Wednesday, May 7, 2014

NME: Pete Doherty in new Apocalyptic, Yeats-inspired film "The Second Coming"


May 6, 2014 15:22

Pete Doherty stars in trailer for new horror film 'The Second Coming' – watch

Film is based on WB Yeats' poem of the same name
Pete Doherty stars in the trailer for a new horror film titled The Second Coming Pt. 1. See above to watch.

The film, which claims to be inspired by WB Yeats' classic modernist poem of the same name, will feature seven people in seven stories focusing on seven different characters in different locations. The trailer includes shots of Doherty inside a flat interspersed with seemingly supernatural events happening elsewhere.

Directed and written by Richard Wolstencroft, the film co-stars Emma Eliza Regan, Michael Tierney, Michael Robartes, Kristen Condon, Kristen Lees and Kim Fowley. It is expected to be released this year (2014), although no firm release details have been announced so far.

Speaking to the Irish Post about the film and working with the Libertines singer, Regan said: "Well with regard to Pete… my lips are sealed. But I think he is a true talent, an original and a poetic soul."

Last week (May 2), Pete Doherty revealed that he and Carl Barât have spoken about the prospect of writing new songs together. The Libertines, who announced news of their reunion last month, will headline the British Summer Time festival at London's Hyde Park on July 5.

Read more at http://www.nme.com/news/pete-doherty/77126#Ople1h4PGASoy1Kq.99

    William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

       THE SECOND COMING

    Turning and turning in the widening gyre
    The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
    Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
    The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
    The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    Are full of passionate intensity.
    Surely some revelation is at hand;
    Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
    The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
    When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
    Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
    A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
    A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
    Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
    Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
    The darkness drops again but now I know
    That twenty centuries of stony sleep
    Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
    And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
    Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?




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