Ewan McGregor
Ewan McGregor
Oh Ewan, what a smarmy jerk you are as Frank
Churchill! How I long to smack that calculatingly
charming grin off your face as you manipulate poor,
innocent Emma.
Even if Gwyneth Paltrow
half-deserves it for thinking she can ever aspire to
Audrey
Hepburn’s throne (another sordid matter entirely),
You, Dear Ewan, are evil in its most mild and
therefore effective form – the insincere lover.
Who among us legions of women has not suffered at the hands of such a cad? Can a more wretched villain-type exist? I suspect not. Frank Churchill embodies that all-too-common rake who feels he must have his cake and eat it too. Why must he drag Emma into his wily machinations, his dastardly deceptions? He sets her up as a red herring, leading all to believe he’s working his way toward a proposal, only to make a U-turn and finally come clean about his true object of desire – a woman he can only admit to wanting after his family’s purse strings become his own. Selfish AND cowardly; what a winning combo. (Boo! Hiss!)
But, through it all, Ewan shines his hotness light like a siren beckoning fair maidens to crash their ships of yearning on the rocks of his two-timing shore. Yes, dear reader, I’m inspired to write this homage in the purplest of prose. (You are not imagining it.) Even if Ewan’s hair looks a tad overgrown in that 70s-stoner sort of way and not in an attractively-Regency sort of way, we can still admire his dashing grin and cleft chin, and charming Scottish brogue. Hats off to Ewan, a hottie who does Bad a good turn.
(the hair detracts; Ewan’s hair is at its
best when close-cropped, in this Goddess’s opinion)
(he’s more cowardly and weak of integrity
than full of outright malice)
(unless he’s sporting a cutlass or
blunderbuss or something, just about every Regency fop
is getting a mediocre Guyness score from this Goddess.
Sniff.)
Dandelion
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