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thrifty50sswinging60sgroovy70s · 2 years

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Alain Delon and Romy Schneider had the most passionate love story ever, an epic mixture of love at first sight, first love and overall an enduring bond that lasted a lifetime. They met in 1958 and were over by 1963, but their passion for one another remained and after her tragic passing in 1982, he wrote her the most touching love letter... Farewell My Puppelé

“I watch you sleep. I’m with you, by your bedside. You’re wearing a long black tunic and red wembroidery on the bodice. These are flowers, I think, but I do not look at them. I will say goodbye, the longest farewell, my Puppelé. That’s how I called you. It meant “little doll” in German. I do not watch the flowers, but your face and I think you’re beautiful, and never, perhaps you have been so beautiful. I also think this is the first time in my life – and yours – I see you calm and soothed. You’re so quiet, you are so fine , how beautiful you are. Looks like a hand, gently wiped your face all the tensions, all anxieties of misfortune. I watch you sleep. They tell me that you’re dead. I think of you, of me, of us. What am I guilty of? We ask ourselves this question before a being that is loved and still love that one. This feeling fills you, and then flows back and then we say that one is not guilty, no, but responsible … I am. Because of me, what is your heart in Paris the other night, stopped beating. Because of me because it was there twenty-five years and I had been chosen to be your partner in “Christine”. You came to Vienna and I waited, in Paris, with a bouquet of flowers in his arms I did not know how to hold. But the film’s producers told me: “When it come down from the bridge, you will advance to her and offer these flowers.” I waited with my flowers, like a fool, mixed with a horde of photographers. You’re down. I stepped forward. You said to your mother, “Who is this boy?”. She answered you: “It must be Alain Delon, your partner … “. And then nothing, no thunderbolt, no. And then I went to Vienna where we were shooting the film. And then I fell madly in love with you. And you fell in love with me. Often, we asked ourselves one to another issue of love, “Who fell in love the first, you or me?”. We counted ‘One, two, three! “And we answered:” Neither you nor I! Together “. My God, we were young, and as we were happy. At the end of the film, I said, “Come live with me in France” and already you told me: “I want to live near you, in France.” Do you remember when? Your family, your parents, furious. And throughout Austria, Germany, who all treated me … usurper, the kidnapper, who accused me of removing the “Empress”! Me, a French, who did not speak a word of German. And you, Puppelé, who did not speak a word of French. We loved without words, in the beginning. We looked and we had some laughs. Puppelé … And I was “Grandpa”. After a few months, I did not speak German yet but you spoke French so well and we played at the theater in France. Visconti was the staging. He told us that we resembled and we had, between the eyebrows, the same V that wrinkled, anger, fear of life and anxiety. He called it the “V of Rembrandt” because, he said, that this painter had “V” on his self portraits. I watch you sleep. “The V of Rembrandt” is deleted … You have no fear. You are no longer frightened. You’re more alert. You are no longer hunted. The hunt is over and you rest.

I look at you again and again. I know you so well and so strong. I know who you are and why you died. Your character, as they say. I reply, ‘other’, the character of Romy was her character. That’s it. Leave me alone. You were violent because you were right. A child who soon became a star, too soon. So, on one side, whims, tantrums and moods of a child, always justified, of course, but with unpredictable reactions, on the other hand, the professional authority. Yes, but there are children who do not really know how it plays with. With that. And why. In this contradiction, through this breach, rush anxiety and unhappiness. When one is Romy Schneider, and we have the sensitivity and temperament in flower of life, on edge, which was yours. How to explain who you were and who we are, “actors”. How to tell them to keep playing, “Interpreter” to be what we are not really crazy and we become lost. To stand, roughly, how they say it is so difficult, that there should such a strong character, such a balance … But this balance, how to find it in this world of ours, our jugglers, clowns, trapeze artists of the circus whose projectors we bask in glory? You said: “I can not do anything in life, but all the movies …”. No, the “others” can not understand that. That the more we become a great actor and it is awkward to live. Garbo, Marilyn Monroe, Rita Hayworth … And you. And I cried, while you rest and I weep beside you, no, no, no, this business is not a terrible business woman. I know because the man I’m the one who is best known thee, who brought you the better understood. Because he is an actor, too. We were of the same race, my Puppelé, we spoke the same language. But I am a man. They can not understand us, “other”. The actors, yes. The “other” are not. It’s inexplicable. And when you’re a woman, like you, they may not realize that they can die of “it.” They say you were a myth. Of course … But yes … But the “myth”, he knows he is just that. A facade. A reflection. Appearance. he is king, prince, hero, Sissi, Mrs. Haneau, the seagull … But he goes home, the myth, at night. So it is that Romy, just a woman with a life misunderstood, poorly received, poorly written in newspapers, assailed and hunted. So he wears, the myth, in his solitude. This anxiety. And the more he understands, and he falls, to more or less repeated doses, in the beatitudes of alcohol and tranquilizers. It becomes habit, then sets, then necessity. Then it is irreplaceable and the heart, worn out, stops because he is too tired to fight. It was too battered and shaken, his heart was only that of a woman in the evening, sitting over a glass …

