Возвращаясь к недавней годовщине Джереми Бретта захотелось поделиться вот этим посвящением, которое , наверное, выражает наши общие чувства
Нашла это вот здесь
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I missed all of yesterday, and I really have nothing new to contribute that’s Jeremy Brett-related–I don’t make shell mice, or puppets, or even GIFs . I did sort of spend the summer creating a monument to him in episode reviews (The Best And Wisest Adaptation I Have Ever Known). I have nothing new to add, really; I just wanted to stop and talk about him for a minute.
Well, I say “him.” I did not know the actual, living, unique organic human being that was Jeremy Brett; and in a way, that’s the weirdest thing about TV and film acting. It creates a strange kind of afterlife, in which the person still seems alive, but can no longer grow or change. We have the illusion that we are somehow in relationship with Jeremy Brett the person–an illusion which, since he put so much of himself into his Holmes, is extremely strong, but no less of an illusion for all that. And yet, it’s not entirely false, because the performance can’t ever really be separated from the performer.
Anyway, this is one of the reasons that despite my agnosticism in other areas I still hold on to belief in the afterlife: I’m unwilling to let go of the belief that, after death, we know all the things we didn’t know in life, including and especially the things people thought and felt and said about us that we either didn’t know about or couldn’t take in. Like, I don’t think any of us really feel, most of the time, how loved we really are. We focus instead on the ways in which we underperform and disappoint; we fear that we are unworthy of the love we are shown, and even worse, we fear that one day it will be withdrawn. Actors feel this on a grand scale because they are ‘known’ by so many more people than most of us ever are, and because they are constantly subjected to public criticism. And for someone struggling with so many illnesses, by the end, this constant self-doubt must have been many times magnified.
So it bothers me to think that while Brett was actually living, he may not have known or understood the impact that his work as Holmes–not that the other stuff doesn’t matter, but let’s face it, the Granada series was his magnum opus–had, and would have, on the people who loved it. Despite all the struggles, despite the show’s decline after the Case-Book series, despite the weight gain and everything else. I want to believe that where he is now, he can put it all in perspective and understand: all the day-to-day work I put in, the struggle to sustain the character, the times when I just couldn’t face going back in front of the cameras, now I understand that the way it felt to me was only one part of what that work meant. I want to believe that somewhere, now, he can look at all this and say, I’m satisfied with what I did, and I can feel now how much people appreciate it.
For whatever reason, this brings to mind a passage from a fic I wrote in which Brett’s Holmes does not appear at all. It’s a Sherlock/Doctor Who crossover called “Recovery” in which Harry Watson helps Donna get her memories back. When the Doctor shows up, there’s a big argument, and Harry at one point tries to remind him of what he already knows about what death does and doesn’t mean for human beings:
“Time is not a line,” Harry repeated, drawing a globe in the air. “That means death is not the end. Somewhere in time, we’re all dead. Somewhere in time, we’re all alive….What matters isn’t when we go,” Harry said. “What matters is what we give the universe while we’re in it. Because the universe is always changing, time is in flux, right,” Harry said, beginning to pick up speed. “The universe doesn’t end. It’s always there. As long as it changes it goes on living. We add what we can to it. You make yourself a bit of color and light, as bright and as beautiful as you can be. All across time we go on adding what we can, so the universe gets richer, so there’s more change and more new and more possibility.”
And I guess this is what I want to say about Jeremy Brett and his Sherlock Holmes. Through all the ups and downs and trouble and pain he gave the universe something wonderful, something that so many of us continue to cherish even at this point in time, 20 years after it wrapped, 30 years after it began. In a medium designed to be ephemeral, that’s an accomplishment; but more than that, he gave people something to love. That seems if anything more important to me now than it did when I was in my teens and still Figuring Things Out.
So thank you, ghost of Jeremy Brett. You were there for me as a lonely teenager and there again for me in my frustrating and difficult middle age, dealing with a million things over which I have no control. Wherever you are, I hope you understand that you gave the universe something unique, something only you could have done, but which has brought new color and light into the lives of so many people you never knew.
This is a beautiful tribute.