INDIGO 2
Thursday, 3 November 2016
F EATUR E S 3&4 The post-factual world: have we ‘had enough of experts’? F O O D & DR I N K 5 Cooking with a conscience: would you pay more for ethically produced food? Fortnightly Food Myth: coffee – skim milk or whole milk? STAG E 6 Theatre etiquette: dos and don’ts 7 Play adaptations: the difficulties of transforming works into plays The Brexit play: should theatre be political? C R E A TI VE W R I TING 8&9 Space and Time BOOK S 10 The books phenomenon that is ‘Bridget Jones’ The Ferrante scandal: a look at pen names 11 Analysing Bob Dylan’s lyrics F I L M & TV 11 The presentation of American presidents on Film and TV 12 Looking at the technology presented in Humans and Black Mirror M U SI C 13 Kings of Leon are back F ASHI ON 14 The emergence of female designers in the fashion world V I S UAL AR TS 15 Reviewing Baltic’s new performance art piece Holy Smokes T R AV E L 16 Returning to Durham after a year abroad
Cover photograph: Grace Tseng
W
hen I feel my throat itch slightly, and I feel slightly feverish, I drink a concoction of boiled fresh ginger and honey. Mung bean soup or chrysanthemum tea also work. But the easiest and arguably best remedy would be to add some salt to Coca Cola and drink it. The feelings of drowsiness and discomfort will disappear by the end of the next day. How do I know this? My mother told me, as her mother did before her. Similarly, I know never to drink cold water in the morning for health reasons, I know that leaving used green tea leaves exposed in your fridge removes odours, and I know that rubbing my temples relieves headaches. But if I’m doing a paper on alternative medicinal practices and cite my mother in the bibliography, I don’t think it would sit well with any professor. Indeed, many of you would dismiss my claims as complete nonsense, and rightly so. For example, you might always drink cold water and be in the pink of health. You laugh at my assertion that cold water is unhealthy. You might also mock my assertion that a soft drink can cure a cold for fairly obvious reasons. Well I’m sorry, but they’ve worked for me. It is precisely this epistemological conflict that encapsulates the ‘post-factual’ world we are in today. It is not that people do not care for what is true, it is that people value different kinds of evidence in the ways they construct their knowledge. Do you trust a report produced by a research body? Or do you trust your lived experience more? If a report says wine is harmful due to its alcohol content, yet a person who lived to be 100 years old attributes it to their daily consumption of wine, who do you believe? So when we want less and less the opinions and findings of official sources, what should news media outlets then cover? It is this issue that Features looks at in detail, examining how different media outlets have capitalised on, for better or for worse, the changes in how people receive information. Perhaps it is for newspapers to be asking the right questions and being sceptical towards received knowledge, which is one of the things that Indigo does and will continue to do.
IND IGO E D ITO R S YC Chin Olivia Howcroft (deputy) FE A TUR E S E D ITO R Sophie Paterson C R E A TIVE W R ITING E D ITO R Anna Gibbs S TA GE E D ITO R S Sofya Grebenkina Alison Gamble (deputy) V IS UA L A R TS E D ITO R S Jane Simpkiss Lolita Gendler (deputy) BO O KS E D ITO R S Ellie Scorah Aaron Bell FA S H IO N E D ITO R S Victor Schagerlund Emma Dennison (deputy) FO O D & D R INK E D ITO R S Divya Shastri TR A V E L E D ITO R S Naoise Murphy Charis Cheesman FIL M & TV E D ITO R S Simon Fearn Eugene Smith (deputy) M US IC E D ITO R S Rory McInnes-Gibbons Bethany Madden (deputy)
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FEATURES Thursday, 3 November 2016
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The post-factual world
In today’s post factual world where the reader has more agency than ever, how do we know who or what sources to trust?
not disputing those, it is clear that there is now a mandate for doctors to properly disclose these risks when talking to women about contraceptives. Evidence is still key, I am not suggesting we follow our instinct on everything, especially when our health is concerned – and when the University of Copenhagen’s study tracked one million Danish women over a period of thirteen years – however here is an example of when the non-expert, the general public, were able to catch onto something before the authorities. The above example should be taken with caution, as it is not arguing that every one of the 3.5 million women who use oral contraceptives in the UK should stop taking them when there isn’t a less intrusive and consistently reliable alternative readily available. Instead, as in the past, we may see many cases where the ‘authority’ is proven wrong, affecting our everyday decisions. Where this becomes an issue is when people dramatically and incorrectly change their behaviour because of scare-mongering, or do not follow proper advice in terms of nutrition. The rise of food bloggers and Youtubers subjectively promoting their ‘plant-based’ or gluten-free diets as the key to
People... do not have the PhDs we may expect experts to have, but claim to be experts of experience. Today’s readers are bombarded with the opinions of so-called expects across all forms of social media. By Minnie Cullen Close features@palatinate.org.uk
T
he June 2016 referendum on our membership of the EU cemented in many people’s minds the idea that we are living in a postfactual age. Swathes of voters decided to ignore the ‘expert opinion’ of authorities on the matter, trusting instead their own experiences and views, and voted Leave. Journalist Owen Jones, has seized upon this and angled his recent talk at the Durham Book Festival (on the 11 Oct) toward discussing how in politics, there seems to be a lack of appetite for facts. And he isn’t wrong. During the height of the migrant crisis, it would be fair to say that many who had not already been moved and compelled to help were very much affected by the tragic image of the two-year-old Syrian Alan Kurdi who drowned on 2 September 2015. It was only after seeing the picture that they felt compelled to help. But why had they not before? Was it that they distrusted reports by journalists? Or that they read a political bias in these reports? It seems that people simply didn’t buy into the facts and figures sprayed at them by the barrage of media outlets, and could only be jolted by seeing something with their own eyes. One thing which we can be sure about is a general trend in the rise of an abandonment of the
‘facts’, one that extends far beyond political spheres and into our cultural and social world. My understanding of a post-factual world is not one where we entirely abandon our faith in evidence. Instead, it is one where a majority of the general public are more sceptical to believe evidence put forth by those in positions of authority, academics and think tanks than our friend on Twitter who had a similar experience to us. Or, as Jeremy Vine put it to the Durham Union Society on 22 October, we are living in a world where an everyday radio listener can voice their opinion to a weekly audience of 7.3 million listeners a week (according to The Guardian, 2013) and completely discredit the view of an ‘expert’ because of his or her own lived experience that he or she shared. A lived experience can be more powerful than statistics and findings when it comes to the propagation and proliferation of information. For instance, for years many women have spoken anecdotally of their experiences on the contraceptive pill and how they became more prone to depressive episodes. Many women have stopped taking the pill because of such reasons, and it was only in October of this year that a study has officially linked the two. Holly Grigg-Spall’s Guardian article on this study had the headline: ‘The pill is linked to depression – and doctors can no longer ignore it’. While there are many benefits to the contraceptive pill and I am
a healthy lifestyle, in absolute terms, is particularly worrying. Food blogger Madeleine Shaw is famous for calling wheat ‘sandpaper for the gut’. With an audience of impressionable young women who are attracted to her lifestyle, amongst other things, imitating her diet through her various cookbooks is the next step. In some instances, then, we are seeing that in a post-factual world people are becoming self-fashioned experts. They do not have the PhDs we may expect experts to have, but they claim to be experts of experience. Even if, as Shaw does, these bloggers make their audience aware that “if you have any worries about your personal health I would always recommend going to see a health care professional before trying any of these tips” in the comments section of her blog, she is perfectly happy to dispense advice along the lines of “it could be that you’re stressed when we’re stressed we hold a lot of tension in our bellies and this can contribute to belly fat!” The ambiguity of the word ‘tension’ in this context, as well as the lack of medical jargon present that I would expect, tells me that her advice might not be as helpful as I would like it to be. The notion of a post-factual world clearly extends beyond a political sphere and more and more is affecting our cultural and social life. We must treat self-fashioned experts with trepidation, while acknowledging the small victories of anecdotal experience, if backed up with evidence. Continued on page 4...
