row lewis

In light of current events, I feel compelled to share this story about Alison Brantley, the former director of acquisitions of Miramax.

Working day to day with the Weinsteins in New York had gotten to Brantley, as it had to the others, and she had begged Harvey to let her operate out of the London office, an elegant townhouse on Redburn Street in Chelsea, between the river and Kings Road. One of her jobs was to babysit Day-Lewis, who became fond of her. His attitude was, She’s the normal person in this crazy company. Harvey would never have gotten through Granada’s doors had she not opened them, and he had somehow neglected to reward her with a bonus. She had never been to the Oscars and figured he owed her. After some prodding, he finally agreed to fly her to L.A. and pay for her hotel room, but he said, “Alie, I just can’t get you a ticket.” She replied, “Harvey, don’t worry. I’ll get one myself.” No sooner said than Day-Lewis gave her his extra ticket. When she arrived in L.A. the day before the ceremony, she got a call from Miramax publicist Christina Kounelias, who told her, “Uh, Harvey wants to talk to you.” Brantley, who had been astonished to see that the ticket was for the front row, next to Day-Lewis, couldn’t help recalling that Harvey had refused to let her sit next to Soderbergh at the closing ceremony in Cannes and understood right away he wanted to sit with the nominee. She replied, “I will be damned if he’s gonna get this ticket.” But she had indiscreetly disclosed Harvey’s intention to My Left Foot producer Noel Pearson, which Harvey discovered. It made him look bad, and he was furious. There was a meeting of Miramax staffers at the Beverly Hills Hotel at noon the next day. Harvey called her, bellowed, “You get yourself over here right now, down to this meeting.” She thought, Oh, shit, I’m in for it. I am not walking into that meeting with this ticket in my bag. I’m going to go to my hotel and lock it up. She imagined him pawing through her purse going, “Where is that ticket?”

Twenty minutes later Brantley walked into the Miramax suite. To her chagrin she realized that everybody of any importance at the company was there. She had expected a one on one, never imagining that they would drag her in front of the whole place. She thought, He’s just trying to spook me. Bob came over to her, put his arm around her, and said, “That was really dumb what you said to Noel. You must have either been stupid or disloyal. Which one was it?” She thought, This is like the Mafia. But not wanting to get herself into any more trouble, she said, in a small voice, “Oh, I guess I was really stupid.” Just then, the phone rang. It was Tom Pollock, head of Universal. Harvey took the call, put on his I’m-talking-to-somebody-important voice, and after he hung up, he looked at her and said, “People at Universal would get fired for less than this.” Bob put his arm around her again and walked her to the door. He was terrifying when he was being sweet. She thought, This is utterly creepy, and fully expected to hear him say, “Alie, you’re finished.” He didn’t, but she recalls, “In my heart I knew my days were numbered. You don’t stand up to Harvey.” None of the people in the room said a word in her defense. “They sat there watching like in a circus,” she adds. “Looking back on it, I wish I had said, ‘Fuck you!’ and walked out. The thing about working for them for me was, we weren’t raised to be like that. We were southern.” She never did give him the ticket. “I went, and I sat next to Daniel, and it was great.”

In 1990, Daniel Day-Lewis was nominated for Best Actor award for the first time. He could have brought anyone with him to the Oscars. His mother, his sister, his family, Isabelle Adjani, or any of those beautiful women he was linked with. Instead, he brought an employee of Miramax, who has been constantly bullied by her employer, the Weinstein brothers. DDL didn’t give her a lesser seat, but a front row ticket seating next to him, the very seat her boss was desperate to have. That’s DDL sending a “fuck you” message to Harvey. 

I don’t know if he knew or how much he knew but you see, DDL didn’t make empty statements. He acted. And his action was subtle and as harmless as possible and the one that made the victim feels like the winner. What made this story more sweet, DDL did win (as the youngest actor ever won Best Actor at the time) and she got to celebrate the win next to him. 

