Do u ever not realize how starved for affection u are till someone hugs u a bit tighter than normal and you find that you really don’t want to let go
I never thought about this scene in this context before, and I don’t know if you were going for seriousness or not, but by this point in the both the film and the novel, Lestat hadn’t had any real affection other than the baiting of the musician for some time.
Thanks! I was indeed going for serious. They have actual irreconcilable differences, but they both still desperately miss how it was in the beginning, when they could both be free to live under the delusion that this setup was in any shape or form “natural" and sustainable. It was the honey-est of honeymoons, for all of them. One happy family.
Claudia was the glue that held them all together, so when she understood the truth of it all and severed ties with Lestat, that’s around when Louis must have, to some extent, as well. In the book, he seems to pull away from both of them emotionally as her frustration and disillusionment grows.
So yes, by this point, Lestat hadn’t had any real affection (aside from the flirting w/ strangers we all know he’s so talented at) other than the baiting of the musician for some time. It appeared that the love between Lestat and the musician was a pale shadow of what he had with Louis and Claudia. That musician seemed to give him the kind of unconditional love that Lestat’s dogs had given him back in the Auvergne. An unquestioning loyalty, which is good, but love from Louis and Claudia was worth more, which is why he didn’t just leave them immediately, but rather stay and taunt them with the idea that he might turn someone else. He was challenging them to fight for his love, in threatening to replace them, he wanted them to beg him to stay. They didn’t.
Aw thank u! I kind of regret bringing it up, but the flesh is always better on the other side of the window… oui?
Real talk here, though: I love that they chose a realistic woman for Claudia to want to be, not some stick-figure blonde. Later, the lady killed on stage at the Theatre Des Vampires is more like that ideal, society’s projected perfection, but we’re not talking about her right now. This woman has kind of unusual boobs, as far as what we normally see in film, these are natural boobs, not hiked up in a bra to conform to some kind of perky ideal, and this woman has an actual tummy, maybe she’s had children, maybe she’s pregnant, either way, she appears to have FLESH THAT FUNCTIONS and is natural. “Pure Creole” as Lestat says appreciatively. And she’s kind of humming to herself, doing some kind of treatment to her body, just at peace with herself and the world, it seems. Claudia wants ALL of that.
Later, we see Claudia humming (the same tune?!) as she draws from this model trying to achieve that same inner peace. Why do artists art? One reason is they’re trying to capture an ideal and/or something ephemeral, something that brings peace when you can put it down on paper. Writing can achieve that, too, as can making music, as can all the creative arts.
That’s definitely part of why I’m an artist. It’s a burning need to capture and become something through the creative act. An evolution of sorts.
You see why I’m trapped in this fandom? It touches on everything! I can never leave.
Just beginning to drift off, there was a soft rapping at my coffin. “Louis?”
Movement was difficult. Rather just stay down. Pretended to sleep.
“Louis, are you awake?”
He wouldn’t let up. “Can this wait ‘till tomorrow?“
A brief silence, and the rustling of fabric. He was probably wringing his hands.
I rallied my strength and pushed the lid of my coffin aside a few inches. “Well, what is it?”
When I saw his face I immediately regretted my tone. Tears wobbled in his eyes, a few red trails of tears already marked his cheek. He leaned back as if to step away.
“Oh, Lestat, I’m so sorry, please, what’s wrong?” I said, opening the lid enough to sit up and reach for him. He hesitated, then knelt down, shivering a little as our hands met.
“I- I miss her. A little girl tonight… I bought her a doll… and she smiled…” He managed, shoulders folding in like a bird’s wings. I was so drained, though, the sunrise was rapidly approaching. “She had sweet little dimples just like… just like…”
“Shhh, get in, here, there’s room for you,” I tossed out a few ragged old pillows I normally used. He was shaking a little as I guided him in, and let me arrange him. I shut the lid and fell back finally as he wrapped his arms around me. “Better?” I looked deeply into his eyes.
“Better.” He nuzzled into my hair. “You smell like her.” He took a few more deep breaths.
“So do you, Lestat.” I gripped him tighter, his hair brushing my face, took in his wholesome scent, and let the darkness take us both.
Brad Pitt and Kirsten Dunst in Interview with the Vampire: The Vampire Chronicles (1994)
I love this production still for so many reasons but one of them definitely is that Louis isn’t really able to protect Claudia while she’s holding his arm down; she’s put herself in front of him, she’s actually trying to shield him from the flailing-around-on-fire-vampire in the room. Louis probably feels extra guilty for setting Lestat on fire but he had to choose sides, and he’s chosen Claudia and freedom.
#seriously tho #claudia #darling #love of my life #i can’t protect u if youre gonna hold my arms down ok #i need them free to throw oil lamps around #just fyi
So this has circulated long enough, @takemetocoffin-or-losemeforever made this, and IT IS A PERFECT SCREENCAP&TEXTMEME COMBO BC:
– Look at Claudia’s face. She looks like she JUST told them. It had to be said.
– Louis is all *shitshitshit how can i answer her without lying… “I’m only gay for Lestat…” No, that sounds weird… “We’re only gay sometimes…. like for 20 minutes at a time…” No, sometimes it lasts longer… so conflicted… If I wait long enough maybe Lestat will have a better answer.
– Lestat is just standing there growling, not sure if he should be offended or impressed that she figured it out despite his efforts to keep certain things behind closed doors.If I wait long enough maybe Louis will have a better answer.
That would be the Piano Sonata in Eb by Joseph Haydn ;D
WHICH, IIRC, Tom had to actually learn how to play, because we do see a shot of his hands. His version sounds tuned differently than the version below, and if so, that would make sense bc Lestat himself is ~tuned differently~ in this scene.
^Go to 3:18 for the start of Lestat’s piece.
He plays Haydn in that scene because Claudia loved his music. It was a taunt.
Did that scene ever happen? Was that another one of Armand’s lies? It doesn’t matter. I wanted to explore the classical motive of David with Goliath’s head, here inevitably twisted, losing its victorious aspect, leaving only the figure of a young boy, holding a severed head.
I hope to God that this story was just something that Armand made up; somehow trying to intimidate the others, displaying the cruelty he could be capable of. This whole section though had me enthralled, the middle section of TVA was some of Rice’s best writing in my opinion, and the image of this–the Botticelli cherub, dressed in dusty and outdated but once opulent 18th century clothing, beneath the Paris streets, the stench of rot, old graves, and the filth of the city permeating through the earth, in a dark room lit by greasy tapers of tallow candles, hacking apart the body of this thing, this abomination as he sees her, this obstacle to his newest fascination, that of Louis, and he will demolish her, just as the hands were removed from the violinist in a mad attempt to reach Lestat again, this devil with an angel’s face capable of Lucifer’s cruelty–its a world of obscenity for its beauty, sublime in its composition of a clash of ideals, and shows like two unlikely titans of evil within the series as the most innocent in the face.
As always, perfectly captured by the wonderful @sheepskeleton
“I tried to grant her fondest wish, that she should have the body of a woman, a fit shape for the tragic dimension of her soul.
The book he had been reading aloud to her had been cast aside on the settee now that the story was finished. Though she seemed always to quietly consider the literature rather than discuss it with him, Louis had cherished even the silence spent with his beloved reclined against his chest. As was his usual habit, he took to cradling her small hand in his own, absentmindedly toying with her fingers and marvelling at the way her tiny nails gleamed like fragments of glass in the light. The number of years made no difference when it came to his admiration of her, for could the child ever be anything but the child in the eyes of the parent? Tilting his head to rest his cheek against ringlets of gold, he whispered softly to her, “You’re perfect..”
I-want-my-IWTV 