FEATURES 4
Thursday, 3 November 2016
The future of Features Continued from page 3... In this light, it is no wonder that the traditional bastions of received wisdom (referring to newspapers and radio, and not the Church) have been forced to adapt and change. In our post-factual world, what is significant is that we also have the power to influence what we want to see, and therefore what we actually see. It is this, crucially, which is to the detriment of modern journalism. I have recently become increasingly frustrated at the poor editorial decisions of major news publications and outlets: the BBC and the Independent being two prime examples. While it needs to be said that they are not on the level of The Sun or the Daily Mail, being right-wing tabloids designed to appeal to people’s lowest common denominators, much more is to be expected from the BBC and The Independent – an outlet I remember Owen Jones starting his journalistic career in. They are not the same types of media outlets, and it is for this reason the BBC and The Independent should not be directly compared. The Independent has inarguably fallen victim to the demise of the print newspaper, prompted by the development of technology and social media, and a subsequent change in the way in which we consume news, moving to solely publishing online. It has also fallen victim to appeasing our changing attitudes to news. Looking purely at the Facebook pages of The Independent and The Guardian, a major way in which the two news outlets broaden their audiences, one can immediately see an attempt to ap-
peal to the mainstream by The Independent, through what I would call non-issues. Within the span of a few days of each other (22 and 28 October) both outlets posted videos they had each produced. The Guardian’s film: ‘Meet the real Daniel Blake’ set about highlighting the reality of life for people on benefits under the Conservative government, and the extreme lengths they must go to, in order to not be sanctioned, in response to Ken Loach’s Palme d’Or-winning film ‘I, Daniel Blake’. The Independent’s video, however, focused on a ‘Penguin given a specially made wetsuit to help with feather loss’, as the title stated – a subject, whilst
The Independent [are] dumbing themselves down in many ways, presenting a skewed image of their own reporting on social media appealing to the masses, without real substance or thought-provoking elements. It was essentially a ‘feel good’ story that did not require extensive thought, to allow us to empathise with the subject. It is plausible that the two news outlets may have very different focuses, compensating for the difference in content, but I believe that is too simplistic. At time of writing (Friday, 28 Oct ,5pm), the top stories on The Independent’s website – not their Facebook page – demonstrate that they are aware
The rise of social media has resulted in a decline in the agency of traditional news outlets.
of current issues other than the state of featherless penguins. They are ostensibly aware of the discussion surrounding ‘I, Daniel Blake’, with an article and accompanying video by Harriet Agerholm titled ‘Ken Loach accuses Tories of “conscious cruelty” and putting corporations before poor in Question Time tirade’. I think that The Independent themselves are consciously dumbing themselves down in many ways, presenting a skewed image of their own reporting on social media. While they do post their better pieces of journalism too, it seems overshadowed by viral videos of animals and other smaller non-issue stories, to say nothing of the prominence of their i100 page. It isn’t even far-fetched to say that they are descending into producing ‘clickbait’ content. In an age when the reader can switch off or ‘unlike’ The Independent’s Facebook page and consume their news elsewhere, newspapers have to be ever more conscious that they appeal to their audience. Is it possible to solve this conundrum we are in – where clickbait dominates and uncomfortable, hard-hitting truths wither away? The lack of appetite for serious news is something that may be difficult to change in the postfactual world, where everyone has agency over what they consume. The future of newspapers is highly uncertain indeed. Only time will tell.
Photograph: Grace Tseng Illustration: Mariam Hayat
FOOD & DRINK Thursday, 3 November 2016
Fortnightly Food Myths Love your latte
Cooking with a conscience Is the price of a good conscience worth more than getting a weekly shop for a tenner? By Matt Williams food@palatinate.org.uk
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By Emily Smith food@palatinate.org.uk
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s the cold weather descends upon us, the cafes of Durham take on an appeal that goes beyond purely aesthetic. The relief of a warm drink is enough to melt away our impulse control; add in the luxurious winter flavours and we are well and truly lured in, by curiosity as much as by comfort. We well know that these drinks are intended as treats, and in an effort to mitigate any guilt from their consumption many retailers have begun to offer ‘skinny’ options, using skimmed milk. But is this really worth the taste difference? Multiple studies have recently confirmed that the consumption of full-fat dairy is linked to a lesser weight gain over time, likely due to the satiating properties of fat. As a result, though calories (although not as many as you’d expect) may be saved, we are likely to replace these ‘lost calories’ as, either consciously or unconsciously, our body knows we are not satiated – and these replacements are almost universally more calorific than the initial drink would have been. Our verdict? Don’t sacrifice the smoothness: it’s for your own good. Photograph: Karen Sandler
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ost students, being a bit further left than the average citizen, are agreed: it’s important to buy ‘ethically’. Maybe we disagree about what that means, and maybe we’ve barely even thought about it, but we still know that it’s important to be ‘ethical consumers’. I wanted to see whether ethics can influence the food industry and if so, what the repercussions would be. This lead to an experiment of sorts where I shopped on two different weekends in different ways. During the first weekend of term I set out with ethics at the top of my list; the priorities were to go local, fairly traded, healthy and independent. First thing that came to mind as a good nearly-vegetarian was fresh, organic produce. However, my first attempt to contact local veg box schemes went without a reply, and neither of North Road’s greengrocers source organically. Next I visited the Gateway World Shop in St Nicholas’ Church. They have some beautiful products, though nothing fresh since the focus is mostly on what can’t be produced locally. The hundreds of Fairtrade logos are reassuring, and you can even buy environmentally friendly detergent! Lastly, I visited a little stall at the back of the indoor market called Mother Earth, which was run by Steve, a friendly Liverpudlian. Mother Earth sells all sorts of whole foods in unlabelled, clear polythene bags but despite the plain appearance, the quality is incomparable. With the onset of week two, it meant that it was time for another weekly shop. However, this time around the priorities were different - convenient and cheap rather than pure and organic. Living near Dragon Lane meant that Tesco Extra was a nobrainer, so a five-minute stroll later I was perusing the aisles, trying not to get distracted by special offers on things I blatantly didn’t need. Needless to say I found everything on my shopping list, as well as some organic carrots and some Alpro milks that rank highly on ethicalconsumer.org. So, what’s the verdict? Well, cycling into town (and back up the hill from town!) to traipse around various places on an ethical quest is certainly more time-consuming than a jaunt round the corner where it’s all under one roof. I also spent less money and got every single thing I needed, though the price difference on things like lentils, oats and peanut-butter is actually relatively little. Even at Tesco I was able to adhere somewhat to my ethical beliefs. However, the whole experience of entering that giant warehouse building feels more like a bizarre type of psychological vetting than anything else. I can imagine the white-coated men watching the store monitors and purring in satisfaction as people’s mental activity decreases and they become ever more submissive to ‘money off’ signs, 2-for-1 stickers and enticing labels that seem to promise an immediately improved life if
you’ll only buy these finest sausages. Perhaps my own dystopian impressions owe something to Kafka and Orwell, but there is something dehumanising occurring. It comes out even more clearly when you compare it to the walk through Durham’s centre, with its beautiful river, cathedral, and unexpected buskers. Sure, it’s a bit busy, but when you get into the market or the shop in St Nicholas, you’re not like sheep getting herded. Even better, you can talk to the people about their food; Steve in Mother Earth knows where all his is sourced from and is generally knowledgeable about the whole scene - something that cannot be found in a large supermarket chain. But is all this really getting to the heart of the issue? I’ve talked about my own experience – my convenience, my money, my health. However, ethics is about being able to think outside ourselves. One window into the reality of it is to notice the amount of waste; how many bags of fresh produce are sitting with ‘reduced to clear’ stickers on them, close to going off?
I wanted to see if ethics can influence the food industry and if so, what the repercussions would be What happens to all the food that gets wasted? How was all that fruit procured so cheaply that Tesco still make a profit when they sell it for next to nothing and throw piles of it away? These are the questions that we must tackle if we want to be ‘ethical’. If we don’t, we act like a non-human species – ‘consumers’ – instead of recognising that we are people who live by constantly relating to other people, even when that relationship involves trading our money for their hard work and the things they have that we want.
