen. However, at a table tucked away near the counter, was someone else. Vaughan Sivell. The man who wrote and produced the film. To my much humbled surprise, he remembered from conversations on Twitter that today was my birthday and immediately wished me a happy one. When we’d ordered, he came over and sat with us for a chat.

He is lovely, and absolutely deserving of the respect and loyalty the film’s fans have shown. 

Adam, it turned out, was surfing across the street, and grinned and waved at the window when he saw us. Unfortunately, we were so short on time in which to get Faye to her train in Newport, we didn’t have time to wait and although he hurried, by the time he made it out to the front of the cafe (presumably to catch us), we were driving past. It turned out he was tweeting us to ask if (and apologise if) he had missed us, which was incredibly sweet of him. We’re sorry that we missed him, but hopefully there will be other opportunities in future.

Seven hours after leaving Swansea (you don’t need to know the details, I promise) Julie and I finally made it back to Brighton to process everything that had taken place.

Do I feel any different? Sort of. I am now most amused by the clever use of angles and editing that the team behind Third Star used to weave a stunning and extensive landscape out of very few locations. I am also reminded that I have some absolutely brilliant friends who will do some really incredibly stupid shit because I tell them to. Except descending hills. Julie doesn’t like that. She probably has a stronger sense of self-preservation than I do.

As for the cancer… the laughing gynecologist told me that his colleagues are confident that it was an astonishing fluke, and the chances of it recurring are almost zero (you can never say never with cancer, but it seems that I’d be more likely to be eaten by a shark, and as I can’t swim, I’d say I’m fairly safe). No chemo (wouldn’t have had it), no more immediate danger.

Essentially, and at risk of sounding sentimental, I accomplished what James couldn’t, in the film, and that’s why I made the choice to go to Barafundle, this weekend. That is more moving to me than any other part of this story.

Review: Third Star

Some tips on writing reviews: don’t include or directly speculate upon the essential, pivotal plot point in your review, when it is intended to shock the viewer. You render the film impotent.

The point of a review isn’t to run down the entire film and therefore spoil the reader (what’s the point of reading a review of something to see if you’ll like it and should watch it, if the person who reviews it gives away anything about the plot that may have kept you hanging on? That’s poor and lazy journalism) and especially on a website like Tumblr, where we frequently see people asking for opportunities to see the film, to post details like this without so much as a spoiler warning isn’t exactly cool.

While the quality of your writing is okay, the content needs work.

aseparatethought:

http://mshayleyr1989.files.wordpress.com/2011/07/third-star.jpgI cry when a movie, book or song is sad or emotional and I laugh really loud when it is funny. Rarely though I find movies that make me both laugh and cry. Third Star is one such film. A couple of weeks ago they showed it on BBC iplayer and I started to watch it because I liked Benedict Cumberbatch in Sherlock a lot and he is in Third Star. It is from 2010, directed by Hattie Dalton and stars Tom Burke, Benedict Cumberbatch, JJ Field and Adam Robertson. Imdb summarizes the story thus: ‘James and his three closest lifelong friends go on an ill-advised trip to the stunning coastal area of Barafundle Bay in West Wales. What follows is a touching and comical adventure dealing with friendship, heroism and love.’

Read More

As this was my 500th like, it also gets a reblog. Lovely piece of art.

As this was my 500th like, it also gets a reblog. Lovely piece of art.

woodentops:

10 movies that changed my life: 2. Third Star, Hattie Dalton.

« So I raise a morphine toast to you all and… If you should happen to remember, it’s the anniversary of my birth. Remember that you were loved by me and you made my life a happy one. And there’s no tragedy in that. »

Davy’s face in the bottom right one… So much love.