They say that desperation that you caused the death of David you killed her. No, they are mistaken. Did he not kill her. There you have completed. True that you said to Lawrence, and your last wonderful companion: “I feel like I get to the end of the tunnel.” True that you wanted to live, you would have liked to live. Nevertheless true that you came out of the woods on Saturday at dawn. You were only to know when your heart is broken, that this was the true end of the tunnel.

I write at random. Without notice. My Puppelé, if aggressive, if scratched. You never could accept and understand the game of women’s work that you had chosen public and you loved. You did not understand that you were a public figure and it was so important. You refused the game, any game that exposes profession. You felt attacked, breakthrough, broken into your privacy. You were always on your guard, like a hunted animal, “forced” as they say a deer. And you knew that fate, with one hand, t’ôtait what gave you the other.

We lived more than five years, one near each other. You with me. Me with you. Together. Then life … Our life, which nobody’s business, has separated us. But we were called. Often. Yes, that’s exactly right: we embarked on “appeals”. Then, in 1968, it was “The Pool”. We found ourselves, to work. I went looking for you in Germany. I met David, your son.

After our movie, you’re my sister, I am your brother. Everything is clean and clear of us. More passion. Better than that: our friendship blood, likeness and words. And then your life and your ways, unhappiness and anxiety, the anxiety … They will say, “other”, “What an actress! What actress! “. They do not know that you are the actress, cinema, because you are in your life that you and pays dearly. They do not understand the drama of your life reflect upon the screen later in your roles. They can not guess that you are “good” and “brilliant”, the movies, because you live the tragedy at hand, and you are upsetting because you light up the reflection of your personal dramas. And you do not radiated because they burn you. Oh! Puppelé this work my pain! Do I have lived with you or next to you?

Until the death of David, yet there is “the trade” that you held your head above water. Then David left … And the business was no longer sufficient. So I was not surprised when I learned that you also worry was gone. What was I surprised? Your non-suicide. But your heart is cracked, no. I said: “That was the end of the tunnel.”

I watch you sleep. Wolfie, your brother, and Lawrence enter the room. I speak with Wolfie. We remember this house I had in the countryside. Of Dobermans that made you so afraid. We remember again … That was twenty-five years ago, in Bavaria, in a small village. Wolfie was fourteen, my twenty-three and twenty thou. We laughed when we announced the visit of the President of Fan Club Romy Schneider in France. We have seen it happen a great girl, with glasses, shy, and named Bernadette. When we returned to Paris, we have called him. She became our secretary for six years. It is always mine, for twenty-two years now. I watch you sleep. Yesterday you were still alive. It was night. You said to Lawrence, as you return home: “Go to bed. I’ll join him earlier. I rest a bit with David, listening to music. ” You said that every night … You wanted to be alone with the memory of your dead child before bed. You sat. You took the paper and a pencil and you started to make drawings. For Sarah. You were drawing for your little girl, when your heart has hurt so much, suddenly … So beautiful. Beautiful, rich, famous, that you ought to be more? Peace, a little happiness.

I watch you sleep. I’m alone again. I say you loved me. I loved you. I have made you a French, a French star. Of that, yes, I feel responsible. And this country that you loved, for my sake, became yours. France. So, Wolfie decided – Lawrence and told him that you wanted it – you’d stay here and that you should rest forever in the land of France. A Boissy. Where, in a few days, your son, David, will join you. In a small village where you had just received the keys of a house. There, you wanted to live near Lawrence, near Sarah, thy daughter. There, you will sleep forever. In France. Closer to home, close to me.