Photograph: Christopher Paquette
STAGE 6
Thursday, 3 November 2016
Theaterms of conduct
Have you ever wanted to be told how to conduct yourself by someone with absolutely no qualifications or technical authority? Well you’re in luck! By Martin Docherty stage@palatinate.org.uk
DO
1. Go to more student theatre productions
L
ook at that student actor over there. Scampering through the aisles looking for dropped 20p coins that’ll help him make it to Cheapskates at Loft on a Monday. Bags under his eyes, heavier than the unpayable debt of university. He’s either method acting the ghost dad in Hamlet or he needs you to support more studentrun productions. On a (slightly more) serious note, there are events such as the Durham Drama Festival in February, which are entirely student-run plays, which is something you wouldn’t otherwise get to see. It’ll be doubly impressive when a play comes together at these events because the casts will likely have put together their fantastic productions in between juggling a multitude of deadlines, like a cohort of caffeine-motivated clowns. Furthermore, any psychology students could likely use the entire event as a case study on stress.
2. Turn off your phone The theatre is an age-old tool, used to reflect on humanity’s varying foibles and brilliances. It gives us catharsis, comedy and entertainment. I know this. The 3 million people who visited the National Theatre last year know this. Aristotle knew this. The measly 42 Twitter followers that you’re about to disrupt the performance to tweet “bad play lol” to, they know this. You should also know this. At least put the phone on silent.
3. Stay in your seat Incessant moving from seat to seat is incredibly distracting for actors. Just because you’re watching Little Shop of Horrors does not mean that it becomes musical chairs. It’s just bad form.
DON’T
1. Offer your interpretation until the curtain closes Durham University is one of the top universities worldwide for studying English, so naturally the English students here will be of the top calibre in the country (with this article I continue to be the exception that proves the rule). However, please do contain your inner dramat-
ic critic until the play is over. As much as I’m sure your point about how a scene could have been better staged is forever relevant, it doesn’t need to be heard whilst the actors are still acting. Your friend doesn’t need to know during the performance that you think he’s called Macavity because like a cavity, he has an absence, that of the law in his life. Things like that stop people from coming to see Cats with you.
2. Give other theatregoers “the eye” I understand. You’ve followed this impeccable ruleset down to a T. Your phone is off. You’re in your seat. You’re enjoying watching the student production that’s decided to do cyberpunk Hamlet. But just as the protagonist lifts his glowing visor and utters the immortal “To be, or not to be”, you hear an almighty crunch. You wonder if you should turn your phone on to call for help for the actor who must’ve shattered a bone to make that all-penetrating crack. You then smell salt and vinegar. Your gaze beams through the audience members next to you, hunting for the culprit. You spot the offender, reaching for another malevolent crisp. You hope your gaze will bore into your theatre-going adversary’s head, compelling them to either close the packet, or make like the crisps’ brand name and Walker on out. Think about how much time you’ve spent ma-
ligning this anonymous crisp-eater. In that time Robo-Hamlet could have reclaimed the throne of Neo-Denmark (the plot diverged slightly from what Shakespeare, perhaps, originally intended), and you would have missed it. The angry glare not only detriments your own viewing, but it shows the actors you aren’t paying attention to the on-stage iOphelia soliloquy. Also it looks really silly, furrowed brows are not a particularly good look, especially when impotently directed at the back of someone’s head.
3. Eat crisps You thought from the last rule that I was fine with this? You’ll get off less scot-free here than you would in a Macbeth production. Have we not learnt by now? As an evolved human race, have we not realised that crisps are the single most disruptive food to eat at anything? (Spoiler, as an allegedly evolved human, I had also not figured that out until recently until I munched my way through a film and felt terrible afterwards. Not completely terrible, because Thai Sweet Chilli Walkers are delicious, but partially terrible. Anyway, I’m not going to do it anymore and because of that no one else can enjoy crisps when I won’t.) I hope you’ve enjoyed these objectively correct and not facetious at all tips to how to make your theatre trip superlative! Illustration: Charlotte Way
STAGE Thursday, 3 November 2016
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Playing with adaptations By Cameron Harris stage@palatinate.org.uk
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ne might think adapting for the stage is for the unimaginative; if you can’t come up with an original play, just take any old pot-boiler and mash it into something theatrical. But you probably don’t see it that way. You are reading the theatre section of Palatinate; you are a cultural firecracker; and you know there to be as much creative originality vested in the process of adaptation as there is in the composition of original work. An adaptation might in fact be thought of as an original work because, as all intellectual property buffs know, originality is found in fixed forms and not in the abstract. So Bernstein’s operetta Candide is just as original as Voltaire’s novel; and conversely, the novelisation of Skins is just as original as the iconic TV drama it unfortunately spawned from. But even if we congratulate adapters of literary works for their original expression and hard work, they are still subject to the wrath of devoted fans. Characters left out, sub-plots omitted, emotive dialogues unsaid; the adapter just can’t win sometimes. Should we then reconsider our approach to adaptations? Someone is always going to be disappointed, but is that a fair reaction? Sure, if the play is bad in itself, ask for your money back. But can we label an adaptation ‘bad’ simply because a feature of the novel did not translate well to stage? Surely no one would wish to see a play that was wholly deferential to its literary progenitor. If there exists a novel, play, and even film all stemming from the same story, working in perfect
By Alice Felicity Chambers stage@palatinate.org.uk
harmony, separate, yet inexorably linked, then I have seen it. Shortly before arriving in the southerly, near-tropical climes of County Durham, I took in a show at The Citizens Theatre in Glasgow. A revived production of Trainspotting (adapted for stage by Harry Gibson in 1994 from Irvine Welsh’s 1993 novel) was showing to great critical acclaim and the adulation of audiences. Few people in the UK are unfamiliar with this post-modern classic and its bitter-sweet depiction of addiction, casual violence, and social deprivation among Edinburgh’s underclass in the 90s. Most of the audience that night probably had certain expectations. While they may not have demanded outright that the play look and feel a certain way, it is likely that they expected something akin to the 1996 film adaptation which made stars of its Director Danny Boyle and a young Ewan MacGregor. It was this iconic depiction of Welsh’s original work that we (well, alright, I) had in mind as the curtain went up. Despite having read the novel, there is no escaping that McGregor is synonymous with the protagonist Mark Renton in my mind; and part of me hoped ‘Born Slippy’ by Underworld would play
as the curtain fell. I’m happy to report that these expectations were met only in part. The costumes for Renton and his milieu were all heavily influenced by those used in the film, and the general set design might be described as an homage to Boyle et al. Yet the play was more conscious of all preceding source material. The monologues and short stories that pepper Welsh’s novel are rendered in full and remain just as hilarious and grotesque as they are on paper. One story told by a young woman who secretly feeds her soiled tampon to a group of obnoxious male university students was met with shrieks of delight and horror. In short, the play occupied a middle ground between the novel and the film. It drew on the strengths of each: the iconography and pace of the film, and the multiplicity of narrative strains of the novel. As an adaptation it is successful because it translates that which works in another medium and manipulates other aspects of the novel or film to fit the stage. Adapting for theatre is after all a labour of love (and certainly not one for quick profits). The success of Trainspotting on stage can be ascribed to its interplay with other mediums. The director, designer, and even the actors, can draw on the preceding text and film to create something that feels fresh, yet familiar. Such a balance should be the aspiration of all theatrical adaptations. The play should be neither deferential to the novel, nor exist in a vacuum. So some writers do adapt, and fewer writers adapt well, but adaptation is possible and even a welcome addition to our cultural bank. Photo: Hild Bede Theatre, Trainspotting
Brexit goes national
T
he National Theatre’s decision to relate ‘the story of modern Britain’ in a postBrexit era, has sparked a debate into the involvement of theatre in political discussions. In their current project entitled Missing Con-
versations, the Theatre is leading interviews in various towns and cities across the UK, aimed to ignite discussion of the summer’s embarrassing decision to leave the EU. Theatre as a medium is undoubtedly influential, but the questions remains: Should the theatrical world be a platform for such conten-
