Most of us can agree that we are living in a critical — if not dire — period of human history. Our immediate problems, and those that appear on the horizon, often seem overwhelming. We face extraordinary economic challenges, extraordinary geopolitical dangers, and extraordinary environmental crises. It may be that the only hope for the survival of our species is to learn how to honor our connection — in every thought and in every action.
I have no problem with Gigi, I like what she represents despite the fact that she has a horrible walk and a name that makes everything a little easier for her. I think she has an extraordinary face and body and at least she went to the castings a few times before she was chosen.
But THIS. Kendall fcking Jenner. She doesn’t have an outstanding personality. She doesn’t have a stunning face. She didn’t work with Vs before. She didn’t even go to the casting. And she is in while other models worked out the entire year just for this damn show, went to the castings once, twice, many times and they don’t get to walk the show.. because of a girl who got the opportunity because of her name. This is the highest level of unfairness.
I’m so done with this.
You’re the shape-changer aren’t you?“ he said. “Magnus Bane told me about you. No mark on you at all, they say.”
Tessa swallowed and looked him straight in the eye. They were discordantly human eyes, ordinary in his extraordinary face. “No. No mark.”
He grinned around his fork. “I do suppose they’ve looked everywhere?”
“I’m sure Will’s tryed,” said Jessamine in a bored tone. Tessa’s silverware clattered to the plate. Jessamine, who had been mashing her peas to the side of the plate with her knife, looked out when Charlotte let out an aghast, “Jessamine!
DARPA wants to replace the cost-ineffective products we use to build different structures by making them out of "living” materials. To do that, it’s launching the Engineered Living Materials program to create materials that will be able to respond to changes in their environment and perform another extraordinary function in the face of damage.
Photographs by Greg Williams.
Published on August 23, 2015.
The Brothers Crim: The Krays.
The Krays ruled east London with their casual, callous violence. Now Tom Hardy has taken over their manor — playing both of the homicidal twins in a new film. How did he do this?
When they were young, Ronnie and Reggie Kray, as their wise old mum always used to say, were special, different from everybody else — but they were also the same. They were identical twins. They spoke alike, dressed alike, even thought alike. When Ronnie was ill, which was often, Reggie would show the same symptoms. That strange synergy and closeness meant that for much of their “working” lives, even when they were separated from each other in prison, they operated as one; a double-headed murder machine capable of extraordinary acts of blank-faced violence.
In Legend, the new film about their reign of terror in 1960s London, they have become the same person once again — played simultaneously, with low-key menace, by Tom Hardy. Best known for his roles in Mad Max: Fury Road, The Dark Knight Rises and Warrior, Hardy delivers a performance as the twins that is no less than a tour de force.
The decision to cast Hardy in two roles came soon after the writer and director Brian Helgeland finished the script. “I had to cast Reggie first,” says Helgeland. “He’s the lead, and that would limit me. I’d then be looking around for an actor who looked like Ron. Benedict Cumberbatch, say, is never going to look like him. I had seen Tom in the film Warrior, which had a Reggie Kray quality about it. When we sat down to talk about it, it was obvious that Tom wanted to play Ron — he kind of said, ‘If you let me play Ron, I’ll give you Reg.’ We decided that night that he was going to play both.”
Casting one actor in two roles presented Helgeland with some technical problems. Shots in which both Ronnie and Reggie appeared would be cut using a split-screen technique, and Hardy would record Ronnie and Reggie’s dialogue separately. “Then Tom would play it back in his ear — and respond to himself.” says Helgeland.
Hardy’s task was made more complex by the fact that, as the Krays grew older, their personalities took on distinct, separate characteristics. Reggie was brighter, more strategic in his thinking. Ronnie, beaten down by the demons of schizophrenia, became evermore determinedly violent.
