It was excellent without being perfect.William Butler Yeats is the poet whose works I reach for most often. For me he is ever the quintessential creative. He even looks ascetic, beautiful and brilliant with a hint of neurosis.

Those eyebrows!
But he could look like Godzilla and still be the most extraordinary encantador, words lifting into charms around him. When did this man create anything unlovely? The Man Who Dreamed of Faeryland became our household poem, which now that I think about it, could be somewhat disturbing.
The documentary wasn't too adoring however, but covered insights into his nationalism, his mysticism, his emotional and sexual entanglements. It was able to admit that its subject could be a complicated knob-end as well as a heroic genius. I thoroughly enjoyed it and wish... what do I wish? That I had met him? Ah but that is the thing about fairy enchantments; pursued they elude you, clutched too hard and the gold turns into pebbles by daylight. Perhaps he would have driven me mad or I would have driven him mad. He certainly seems to have had his crazy days. Oh, but Geldof got to see his private library! And touch his books!