tious debates? Should we be wary of the power companies such as the National Theatre have over the minds of their audiences? First of all, it is important to contemplate whether the National Theatre has an agenda. Funded by the Arts Council, which is noted for its pro-Brexit mind-set, it is questionable whether this show will be an actual representation of the ‘missing conversations’ between Britain’s generations and its government. Rufus Norris, the Artistic Director of the National Theatre, argues that the project was intended ‘just to gather a massive verbatim archive of what people think about where they live, where they think the power lies, what they think of British values, what their values are.’ In essence, the project is ‘to listen’ and provide a neutral discussion of opinions and events, although it will be interesting to see if this is the reality. The National Theatre has a history of exploring highly topical and contentious issues. In 2012, they staged Timon of Athens which was based around the economic crash of 2008. Poignant and resounding, Simon Russell Beale’s portrayal of Timon was a deeply moving exploration of the flaws in a capitalist system, something which strongly resounded with its audience. Moreover, their 2014 production of King Lear was influenced by Gadhafi’s dictatorship and ultimate fall from power, another contentious issue in the wake of the Arab Spring. Perhaps then it is the fact that Missing Conversations is di-
rectly confronting the issue, rather than masking it with a shroud of Shakespearean lingo, that makes it so controversial. In reality, theatre really could not be a more effective tool for such an exploration, as it continually reflects and reveals the political anxieties of individuals within a given society. Pivotal works such as Christopher Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus were effective in examining contemporary religious or social conceptions, with Marlowe highlighting the alienation of the Catholic Church in Elizabethan England. In a post-Brexit society, the growing feelings of resentment for foreigners or the nostalgia for a united Europe are topics that should undoubtedly be discussed. In tackling such a political topic, the National Theatre could raise unexpected questions about future politics, whilst challenging their audience to contemplate these issues, even their place in Europe. Like any piece of theatre, it will be important to watch Missing Conversations without any preconceptions. The National Theatre’s history of successful productions indicates that they will be up to the challenge of discussing the reasons behind Brexit, and the consequences it has wrought on British society. Although it will not provide any reconciliation, I hope it will shed light on a heated debate that will inevitably last decades. Illustration: Faye Chua
CREATIVE WRITING 8
Thursday, 3 November 2016
Time an All Pure Salt Sometimes it’s kinder to believe that the world is flat, that it’s better to give than to receive, that you’re almost there. In Madrid, they built a church on a lie that every day still rings its bells three times. But kindness doesn’t interest me when it comes to wanting you. If ever I was made to fall in love, and to fall in love with a girl, that girl is you. Two points are enough to establish direction: I started with a word I was frightened of as a child and I see my solitude finishing in you. Two people on a paper boat are saved from sinking if the sea is all pure salt as this sea is, I promise you— you can trust this floating feeling. It is the water telling you not everything will get better but not everything hits the ground either. The only physics proper to this universe is the one that says gravity is attraction not surrender. I’m putting my hands down and opening my palms wide. So come my way, so come close, come closer still.
Room for Wounding Take how the universe began: heaven divided from earth, lovers pulled apart, space expanding in time towards collapse. Or how we make meaning from ritual sacrifice: bread pressed into palm remembering stigmata, dreams of snow or teeth translated into foreboding, the womb filling up to be emptied. There is always room here for wounding. Two goats on separate cliffs calling to one another make a tragedy; a sculptor’s daughter missing her beloved traces his shadow and invents drawing. Cheryl Julia Lee
The Castaway Banished, in a land unknown to mankind I’d find repose from all my gnawing doubts Earthly laws could scarcely claim to harm me And diffidence would vanish in the sea Nor would unusual talk, nor would apparel Nor would frail queerness snatch my peers away No threats of unfair judgement, for my own soul And heart would be all they could judge me by But here they look so much they cannot see The kindness hid behind the scornful mask And trapped in error they believe one proud That asks but to be loved, not cast away. Yet in my fancy, known to none but me Amazing truths exist, and I can be. Beatrice Scudeler
Cheryl Julia Lee
‘‘The only physics proper to this universe is the one that says gravity is attraction not surrender...”
CREATIVE WRITING Thursday, 3 November 2016
9
nd Space A Word From The Editor By Anna Gibbs Creative Writing Editor creativewriting@palatinate.org.uk
The Sun and The moon “Why do you never smile, my love?” Sun said to his bride moon “It more becomes my love”, said she “To save my smiles for you.” “Why do you never cry, my dear?” She ventured in reply. “You know they cannot see my face, But conjure me to smile.” “Are you so gloomy as they say? The folk that dwell on earth?” “My silver tears are pearl drops That live with me from birth.” “Are you a restless child in truth? As I oft hear them speak?” “My rays are golden spectacles That hide me when I weep.” “Have they a clue, a notion vague?” The curious Moon enquired, “That twixt your death and my rebirth You sob and I do smile?” “A secret dear, as crystal clear” Beloved sun betrayed, “That not one dweller on the earth Shall ever spoil our reign”. Beatrice Scudeler
“To discover many more inner constellations of the imagination on our theme, simply be guided online by the bright lights of your computer screens...”
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find it is easy to forget that, whilst we scratch away with our fountain pens in lectures, think about what’s for tea, and fret about essay deadlines, we are spinning in the middle of millions of stars. Probably in the company of aliens. Aliens who’ve never heard of summatives. It’s been said before, and by before I mainly mean on Tumblr, but I feel the need to constantly reiterate, to myself at least, that I am stardust and that is all. So really, I need to have more perspective when there is no milk in the fridge, or I can’t afford that green turtleneck in Zara. Because we are all merely aliens to aliens in other galaxies. Aliens who are worrying about their own jumper needs (possibly).Which is both terrifying and comforting (not aliens buying green turtlenecks, here I was referring to our insignificance). Time and space have always captured the imaginations of writers. There is a distinct contrast between contemporary writing and ancient texts in regard to the frequency of mentions of the movements of the stars. I suppose this does make sense, as they were looking to the lights of the constellations above for guidance, whilst we bow our heads to the illuminated screens beaming in our hands. Then again, these are reliant on the satellites in orbit above us, so maybe we are still, if not more reliant on what lies beyond the Ozone layer. Time is a funny one. Whilst writing about time, you are using up your limited seconds on this planet, which feels slightly as if you are almost fooling yourself. I suppose attempting to transfer the concept of time into the format of words and ink is a way of understanding and accepting the power of the inescapable- unceasing ageing and moments lost. Does our writing about time improve the quality of the time we will have in the future, seeing as we’ve now pondered the nature of it? Or is it a waste of the very subject itself? Interestingly, the poems this week seem to especially link our theme to love, sorrow, and loss ‘My rays are golden spectacles, That hide me when I weep.’ Perhaps the eternal nature of some emotions is most easily expressed through alluding to celestial objects, which have borne witness to all human struggles over the passing of time on this sphere of water and earth. We aren’t alone in holding our warm hearts in our core - molten fervour burns inside the planets too. Illustration: Anna Gibbs
BOOKS Thursday, 3 November 2016
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Keeping up with the Jones After twenty years, Bridget Jones is back in our lives - are things still the same? By Cameron Harris books@palatinate.org.uk
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ridget Jones is amongst us once more. This time, however, she has returned via different mediums in a slightly unconventional sequence (but it is Bridget Jones after all). The latest instalment of Bridget Jones’s Diary was released in both book and movie form almost simultaneously. This is unprecedented. It might have all been perfectly fine but for the disparities between the novel and the film. Helen Fielding’s novel sticks to form, with Bridget’s would-be suitors Darcy and Cleaver clashing over the paternity of Bridget’s baby. The film, however, has Cleaver dead within two minutes and replaced by the ever so beige and less dynamic Jack Qwant (played by Patrick Dempsey). It’s an awkward fit and, as you might imagine, the filmmakers have had to justify a few of their decisions to the more militant factions in the Bridget Jones fan club. But the novel’s the thing, to paraphrase the prince of Denmark. Hugh Grant can’t disrupt anything in Fielding’s novel. There are no messy compromises to be made, nor awkward demands to be met. It’s through the novel that devotees can still get their fix of the Jones-Cleaver-Darcy triangle. Moreover,
