TN2 Issue 2, 22/23

CLIMATE EMERGENCY

�e Stories We Tell Ourselves

The year is 1966. Children from several British public schools are asked to predict what life will be like just thirtyfour years later in the new millennium. Their answers are stark. One boy considers the potential of a rising sea, driven by technological development, while another girl discusses nuclear radiation and concerns about the earth becoming too hot to sustain life. Watching the video, I found these perspectives affecting, if overly pessimistic. The children demonstrate an awareness of sociopolitical and environmental issues in a way I don’t remember of myself. Indeed, they were some of the best educated students in the country. They were living through the Cold War and surely felt the legacies of the century’s world wars through their relatives. Yet this was prior to popular recognition of the risks of climate change. The children were speaking six years before the appearance of the famous ‘Blue Marble’: the first photograph taken of the earth and motivator of Gaia Theory’s acknowledgement of the planet as a complex and connected ecosystem requisite of human care.

I arrived late to an honest awareness of the climate crisis. I remember little relevant education at school. There was the odd lesson, perhaps, that focussed on decontextualized concerns: the recycling of a plastic bottle without any mention of its environmental context. Climate action during my Bachelor of Arts in England wasn’t obvious to me. I’m sure it was happening, but it maybe wasn’t accessible enough for the relatively disengaged, like myself. I think it was through reading that I came to an understanding. That and my exaggerated, probably childish, upset at the suffering of animals (hypocritically, I still haven’t given up dairy). Today, although my climate awareness is present and expanding, my tangible action remains scatty and inconsistent. But I don’t think this is unusual. Last year, The Purpose Pulse, a publication that surveys the perspectives of Gen-Z and Millenials, found that only 28% were ‘Optimistic Activists’ (engaged in contemporary concerns and hopeful about the future). The majority were rather ‘Engaged Pessimists’, ‘Potential Supporters’, and ‘Disengaged Persuadables’. Genuine concern for the environment is often met by restrictions. Climate action can be expensive, politics can appear hopeless, and continued scientific discoveries can provide a sense of tragic irreversibility. This is not to mention the distracting pressure put on young people to achieve; to secure a career amidst economic downturn, to comprehensively thrive, and to package it all for social media. We spin different narratives to make sense of the complexity.

About the Climate Crisis

The stories we tell ourselves about the climate crisis are many. There are those whose real and deep sense of urgency motivates sustained action. These are narratives of suffering combined with a strong belief in the potential for change. Greta Thunberg, for example, employs political anger to leverage powerful speeches and collective efforts, her recent concerns about CO2 emissions countered by her confidence that climate activists ‘are not going anywhere’. Most of us fall into a muddier category; perhaps one of apathy combined with bursts of recognition, the occasional moment of truly eco-friendly effort. Some of the most common narratives about the climate crisis include the idea that it is too late to change anything, that one individual’s effort will have no impact, and that sustainable living lacks viability. Eco-philosopher, Joanna Macy, defines ‘Business as Usual’ and ‘The Great Unravelling’ as two of the most common stories that we inhabit. The first implies that nothing tangible can or will change, while the latter constitutes a hugely pessimistic narrative defined by anxiety and grief.

Despite their problems, we should respond to these stories with empathy. These are narratives that we tell ourselves in order to make sense of what is confusing, painful, or unbelievable; to make sense of that which we feel powerless against. They are dependent on mood, personal experience, and global events. I remember crafting a catastrophic scenario when initially hearing about the Ukraine war. We are human, with complicated and often strange cognitions, and this awareness should form part of any self-criticism. At the same time, it is important to remember that these narratives govern our thoughts and actions. Lapsing into certain mindsets for too long can prove unproductive. Thinking in terms ‘The Great Unravelling’, for example, might paralyse action through dread, while ‘Business as Usual’ might lead to an inertia that we can no longer risk sustaining.

