The Cultural Fanatic’s Guide to

EDITED BY CARMEL LLOYD, LIV KESSLER & MATT SUDDLOW

by JACK BEECHING

The acting at times was questionable as well. After seeing that viral excerpt of Styles shouting, I’d braced myself for the worst. But ultimately, I don’t think he’s a terrible actor. In fact, his character work is strong, and he and Florence Pugh had undeniable on-screen chemistry. However, he definitely wasn’t the best man for the role and his performance at times felt flat and uncomfortable, especially when contrasted with Pugh’s.

That being said, the plot felt poorly executed. The major reveal about the Victory Project comes in the final act of the film and makes the ending feel rushed– I was left with questions, but not in a good way. Kiki Layne, who plays Margaret, has revealed that many of her scenes were cut from the film, which could explain some of the plot inconsistencies. However, it’s unclear whether this is also the case for Gemma Chan. Her character Shelley’s baffling actions at the end of the film remain unexplained.

The social commentary is astute and impactful. Wilde successfully illustrates the dangerous role that technology can play in upholding the patriarchy, a warning which is especially relevant in the context of the growing popularity of misogynistic male influencers such as Andrew Tate.

This town appears to be an antiquated suburban dream - whilst the men leave each day to work on a top-secret project, their wives spend their days cooking, cleaning and socialising in apparent luxury. This idyllic life, though, is not as it seems. The film follows Florence Pugh’s Alice as she uncovers the ugly truth of the Victory Project. Pugh’s amazing performance anchors the movie, as she flawlessly portrays the breakdown of her reality.

I was pleasantly surprised. Cinematographer Matthew Libatique and costume designer Arianne Phillips beautifully portray life in Victory, the seemingly utopian desert town in which the film is set.

Darling. This drama between the all-star cast is what motivated me to watch the film. Yet, as I hadn’t seen any of Olivia Wilde’s other works, I had no idea what to expect.

there has been a lot of online buzz surrounding the release of Don’t Worry

Styles supposedly spitting on Chris Pine at its Venice Film Festival premiere,

From rumours of Florence Pugh and Olivia Wilde falling out on set to Harry ideological viewpoint is directly opposed by his older brother, Abdel, who is a member of the French military. Though it is clear that Abdel feels the pain of his brother’s death and sympathises with Karim’s movement, he is the quintessential

Plus, it’s only like 90 mins. I promise you’ve got time.

Athena is an excellent watch. Not only as an investigation of the inner-city tension that still permeates within discriminated communities in France, but also as a cinematically poignant tale of a family in the midst of a theoretical and very literal war.

“work through the system” type of character that those from marginalised communities are all too familiar with.

Thematically, Athena is a beautiful addition to French anti-authority filmography, popularised by films such as La Haine (1995) and Gang Of The Caribbean (2016). I really enjoyed how this film uses the individual members of the grieving family as archetypes for the POC immigrant experience. Karim, our main protagonist, is portrayed as a revolutionary figure. He is tired of the corruption and racism that befalls his community and has a charismatic personality that draws legions of inner-city youth to his cause. He is young, wise, and yet undoubtedly rash. His

Gavras is perhaps best known for his direction of the Kanye West x Jay Z music video No Church in the Wild. In Athena, Garvas builds upon this past work, creating an expressive image of a grand rebellion.

It’s hard to overstate how stunning this film is. Much of Athena is filmed through extended shots, with sequential cuts every 15-20 minutes creating chapters within the film. Every frame feels like a Renaissance painting, as the architecturally cold yet lively inner-city suburb is beautifully portrayed through sweeping, tracking camerawork. This directorial style, coupled with the ominous orchestral score of the artist Gener8ion, creates a grand atmosphere which highlights the tense and antagonistic relationship between the youth of Athena and the police authorities.

Athena is the third feature film of French director Romain Gavras. It is set within the titular Athena, an inner city neighbourhood of Paris. It revolves around the unjust killing of a young teenager of Algerian descent, Idir, allegedly by the French police. It deals with the riotous movements that follow it. The riots are orchestrated by Karim, the older brother of Idir. They are being thwarted by the brutal police regime of metropolitan Paris and by Abdel, another of Idir’s older brothers.

This concept resonates throughout the film, and is particularly relevant when considering the fate of our main protagonists.