A terribly friendly response from this mom (also known as moriartysskull) after my encouragement for everyone to remember the three other members of the cast when reviewing Third Star on IMDb.
I inadvertently replied privately, so here’s an extended public version: It wasn’t directed at you. It was directed at all the fans who only watched the film because Benedict was cast in it, and treat it as though he is the only one to have any talent or part in making the film what it is. You did, however, choose to only tag your post with Ben’s name.
Additionally, telling me to ‘shut up’ isn’t going to make me do so, nor is it going to encourage me to take you seriously. I mean, really? Don’t mistake me for one of your children.  
And on behalf of the fandom, don’t belittle the dedication of ALL the other fans of this film by telling us we’re not devoted enough because people haven’t posted reviews on one shitty film site. Take a look at Vaughan’s Twitter. People are helping and supporting the film and the production company in other ways. If you want to write a review that matters, try Rotten Tomatoes - people actually pay attention to the review rating on there. And for the record, a lot of fans already have posted there.
Contrary to the follow up message you sent me, this film is not all about Benedict or his character. It is about the group of friends and their relationships. All of them. It is an ensemble piece, and while you’re “sick and tired of fans not getting off their ass” to do something to support the film, some of us are sick and tired of “fans” who only give a shit because they think Sherlock is in it. This film is more than just a vehicle for fangirls to cram more Benedict through their retinas - it’s bigger than just James and it deserves to be viewed that way. The rest of the cast each gave amazing, demanding performances and without any one of them, without their interpretations of Vaughan’s exceptional writing, this film would not be what it is. The characters we know and love would not be the same and the balance between them would not be the same.
So, I stand by my encouragement for people to recognise the whole cast in their reviews. If anything, the rest of the cast who helped make this film what it is, need the support ten times more than Benedict, who is currently working on two separate major franchises; who is now a household name. 
For me, as it happens, the outstanding actor in this film was not Benedict (and it is therefore not a “fact” that he is the outstanding actor in the film), the outstanding actor in this film was Tom Burke, who I had only seen in one thing before this. His performance, to me, was the most heart-wrenching of all; more than James and more than Miles, and he does not get a fraction of the credit he deserves.

A terribly friendly response from this mom (also known as moriartysskull) after my encouragement for everyone to remember the three other members of the cast when reviewing Third Star on IMDb.

I inadvertently replied privately, so here’s an extended public version: It wasn’t directed at you. It was directed at all the fans who only watched the film because Benedict was cast in it, and treat it as though he is the only one to have any talent or part in making the film what it is. You did, however, choose to only tag your post with Ben’s name.

Additionally, telling me to ‘shut up’ isn’t going to make me do so, nor is it going to encourage me to take you seriously. I mean, really? Don’t mistake me for one of your children.  

And on behalf of the fandom, don’t belittle the dedication of ALL the other fans of this film by telling us we’re not devoted enough because people haven’t posted reviews on one shitty film site. Take a look at Vaughan’s Twitter. People are helping and supporting the film and the production company in other ways. If you want to write a review that matters, try Rotten Tomatoes - people actually pay attention to the review rating on there. And for the record, a lot of fans already have posted there.

Contrary to the follow up message you sent me, this film is not all about Benedict or his character. It is about the group of friends and their relationships. All of them. It is an ensemble piece, and while you’re “sick and tired of fans not getting off their ass” to do something to support the film, some of us are sick and tired of “fans” who only give a shit because they think Sherlock is in it. This film is more than just a vehicle for fangirls to cram more Benedict through their retinas - it’s bigger than just James and it deserves to be viewed that way. The rest of the cast each gave amazing, demanding performances and without any one of them, without their interpretations of Vaughan’s exceptional writing, this film would not be what it is. The characters we know and love would not be the same and the balance between them would not be the same.

So, I stand by my encouragement for people to recognise the whole cast in their reviews. If anything, the rest of the cast who helped make this film what it is, need the support ten times more than Benedict, who is currently working on two separate major franchises; who is now a household name. 

For me, as it happens, the outstanding actor in this film was not Benedict (and it is therefore not a “fact” that he is the outstanding actor in the film), the outstanding actor in this film was Tom Burke, who I had only seen in one thing before this. His performance, to me, was the most heart-wrenching of all; more than James and more than Miles, and he does not get a fraction of the credit he deserves.

To all Third Star lovers…

moriartysskull:

… let’s write some reviews on IMDB, so the film finally gets the recognition it deserves!

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1510906/?licb=0.7690613274462521

There are actors other than Benedict Cumberbatch in this film, so if you plan to review it, do take the time to give them credit, rather than posting squee about Ben.

Just out of curiosity…

If there were to be a sort of minicon with Third Star shown at a tiny cinema by the seaside in the UK, next year (not in Wales, but close to London, for those travelling from afar - worth a little citybreak) would that be awesome, or biscuits dipped in tea awesome?

It’s totally just an idea at the moment, mainly based on news of a new arthouse cinema opening, but I know something similar was arranged for Sherlock in NYC…

Thoughts?