Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it.
Sherlock is not soulless. He doesn’t not care for people. In Reichenbach Fall, Moriarty knows exactly where Sherlock’s Achilles heels are; they lie in Sherlock’s affection and his need for people. Just because he doesn’t go around giving out Christmas cards doesn’t mean he doesn’t love them.
Two Things to do Before or After You’re Thirty
British Television, it’s like you were invented solely for the purpose of ripping my poor fangirl heart from my chest and then doing a happy dance while I lay on the ground in a puddle of my own tears begging for some more of the same.
I’m still waiting, though, for John to say, ‘What kind of a name is that?’
I love unmade beds. I love when people are drunk and crying and cannot be anything but honest in that moment. I love the look in people’s eyes when they realize they’re in love. I love the way people look when they first wake up and they’ve forgotten their surroundings. I love the gasp people take when their favorite character dies. I love when people close their eyes and drift to somewhere in the clouds. I fall in love with people and their honest moments all the time. I fall in love with their breakdowns and their smeared makeup and their daydreams. Honesty is just too beautiful to ever put into words.
We’ve seen Cumberbatch enthral before with fast-gab brilliance, but this is him simply acting with his face. I don’t know why this hasn’t struck me before, but there’s something of the Alan Rickman about him; one drowsy droop of an eyelid, one slip of the planes of his face, can convey either wry honest amusement or withering contempt. When he does speak, it’s rusting anchors in smoking brown dust, the sound of the end of a world.
Euan Ferguson, in reviewing Parade’s End. (via cumberbatchcoffeeklatch)
That’s right. As soon as he opens his mouth, that’s it… Welcome to the Cumberbatch Fandom ;)
The way babies looks at you, the way they really see you, reminds me that we are born with a natural truthfulness; an understanding, which as children we are taught to forget; and which we spend all our adult lives trying to remember.
Part of me suspects that I’m a loser, and the other part of me thinks I’m a horse.
Benedict Cumberbatch (via cumberlord)
And this is why it’s entirely fucked up to use his name or his looks as a “legitimate” reason to blast him. Sure, combat his ableism and classism. That’s not wrong. But leave his insecurities out of it, hmm? (And yes, I have personally utterly FAILED in this respect. I’m trying to do better).
Everybody has this guilt complex that they’re no good, that they’re not talented, that they’re useless, that there’s something wrong with them. It’s not true. There’s nothing wrong with any of you out there, there’s nothing wrong with you. You shouldn’t feel guilty about wanting. People will repress themselves from even allowing themselves to want…. At least allow yourselves to want.
It was the first ever story that I properly remember and my dad used to do all the characters when he was reading it. Such fantastic memories. He was over the moon when I told him I’d been cast.’
- Benedict Cumberbatch on his dad’s reaction when he was cast in The Hobbit.
I loathe when people think that I’m shy rather than introverted. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with being shy, I’m just not, and they are two separate things. People cajoling me into social situations try to assure me that I “don’t have to talk to everyone” or that “everyone will love me.” Bitch, of course they will like me. I am delightful. I just find prolonged social interactions to be extremely exhausting.
He’s not mean. He’s, uh, sort of, uh… He’s sort of deficient in, uh, in certain, uh, things about, uh, human interaction. Or rather, he’s decided to be. He’s decided to clear his mind of everything—that it clutters it up—and just turn himself into the perfect reasoning machine. And let’s be clear, he’s done a damn good job. So think of him like an athlete who wants himself at, you know, the peak of physical condition and sacrificed everything else in order for that to be the case. Um, I think the story on our show is—and indeed the sort of story in the original, uh, books—is him starting to realize he hasn’t quite turned all that off. He starts, I think, in the beginning of the series to wonder if he is a high-functioning sociopath, as he says, um, and it’s in moments like that he starts to realize he’s not. He does care that he hurt Molly.
And when he meets Doctor Watson, I think we’ve always said that we sort of joined their story at exactly the right point. They both, then, create a whole person. And John’s job, really, is to try and sort of, try to bring him more into line with the rest of the human race. He never quite does it, though.
In Parade’s End, my dad plays a character called Lord Westershire. We were filming together on his 72nd birthday in the middle of the Yorkshire Moors. It was a ludicrous Victorian picnic scene and it was a blowing gale. So food was flying into our faces. It was a hysterically funny day.
- Benedict Cumberbatch on filming Parade’s End together with his father. [x
] (via deareje