“It is difficult to fight anger, for a man will buy revenge with his soul.”

Athena is best summarised by the quote used at the end of its first trailer.

by JEREMY RICKETTS-HAGAN

Felix Barrett, artistic director and company founder once said Punchdrunk aims to “create work that leaves you spinning and seeing stars.” If this was the mission, it has been more than accomplished.

Despite the thin storytelling, The Burnt City is among the truly unique and unmissable experiences London has to offer.

While it lacks a clear, original take on the story, Punchdrunk’s new production remains outstanding. It is the most ambitious and impressive production in terms of its atmospheric scenery, aesthetic, and immersive quality that I have encountered.

Key questions remain unanswered. Is that all there is to the epos of Troy, a dream, immersing us in “a mythical world of gods and mortals”? Why had the myth of Troy, dated to the 8th century BC, interested the directors today? How should we interpret the strong images, such as that of a half-naked, bloodstained Polyxena (Chihiro Kawasaki) hanging by her feet? It is difficult to find any clue to these questions in the production. If you are an admirer of Greek mythology and its many contemporary interpretations, The Burnt City may leave you disappointed.

The over-the-top live interpretation of the Eurythmics song Sweet Dreams at the bar adds to this feeling.

It seems like depth of meaning has been traded off for the sake of spectacle.

While our senses are continuously absorbed by the magnetic swirl of dancers, scenes and objects vying for our attention with ever more astonishing choreography and detail, at the exit excitement drops and gives way to a sense of incomplete satisfaction.

absent gaze and light movements, which create a figure seamlessly transcending between material reality and a silent world behind objects and bodies.

dripping with palpable pain, desperation and desire for revenge. This exquisitely contrasts with the transparent weightlessness of Yilin Kong’s (Kassandra)

Among the dance performers inhabiting this cabinet of curiosities, the women set the pace. Even as simultaneous scenes are occurring, it is hard to look away from Omagbitse Omagbemi (Clytemnestra), an incarnation of a cunning, archaic female strength. Omagbemi’s dance following Iphigenia’s murder is and Chinese lamps. place on earth, Troy comes to life as a gigantic beehive of narrow streets, stairs the “Walled City” of Kowloon, Hongkong, once the most densely populated

It would take more than one visit to uncover the treasures hidden in the vast exhibit at One Cartridge Place, Woolwich, where every corner from Clytemnestra’s royal dormitory to the precarious flats of the Trojans is designed with full commitment to detail. The manifold spaces composing the exhibition are undeniably the protagonists of the production. Most remarkably, echoing within a massive art installation. journey through a dark wonderland that is best described as a ballet performance

Drawing on two ancient Greek plays, Euripides’ Hecuba and Aeschylus’ Agamemnon, the production sets out to explore the topoi of the Iliad. From the sacrifice of Agamemnon’s daughter Iphigenia to her revenge, we are taken on a

Expectations were high when it came to the new production of Punchdrunk, which is viewed by many as the best immersive theatre company in the world.

Our immersion into a world of gods and mortals starts in a dimly lit bar, wrapped in red velvet. Lamps drench the space in hypnotising blue as wobbly wine glasses surprisingly bounce back when toasting. From the very beginning, we are lulled into the comfortable confusion of a dream, following strange creatures into the maze of The Burnt City.

by SOPHIA APPL SCORZA

Punchdrunk’s The Burnt City

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Vernon’s lyrics have summed up my past experiences in more ways than I can count. Perhaps they even shape my future, as I have no doubt that I’ll keep finding pieces of myself throughout this record for years to come.

Justin Vernon also explores ideas of finding one’s self, especially with regards to religion – the opening track asks, “Where you gonna look for confirmation?”

