If anyone’s left around here, you may have wondered where I’ve been for the past week or more. I became completely obsessed with Good Omens, which dropped six hour-long episodes on Amazon prime video at the end of May. I’ve already watched it three times so far — once straight through, once just for more of the Boyfriends (and to better understand the setup for a plot twist), and once to share with friends. (Brunch party, with red wine for Crowley and sweets for Aziraphale. Only we ended up drinking champagne and rosé and Pimm’s cups instead.) And I’m not tired of it yet.
In case you aren’t familiar, Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman wrote, in 1990, a novel called Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. It’s the story of an angel, Aziraphale, and a demon, Crowley, who have been stationed on earth for the last 6000 years. When the Antichrist is born, the two decide that they would miss old books and good restaurants and other elements of humanity, so they team up to prevent Armageddon. I read it back then (turns out I still have my copy of the first US hardcover edition, which I will soon be re-reading) and found it amusing. But the book didn’t have Michael Sheen as a delightfully fluffy angel and David Tennant as a demon to die for.
Gaiman wrote the TV version (Pratchett passed away several years ago), which means it keeps all the good stuff and puts in even more, with the first half of the third episode adding a variety of scenes of the two immortals interacting over the millennia (ever since their days in the Garden of Eden, where Crowley was the Serpent and Aziraphale guarded the Gate) and a gasp-inducing plot twist at the end of the series. There’s a lot more to the story than just that odd couple, with a large number of recognizable guest stars (Jon Hamm is Gabriel! Miranda Richardson is Madame Tracy! Michael McKean is Shadwell! Frances McDormand is the voice of God!), a terrific Queen soundtrack (based on a running gag from the book), and plenty of Douglas Adams-style humor, but what keeps bringing me back is how adorable the angel and demon are together.
The best part is, the actors seem to understand that, playing their characters as being in love. And why not? (My younger self would be shocked and appalled at 1) how much I adore this vaguely heretical series and 2) that I am so involved with thinking about how these two male-looking beings might admit their love for each other.)
So of course I have been reading lots and lots of fanfic. (I have fallen DEEP. But I feel entitled. Last time I cared this much about a TV show was, showing my age, pre-home internet, so no fandoms.) As of right now, there are 1500 AO3 postings, which means plenty more to keep feeding my interest, and more coming every day. A few I’ve enjoyed are this 75-chapter (!) 275,000-word epic about the two retiring to a cottage. Or, if you’re okay with mature content, a hilarious one about how them trying to get together causes miracles and earthquakes (with some dynamite turns of phrase), or how Crowley moves in without Aziraphale noticing. Or you can check out the #IneffableHusbands hashtag on Twitter for memes and pics.
If you’d like more official tie-ins, there’s a Blu-ray for preorder (no release date announced though), or an official Companion book, or a script book (with at least one deleted scene that would have been amazing to see).
I’m trying to figure out cosplay for Crowley. I’ve been a redhead before, and the glasses are a bit pricey but workable. (Or there are cheap copies around. Forget the $18K watch though.) Everyone’s got or can find skinny black pants, a sharp jacket, and black boots. Oh! Mustn’t forget the sideburn tattoo. No one seems to be able to figure out the scarf (the shoelace idea is inspired but tacky), but my two big issues are 1) I don’t go to those kinds of cons any more (although there’s always Halloween), and 2) I’m a little afraid of the contacts. (Although Adam Hughes had a brilliant idea.) Unfortunately, KC won’t be Aziraphale, because he doesn’t like bow ties, tartan, button downs, or cream colors. But he’s been sweet about indulging me sinking hard, even though he doesn’t care for Gaiman’s work himself.