Welcome! Just some thoughts before we get to the pics: the idea here is the trailer with sections of the book - either section that line up or just sections that I love. I know that this movie isn't going to be based on the book exactly and entirely, or even largely, because it's such a complex story. I love the fact they seemed to switched the focus to Clare as the constant in Henry's life, that the story looks to have been boiled down to what makes it so wonderful - the love and the struggles and the devotion between Henry and Clare. Making this picspam has raised a couple of questions for me re: what will and won't make it into the film. Obviously we're not going to see the miscarriages, but will Henry still get frostbite? Or will they do some kind of convenient "henry jumps forward to the end" thing instead? Hmm.
Also, if I may be inelegant for a moment: Bana is a sexy beast lol. For real, the casting of this film works so very well because both Bana and Rachel can be easily aged up or down depending on what you do to their hair. (As we've already seen from Rachel in The Notebook). Not to mention they're both wonderful in that even just in the trailer, you believe them. Oh man, can this movie come out now please?
Anyway! Picspam below!
henry: "you're clare. clare ann abshire, born may 24, 1971. your parents are phillip and lucille abshire, and you live with them and your grandma and your brother, mark, and your sister, alicia, in that big house up there."
"where did you come from? why do you know my name?"
"i came from the future. i am a time traveler. in the future we are friends."
henry: "it's a secret, clare, okay?"
"can't tell. i have to go, now. it was nice to meet you. don't take any wooden nickels." i hold out my hand and clare takes it, bravely. as we shake hands, i disappear.
clare: i am speechless. here is henry, calm, clothed, younger than i have ever seen him. henry is working at the newberry library, standing in front of me, in the present. here and now...i am at a loss because i am in love with a man who is standing before me with no memories of me at all.
henry: this astoundingly beautiful amber-haired tall slim girl turns around and looks at me as though i am her personal jesus. my stomach lurches. obviously she knows me, and i don't know her. lord only knows what i have said, done, or promised to this luminous creature, so i am forced to say in my best librarianese, "is there something i can help you with?"
henry:"the last time i saw you, you told me to bring this to dinner when we met again," clare shows me a pale blue child's diary, "so here," - she hands it to me - "you can have this." ...there are 152 dates, written with great care in the large open palmer method blue ball point pen of a six-year-old.
...I stop eating and look at clare. she looks back at me, serene, angelic, perfectly at ease.
henry: as she says "nine hundred and sixty-seven" i remove the tie from her eyes...my apartment is basically a couch, an armchair, and about four thousand books. our lips part; usually at this point i would be considering how to work my way past various fortresses of clothing, but instead i lean back and stretch out on the sofa, bringing clare along with me...part of me is dying to go leaping and licking and diving in, but i'm exhausted and overwhelmed.
clare: i feel a tiny pang of regret, as though i've lost a secret, and then a rush of exaltation: now, everything begins.
henry: home sweet home. no place like home. take me home, country roads. home is where the heart is. but my heart is here. so i must be home. clare sighs, turns her head, and is quiet. hi honey, i'm home. i'm home.
clare: he must be able to hear my heart beating, i think. it's come to this, i think. henry...looks at me gravely.
"you know that i love you. will you marry me?"
"yes...henry," i have an overwhelming sense of deja vu. "but you know, really...i already have."
clare: and so we are married.
clare: i sit down next to the pile of clothes and scoop them up, still warm from henry's body, and sit until their warmth is from my body, holding them. then i get up and go into our bedroom, fold the clothes neatly and place them on our bed. then i continue making dinner as best i can, and eat by myself, waiting and wondering.
henry: when i am out there, in time, i am inverted, changed into a desperate version of myself. i become a thief, a vagrant an animal who runs and hides...clare's low voice is in my ear often.
clare: i go to sleep alone and wake up alone. i watch the wind play with the trash that's been under the snow all winter. everything seems simple until you think about it...why has he gone where i cannot follow?
clare: my body wanted a baby. i wanted someone to love who would stay: stay and be there, always. and i wanted henry to be in this child, so that when he was gone, he wouldn't be entirely gone, there would be a bit of him with me...insurance, in case of fire, flood, act of God.
henry: i am looking at my daughter...almost before i know it i am holding alba in my arms, holding her tight, kneeling before her with my arms around her as she says "daddy", over and over.
clare: "i wish we could just stop time right now," he says. i'm running my fingers through his hair. "i don't want you to be alone...after."
"stop it. refuse to let it happen. change it."
"it has already happened." ...it's impossible to believe that henry, so solid, my lover, this real body, which i am holding pressed to mine with all my strength, could ever disappear. i am kissing henry and then i am alone.
henry: i hate to be where she is not, when she is not. and yet, i am always going, and she cannot follow.