(“You’ve buried all your alimony butterflies”) suggest the effects of grief and anxiety. Frontman the heavy, distorted bass of “10 d E A T h b R E a s T” would have been out of place on a record like For Emma, Forever .Ago The production even gives meaning to the words sung; the glitchy effects on the vocals near the end of “29 #Strafford APTS”

For my all-time best, I’ve decided to go with Bon Iver’s third studio album 22, A .Million With its innovative sound and poetic lyricism, this album has stuck with me since its release in 2016. This album plays with textures which serve to build a unique sonic palette, shifting the band’s style away from their folksy roots. For instance, the processed saxophone of “____45_____”, and

Syed Zaid Ali’s All Time Best: 22, A Million by Bon Iver

EDITED BY BEN HELME

Find the endof the shortstory on our website!

a stage. You believe that an open sky or the sun burning brightly is a sign of confirmation. Spurred by anger or love, the world around you should know it, right?” on the mask of the woman you think I am and play her role like an actor on mit to you with open arms? Is that what you want? Perhaps it’s better if I slip

“You try so hard to bend the world to your will. It won’t begin to rain just because you wish to cast your anger into the world. Flowers will not rise in winter because your happiness wills it so. You look at me as another person to conquer. Being wrong is unthinkable to you. Like a child, you grab and claim everything as yours. What am I to do with you? Should I stand here and -sub

For the first time, songs of the mockingbirds fell to a quiet hush. Overcast clouds hammered down the blue gates, spilling into the plains. You spoke once more.

“None of that concerns you. How I feel isn’t something that you should feel obligated to know. I keep things to myself because I want to. What right do you have to pry into my life and claim it as yours too? You want someone who wants to talk on and on like a broken record,” you replied.

“You respond but you never talk. You have this far-away look in your eyes. It’s just me, singing my words to the void. I want to hear about your mornings or the random little things that make your heart flutter. I want to hear about what you draw or the flower that you like the most.”

“I’m happy. Who said I wasn’t? You look at me and believe you understand everything there is to see. You want to understand in your own special way,” you said.

“I look at you and you never seem to be happy. I don’t understand.” not pry open the insurmountable defences that locked away your feelings. We pressed on as the gap grew wider between us. The wind’s whistle spoke but the deafening silence did not break its resolve. It only felt right to break it. past your ear, collecting to cast its shadow around your cheeks.

Strands of blonde hair settled softly was longing for your clear blue eyes to settle onto mine. More was the soft touch of your hand to brush against mine, skin on skin, finger interlocked with finger. Perhaps, more was just to hear the slightest whisper, a fragment of sound, to leave your locked lips.

Your mouth formed abstract shapes, smiling and frowning, as the words that tumbled out meshed into a shield. A toxic mix of want and need leaked onto the surface. My eyes darting, yours steady.

In the second that lasted for minutes, raw passion and longing desire fused in an exotic mix, beating down on any remaining sense. I wanted more. More

You really don’t remember?

The jade waves of grass folded and crushed with every step of ours; a ripple first washed through the dense blades, then came the violent crash between skin and earth, crushing the grass from head to toe. The summer breeze was there too, running in its predestined course. The supple leaves above our heads swayed in rhythm with the run of the wind. The wildlife felt it. That bee (I think it was a bee) almost stung my ear! You laughed, surprising yourself, and looked away again. The field ahead stretched out for miles, an endless expanse of emerald. Sure, it was beautiful. It wasn’t enough to rid the hazy look set in your eyes.

You do remember, right?

The summer breeze whistled by the both of us. Your hands were clenched to soft wings of straw, woven to the hat that latched onto your head. Around the brim was a congregation of flowers that you picked: jasmine, tulips, lilies, and daffodils. White played with pink and yellow mixed with rose in the summer glaze. Strips of sand bleached hair slipped down your shoulders, beaming its own radiant light. You always said you liked that hat.

Don’t you remember?

The silver-grey clouds dared not appear; the emerald plains below our feet danced to the tune of the breeze; the towering trees standing as guard around the field relaxed. Yet, nature’s religious zeal could

You remember now... Untitled by K.A.JAMES & illustrated by FAY QIAN i guard my thoughts of you carefully (i guard my thoughts of you carefully) joy pierced like a matador. summer’s bright howl, now infinite, is in snaps and clicks. soon the leaves will start to fall: that was summer held still, dying sun and dulcet breeze, birds warbling in the heat. later three gods rose and kept watch unwaveringly. ringed hand waved and all gave to a tapestry of fantasy: millions twinkling and pulsing like questions, while Sagittarius crept up behind the bringer of wonder, you. saltwater rippled and stirred. we flung pebbles at imaginary foes, so they’d leave us alone.

Written & illustrated by CHARLIE TO