#theyre great movies but you wouldnt know from the trailers

[neofelis----nebulosa]

watched the second full scene released from kfp 4 and it is significantly lowering my expectations

[angrylizardjacket]

when i said it i thought it was true [1] {Ben Hardy}

Anon asked: could you do an imagine where ben is the reader’s ex and they are somehow working together on the set of bo rhap and they fall in love all over again ☺️ could you make it angst-y and then end with fluff? i love your writing so much!!

Anon asked: could you do an imagine where the reader is in bo rhap, maybe playing as one of roger’s gfs or something and she kind of falls in love with ben while filming the scenes with him as roger 💖 very fluffy pls :D

A/N: 3124 words. Super AU version of BoRhap being filmed in the fic. There’s gonna be another part, that will fill the prompts better. This might end up being a series. I hope you enjoy. Feedback would be nice.

When your manager rings you, telling you that you’d landed a part in the Queen Biopic Bohemian Rhapsody, you were elated. Freddie Mercury was a bit of a personal hero of yours, and to be a part of his story on the big screen, it was sort of a dream come true. 

In your first meeting, you sign a nondisclosure agreement, and you’re given the latest draft of the script to start learning, as well as a character brief. The script calls your character ‘Amanda’, the girlfriend of Roger Taylor who he eventually realises he wants to settle down with. You’d seen pictures of young Roger Taylor, you wouldn’t lie, you were excited for the role. Honestly, even today he was still quite a fox.

The point is, you were excited to have a fun time on set with a pretty blonde, make some new connections, and earn some good money. Some really good money.

The other shoe drops when you’re flicking through Instagram, and one of the stan accounts you follow has posted a leaked screenshot of the proposed cast list, and there’s your name, right beside the name of the last person you wanted to pretend to be in love with. Ben Hardy; pretty blonde extraordinaire, and your ex-boyfriend.

The table read is... awkward. 

The two of you are sat next to each other, and barely spoke two words to each other. You feel unprofessional the whole time, but you’d rather be anywhere else in the world, and the delivery of some of your lines falls a little flat. The director casts a concerned look between yourself and Ben as you rattle of what’s meant to be banter like you’re reading the news paper.

“They’ve got no damn chemistry; it’s like watching a celebrity divorce hearing.” When the Director vents to one of the producers in the hall outside after the reading, you manage to catch it where you’re just about to come out of the bathroom.

“They’ll be better on set, I promise, it’s just jitters.” She tries to soothe his nerves, and they’re off soon after, and you’re left with a cold, sinking sensation in your stomach.

“You’re Y/N, aren’t you? How are you finding the set?” The guy who greets you on your first day on the Eastenders set smiles with such casual ease it feels like you’ve known him for a while, instead of having just met him.

“Yeah, that’s me.” You agree with a quick nod, rocking back on your heels as you gaze around the space, trying not to look at him for too long. “It’s a bit overwhelming.” Actually, what’s overwhelming is that he’s talking to you. He’s Ben fucking Hardy, pretty-boy on the soap-opera scene, and he’s talking to you on your first day.

“Yeah, you’ll be right though; if you need any help or anything, just give us a yell, yeah?” And you realise he probably doesn’t know who you’re playing, or how you’re involved in that Season’s arc, but you certainly did.

“I didn’t know you could play drums.” You’re trying to be casual when you say it, but you see Ben tense where he’s sitting on a sofa in the rehearsal room, script and pencil in hand.

“I can now, that’s all that really matters.” He’s giving off such strong ‘please leave me alone’ vibes that it almost hurts, and you have to push through the knot in your stomach and sit down next to him.

“Ben, we need to at least be civil.” You say quietly, and he looks at you, expression a little forlorn.

“Y/N, we are civil, and we’ve done this before. Let’s just keep it professional, okay?” His tone leaves little room for argument, and you nod in agreement with a small smile, and pull out your phone, waiting for the rehearsal director.

“Hey there, baby, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here; I know I’d recognise your face.” You purr, running your hand delicately over the collar of Ben’s shirt, as his eyes widened and he spluttered to form a sentence, just as the script had told him to. 