I took care of you left Boissy, to relieve Laurent and your family. But I do not go to church or the cemetery. Wolfie and Laurent understand me. You, I ask you to forgive me. You know I would not be able to protect yourself from this crowd, this storm, so eager to “show” and made you so afraid, that you tremble. Forgive me. I’ll see you tomorrow, and we are alone.

My Puppelé, I look at you again and again. I want to devour all of my eyes, and tell you again and again that you’ve never been so beautiful and calm. Rest. I’m here. I learned a little German, with you. Ich liebe dich. I love you. I love you my Puppelé

#romy schneider #alain delon #young love #epic love #parisian lovers #paris #vintage love #vintage actors #vintage actress #1950’s #love of your life #soulmate #love letters #beautiful #true love

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happiestrothko · 2 months

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after a few months of my gender presentation veering more towards shiv adjacent girlboss (which corresponded w the unfortunate 9to5-ification of my schedule vs the frolicking days of undergrad) i am slowly tending back towards the dandy side of how i like to look ...... ive been ordering waistcoats and shirts and im about to dust off my oxfords. maybe time to cut hair again

#unforch young bastard alain delon in the likes of l'eclisse is still the vibe i want to have.#its been extremely freeing however to admit to myself i am neither on the femme or any other Side of presenting myself as a lesbian. i am #fluctuating depending on current mood #personal

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stargirlinterruped · 2 years

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hot summer nights, mid july

when you and i were forever wild

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almeriamovies · 7 months

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“Red Sun“ by Terence Young (1971) Alain Delon on the Guadix-Baza railway near Hernán-Valle (GR).

#alain delon #red sun #Terence Young #Almeria #cinema #western #railway #hernan valle #guadix

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cinemajunkie70 · 1 year

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#Alain Delon #red Sun #terence young

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lovefrenchisbetter · 1 year

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Alain Delon

#alain delon #young alain delon #fatherhood #essential homme #homme #parisian homme #parisian vibe #parisian mood #father #french actor

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colleendoran · 8 months

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I was curious how you manage to keep features consistent when you draw them? Do you use models? Is there a model for Crowley? He is very handsome.

I don't use models per se, but I sometimes keep files of photos or art that resembles the subject.

Crowley is based a bit on the French actor Alain Delon who was once considered the handsomest man in the world. He doesn't look exactly like Delon, but that is in my head when I draw him. I recall reading Neil and Mr. Pratchett once considered Peter Sellers for Crowley.

There is no reference for Aziraphale because he is entirely in my head and I can't really find anyone who looks exactly the way he does. I recall reading that Neil and Mr. Pratchett thought of Brian Dennehy at one point, but my head canon Aziraphale won. I think a Brian Dennehy Aziraphale would have been amazing, though. Anyway, he is actually kind of hard for me to draw because his facial structure is a bit outside my usual style. His face is a bit long and his eyes closer together than I normally do, and if I'm not careful, he slips away. He appears younger and more classically handsome as an angel than he does in his corporeal form, but I think he's quite fetching as a bookseller.

Michael Sheen is so perfect in this role it is really hard not to leak bits of his performance into the graphic novel edition, but I have to resist the impulse. I am not allowed to use any of the show actors as models.

I adore Michael Sheen. Who doesn't?

Adam is also a head canon character. He is a perfect young Greek God, so that's kind of drawing on a day with a Y in it for me.

The inspiration for Newt I'm keeping a secret. I submitted a number of sketches for Newt. The show Newt dug in deep and I had a hard time shaking him off.

The Them are based on kids I knew. They're in my head, I don't need any photos. They don't really look like the kinds in the show. The book version of Pepper, for example, is a freckled red-head.

Anathema is an amalgam of features that don't come from one person, which I think fits the description of the character. She's also unusual for me to draw but she's easier to draw than Aziraphale. I nail her every time.

Hastur is a caricature of the stereotypical English upper class you'd see in broadsheets 200 years ago. I have a file of pictures of Anthony Ashley-Cooper, 7th Earl of Shaftesbury for Hastur. I considered making Hastur more handsome in a Duke of Hell sort of way, but I think Hastur likes to be scary. I keep thinking of Peter O'Toole when I draw Hastur, too.