While researching for this article, I listened to an interview with the climate activist, Megan Fraser. She acknowledged the different kinds of stories we tell, explaining how common they are, but also emphasised the importance of reorienting these stories towards possibility. Fraser suggests that we begin with ‘being’ as opposed to ‘doing’, focussing on our values and sense of meaning, for these can be

more powerful than extrinsic motivators. She cites Christiana Figueres, one of the architects of the Paris Climate Agreement, as an example of this method. In the run up to the agreement, Figueres faced personal struggles, which impacted the quality of her activism. To put it simply, it was only when she reoriented her sense of purpose and assumed an expansive, driven mindset that she felt able to properly pursue her work. The narratives about both herself and the world had to be re-twined.

Along with ‘Business as Usual’ and ‘The Great Unravelling’, Macy defines ‘The Great Turning’ as a potential narrative. This perspective looks back to previous instances of transformation, the feminist pursuit of the vote, for example, and implies that humanity might be on the cusp of great change, the beginning of a historical movement into climate care. Ultimately, there is space for all three of Macy’s stories and more. I often find myself leaning towards the ecofeminist, Donna Haraway’s ‘SF’, which is defined as, amongst a number of other things, ‘string figures’ and ‘speculative fabulation’. These conceptualisations suggest that our narratives about the earth are like threads to follow, patterns to inhabit that offer routes towards planetary recuperation and the modest possibility of ‘finite flourishing’.

I wonder why those children were so aware and why they predicted such negative futures. In 1966, the new millennium was distant enough not to cause panic, yet was within each of their lifetimes. They had the Cold War, but we have Putin. The technology that they imagined is our status quo. And, unlike them, we have widely shared evidence, clear signs that the environment is in decline. Wildlife populations have declined 70% percent since 1966 and CO2 emissions have increased by 90%. It might be that we’re too close to the fact now, that our inclinations to apathy are a response to imminence, or that we’re overwhelmed by media and discourse, unable to focus on the facts. Changing the narratives we tell ourselves is difficult. Most of them are unconscious and embedded. Perhaps it’s best to begin with those moments of clarity, to act on them and let awareness drive us, even if it is transient. Like Haraway notes, flourishing is finite, and if we all make a small change, something’s got to happen.

CLIMATE EMERGENCY

t can be hard to pass up a good retail therapy day, especially as a student who loves fashion and who is pursuing a stressful masters in environmental science. Yet more and more, I have heard the negatively connoted ‘fast fashion’ thrown around school and college. Fast fashion can be described as relatively inexpensive clothing that is produced rapidly in response to the latest trends. While this does not seem obviously harmful, it is both environmentally and socially detrimental. According to a report conducted by Princeton University, the fashion industry is responsible for more carbon emissions than all international flights and maritime shipping combined. If this is to continue on the same trajectory, the fashion industry will eventually become an even greater contributor to greenhouse gas emissions than it is already (which we don’t need more of – in case you haven’t heard).

Sustainability also comes into play when thinking about money. If you’re someone like myself who is intrigued by fashion and the expressive nature that comes along with it but who remains on a student budget, it can be difficult to give in to the trends or new wardrobe in general. There is an answer that solves both of these issues.

Without boring you with scientific or monetary details, hopefully you’ll now be asking something along the lines of: how can consumers reduce this problem or contribute to a more sustainable shopping routine?

While it is time-consuming, thrifting can produce rewarding outcomes and Dublin has a lot of options to offer –some only a ten minute walk away from Trinity. All of these options contribute to keeping clothes in consistent circulation rather than ending up in landfills.

In Temple Bar, right across from the tantalising Urban Outfitters, is the Dublin Vintage Factory. Most of my personal favourite thrifts have come from Dublin Vintage Factory, and as long as it’s open, I will never stop browsing there. They offer a kilo of clothes for only twenty euro, which sounds like a lot, but you do get your money’s worth. For example, I got a vintage corduroy L.L.Bean winter jacket at Dublin Vintage Factory which would be around 150 euro retail price for 29 euro! A huge difference for your wallet and for the climate.

keep to a small budget. However, if you do have the time, patience, and money to be able to check these places out they still produce good finds.