They changed physically, too; they were no longer identical. Ronnie’s increasing reliance on drugs, to “calm him down” and stop him thinking about murder, caused him to put on weight; for his performance as the much-heavier Ronnie, Hardy wore prosthetic “plumpers” — gum guards made out of silicon; he puffed up his body, moved his head down. Make-up designer Christine Blundell drew back his hairline. Reg soon became Ron; Ron became Reg. Nowhere in the film do you see the join.
This brutal biopic is carried by the sheer power of Hardy’s performance. To both roles he brings a studied, low-voltage menace that electrifies the storyline. The violence is shocking because it is so by-the-by. That’s the way the Krays did business. In the film, quiet chats in the pub about the empire are punctuated with casual maiming and torture. In one scene, Ronnie, who had always been the more dangerous and unpredictable of the two, is enjoying breakfast in Pellicci’s, his favourite East End cafe. Ron says: “Darling, can I have another egg? I’ve eaten this one.” He then calmly arranges a meeting with the rival Richardson gang. An hour or so later, he is seen in a pub attacking the gang with a pair of claw hammers. Shortly afterwards, he was certified insane.
The film shows that Ronnie adored the process of violence, but Reggie, quieter and more cerebral, did not flinch from it, either. While Ronnie would simply slice his victims’ faces, Reggie’s techniques were subtler. It was he who had perfected the “cigarette punch”. He would offer a victim a cigarette only to break their jaw as he moved to give them a light. If you want to break a jaw, Reggie had learnt, it’s much easier if it’s open at the time.
The murder of Jack “the Hat” McVitie is a crucial scene in the film. It was a seminal event in the lives of the twins, since it marked Reggie’s coming-of-age as a murderer, but also the beginning of the end of the Krays’ reign of fear. The scene is choreographed with brutal precision; a stunt double is used in some takes, but on screen we really only have eyes for Hardy. Reggie’s victim, a low-level member of The Firm, is stabbed to death at an East End party in a room full of witnesses.
With a carving knife, Reggie slashes, slashes and slashes again — and blood pours out of McVitie’s body. The camera cuts to Ronnie as he looks on approvingly. “Go on, Reggie, do him.” It is a gripping piece of cinema, all the more disturbing because it is shot in the prosaic surroundings of a neat and tidy flat. (So much blood was spilt that the Krays had to pay for new carpets.)
One of the intriguing — and controversial — aspects of the film is that Hardy plays Reggie sympathetically. Leaving aside the maiming and torture scenes, we are left with a picture of an intelligent, even considerate young man. Reggie’s appetite for violence was not piqued as often as his brother’s.
“I thought at the beginning that if Reggie’s not going to be the hero of the film, what’s the point?” says Helgeland. “I don’t need to spend two years of my life making a film like this, when I could spend 10 minutes telling you what a despicable person he was. In film, there is often such a black-and-white morality. You are either good or evil. It’s diminishing, in a way, to whatever it’s applied to. Reggie Kray had an inner life, he wasn’t a monster. But I’m not trying to soft-pedal what he was responsible for.”
The relationship between Reggie and his long-forgotten first wife, Frances Shea, is a central theme of the film. Reggie married Shea in 1965. In typical Kray style, their wedding photos were taken by David Bailey. Their marriage lasted just months; Frances left him — in the film, following a gin-fuelled beating from her husband — and began calling herself Shea again. She tried to get the marriage annulled on the grounds of non-consummation, but Reggie delayed proceedings, imploring her to return and promising a second honeymoon in Ibiza. Before a court got the chance to hear the annulment case in 1967, Frances, alone, depressed and pill-dependent, ended her life. She was found dead from an overdose, and was buried — under the name Kray — in the family’s showpiece plot in Chingford.
Reggie never really recovered from his grief, and although Frances’s central role in the Krays’ story has been overlooked in the macho folklore that always accompanied it, her death marked a turning point for the twins’ empire. Helgeland realised this when he met Chris Lambrianou, a former member of The Firm, outside one of the Krays’ old haunts in the East End.
Many thanks to Ilona Delamere