Your character was more a plot device than anything, when Ben’s character is at a low point, his main romance is on a break, and he meets you, a temptress in all black. Your job is to give his character a realisation, he starts as your cocaine dealer when his supplier can’t make the drop, and he falls for you. Depending on the audience reaction, you knew the producers were waiting to see if they kill you off or have you recover from your addiction. The point is, your fate’s uncertain at the end of the Season, and Ben’s character realises he has to get out of the drug trade.

“I’ve got something for you, from Oskar. Can we go somewhere more private?” When he speaks, it’s with surprising confidence, and he steps up from the bar stool and into your space, smiling as your face lights up. The director calls cut after a moment, and you step back, smile sliding to something genuine as an assistant comes in and straightens your loose, black silk shirt, and they reset the shot for a new take.

“Ben, could you try less flustered? You’re here to deliver drugs, you’re not a schoolboy.” The director’s voice was kind as she came up to the two of you, and Ben agreed easily before she turned to you. “Great job, Y/N, don’t be afraid to be more even more forward, if you feel it.” As soon as you nod in understanding, she absconds, and you half laugh.

“If I was any more forward I’d be in your lap.” You snickered, voice quiet as you dipped your head to hide how you were faintly flustered. Ben was quiet, just watching you for a moment, but before you noticed, the director called for everyone to standby.

“I’m after Maggie, do you know where I could find her?” Ben starts as soon as the cameras start rolling, brow furrowed as he leans across the bar to speak to the bartender, and that’s your cue to enter the scene.

“Hey there, baby, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here; I know I’d recognise your face.” And when you say it this time, he smirks back at you, a little cocky, and you can feel the way it makes your heart flutter and you know it’s not as fake as it should be.

Before filming even starts, the producers have essentially forced you and Ben into bonding sessions which, if this were several years ago, would have just been dates. Now they’re awkward and tense, and you tend to bring heavily highlighted scripts.

“I saw you in that Wes Anderson movie last year. It was a really good performance, one of your best.” He offers over coffee. The idea that he’d kept up with enough of your work to label one ‘your best’ has you a little shocked, and something in your heart warms as you thank him softly.

It’s gotten easier to hang around with him, and it’s even easier to pretend to be in love with him in rehearsals. It’s like riding a bike, how easy it is to let yourself smile and lean into him, to let the banter flow easily between the two of you, fond jabs that edge on insulting coming as easily as breathing.

Joe mentions that he thought the two of you worked together before, and when you reply that you’d dated for almost a year, he goes very quiet, eyes going wide. After a beat, he admits it explains a lot.

“X-Men did you real dirty.” You’re half paying attention to an interview with Roger Taylor that the two of you had been instructed to watch together. You’re both in his trailer, sitting on opposite ends of the sofa as you watch in almost complete silence.

“What?” He asks, after a beat, your words having taken a moment to process.

“Killing you off like that; they could have gotten so much mileage out of your character.” The way you say it is far too well thought out to be an idle thought. Ben smirked.

“You just liked the leather pants.” He muttered, but you’re silence is answer enough. You know he sees your embarrassed smile, but you can’t bring yourself to deny it.

“Hey, do you wanna grab a drink after and go through notes and blocking and stuff?” You’re shooting your third episode, and you’re far more comfortable on set by now. Agreeing easily, you let Ben drive the two of you to what he claims is the best pub in town, and you sit in one of the more secluded booths to talk.

It turns out he’s just as much a fan of you as you are of him; you’re known more for your bit-parts in long-running series, it seems like the only show you hadn’t been a part of so far had been Eastenders, it was only a matter of time. It’s an innocent night, true to his word, all you do is talk, and discuss the script. There is one part of the upcoming script that has you a bit nervous. 

“Listen, honestly just go for it; it’s not meant to be sweet or anything, I’m literally taking coke from you.” You tell him, fidgeting, and he’s hums thoughtfully.

