The cult of Keira

Odeon Leicester Square. Taking a spot directly in front of the cinema, we began the two-hour wait for the London premiere of Atonement, the film by Joe Wright based on the novel by Ian McEwan. The red carpet was rolled out, the artificial topiaries put up, the soundtrack began to play.


Past 6 o' clock, I saw the photographers snapping away in the distance. Screams of "Keira! Keira!" dotted the air. And there she was, a princess in some soft cloth knotted and wrapped around her fragile body. She spent a very long time giving interviews as hundreds of people filed past to enter the cinema.


I had my journal and marker at hand, but I wasn't expecting anything. All of a sudden, she was one foot away from me. "So many pens!" Keira remarked, and used someone else's pen to squiggle her autograph on my journal. I was in shock. A man behind me held out his hand for her to sign. She found the idea absurd. "Are you sure?" she asked.

Three loops of the soundtrack later, concerned, Marian asked me "Ok ka lang?" (Are you ok?) "Yes," I replied. But I wasn't over it yet. As I made my way down to Embankment, I was disorientated because I was processing the experience in my head.

From this to this, it's incredible. I didn't get to see James McAvoy and Vanessa Redgrave up close, but that's alright. The value of my Moleskine has just gone up.

Rosamund Pike, for sure, was the most beautiful woman on the red carpet that evening. But Keira Knightley is the people's princess.

Helene, we must watch the film next week!