I feel kind of bad basing Hastur on Lord Ashley because he was a wonderful person and I'm sure he didn't go to Hell.

Ligur is a broad caricature of Danny Devito. I obviously can't use a DeVito portrait. That would be wrong. But I can tweak from there and come up with a general idea of the face I want to use.

Beelzebub and Metatron are head canon, and don't look a thing like they do in the show. I postulate some demons prefer to look like their angelic selves, and at other times prefer to be fearsome. Crowley can look fearsome when he wants, for example. In the book, Beelzebub appears as a young man in red flames.

Shadwell was drawn from reference at the direct suggestion of Neil.

Madame Tracy is based on a certain person, but no one you would have heard of. The original source might not be flattered, but I love Madam Tracy. She's really easy to draw because she's a bit over the top. I'm sketching around her scenes right now because I don't have final approval on some things yet. So she might need some changes later.

War is head canon, very easy to draw. She's a knockout. No reference required.

Famine looks a lot like Famine in the show, actually, but that's what Famine always looked like, pretty much. Except he has the grey eyes he has in the book.

Pollution is initially described as being a forgettable white guy, but later described as looking like a romantic poet, which strikes me as being memorable. Because he's only on one page in his forgettable white guy phase, I chose not to make major changes in his appearance between those panels and later when he appears as his true self, because that's a bit more confusing than it needs to be in the graphic novel edition. He's rather glamorous as the essence of Pollution, though. No reference needed.

Dog is a dog.

While I do give every detail a lot of thought, I am sure other people have other opinions. I understand that, and hope you enjoy what I do anyway.

Thanks for your question.

I'm still a bit under the weather, so may be stepping away from the net for awhile so I can concentrate on work. I have a lot of sick time to make up.

But don't think I don't appreciate your interest in the Good Omens graphic novel adaptation. Your wonderful support is acting on me like a tonic, let me tell you.

kickstarter

#good omens #good omens graphic novel #neil gaiman #terry pratchett

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sigurism · 1 year

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Alain Delon et Charles Bronson Soleil Rouge (Red Sun) Dir: Terence Young

#<3 #soleil rouge #terence young #red sun #alain delon #forever love #charles bronson #my pic #my edit

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ilikethisacompletelynormalamount · 1 month

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Andrew Scott, Vogue: April 2024.

by Zing Tsjeng, Photos by Annie Leibovitz

Ripley, in other words, is the hero of the tale. “That’s why he fascinates so many,” says Scott. “There’s been so many iterations of him. I think it’s because people root for him.” Actors like Alain Delon and Dennis Hopper have tried the role; Matt Damon played him as an obsequious, lower-class naïf; John Malkovich, as a slimy, camp killer. Scott’s Ripley is different; a watchful loner escaping rodent-infested poverty, more at home among art than he is around people. Musician and actor Johnny Flynn plays his first victim—the monied Dickie Greenleaf—and Dakota Fanning is Dickie’s suspicious ex-girlfriend. “I find Tom quite vulnerable,” Scott tells me. “I don’t think he’s necessarily lonely, but I certainly think he’s solitary…. He seems to me by his nature that he just can’t fit in. He’s trying to survive.”

In Ripley, Zaillian extracts maximum Hitchcockian dread from every creaky footstep. But most sinister of all is Scott’s face, which exhibits a sharklike steeliness throughout. It’s a performance that exudes queasy force. Is Ripley a scammer, a psychopath, or both? “There’s so many things lurking beneath him that I’ve been very reluctant to diagnose him with anything. I never thought of him as a sociopath or murderous,” Scott declares. “It’s up to everybody else to characterize him or call him whatever they want.”

As we weave through tourists near the Tower of London, barely anybody notices Scott, save for a faint glimmer of recognition among mainly young women. He seems to draw reassurance from it. “I don’t like to think about it too much, if I’m honest,” he muses of fame. “I find it a little bit, er, frightening.” He is known but not blockbuster-recognizable, although he is in the upcoming Back in Action with Cameron Diaz and Jamie Foxx. What stunts did he do? “I can’t give that away, I’m afraid, or somebody from Netflix will come and shoot me in the head.”