“You sure? We can talk to the director, I’m sure-” He offers, but you laugh to hide your nervousness.

“Nah, let’s knock it out of the park, the script says go for it so just go for it.” You assured him, heart rate already quickening at the mere thought of it. 

The next day, before the scene, the director comes over to talk you through it, making sure that if anything becomes uncomfortable, that you can talk to her. Both you and Ben assure her that it’s fine.

“You’re far too cute for this line of work.” You say as you hold a baggie of “cocaine” up to the light, smile playing on your lips.

“Cute? Ouch, you really know how to wound a man, you know.” He says, leaning back against the sofa in the hallway of the grubby hotel your character was staying in. He’s watching you with interest, small smile playing on his lips.

“Cute’s not a bad thing, baby, but you look like you should be making coffees or playing football in the sun, not here, not with me.” And you tap out a little of the powder onto your hand, pretending to snort it before you turn to him, his expression dark and hungry, and he kisses you, aggressive, almost desperate, and you lean into it, almost forget you’re playing a role with his hand on the back of your neck. When he lets go, when he pulls away, your eyes are still closed and you chase his lips for a moment. Eyes flickering open, you see him smirking down at you where he’s standing, and you both know it wasn’t entirely acting.

“You don’t know anything about me.” He growls, and you know you have to smile like you’re into it, like it’s a challenge, but instead, you duck your gaze, giving a small laugh and wiping at the nostril you’d just “snorted cocaine” through, before looking up at him through your eyelashes.

They call cut, and the director announces, almost a little awed, that she’s pretty sure they got the the take, actually says she’s not sure if she could getting a better take if they tried again. Ben seems far too pleased with himself. 

“They want us to tell the public we’re together.” You’re resting your head on Ben’s chest laying at the back of the tour-bus set, and his hand is resting on your waist, which is bare for the crop top and booty shorts they’ve put you in.

“Yeah, I heard.” He replies, voice equally quiet. “I think we’ve got a meeting about it tomorrow morning.” Gwil and Rami are actually playing scrabble at the front of the bus, and Joe is talking to Singer, the director.

“It’s a bad idea.” You’re so frank that you feel Ben freeze, and you heave a sigh. “It’s good for the movie, but Ben...” You trail off, and you feel it when he forces himself to relax. “It wouldn’t be real, it would just be weird.”

“Y/N, we’re actors.” He says very pointedly, and when you turn, resting your chin on his chest, he looks tired, a little exasperated. “It’s just a business deal.” He assured, and you let out a low, thoughtful grumble. 

“We’ll discuss it tomorrow.” You allow, and he nods once, shifting to a more comfortable position, and you go back to resting your head on his chest, eyes fluttering closed as Singer called for the shot to be reset and a bunch of people came and straightened your clothes, and touched up your makeup, all without you having to move much.

You agree to the terms set forth in the meeting easily, the story being that your relationship rekindled on set, and that you were now madly in love, mirroring the relationship you were portraying on screen.

“Wait, does that mean-?” Ben leans forward in his chair, with his heart in his throat as he followed their logic, thinking through the plot of the movie. “Like engaged?” He asked.

“Seems a bit fast.” You agreed, voice level enough that someone might mistake you for calm rather than internally freaking out, and your managers shared a look.

“There will be a public proposal during or after the world premiere, that’s up to you both, and after the movie is out on DVD, you can go your separate ways.” They assured, but your mouth fell open.

“You know he left me for X-Men, right?” You splutter, and Ben’s eyes widen as he turns to you with a scoff.

“You’re the one who said the distance was too much for us while I was in Cairo.” He snapped, and you threw your hands in the air.

“I was offering to come and stay with you instead, but you said you were too busy!” That was enough to shut him up, his mouth snapping closed as he turned away sharply, huffing out a resigned sigh.

“We have a few brands and restaurants who are interested in sponsoring, and the producers are willing to increase both your salaries if you go through with it for the full duration.” Your manager informed you both carefully, and you and Ben shared a resigned look.