Lance Stroll starts in the front row tomorrow. BESIDE Lewis Hamilton cause he qualified 3rd [and the bulls are waaaay back on the grid cause penalties 😞]




Rowing is not well understood by the masses. Never will be. I like that about rowing. It’s remarkably un-glamorous. No money to be made. No grand slam. No slam dunk. From the outside it looks easy. Inside the boat all hell is always breaking loose.
—  Lido for Time
Brad Alan Lewis

I received this ask last night, and shockingly, when I answered it, Tumblr ate the photos. So! Again:

Allow me to assist! Unfortunately there are hardly any clear shots showing all nine Amis at once, but each gets his own—sometimes all too brief, sometimes all too blurry—moment in the film, caps-wise. Bahorel, unfortunately for him (and for me, as I love him) gets the most shortchanged, but anyway! A quick and dirty guide to who is who in the film:

Top row: the triumvirate or power trio of Combeferre (Killian Donnelly), Enjolras (Aaron Tveit), and Courfeyrac (Fra Fee)

Middle row: the architects of barricades, beauty, and destruction: Feuilly (Gabriel Vick), Jean Prouvaire (Alistair Brammer), and Bahorel (Iwan Lewis)

Bottom row: the party trio, who are of course far more than comic relief and whose actors, when able, brought incredible, sometimes heartbreaking depth to their characters: Bossuet aka Lesgles (Stuart Neal), Joly (Hugh Skinner), and Grantaire (George Blagden)

Now if you’re looking for the extended amis—the many unnamed students in the Musain, among the funeral procession, and at the barricade—I can be of assistance there, too, as I am hugely fond of all of them; just let me know.


F1 Seasons2007Kimi Räikkönen’s title (P2 Lewis Hamiltom, P3 Fernando Alonso)


  • After Schumacher’s retirement, Ferrari signed Kimi Räikkönen. His place in McLaren was filled by Fernando Alonso and the rookie Lewis Hamilton;
  • For the first time, the races calendar didn’t count with the German GP. A race was held at the Nurburgring as the European GP. 2007 was also the year that the San Marino GP left the calendar;
  • Alex Wurz’s last season. He retired one race before the end of the season;
  • A major talking point of the season had been an espionage controversy involving Ferrari and McLaren, which led to McLaren being excluded from the Constructors’ Championship. As a result,Ferrari clinched the championship at the Belgian GP;
  • At the Australian GPKimi Räikkönen took the victory and became the 4th driver to win on their debut for FerrariFernando Alonso came 2nd and debutantLewis Hamilton finished 3rd;
  • The Canadian GP was a very dramatic race with 4 safety car periods and one of the biggest crashes of Formula 1 in recent years, with Kubica hitting the walls. The race started off with the 2nd all McLaren front row with Lewis Hamilton taking his first pole position followed by Fernando Alonso. Hamilton won the race (his first win and his only 6th GP);
  • The season finale in Brazil marked the first time since 1986 that 3 drivers had a chance of becoming world champion at the last race, and the first time since 1950 that the man who stood in 3rd before the final race went on to win the championship, the driver then being Nino Farina;
  • Lewis Hamilton was the favourite with 107 points followed by Fernando Alonso on 103 points and Kimi Räikkönen on 100 points. Lewis Hamilton started 2nd but dropped to the back of the pack after a gearbox problem. He recovered to 7th but Kimi Räikkönen won the race and the championship. The final standings were Räikkönen on 110 points followed by Lewis Hamilton and Fernando Alonso each on 109 points;
  • An appeal by McLaren regarding the legality of some cars in the final race could have altered the championship standings, but the appeal was reportedly rejected by the International Court of Appeal, confirming the championship results.

More of the Kit Purrson fic, rewrite and continuation of the bit with Grump, containing the bits I posted earlier today; this is the “hockey shit” before Kent gets back to Vegas and consults Twitter about cat aggression.  Contains Martha from Manitoba, Kent’s #1 fan, and Screwy Lewy (they call him that on ESPN), who owns the Aces.  (Also: author’s note speculating on Kent’s childhood trauma)

Keep reading

dopemixtape  asked:

Steve/Darcy #31 - Theater AU

The smell of cigarettes lingers in the air. It’s been years since anyone was allowed to smoke back in the dressing rooms – too many fires, management is skittish now – but the smell still lingers. Clings to clothes and big puff makeup brushes and the edges of fingernails of the women in the show, who sneak out between acts and light up in rows. Darcy Lewis is among them, her fingernails painted as bright red as her lips. Her hair is curled into victory rolls. 