Bridget herself has always been at her wittiest, most insecure, most comic, and most tragic in literary form (no offence Renée). This helps to explain why some of us care deeply for Bridget Jones’s Diary. Yet why is that still the case after twenty years of the franchise? Twenty years is a jolly long time. Most freshers starting at Durham this year weren’t so much as foetuses when Bridget first appeared in The Independent newspaper in 1996. Given how far we’ve progressed socially, technologically and economically, reading Bridget Jones’s Diary now might feel incredibly dated (well…to some of us at least). Re-reading the first novel one is struck by just how excessive and decadent the life of Bridget Jones is: ‘Monday 20 March…alcohol units 4… cigarettes 27…’ and on a school night no less! The world back then was no doubt an image and health conscious place, but perhaps less so than it is now. Now most young professionals would feign drinking four units of alcohol on a Saturday night,
and you can forget about the cigarettes straightaway. But of course these indulgences are Bridget’s demons (along with her fluctuating weight) and her daily battle with them lends her the tender humanity that appeals to us all. The image conscious world of the novel took its inspiration from both Fielding’s reality and its relation to Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. So one might argue that we go back to Bridget Jones for much the same reasons we go back to Elizabeth Bennet: to live vicariously through characters who say what we want to say. The phoniness of overly-ambitious, young middle-class professionals is now accentuated by social media, and even we lackadaisical students cannot escape their pernicious sense of self-fulfilment. So when you sit up at night trawling through Instagram, cringing at the heavily filtered snapshots of some odious creep you knew in school and who now works in the City, you are channelling your inner Bridget. That voice which mumbles expletives when you see that another old acquaintance has squeezed out a sprog is the same voice that Helen Fielding gave us all those years ago. That, to me, is why Bridget Jones’s Diary goes on being read today and why Bridget is a necessary point of reference in today’s world. We may not drink or smoke or shag in quite the same way as they did then, but we are just as human. If Bridget Jones has gone on being relevant it is because her problems are not of her time but for all time. Photograph: Penguin Random House
Never judge a book by its author? Ella Capel-Smith looks at the history of pen names in the light of the Ferrante scandal By Anonymous (Ella Capel-Smith) books@palatinate.org.uk
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e are all familiar with the common proverb demanding us not to judge a book by its cover. Applying the same logic to its author may not be so simple. The biographical information of an author, as literature students know, can provide insight into elements of their work. So, are the works of ‘anonymous’ authors less insightful? ‘Anonymous’ is a prolific author, so to speak. However, most under the tag are not anonymous by choice, but through the nature of traditional oral storytelling. Even when we are confident of the names of early classic authors, it’s often almost all we can truly know about them. Homer is an obvious example; although he produced some of the most widely studied works in literary history, we cannot even be certain he existed at all. Pen names are a more deliberate form of anonymity. Authors’ motivations behind pseudonyms vary, but they all share the intention of distancing their published work from their personal identity. In the era when society would refuse women’s work,
it was hugely popular for female writers aiming for publication to use male pseudonyms. Anne, Charlotte and Emily Brontë became Acton, Currer and Ellis Bell. But not every female author obeyed this trend. Jane Austen famously refused to submit to the prejudices of her contemporary society by publishing her work under the pen name ‘A. Lady’, not attempting to disguise from the public her feminine identity. While this era of gendered censure no longer applies, pseudonyms are still used in a contemporary context. JK Rowling published The Cuckoo’s Calling under the name of Robert Galbraith so that her new novel could be treated as a complete departure from her previous works and be successful on its own merit. In this instance, as with most others, it is not the relationship between the author and their own text which is problematic. Human nature tries to find the answer to every question it can, and so it is the reader of a book who feels the anonymity. Who is responsible for the creation of the text they hold in their hands? In the modern world of celebrity many authors choose to avoid the potentially corruptive and destructive limelight. They employ pen names to live
lives untainted by the fame their work would bring them. A recent revelation in the field of contemporary literature has caused debate over the rights of the author in regards to their own text. Eleanor Ferrante, pen name of the author of The Neapolitan Novels, has been targeted by investigative journalist Claudio Gatti. His claim that he has discovered the identity of the Italian novelist caused commotion in literary circles. Most are unconcerned with her actual identity, believing this discovery to be an invasion of artistic privacy. Gatti was widely condemned. Most feel that Ferrante has rights to privacy, but those who agree with Gatti believe that the author has responsibilities to the readers who have supported her work. Although pen names have served various purposes in the history of literature, authors of the modern era often choose to disconnect their identity from their works for the sake of anonymity. It is a choice which is difficult to uphold in a modern society which demands transparency. But it is a privacy they deserve to uphold. Anonymity will be continually sought and, as long as it is, pen names will protect the identity of the author while sharing their texts with readers worldwide.
BOOKS
FILM & TV Thursday, 3 November 2016
ENG1102: Intro to Dylan Talkin’ the literary achievements of Bob Dylan (blues)
The best and worst U.S. Presidents on Film and TV In the spirit of this year’s election, Film & TV choose which of the colourful array of fictional presidents they’d like to see take to the real Oval Office and the ones they really wouldn’t. sylvania Avenue has yet had to face a threat to all life on Earth quite like Morgan Freeman’s President Beck. With a giant asteroid set to wipe out the planet unless a crew of astronauts can get to it first, Beck is on hand to channel his inner Churchill and calm the nerves of the nation. And he does it with the soothing, dulcet tones of a man whose voice is, almost unarguably, the best ever put to film.
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hile the Nobel Prize may be knocking on Dylan’s door, and requesting that if his manager sees him to say hello, nobody knows if he will show up to collect his prize. Surely one of us must know (sooner or later anyway)? Here at the books section we have no idea whether what he did for the American Song tradition is literature prize worthy but we did think it might be fun to look at some of his greatest lyrics in search of clues… From the perspective of a feminist critic,‘Just Like a Woman’ is clearly problematic, assigning binary gender roles to specific actions. What does it mean to ‘make love like a woman’? Would it really be so different to making love like a man? And if the lover ‘breaks just like a little girl’, surely that is simply a lot more appropriate than ‘making love like a little girl’? It is clear that Dylan must have, like all our generation, read Of Mice and Men, because his reference to the lover’s ‘curls’ is instantly evocative of Curley’s Wife. Perhaps this analysis just goes to show that, like celebrated straight white males before him, Dylan shares the attitudes that make him deserving of a literary prize. By Ellie Scorah ‘To Ramona’ is a song of consolidation and devotion. The singer is entranced by Ramona, expressed in Dylan’s language-twisting way: ‘Your magnetic movements / Still capture the minutes I’m in’. She has come to him with ‘watery eyes’, and he tries to console her, but he knows that: ‘Everything passes / Everything changes / Just do what you think you should do’. Yet he sings for authenticity. For Ramona to realise that she’s trying to be a part of a false world, ‘a vacuum, a scheme’ - that she’s been seduced by ‘worthless foam from the mouth’. And maybe he’s telling us all that we can transcend our low-down feelings through art: ‘The pangs of your sadness shall pass as your senses will rise’. In times when I’ve felt disconnected, ‘To Ramona’ has done just that: lifted me up. By Anna Rømcke Høisin
Three Word Book Reviews “Mostly whale anatomy” – Moby Dick Naoise Murphy “Brexit, Art, Love” – Autumn by Ali Smith Jen Campbell “Glitter, Excess, Failure” – The Great Gatsby Jessica Derwent Send your own three word book reviews to books@palatinate.org.uk
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By Eugene Smith Deputy Film & TV Editor deputy.film@palatinate.org.uk
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t a time when a certain flame-haired property magnate can make the transition from reality TV star to actual nominee for President of the United States of America, the distinction between politics and entertainment is clearly somewhat blurred across the pond. Thankfully, it always has been, and has yielded some of the very best onscreen incarnations of fake politicians – here’s our top five, ranked in order of preference for taking up the real-life presidency.