“Fake intend to marry me for like three months?” He asked, voice low and bitter, and after heaving a long sigh, you look to your managers,

“Fine.”

“I think I love you.” Ben’s character shows up at your character’s door, and you open it in a silk robe. 

“Hello to you too.” You laughed, but he’s so serious, so sincere, and when he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t offer anything else, you step up to him, pressing your lips to his, and he wraps his arms around you, hands sliding against the silk over your hips, and you pull back.

“You’re too sweet for me, baby,” voice so low it’s barely a whisper, he’s the one who chases your lips this time, but your catch his chin, and his eyes open. 

“You’re high.” He says softly, voice raw and a little desperate.

“And you’re my dealer.” You push him back gently, going to close the door and his expression turns angry.

“That doesn’t mean anything; I love you, Maggie.” His words hang heavily in the air, but before you can respond, they call for cut. You’re told to play it more like it hurts to try and turn him down, and you agree, smiling and nodding all the while. Everyone sets up for another take and you close the door.

When you kiss him this time, his hands are holding your face, and you’ve got your arms around his neck, and it’s like the world falls away from around you. It’s not acting now, hasn’t been for weeks, almost months now, not since he’d asked you out officially. Every time you kiss him you’re desperate to drown in his embrace, and he kisses you like it’s just the two of you, no cameras, no scripts.

“You’re-” and he cuts you off with another quick kiss, which has you laughing a little sadly, “Peter you’re too sweet for me.” He rests his forehead against yours, heaving a sigh.

“I know you’re high.” He says gently, and you don’t push him away this time, just lean back, your finger lifting his chin.

“And you’re my dealer.” You tell him, expression falling.

“That doesn’t mean anything, that doesn’t matter; I love you.” And you know that in that moment, the words mean so much more than the script, than these characters, than the show; he loves you. Ben loves you.

You avoid him, outside of filming, until you actually get a call from your manager telling you you’re contractually obligated to be seen in public together at least once a week. Even while filming you’re short with him, and he’s quick to get away from you the moment he doesn’t need to be around you, which was getting to be pretty bad, seeing as how you had been blocking a sex scene.

After the call, you and Ben get a drink. It’s awkward at first, though that’s unsurprising. After a long sip of his beer, he pats his thighs where he’s sitting in the armchair across from you. You make a face at him, shaking your head. 

“It’ll look less suspicious than if we’re shouting at each other across the table.” He hissed, and you groaned, obliging and crossing to sit yourself in his lap. He’s warm and secure, and he wraps his arm around you like it’s second nature. “Let’s not make this weird.” He said gently, and you nod.

“As for tomorrow’s shoot,” you said softly, leaning in to make sure no-one else heard, and he nodded, humming softly, “we’re professionals, and,” after a beat you cleared your throat pointedly, “it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“Not in front of a camera crew we haven’t.” Ben says with a smirk, and you snicker in agreement. “It’s gonna go fine; this is all gonna go fine, I promise.” And when you raise your eyebrows at him in surprised question, he just laughs softly, and brings you in for a chaste kiss. “It’s only until the DVD’s released.” He assures you, and you let your expression fall, already weary.

“Ben, that’s over a year away.”

[bruhsauraus]

Armando Iannucci: I was saved from being a reject by comedy

The king of satire, back with a new film about Soviet-era Russia after Stalins death, talks about being uncool, Veep and building a spaceship in London

Armando Iannucci arrives for our 3pm meeting with a small amount of his lunch still clinging to his shirt. We discuss retouching the mark for the Observers pictures but, admirably, he doesnt seem to care either way. It is tempting to describe the 53-year-old Iannucci as the most feared political satirist of our age. Certainly, his output in the past decade the BBC sitcom The Thick of It, the companion film In the Loop, and latterly Veep has been untouchable in skewering the vanity, incompetence and plain childishness of people in power. But, in person, nothing about Iannucci is remotely scary: he is self-effacing, smiley, quick to laugh. At the end of the day, hes just a guy with a tomato stain on his shirt.

