I've got to go to bed, it's very very late, and this old blog is getting out of hand.
My blog is an anachronism. Looks like a piece of old brown paper. Everyone else is going all slick. Picturesque, even. Mine is butcher paper tied with string. OK.
This is why Jake should play Harold.
At first glance you'd think not. WHAT? People mention Johnny Depp, who's 50, and even Tom Hanks who must be 60 by now.
Jakey is 33, just ripe enough. The shape of his head is perfect. He has a long, clean, handsome jaw, a long narrow nose and bow-shaped lips.
Heartbreaking blue eyes. Little-boy eyes. The eyebrows.
A big head on fairly small shoulders, compact body, wiry, restless, intense. A three-cornered, vulpine smile.
A sense that anything could happen, and is about to. A sense of a storm breaking out, of rain in the air, of horses whinnying along the ridge while clouds go scudding by.
And he's a good-smelling man, I know he is. And I know Harold was. I just know.
That's why he should play Harold.