Tola Vintage and Nine Crows are similar to, but more pricey than, Dublin Vintage Factory. So they would not be my recommendation for someone trying to

While this would be the most time consuming option, there are three great and well-priced charity shops on George’s Street. These are Oxfam, Enable Ireland, and the two-story NCBI. All of the shops offer a small, but unique, selection of clothing, books, and accessories with the two-story NCBI giving in and labelling items as “vintage”. While it can be frustrating trying to find just what you’re looking for in charity shops, it is ultimately worth the reward. Out of these three shops, the one I personally have been surprised by the most is Enable Ireland, mostly because I found a Timberland rain jacket (which I use all the time because� Ireland) for 19 euro when they are normally close to 100, if not over!

Occasionally, on Eventbrite, shops or individual sellers will list clothing swaps or sales around Ireland where you can bring old clothes to exchange or buy second-hand clothes. Not many people think of checking Eventbrite for sustainable swaps, but I would recommend it because they are more common than it would seem. An example would be a Dublin pop up kilo store on the 29th of October in the Radisson Blu Royal. Events like these provide opportunities to shop sustainably or even to just browse as most of them offer free entry.

Despite this, one thing to keep in mind with having orders shipped is that it will produce a carbon footprint because of the transport it requires. So, if you do have time, shopping in person would still be best.

All of these options are essential in keeping clothes in circulation which ultimately lessens those that end up in landfill each year. Small changes lead to a big impact.

Depop is an alternative to in-person thrifting, which thankfully has a lot of Irish sellers on it. It is a very convenient shopping platform because it allows you to search for specifics as well as just browse.

One thing to be wary of with Depop is that some people will thrift clothes from charity shops and then sell them at their original retail price, so I would encourage you to look up the original pieces on Google or the brand website to ensure that you are not getting ripped off. While this can have the same time-consuming aspect that would come from inperson thrifting, you also have the luxury of delivery

One of the most accessible introductions into the dark side of the fast fashion industry is ‘The Ugly Truth of Fast Fashion’ by the Patriot Act with Hasan Minhaj. The video is available on YouTube. Hasan explains the negative impact of fast fashion with accessible scientific terms, giving concrete examples for easy understanding.

An Irish example of writing about the sustainable fashion industry is an article in The Irish Times entitled ‘Sustainable fashion: 10 Irish brands for the mindful shopper.’ One thing to be wary of is the fact that the article focuses on designer clothes, which are more expensive than those that you would find at vintage or charity shops. But if you are in the position to support local, potentially more expensive designers, then it would be worth the read.

Another option besides thrifting that can increase the circulation of pre-existing clothes is upcycling. Upcycling is essentially reusing the clothes you currently have rather than buying new ones. Some of the easiest examples of this would be using iron-on patches or painting designs to cover stains as well as using embroidery thread to sew up holes, turning the old into the new. There is endless amounts of upcycling content on YouTube and Pinterest, and you can find options based on whether or not you can sew and how much time you have to work on a piece. Another option, if the clothes were no longer wearable, is that you can cut the fabric into long scraps to be used as ribbon for things like wrapping Christmas presents or even to add onto a different piece of clothing or using them as cloths for cleaning. There are endless amounts of applications of old clothing, but it does sometimes require thinking outside of the box.

Although these options can be time consuming, ultimately they give you an outlet for creativity, to give your wallet a break, all while helping reduce reliance on the fast fashion industry.

Story/Telling

A Review of AN TIONSCADAL DROMCHLA EXHIBITION 00

by Lydia MacBride

Walk backwards out of the dream

Where a clutch of bare twigs shattered the face of the moon (Your instinct insists it can’t happen)

Peer down through dayless dim

At the milk, huddled in its cup. What else could pass From her lips to ours?

Lydia McBride’s An Tionscadal Dromchla Exhibition 00 is concise and expansive. The exhibition is described as ‘five short stories and a gallery show’, with each story carving a path through the shadow of the last story. Enter a world broken into two colours. Black and white become the poles around which all potential oppositions dissolve, vibrate, and spin. Self/Other. Presence/Absence. Fact/Fiction.