Iannuccis latest target is Stalin and his cronies. His new film, The Death of Stalin, is set in 1953 and depicts with unexpected historical accuracy the undignified scrabble for dominance that followed the demise of the Soviet despot. It is silly, moving and revelatory, all at once, with deft, pitch-perfect turns from Simon Russell Beale as Beria and Steve Buscemi as Khrushchev. Iannucci, who never likes to have fewer than seven plates spinning at any moment, has also just published a book on classical music, Hear Me Out, about a lifetime of listening to Mahler and Britten in open defiance of the keepers of the cool.

Was it easier than you expected to make a comedy about Stalin and his inner circle that was also factually accurate? Yeah. When we were researching it, we found out things like Vasily, Stalins son, really did lose the ice-hockey team in a plane crash. And because the comedy is the comedy of hysteria, you want to be true to what happened and how people responded. So anything that was so-bizarre-and-yet-true was a candidate for going in. I thought about having This is a true story, but then I thought, no, just watch it for what it is, and it would be great if you subsequently found out that the bulk of it was true.

These men are vicious, but your film also gives them a human side. They have families they fear for; they play practical jokes. Did your feelings towards them change? Um, no. But I did think, what must they have done to have survived and ended up so close to Stalin, and what has it done to them? The fact, for example, that he would almost taunt them and mock them and play them off against each other With all these things its about posing the question, What would you have done in those circumstances?

Power corrupts? Yeah, it was almost like Animal Farm by the end, and yet they all lived near each other and popped in and out of each others houses. He might have had your brother shot and all that, but they had to sublimate that as just part of the process of moving forward. But, you know, you read that Boris Johnson and Michael Gove were the biggest enemies and are now reconciled. Im not saying they are like Stalin, but in that febrile environment where you see each other every day, in order to survive, just psychologically, you must have to close off a bit of your emotion.

Watch a trailer for The Death of Stalin.

So there are lessons about todays political landscape? Trump gets all his closest associates in over the past three or four months, and has to say, By the way, youre fired because I need to survive now. So could you go away? And eventually hell be saying that to his daughter and his son-in-law: Youve now become an albatross, I cant be seen with you anymore. Or after the general election, Theresa May turns to her two very close advisers and says, Its you or me. And they all kind of understand that. Its like that thing in The Godfather: Its not personal, its strictly business.

Is it true there have been calls in Russia for the film to be banned? You say Russia its a person in a country of 200 million people. Just somebody somewhere said something.

Were you expecting a reaction? I was wondering what it would be. I was surprised to hear we sold it to a Russian distributor. Stalins been making a comeback. There have been busts of Lenin, Stalin and other key figures going up in Moscow for the 100th anniversary of the Russian Revolution. Its that sense of, dont be frightened of strong men. Thats the message in Moscow at the moment.

Theres a line in your book Hear Me Out where you describe film directing as an astonishing ego trip, and that you wouldnt recommend it to anyone who has the slightest psychotic tendencies. Is it a job you feel comfortable doing? Ha! It is, but you do spend all day ordering people around, and everyone will do what you say. My wife teases me when I finish a shoot that it takes about a week and a half before I stop going, Right, shall we have a cup of tea? You, get a cup of tea I can see how, especially if you do shoots that go on for months, you become like a medieval lord with all these serfs, just ordering them around and torturing them and asking them to tell jokes and fetch food.

As the creator and showrunner on HBOs Veep for the first four seasons was it a difficult decision to give it up in 2015? No. It might have been the British thing that we dont do that many episodes of TV shows in the UK. Plus, it was three months of the year going out to Baltimore, backwards and forwards, and it was an all-year-round thing of the writing, the shooting, the edit, the publicising and then the writing And I knew the show could carry on, but fundamentally Id taken it to where I wanted to take it.

The show will end next year with a final, seventh series. Do you know whats going to happen? No, no, no. They asked if I wanted to stay on, but I knew I was going to do Stalin and I just thought, I cant be on set and get a call saying, Can you look at this script? But its great, because I watch it as a viewer and you realise though I always knew this what an amazing cast it is and how funny they all are. And also, I genuinely dont know what they are going to say next, which is really great.