For all of Trump’s belligerent rhetoric, no one chills the spine quite like President Frank Underwood One: The Heroic Statesman Josiah ‘Jed’ Bartlet, The West Wing (1999-2006) Frequently topping most Top 10 lists of fictional politicians, including a recent poll of British MPs, Martin Sheen’s Democratic president is wellknown for being one of very few onscreen politicians to endear himself to his audience so much as to make them actually want to vote for him. Though occasionally on the wrong side of self-righteousness, this liberal hero strikes an admirably fine balance between being both innately presidential and deeply personable – and would most likely eviscerate both real-life candidates in any policy debate. Two: The Gravel-Voiced Comforter President Beck, Deep Impact (1998) Though some might equate a Trump or Clinton presidency with an E.L.E. (Extinction Level Event), no historical or contemporary resident of Penn-
Three: The Alien-basher Thomas Whitmore, Independence Day (1996) ‘The Donald’ may take issue with illegal aliens from south of the border, but no wall could have kept out the extra-terrestrial menace with which Bill Pullman’s President Whitmore was confronted in this disaster movie – even if he did somehow manage to get the Martians to pay for it. Though not as heroically central to the defence of Earth as Will Smith’s pilot or Jeff Goldblum’s scientist, President Whitmore earned his (stars and) stripes with one of the most stirring presidential speeches in cinematic history, calling for human defiance of the alien threat.
President Selina Meyer is “easily-flustered,” “inept” and “amoral” Four: The Bumbling Fool Selina Meyer, Veep (2012-present) Beginning life as a side-lined and irrelevant Vice President, Julia Louis-Dreyfus’s Selina Meyer makes a singularly undeserved ascent to the presidency in the third season of Armando Iannucci’s hit HBO comedy. Her political allegiance is intentionally never revealed, though it is hard to conceive either major party selecting her as a candidate in reality, since the character is unflatteringly pilloried by television critics as not only “easily-flustered” and “inept”, but also the even worse “amoral”. One hopes she has not set the standard for America’s first female presidency. Five: The Machiavellian Frank Underwood, House of Cards (2014-present) Is President Francis Underwood a conniving, backstabbing, insatiably power-hungry murderer? You might think that, but I couldn’t possibly comment. Kevin Spacey’s unscrupulous career politician gets his hands very dirty indeed in his bloody ascent from House Majority Whip to leader of the free world, and once he’s at the top, he will (and does) do anything to stay there. And for all Donald Trump’s belligerent rhetoric about combating terrorism, the orange-faced, baseball cap-clad tycoon could never chill the spine and curdle the blood quite like President Underwood’s calm preparedness to “make the terror”. Photograph: Marcos Gasparutti.
FILM & TV 12
Thursday, 3 November 2016
The future is bright Think the tech in Humans and Black Mirror is the stuff of far-fetched sci-fi? Think again. The future is now, and it’s pretty terrifying... “You’re only human!”: ‘Humans’ and Artificial Intelligence By Matthew Hilborn film@palatinate.org.uk
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t’s certainly curious that we use the word ‘human’ when reassuring a friend or relative that they shouldn’t be so hard on themselves. To be ‘human’, we tacitly confess, is to be flawed, for the supportive term justifies imperfect behaviour and recognises our shared insufficiency. Further, it’s telling that individuals who excel at a wide array of pursuits are affectionately called “machines.” In light of these all-too-human shortcomings, what if an automaton could emulate human nature but eradicate its uglier side? Could a robot grow to be a better ‘human’ than human beings? This is the question posed by the series Humans (2015), co-produced by Channel 4 and AMC, that envisions a world populated by anthropomorphised robot ‘synths’ who not only perform menial tasks around the house but, as a manipulative businessman notes in Episode 1, possess no “thought, emotion, or awareness”, and are thus exploited in prostitution as a preferable alternative to real women. Although the synths wear green contact lenses, marking them out as androids, the actors who play them strike an impressive balance between a robotic tone, vapid smile, and machinelike choreography and a concerted effort to be as over-statedly ‘human’ as possible. The conceit of a human-impersonating-a-robotimpersonating-a-human, particularly strong from Gemma Chan (Anita) and Rebecca Front (Vera), complicates a sure distinction between the real and the synthetic. A. C. Grayling has argued that technology leaves us “naked”, and Humans, as its title foregrounds, explores precisely what is exposed when human beings are stripped bare. The main focus is on the middle-class Hawkins family, who purchase a household synth, Anita, to do their cooking and cleaning. One poignant scene has exhausted mother Laura make the all-too-human mistake of burning some pastry in the oven. A little while later, after going off to deal with her children’s next concern, she finds Anita extracting a new pie, steaming hot and baked to absolute perfection. Could a robot be a better mother than her? If that which is essentially human entails a basic defectiveness, would a truly ‘human’ robot have to forget, lie, cheat, betray, and steal, just as we do? As an unnamed scientist notes in an interview (Episode 1): “fear, anger, violence […] human consciousness is not complete without them”. Humans anticipates a world in which ‘The Singularity’ – the moment when AI surpasses human intelligence – is just around the corner, but also, fascinatingly questions just how we would know when that moment arrived. As the scientist counters, when pressed on the ethical issues at stake, “how can we replicate something we hardly understand in ourselves?” Catch up on the first episode of ‘Humans’ series 2 on All 4; watch Episode 2 9pm Sunday, Channel 4.
“This is real!”: ‘Black Mirror’ and Augmented Reality By Simon Fearn Film and TV Editor film@palatinate.org.uk
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e’ve all done some pretty stupid things for quick money, but few of us can beat Cooper volunteering to demo “the most personal survival horror game in history” in Black Mirror’s ‘Playtest’. It’s one of the most visceral episodes in a fantastic new series of Charlie Brooker’s much-talked about, tech-phobic misery-fest, toying masterfully with horror movie clichés and references to popular video games. The game in ‘Playtest’ mines Cooper’s brain for
data and creates holograms of his worst fears, which gradually become indistinguishable from reality. It works on a futuristic kind of Augmented Reality (AR), the tech used in Pokémon Go and Snapchat filters. If you believe the hype, 2016 is the year of AR, yet the disappointment surrounding Google Glass and the extremely bulky headsets for the Microsoft HoloLens and Magic Leap means that, for now at least, you can’t sample AR without looking like an idiot and forking out serious amounts of money for the privilege. But before we shrug off ‘Playtest’ as a far-fetched sci-fi, let’s take a look at some disturbing trends that seem to treat Black Mirror as inspiration rather than cautionary tale. Existing AR such as Pokémon Go can dangerously confuse what’s real in young brains, addiction expert Nicholas Cardaras warns. Children who
are chronic gamers are already vulnerable to Game Transfer Phenomena (GTP): psychotic-like symptoms where elements of the game become visual and auditory hallucinations. If AR becomes the norm in gaming, could GTP begin to become more prevalent? Looking further into the future, the Technical University of Ilmenau in Germany are developing Diminished Reality, which works in a similar way to the Photoshop smudge tool and can remove objects from your vision in real-time.
