I was in it for Hiddles, and I got that, at least.

Just got back from watching “Crimson Peak.” Mixed feelings. I wanted to love it, but I merely liked it. Don’t get me wrong — it looked fantastic. I particularly liked both the ghost design and the costume design. And I wasn’t disappointed that it wasn’t a horror movie (and it was most decidedly NOT — is was, just as del Toro has repeatedly said, a “gothic romance”).

It was just a little…too on the nose, I guess? The central mystery is paper thin (as is the plot), and some of the dialogue is almost silly. That being said, the performances are quite good. Jessica Chastain’s Lucille has a cold, horrible, madness that I particularly enjoyed, and Hiddles’ RADA training, of course, allows him to make the most of Sir Thomas Sharpe. It was nice to see Jim Beaver as something other than a redneck, too! (He was a little rough around the edges, but still a Victorian gentleman in “Deadwood,” you know.)

It has all the del Toro trappings we’ve come to love/shudder at: impossibly long, evil fingers, insects, and awful foreboding at sinks. Like I said, it was visually wonderful! The horrible mansion! The walls and floors ooze red blood, er, I mean clay! Even the snow is stained red. Delicious.

But…as a lifelong lover of the gothic romance (Jane Eyre is my homegirl, you guys), I can’t say this was the best example of the genre. I give it a solid 3 out of 5 stars.

Where you been at, dawg?

There’s this thing you disbelieve when you’re young — that time flies by and one day you realize that you intended to do something and suddenly it’s three months later and you’re not at all sure what happened. Hashtag: Time Keeps On Slipping Slipping Slipping Into The Future.

Turns out this is a thing that happens often enough to the casual blogger that I don’t have to blame it on incipient age — though I won’t deny that I stand at the threshold of my dotage. (I’m still reading those Regency-set novels — can you tell?)

Anyway, I’ll post again once something strikes me as “postable.” Someday.