It’s a period piece she’s working in now – not her favorite, but then she’d given almost anything not to play another big-boobed stoner. The role of Daisy DeLude had fallen in her lap, and she couldn’t turn her down. Not this fascinating woman, so different from herself, who lost everything at such a young age. There’s an authenticity and a vivacity to the part that Darcy couldn’t turn down. 

She was even more intrigued when the play’s director, a quiet but passionate woman named Natasha, told her that the playwright only wanted to be credited as S. Rogers. 

Darcy knew, that first night, when the curtain went down for the final time and the jaded New York crowd got to their feet in thunderous applause, they had something. 

Now, it’s been six weeks, and Daisy is starting to fit like a glove, sneak her way into the holes of Darcy’s personality. Daisy is a fast-talking, fast-thinking, mouthy broad, and Darcy loves her. 

“Excuse me?" 

Darcy takes a long drag on her cigarette – after this play she is really and truly giving them up – and then drops it to the ground, stepping on the cigarette butt to smother it out. s

"I know, we’re probably not allowed to smoke back here, but –" 

"No,” the man’s voice is firm, and Darcy finally turns to look. And finds herself face-to-face with – well, basically, an Aryan wet dream.  Whoever this man is, he’s large, broad across the shoulders, narrow in the waist, so tall she has to crane her neck back, and smiling – well, there’s no other word for it, other than gentle. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t ever, I just… Ah. I’m Steve Rogers." 

It takes her a minute. "Oh… as in… S. Rogers?" 

He coughs and nods, like he’s a bit ashamed of himself, and Darcy fights not to fangirl. "Hell of a show you wrote, friend." 

"Well, you’re a hell of an actress,” he says, extending his hand, and she takes it, shaking it firmly. “I… I wanted to tell you that I didn’t quite… see Daisy that way. The way that you played her. But then, you know, I saw the show and it… all became so clear. My play made more sense. Because of you. So. I uh… I wanted to say thank you." 

Darcy lays a hand on his massive forearm. "You’re welcome. Thanks for writing such a kick-ass script. Or should I say swell?" 

"Kick-ass works,” he says, and he’s flushed with color. It’s adorable. “Can I… I mean, I don’t think this is… damn it.” He draws in a deep breath. “Please don’t think this is creepy. But I think you’re beautiful and my friend Nat thinks the world of you, and she’s a hard person to impress and… I would really, really like to get to know you better, so… can I take you for coffee sometime?" 

Darcy takes him in. The pretty blue eyes, the bashful manner, which is also somehow calm and confident – like she can tell, outside of this situation, he’s probably a pretty cool dude…. 

"I would love a cup of coffee. Any time." 

"Okay then.” There’s that confidence and assurance. “Tomorrow morning?”

“Trudi’s at 9?" 


Then he’s leaving, and Darcy is slipping back into Daisy. Hot playwright or not… the show must go on.

anonymous asked:

Have you ever seen Les Miserables? (not the film adaptation of the musical … )

Saw the first revival production, second row. Norm Lewis as Javert. Celia Keenan-Bolger as Eponine. Lea Salonga as Fantine. Yes it was as glorious as it sounds. Lea has a voice like crystal and it was a dream come true to see her live.

she’s also really hard to draw.

  • Raphael: I am pissed off. A very grumpy person. But in addition to being grumpy, I'm also snarky and confident. I continuously express my annoyance towards Simon. In bed, I'll pin you down and make you forget your god damned name.
  • Raphael's hips: he's a sub
  • Raphael: son of a-
Pain? Yes, of course. Racing without pain is not racing. But the pleasure of being ahead outweighed the pain a million times over. To hell with the pain. What’s six minutes of pain compared to the pain they’re going to feel for the next six months or six decades. You never forget your wins and losses in this sport. YOU NEVER FORGET.
—  Brad Alan Lewis