If we misuse the technology that’s currently being developed, ‘Black Mirror’ is going to start looking a lot less like science-fiction It’s advertised as useful to architects, who may be able to see what an area would look like if a building was removed, but how far away is this from Black Mirror’s ‘White Christmas’? In that episode, the protagonist is “blocked” by his ex, pixelating her image and muffling her voice in real-time, which this technology could make possible. Scared yet? If Microsoft software engineer and tech visionary Alex Kipman has his way, then it’s going to become increasingly difficult distinguishing reality from illusion. “Put simply, I want to create a new reality,” he announces at the start of an impressive TED talk, which incorporates holograms using the HoloLens. “Imagine feeling the temperature of a virtual object, or pushing an object and having it push back with equal force,” Kipman continues, and you can’t help but think of the moment when Cooper realises the game in ‘Playtest’ has control over all of his senses, leaving him entirely at its mercy. Kipman’s comment about using Augmented Reality to make humans appear as “elves” also carries palpable menace for those who’ve seen Black Mirror’s ‘Men Against Fire’. Kipman’s wish to create “a new reality” begs the question “what’s wrong with the old one?” Maybe AR is just an expensive gimmick; maybe it could be genuinely useful; but do we really want to be playing fast and loose with the real in the ways Kipman advocates? None of this tech is inherently harmful, of course, but that’s never what Black Mirror tries to warn us about. With every ground-breaking invention, we not only solve pressing problems but develop new ways to harm each other and ourselves. If we misuse the technology that’s currently being developed, Black Mirror is going to start looking a lot less like science-fiction. Stream the entire third season of ‘Black Mirror’ on Netflix and read Film & TV’s review online. Illustration: Faye Chua
MUSIC Thursday, 3 November 2016
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Kings of Leon are back With a Number 1 album on both sides of the Atlantic, Normandie Tottman plays archaeologist and uncovers whether the WALLS came down on Kings of Leon’s latest to anything we have heard from the band before. Yet, most importantly, WALLS is the most telling the most personal album from Kings of Leon to date. In 2011, after battling with band tensions and drink and drug problems, the American quartet of brothers and cousins were at breaking point. The culmination of such dilemmas resulted in Caleb Followill’s onstage meltdown at their Dallas gig when he infamously announced:“I’m gonna go backstage and I’m gonna vomit, I’m gonna drink a beer and I’m gonna come back out and play three more songs.” His failure to reappear and the subsequent cancellation of the remaining 26 shows on their
I’m gonna go backstage and gonna vomit, gonna drink a beer and I’m gonna come back out and play three more songs. tour left fans wondering if they would ever return. Five years later and WALLS presents an opportunity for the band to redefine their past. The latter half of the album carries an aura of wisdom and a moralising tone indicative of lessons learnt from past mistakes. The beautiful and introspective ‘WALLS’, which lends the album its title, is perhaps the Kings’ simplest ballad yet, but carries a poignant message of the trials and tribulations of marriage through the lead singer’s slurring and bleeding intonations. At the album’s darkest, the heart-wrenching ‘Over’ tells the tale of suicide and details a ghostly realisation of the dangers of addiction which Caleb explores vicariously through the persona of a millionaire rock star who hangs himself in his garden:
By Normandie Tottman music@palatinatw.org.uk
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he much anticipated and long-awaited WALLS provides the follow up to 2013’s Mechanical Bull and marks the band’s seventh album, as well as their first time securing a number one album in both the UK and America. Attitudes towards Kings of Leon since the release of the spectacular Only By the Night have been largely defined by a sentiment of nostalgia—a longing to return to the rawness and imperfections that made so many fall in love with the band in the first place. Although WALLS isn’t wholly successful in quelling such attitudes, it is an exciting and promising indication for the future of the band. The opening two tracks ‘Waste a Moment’ and ‘Reverend’ are somewhat predictable, fitting the paradigm of previous Kings of Leon chart-filling predecessors with their renowned “wooahs” and arena-sized, singalong choruses. For many, this
marks their return to form, but not that of their first albums which harnessed a rough, gritty rock sound typical of a young band hungry for success and fame. WALLS provides a far more polished and self-assured sound—which can perhaps be ascribed to their decision to change producer for the first time in sixteen years—and follows the trajectory prescribed by its forerunners Come Around Sundown and Mechanical Bull. The electronic, punchy bass line of ‘Find Me’ is expansive and powerful, and the playfully catchy opening riff of ‘Around the World’ is reminiscent of earlier tracks such as ‘The Immortals’ and ‘Birthday’. Listeners would be foolish to render the album entirely ‘comfortable’ in both sound and vision. Although the contractual obligation to make money and sell out arenas is present here, at no point does it override the subtle experimental aspects of the album. The moody ‘Muchacho’ details the bereavement of a dear friend. Its quirky Hispanic opening and Latin rhythms provide something refreshingly different
“I’ll hang around forever / Until you cut me down / All pressed and ready to face the crowd” Such lyrics are obviously deeply personal, but his capacity and openness to reveal what was once a deeply private and psychological struggle denotes a near-completion of the healing process for the whole band, as well as a tenacious bravery to confront past demons publicly. So though the album may prove tired, rusty and somewhat frustrating for early fans of the band, the second half of the album is largely redemptive in its quality. The track ‘Conversation Piece’ may be seen as a fitting microcosm of the album as a whole; WALLS’s conversation is a balancing-act between the commercial motivations and dynamics of an anthemic rock band and the pressures of fame and the darker impulses and inner turmoil that drive its lead singer. Here, the walls really have come down and we have the Kings as they have hardly been seen before: truthful, intimate, vulnerable and mature. Photograph: Kings of Leon via Twitter
FASHION 14
Thursday, 3 November 2016
It’s a Man’s World Fashion Editor Victor Schagerlund explores how women are finally taking claim of prime roles within the fashion industry
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ver the last twenty years, the fashion industry has - ironically enough - become fashionable and the womenswear sector alone is today valued at 621 billion USD. Together with accessories, this segment makes up the greatest part of the industry as a whole, and thus the majority of consumers are women. However, as the commercial potential in fashion increases, we are seeing a disheartening trend of male investors in a business historically dominated by women. According to Business of Fashion, female designers lead only 40 per cent of womenswear brands. Now although this may be an optimistic figure in comparison to other industries, it is becoming ever more evident that this gender representation is skewed considering the dynamic of the clients just mentioned above. There is no shortage of female designers, yet only a few are present in the top positions of the most influential houses. Out of luxury conglomerate LVMH’s fifteen high-end brands, only four are headed by women, but this low figure is double that of their main competitor Kering, where only two of their fashion houses are led by women. Part of the problem lies in the fact that the corporate direction of most brands is composed by men who tend to favour other men when it comes to appointing a new creative leader. Designers are usually appointed creative director in their thirties, an age when women are assumed to have children and shy away from their careers. This sexist tendency leads on to another problematic assumption for creative professionals; namely that designers need to be unconditionally dedicated to their trade in order to be notable and respected. As within the fine arts, the myth of ‘male crea-
tive genius’ is still prominent in fashion. Creators such as Stella McCartney and Hannah McGibbon at Chloé are for instance dominantly praised for their ability to produce wearable and commercially successful collections, whereas their male colleagues tend to be appreciated for their aesthetics and artistic qualities. Even the work of a designer as influential and talented as Phoebe Philo is frequently devalued. American Vogue’s chief critic Sarah Mower, in reviewing the brand’s latest collection, said of it that ‘there was a sense that a Céline woman could go anywhere she needs in these clothes—to the school gate in the trainers, to a meeting in the tailoring, to a gallery opening or a cocktail party— without feeling either under-dressed or overdone’. Albeit intended as positive criticism, Mower’s review is in fact unconsciously biased as it fails to recognize the significance of the clothes beyond their commercial value. Similarly, Sarah Burton’s artistry was widely questioned when she mantled Alexander McQueen’s role after his tragic suicide. At the time there was a general worry that the fashion house would lose its pioneering and provocative tone. Burton, who was a close companion of McQueen privately and professionally, shares his vision for the house and has very successfully upheld his legacy since her takeover. We can assume Kate Middleton’s breath-taking wedding dress probably silenced those who ever questioned Burton’s capacity. In the dawn of a new era in fashion marked by the retirement of several modern icons, it is exciting to see that two of the most prestigious French fashion houses, Christian Dior and Lanvin, now both have women in charge of the ateliers. By replacing Alber Elbaz with Bouchra Jarrar at
Lanvin, one could say that the brand has returned to its roots as it was founded by Jeanne Lanvin in 1889. Perhaps more sensational than this return to its foundations at Lanvin is the appointment of previous Valetino-designer Maria Grazia Chuiri as the first ever female creative director at Dior. Dior is LVMH’s crown jewel, and the choice of Grazia Chuiri therefore has a strong symbolic value. As a parallel, back when Philo was hired to re-invent Céline, the brand was both creatively and commercially insignificant. Not only is Chuiri the first female figurehead of Dior, but she also defies the notion of designing for one type of woman; saying that the ‘Dior woman’ is nonexistent as all women are individuals. Perhaps an evident notion, but specifying an imaginary character representative of the collection’s target group is a fashion industry marketing go-to. In terms of design, Grazia Chuiri’s elusive and romantic visual language coheres naturally with the feminine silhouette associated with Dior. For her first collection she displayed punk T-shirts with full length tulle-skirts. A look that perhaps can be interpreted as a glamorous but subtle revolt against the conservatism apparent in fashion - it is neither sexualised, nor intended for the duties of the ‘modern woman’. She provides an innovative angle on traditional femininity, something for which she hopefully will be recognised.