What’s been on Scott’s mind the most hasn’t been acting at all, in fact, but art. As a 17-year-old, he was offered his first movie role on the same day he was given a scholarship to study painting. He chose acting, but has recently been thinking about Oliver Burkeman’s philosophical self-help tract from 2021, Four Thousand Weeks, which makes the case for focusing on the five things you truly want to accomplish. “For me at the moment, it’s like, What do you want to do? What do you want to say?”

He scrolls through his phone to show me his work. There’s a watercolor of a couple arguing in a restaurant in rich reds and greens, line drawings of friends and people on the beach, and two self-portraits. “It’s a bit weird,” he acknowledges of his depiction of himself, all bulbous forehead and Pan-like tufts of hair. His brisk, nervy lines are reminiscent of Egon Schiele or Francis Bacon, who turns out to be one of his favorite painters. “Well, God, I’ll take that,” he mutters at the comparison. He would like someday to go to art school. “I don’t ever regret it,” he says of acting. “But I suppose you just get to a stage where you think, What else? That’s one of the big painful things in life for me, where you can’t quite live all the lives.” As he gets older, he feels the tug toward revisiting old working relationships, including with Waller-Bridge: “We’ve definitely got things cooking,” he smiles. “I’d love to work with her again. She’s just a singular, wonderful person.” For her part, Waller-Bridge says: “I’d love to see him do a fully unhinged slapstick comedy character. Someone who is outraged at everything, all of the time.”

As we round the pavement and the Tate Modern looms back into sight, he recalls a poster he received in 2017—a monstrously large graphic that detailed every week in a human life span. “It’s your entire life if you live to 80—you have to fill in all the bits that you’ve already lived,” he remembers in awe, “a visually terrifying gift.” What did he do with it? “I didn’t hold on to it for too long.” Easy come, easy go: We finally finish our loop around the Thames and, as Scott disappears back into the throng, anonymous just the way he likes it, it occurs to me that the actor has many lives to live yet. ■

#andrew scott #ripley #vanya #all of us strangers #julianne moore #phoebe waller bridge #annie leibovitz #vogue

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simp4eshal · 5 months

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If being lovable was a crime, your lover, Spencer, would be in prison by now.

The FBI agent had to be the sweetest, cutest, loveliest sneaky link you ever had.

He was gentle, understanding, and so fucking good at sex...

Honestly, let's just say you weren't thinking of him as a sneaky link only anymore.

But little did you know, it was the same for him.

Spencer always had the biggest crush on you, the cool new BAU agent, so young and so fresh and so confident and so, and so, and so-

So when you found yourself in his arms one night after drinking a little too much (he was drunk too, so no "taking advantage" kinda thing), how could he ever let you go ?

Fearing that you might not be ready, or willing, to have a complete, "i'm-so-in-love-with-you" relationship with him, he just...asked you to be his sex friend ? But in a really Spencer way you know.

It surprised you. And what surprised you even more wa the little notes he left whenever he could on your desk after that.

"Don't forget to eat :)"

"Slept well ? You look tired :( ask me if you need anything"

"Want to, maybe, if you're down of course, grab lunch together after the meeting ? Let me know !"

And everytime you brushed past his desk with a light smile on your face, he would smile and blush like a silly teenager in love, making Morgan and Penelope snicker at his antics.

He was just so, so in love with you.

And today, today was the day. The day he'll finally stop chickening out, the day he'll tell you how he truky feels, and fuck it if you don't feel the same, at least he won't have to watch you leave an hour or so after making him cum, leaving him alone and sad in his empty bed.

So he invited you over. No restaurant, he knew you didn't liked that, just a cozy evening between the two of you, watching old french movies, watching you fawn over Alain Delon's looks.

He'd watch you with an adoring smile and heart eyes, waiting for you to finally look at him in the dark room before whispering with a blush on his face, "I love you..."

The world stops for a moment. You try to realize, and his heart is beating so loud against his ribbcage he fears you can hear it.

Then, giggling and smiling like an idiot, you jump into his arms, yelling in his ears about how you're so glad he made the first move, because you were about to do so yourself.

He's happy, and you're happy, and everyone's happy.

Except for your neighbours, but that's another story.

#doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #fluff #bau #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut

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