Julia Louis-Dreyfus as vice-president Selina Meyer in Veep. Photograph: HBO

It was recently announced that youre making a new show with HBO called Avenue 5. Whats the idea behind that? Ive always wanted to do sci-fi, so this will be set mostly in space, in about 40 years time. Its not going to be Blade Runner, but there will be an element of realism to it. Ive been out to the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena and Virgin Galactic, looking at where it might be in about 40 years time. Ive mapped out the season and were writing the pilot episode and well shoot that sometime next year. And because its in space, its not location specific, so we can shoot it in a studio or a hanger in London. Well just build a spaceship here.

What impact do you think streaming services such as Netflix and Amazon Prime are having on terrestrial TV? Well, the good thing is that content producers writers and producers have more places to go. And also, whats great, and HBO paved the way with this: quality stuff is profitable. Thats their business model: youll only subscribe to HBO if you think youre going to get good stuff thats different from whats on the networks. So they need it to be better and well thought out and high production values and all that.

But is the quality always better? I do worry that simply because theres so much money available from the big streaming companies, theyll say, Oh well make your movie. We know no one else wanted to, and we realise why, because it was slightly indulgent or whatever, but well make it. And you watch it and you think, it was fine but For all the criticism of the studio process, if youre making something that costs someone else money and which is going to be available commercially, you want people to go and see it. So it does force you to think: have you made it as well as you can? Or have you really thought this through?

In Hear Me Out you write about the tyranny of the keepers of cool. Was liking classical music a reaction against them? Well, I was never really into fashion or clothes. I just wasnt that bothered. I wanted to read a good book. I was saved from being written off as a complete reject by the fact I could do comedy.

You started to learn piano in your 40s. Was that difficult? I found it hard. It was learning a language: Oh, I can speak music! And suddenly these dots and whatever started to make sense. But it was hard work. Some people can do it instinctively and I couldnt. My son would lean over me, hed be practising the violin, and go, No, no, no, its like this. And he hasnt had a piano lesson.

Do you listen to any non-classical music? I kind of like Radiohead, the Beatles, Bowie, its not extensive, but Im always trying. Whats interesting now is, because everything is available, kids can listen to Sinatra when theyre 12 and theres no real sense of: Youve got to listen to this because its out now. But you cant listen to that because thats from 20 years ago. They are a lot more experimental in what they are listening to and that then feeds into the music thats being produced. Its influenced not just by music from two years ago, but music from 20 or 30 years ago.

How can classical music stay relevant? Its up to the classical music establishment, for want of a better word, to open it up. Concerts neednt be off-putting and expensive and you dont have to dress up and you dont have to understand the technical complexities. Just talk to the audience. One of the weird things about a concert is that nobody says anything to you, so youve got to just accept whats in front of you and work it out. Somebody should sit down and explain: This piece, when it was first composed, caused a riot. Now it might sound a bit more conventional because its been used in a Walt Disney movie. I dont know, I think its just useful.

Stalin had a great passion for classical music. So listening to it doesnt make you a better human being then? George Steiner writes about how Goebbels was into Mozart and played the piano beautifully. Wagner was an antisemitic bastard, so actually, no. Thats the sad thing: it doesnt make any difference. It really doesnt.

Can you put that aside when you listen to the music? I dont know. I always got taken by the grandiosity of Wagner, but the more I listen to it now the more I think, it does sound fascist, doesnt it? But its interesting, that thing of, Can you excuse? Like Polanski. That whole, Great film-maker, but should you be watching his movies? I dont know what the answer is.

The Death of Stalin is released on 20 October.

Hear Me Out by Armando Iannucci is published by Little Brown (14.99). To order a copy for 12.74 go to guardianbookshop.com or call 0330 333 6846. Free UK p&p over 10, online orders only. Phone orders min p&p of 1.99

Read more: https://www.theguardian.com/media/2017/oct/15/armando-iannucci-the-death-of-stalin-hear-me-out-interview

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