Find more things Palatinate Fashion at: Twitter: @Palatinatestyle Instagram: @palatinate_fashion Photograph: Faye Chua : (Left: Céline; Centre: Dior Right: Lanvin All S/S 2017)
VISUAL ARTS Thursday, 3 November 2016
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Holy Smokes that’s good! Take a break from your busy life, it’s time to take a shamanic journey to the spirit world as we review the Baltic’s new performance art piece. cardboard headpiece of this dancer, which looked like a meteor and a feature later in the dance where two of the performers used cardboard boxes as vessels for smoke from the smoke machine, which they hit in synchronisation to control the movement of the smoke. The mechanical-like choreography of the performers symbolised the control we think is essential in our very own performance, life. We bombard ourselves with social commitments, our never ending urge to be a part of everything and please everyone, to perform multiple tasks that fill our days so that we will not allow ourselves to be carried away by our multitude of conflicting concerns and succumb to emotions that are meant to be felt. Instead we brush them to one side, and every now and again we erupt and disrupt our inner peace. This wish for us not to jeopardise our lives with too many commitments is beautifully shown through the performers words ‘may you be happy,’ which are sung over and over again. The words, at first, sound like a different language, as these words are an unexpected occurrence, for while we have been watching these creatures up to this point they have been in a trance
[It] is a thought provoking yet relaxing performance and its exploration of the complexity of our lives ... is impressive
By Olivia Howcroft visual.arts@palatinate.org.uk
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he Baltic Centre’s performance art piece ‘Holy smoke: Ultimate Dancer’ sets out to entrance and intrigue its audience with an hypnotic visionary experience where the audience are participants in a guided, shamanic, visionary journey into the spirit world. It explores ideas about worship and identity and has the poignant overall message that we are incessantly in control, too busy, too stressed, causing us to no longer notice the things in life that really matter to us. ‘Ultimate Dancer’ aims to help us, the participant, to address this and to seek answers to personal questions. On walking into the exhibition, we were presented with a figure smeared with black paint, standing centre stage, ultimate dancer herself. She was accompanied by three other figures, one of which was a woman who was performing jittering,
robotic movements; a mechanical theme carried on throughout the show in the form of dance. This performer was holding a box in front of her, which appeared to be made from cardboard, almost brandishing it to ultimate dancer. The simplicity of materials was suitable here, as the exhibition was meant to be a stripped back ver-
The moment when one of the male dancers took his brightly coloured tunic and tucked it into his underpants and started dancing... sion of our lives, a contradiction of the complexity of our advanced times. Such simplicity could be seen in lots of aspects throughout the piece, such as the
making noises, not words. The tranquillity of the show (the majority of it was extremely relaxing due to the hypnotic use of sound and dance) was frequently disrupted by moments such as the performers taking the smoke filled boxes used to worship the centre figure and thrashing them violently upon the floor, with one of the dancers throwing herself upon the box multiple times. Other strange and unexpected occurrences happened during the performance, such as the moment when one of the male dancers took his brightly coloured tunic and tucked it into his underpants and started dancing and making noises that you would only expect from someone very intoxicated. This humour understandably received a laugh from the audience. These moments of disruption feel like a portrayal again of the fact that we are not expected to relax without being interrupted by the deadlines and the events, which fragment our lives. However, the intoxicated state of the male dancer also seems to be representative of a society fixated on the consumption of alcohol as a substitute for busyness, consumption at every threat of failure or note of unhappiness. ‘Holy Smoke; Ultimate Dancer’ is a thought provoking yet relaxing performance and its exploration of the complexity of our lives in such a simple and original way is impressive and makes it an enlightening and accessible exhibition. Illustration: Olivia Howcroft
TRAVEL 16
Thursday, 3 November 2016
Journeys Returning to Durham – it’s more than just a train ride.
By Louise Level travel@palatinate.org.uk
I
grapple with my backpack, duffel bag, and my book laden suitcase; trying to find a comfortable way to hold everything, as the train draws into a moonlit Durham City. My face feels warm and I wonder if I still look a bit sunburnt. My hair has certainly been bleached by the sun. I feel dishevelled yet energised. The familiar station gets closer, and I can see a hoard of excitable first years waiting to jump on board. ‘Oh god,’ I think, as I suddenly become more aware of the weight of my cumbersome baggage, and imagine clumsily performing a comedy fall onto the platform into the sea of people. I see faces decorated with neon paint and bodies clothed in ‘Freshers 2016’ t-shirts. They’ll be going on their first Newcastle night out. I feel reminiscent of arriving and being flung into an exciting and busy environment, where it feels like you’re introducing yourself to new people twenty times a minute. It’s funny; in those first few days I kind of forgot why I’d chosen to come here. My intrigue and anticipation for starting my course took a step back to make space for ‘getting involved’ in a bunch of college organised social activities that were fun, but combined… pretty overwhelming for me at the time. In that first year I went through a journey of a lot of personal discovery, acceptance, bonding with people who I can safely say will be my lifelong friends, and eventually started to find my feet in the academic environment. With surviving first year ticked off my list, I had a summer of catching up and trips with school friends and a bit of work
experience to look forward to. Second year dawned and as term started and the weeks rolled on something didn’t feel right. I lacked energy, had a feeling of sinking, and was constantly worrying and rewriting to-do lists which I never got to. It felt like I was working all the time but nothing was working. I’d lost my spark and felt disinterested and debilitated. Eventually I got to the doctors and was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. Uni offered me great support but things were still too much. I decided to change my current path and apply for some time out to get some help, look after myself and feel better. It wasn’t an easy decision and there were certainly some tears involved.
I’m ... taking mini journeys where my mind travels with my work Luckily, having time off enabled me to not only continue my personal journey but also go on a few travel adventures too. After a few months of therapy and recuperation, I was starting to feel like myself again. I went to Edinburgh for the first time with one of my best friends. The streets were buzzing with excitement and possibility. The view of Edinburgh Castle against the backdrop of the bright sky, teasing that the beginning of spring was nearing, is imprinted in my mind. When I think of it I’m immediately reminded of taking photos, the fresh air, the other beautiful buildings we saw and the delicious food we ate.
In late September I travelled with a friend to Croatia and Slovenia. Just some of the journeys we took whilst there included walking the walls of Dubrovnik’s Old Town, cycling up the island Vis, dozing on numerous coaches to get from city to city, taking a free city tour in Ljubljana (fascinating!) and hiking around Plitvice Lakes. There was so much packed into just eleven days of travel. My feet were sore but my mind was content. After a late flight back to the UK and an early train home after a first time experience of sleeping in an airport, before I knew it I was packing my bags again to return to Durham. This time I felt different. Refreshed. Ready to immerse myself in learning. Skip forward to now. I get off the train, pretty much seamlessly make my way through the freshers on the platform (surprise surprise, they politely let me through and weren’t scary monsters after all), and take a taxi back to my house. I’m back. Second year begins. I’m reading and studying, and taking mini journeys where my mind travels with my work. I feel like I’ve been given new lenses to see and experience Durham through. A year ago I was terrified of screwing up my every day. Now, I feel a comfort in that I’m in a process of learning and discovery, and that tough times are a valuable part of my journey. The adventure, wherever mind or body takes me, is really only just beginning. Photographs: Louise Level Clockwise from top left: View at Plitvice Lakes, bridge in Ljubljana, view from the top of Vis, Dubrovnik.