OTP Advent Calendar
day 21: Maurice Hall/Alec Scudder - E M Forster
This has been an OTP for so long for me that I can’t actually remember if I read the book or saw the film first. It may have been shitty, being a teenager in a small town in the 80s (it was) - but god, there were some great films and bands and books, at least. I fell in love with Forster then, and to this day he is probably my favourite author.
Maurice, the book, to me is like the granddaddy of fanfic. Fanfic - like all writing, ranges from godawful to truly astonishing, and so I’m not belittling Forster or hyping fanfic. But he unashamedly wrote the happy ending (after a slow, confusing, enlightening, distressing, difficult and lovely journey for his muddle headed protagonist) that the canon of mainstream society wasn’t very ready to acknowledge. Hmm, maybe this metaphor needs some work. Forster has such a keen, empathetic brain; fiercely intelligent, interested in people, incisive and clear-eyed; but the thing that makes me love him so is that he also has a great heart.
But, oh, Maurice and Alec! Yes PLEASE. Hurray again, for CANON! For all of it, even the painful bits. (They make it all the more glorious). And yes of course, hurrah for boathouse!feels, and naked bed shenanigans, because really, the slasher’s life is one of taking the crumbs of stolen glances and over-familiar touches; rarely do we get the glory of actual snogging and lovely young men in bed, with their hair all dishevelled. I also think this is one of the finest adaptations of a book ever - lovely casting (I weep tears of gratitude that Julian-wooden-to-the-core-Sands had *cough* other commitments) because James Wilby is quite the thing. Ditto Hugh and Rupe.
Also, this has one of my favourite ever cricket scenes in literature in it. I do like a cricketing metaphor. And boys in cricketing flannels, with their hair going all messy. Yum.