Let's be the film of "A Room with a View"

I'm the window that Charlotte tells Lucy to come away from.

I’m the mackerel. I’m cooked as Tibby likes me.

I’m the wrong book/movie.

I'm Julian Sands's great body. Some day, I will make a delicious meal for forest predators.

I'm "poor, poor Charlotte."

I am the stench of Florence that you do not put a handkerchief over your nose to cover.

I am the Baedeker guide to Italy that should be flung into the Arno.

I’m Rupert Graves’ bouncing dick

I am "The Sacred Lake" - I'm really a muddy little pond - that the Honeychurch's swam in as children. I've experienced so many bouncing dicks swimming inside me, I am beside myself!

MARY!!!!!

I am the perfect view: the view of the sky, straight over our heads.

I'm simply drifting.

I'm a small pack of cold wet willies.

I'm Lucy Honeychurch's bloodstained souvenir art photographs that George throws into the Arno.

I'm the daily fatal stabbing in the Piazza della Signoria, enacted with gusto by the easily provoked rough-and-tough contingent of La Bella.

I'm too much Beethoven!

I'm sweet Denholm Elliot, taken from us entirely too soon.

I am Mr Emerson, burbling wise poppycock with the same inchoate irrationality as his son George.

Lucy obviously needed It very, very much. But what in the world were they going to live on?

I am Mrs. Vise’s well-appointed London home.

I'm what Lucy is obviously really hungering for but which Forster refuses to name: George's thick cock.

I'm the Reverend Mister Beebe's exposed full bush.

I’m Summer Street. At least one person has dreamt of me.

I'm Rupert Graves's locks of hair falling all over his face when he wildly plays Gilbert & Sullivan on the piano (to Cecil's disgust).

I am the room without a view.

I am the room with a view.

I am The View.

R11 Isn't that Lawrence of Arabia?

I'm Mary, looking to see if she has any change.

I’m the remains of George’s dinner, mushed up into a question mark.

I'm that old bat's cornflower necklace.

I am an American of the best type. Doubtless you know my monographs in the series "Mediæval Byways."

I’m the Bop for the driver….

I'm the yellow dog those Americans saw in Rome.

I’m the nap I took through this and every other Merchant-Ivory film I was forced to sit through back in the 90s

I'm the Pensione Bertolini.

I am the first question made in upper middle class circles about the new neighbors - are they the right sort of people, or the wrong sort?

I am i promessi sposi.

I am Maggie Smith's atrocious wig, causing the Dame to insist on a Wig Designer of Choice rider in all future contracts.

I am the stick up Cecil's ass.

I'm Simon Callow "preparing" for my nude scene with dear young Rupert.

I am the cognitive dissonance plaguing Lucy, when she falls in love with George, a lower-middle class person.

I'm the constant concern of "What will people think?".

I'm the meat that has most certainly been boiled for stock.

I am the Let's be a Victorian dinner party thread that will inevitably get cross-referenced to death in this thread.

I am Signora Bertolini, with the cockney accent.

I'm the cum dripping from my cock imagining Rupert and Julian humping eachother in the woods. After Simon exits of course.

I'm the film "Maurice." I get released two years after "Room With A View" and don't get the adulation that "Room" got, eventhough I'm the better of the two Merchant and Ivory films.

I'm O Mio Babbino Caro!

I'm Cecil slowly and methodically tying his shoelaces on the staircase after Lucy gives him the boot.

I'm Phaeton, and I'm fucking hot.

I am the Honeychurch taint.

I’m Eleanor Lavish’s roman à clef, “Under a Loggia”, that Cecil reads aloud to George and Lucy, prompting George to kiss Lucy again in the shrubbery.