In the gallery, voices and characters summon you diaidh ar ndiaidh (one after another). Feel the ground peel away from beneath your feet, grammar holds your hand. You are guided through fragments of events spread evenly in a stark space. Black text lays large across relentlessly white walls. Words sprawl and proclaim what the dream wants for you, what it thinks of you. Text beckons you closer. A neat, slanting hand confides in you.

Remember their names; Imogen, Brigid. You dissolve into one another as the story shifts, exchanging skin for stone. Then disappear. You rub brightness into your flesh and feel your eyes ache for shade. Anonymous watchtowers will be there when you leave. Placid and pixelated, left-overs from a video game, they demand you check your story for holes, ach eadrainn féin na h-eachtraí seo. But these events are between you and I.

WORDS Emma Fitzgerald

The moon slips by your mind and the music shifts like smoke. Universal/particular, collective/individual –letters ring like bells, bringing out the shiny extra-dimensions of your being you may have shelved.

McBride’s art is an eloquent challenge to the separation of story and teller. The exhibition places you directly within the narrative and invites you to stray with the cleverly costumed others. The term folk-lure grew on my tongue as folk-lore was shed softly. I wanted to know more, and the stories rewarded my search. Irish is folded against Béarla with precision. Caverns and pockets of time blossom outwards as the words themselves are wrought into new forms. I could describe the stories as a blend of mystery, sci-fi, ritual, poetry – Cúchullain and Oisín made cameos as I read. An Tionscadal Dromchla is the cure for the chronic re-packaging of Irish culture into tourist adventures and the limits placed on our gendered bodies. Stories pass from lip to ear. The gallery arches and shudders above and beyond your shoulders, a queer and familiar space, a plot that offers you a new name.

A4 Sounds is a non-profit artist-run workspace and gallery in north-inner-city Dublin. It is one of the biggest artist-led spaces in Ireland, currently providing facilities and professional development supports to seventy artists. Memberships are currently available.

Love Is The Message, The Message is Death

By Arthur Jafa

US. American artist and filmmaker Arthur Jafa’s seminal work, Love is the Message, the Message is Death, opened at the Douglas Hyde Gallery on the 8th of October. Love is the Message, a 2016 multimedia film, combines pre-existing images, videos, and sounds to create a striking and poignant picture of Black American culture, identity, trials and triumphs.

Born and raised in Tupelo, Mississippi, Jafa’s work primarily focuses on expressions of Black identity and culture. A careful and delicate consideration of Black experiences has always been the focus of his work, using mediums ranging from sculpture to film. Throughout his decades-long career as a cinematographer and visual artist, Jafa has worked with directors such as Spike Lee, Julie Dash, and Stanley Kubrick, as well as artists like Solange and Kara Walker.

Love is the Message is presented simply in the gallery. The roughly seven minute film plays on a continuous loop in a dark and open room. The eeriness of the space effortlessly captivates audiences, a state well-suited to the tone of the film.

From the moment the video begins, the contrast and affective proximity of the images and clips make the viewer sit up straighter. Rapid cuts between moments of joy and horror, community and solitude, beauty and destruction draw the viewer in, begging them to understand that Black experiences are not parallel lines of jubilation and sorrow. Rather, they are intersections. They have their own character, but systemic racist oppression has rendered it certain that these paths inevitably cross.

Together each of the found footage clips Jafa compiled and set to Kanye West’s ‘Ultralight Beam’ take on new meaning. By using found footage Jafa highlights that being Black and creative within a white supremacist society leads to the exploitation of the art

and the creator. Simultaneously, found footage also offers a note on continuity. It is striking to see an image of violence from fifty years ago mimic one from ten years ago. On the other end of the spectrum, a moment of joy unknowingly recreated decades later is captivating. Jafa’s virtual collage is transcendent of a single time.

The sun reappears as a visual motif throughout the film, spelling out a key message. Culture, much like the sun, is a giver of life, inseparable from human flourishing. Jafa expertly illustrates this connection, Black culture, and the work of Black artists as fulfilling the role of the sun. The world loves Black culture, but at the cost of Black lives. A world without the gift of Black culture would lack vibrancy and humanity, becoming lifeless itself.

