I watched the Masterpiece production of Great Expectations this weekend and it was excellent on many levels. One thing however: The actor who played Pip as a late teen and early twenty was such an incredibly beautiful creature, it was, at times, distracting. By “beautiful” I don’t mean “hot”. I mean beautiful in a classical sense—like a great statue at the feet of which you could sit for hours in inspiration, but that you would never dare touch.
I suppose it shouldn’t be surprising that such beauty could threaten the fall of a masterful plot.