Jafa began his work on Love is the Message in 2014, before premiering it for an American audience two years later. Is there any kind of footnote required for a 2022 viewing in a more global context? The answer is yes and no. A viewing of Love is the Message considering recent events like George Floyd’s murder and the horrifyingly inequitable treatment of Black Americans during the COVID-19 pandemic is paramount. Furthermore, while Jafa uses images primarily from American settings, it is evident that the exploitation of Black culture is a global phenomenon. Love is the Message is relevant viewing for any audience. And yet, the patterns from any time or place would likely mimic each other again and again. Love is the Message, The Message is Death is a call to end the cycle.

Love is the Message, The Message is Death runs at the Douglas Hyde Gallery from 8th of October until the 6th of November. Image courtesy of the artist and the Douglas Hyde Gallery.

WORDS Annabelle Frockt

“We must disrupt the assumption that the assertion of love is something that does not need to be disrupted.” - Traci C. West.

ART & DESIGN

ISANDISNOT

By Willie Doherty

Above:Forgotten,2022.

Across:Elsewhere,2022

AllimagescourtesytheartistandKerlinGallery.

WORDS Isabelle Doyle and Kate Moloney

Established in 1988, the Kerlin Gallery is a hidden gem in Dublin’s art scene. On the second floor of their Anne’s Lane building, I recently encountered a haunting and emotive collection of photographs depicting the aftermath of human ecological intervention and conflict.

The darkness of the photos in contrast to the bright room drowned out the busyness of the room occupied by those who looked like established photographers and regulars of the art world. Bare walls and a white, well-lit, minimal space allowed for me to be engulfed by the storied world of the photographs. This immediately highlighted the emotional quality in Doherty’s work.

IS AND IS NOT, celebrates the tension between human interactions and the emotions held in the materials and spaces that make them. This exhibition spans many unspecified locations, not commenting on the particular happenings in each location. Instead it is an expansive rumination on the residue of all things in the places we once inhabited. An exploration into the ‘poetry’ of dereliction.

The artist himself, Willie Doherty, made his way around the exhibition, eager to greet visitors. Born in Derry in Northern Ireland, Doherty has been a professional artist for forty years. Employing the mediums of photography and video, most of his work is rooted in his home city and explores themes of human conflict and the passage of time. Growing up during The Troubles and witnessing Bloody Sunday as a child had a big impact on him, influencing much of his art as he grew up. He has gone on to host countless successful exhibitions and win many prestigious awards such as the Turner Award in 1994 and 2003.

Now, Doherty employs once more his forensic approach and long developed skill in black and white analog photography, maintaining the engaging gaze characteristic of his work. The slow and diligent process of analog photography translates to the slow observation of this exhibition encouraged by its curation, as does the intensity with which Doherty revisited his subject matter throughout his work. The environment instils a feeling of hostility and isolation that gradually grows familiar.

pieces

These pieces take us on a journey through a range of abandoned worlds. Grassy woodlands, small towns, and graffitied doors articulate the impact we have on the places in which we reside. The exhibition contains fourteen pieces, intuitively and meticulously curated to ineffably mirror a sprawling quiet evening or a meditatively long sentence. This cohesive collection invites the visitor into a different realm of contemplation.

Beginning at Morning, I fell into a hazy reminiscence of the seaside. The main wall then holds eight core pieces, grouped by tone and theme. Airless and Motionless starkly reference marks left by human beings. Following this were four darker and subtler pieces alternating between industrial and woodland settings, illustrating the scope of the artist’s observation of this theme.

Long Shadow 2022 stood out to me. The walls of an alley covered in graffiti, the ground carpeted in moss, showing signs of neglect and carelessness.

IS AND IS NOT captures scenes of nature and urban landscapes around Derry. The stark, monochromatic nature of the photographs allow for the textures of the trees, bricks and wildflowers to be placed at the forefront. I was struck by the lack of movement in his work. These are photographs devoid of people, highlighting a feeling of abandonment, conflict, and neglect of our home by humans.

The stark, monochromatic nature of the photographs allow for the textures of the at

Hanging solitarily on the wall facing Morning, Derry 30th January 2022 acts as a palette refresher. The descriptive title is the only one in which the location is specified, and so I felt reminded of reality as we enter into the last leg of the trancelike experience.

In Elsewhere 2022 a car is being submerged into a forest as the tree branches and wildflowers slowly reclaim it. The static feel invited me to carefully observe the setting and be thoughtful of the eventual erasure of all things through time.

Disruption 2022 presented me with a scene of an unkempt forest, with old, barbed wire hanging from the trees and a discarded boat at the centre. I was particularly haunted by the dark shadows of the deep woods behind in the back.

Midnight, the only diptych, concludes the exhibition. A delicate shot of a dilapidated building and broken awning is paired with an uphill shot of an unfocused dog, staring down the artist and forcing us as viewers to reflect on our role in this whole experiential transaction before we leave - the first sign of new life.

Doherty’s work exposes hidden landscapes that conceal a troubled past. He explores the historical truth, exposing the aftermath of brutality and shame, showcasing what is and what is not.

Doherty’s

ISANDISNOTisrunningintheKerlinGalleryuntilthe19thofNovember.

Cratedigging:

A treasure seeker, hidden gem finder, someone with an eye for good vintage, whether exploring crates of vinyl or bins of clothes.

PHOTOGRAPHY Alannah Hassett

MODELS Laura Shannon & Ashley Gerasch CREATIVE DIRECTION & STYLING Aisling Finegan & Grace Maddock-O’Driscoll MAKEUP Willow Burrows

Special thanks to Jenny Vander Vintage for generously lending pieces & Tower Records for the shooting location.

FILM

2010 was a big year in the sphere of pop culture. One Direction came third place on the X Factor, Lady Gaga had melomaniacs with vegans alike gasping at her fleshy frock at the VMA’s, and Disney had their first soaring success with a live action remake. Tim Burton’s gothic-toned Alice in Wonderland became only the sixth film in history to gross over one billion dollars at the time of its release. With its darker, more mature stylisation, its eccentric environmental visuals, and an action-packed story propelled by stellar female characters, the reimagining of this 1951 film struck gold with a 21st century audience.

It wasn’t Disney’s first live-action effort. That honour goes to 1994’s The Jungle Book (and yes, they rehashed it in 2016) They also released a pair of 101 Dalmatians films with Glenn Close (and yes, they made a ‘Cruella’ spin-off in 2021.) However, Disney didn’t start digging deeper until the turn of the ‘tens. Since then, Disney has re- leased 14 live-action off-spring as of August 2022, and the gold rush isn’t slowing anytime soon with a whopping 19 titles floating sosomewhere down Disney’s production pipe line.

Of course, there are exceptions. Christopher Robin is a honey-sweet film about the pains of growing up and rediscovering your inner child. It’s pleasantly sappy and simple. The Wicked-esque approach to the first Maleficent film whererethinking the wrongdoer’s origins was intriguing and added a lot of depth to one of Disney’s least fleshed out villains.

However, this is exactly the element where the majority of the live action remakes fall down. The reimagined characters are stretched out so thinly over a torture rack of painful new plotlines, very obvious political shoe-horning, and cheap self-referencing that they are left spent and souless compared to their animated counterparts. They are merely reduced to flimsy sheets of characters left behind in the torn up pages of the original stories. For the purposes of exploring this conundrum I’ll be focusing on Mulan (2020) and The Lion King (2019) so spoiler alert for those who have managed to avoid them.

We’ll start with, in my opinion, the worst Disney remake of them all. 2020’s reign truly was merciless. I was willing to give Mulan a chance even after

And why would they stop? Four of their remakes have crossed the billion dollar box office mark, two of which, Aladdin and The Lion King, both came out in 2019. Not even two months apart. That is virtually unheard of during the notoriously competitive summer box office season. Clearly, there is such a hankering appetite for these films that Disney has conjured up a whole new kitchen dedicated to stewing and serving out these live-action feasts. It’s a dream deal really. Disney can keep re-releasing the same tried and tested stories and children’s parents get to bask in the comfort of films they loved as youths with a seemingly more mature and realistic spin that keeps them interested. There seems to be only one problem with this contemporary phenomenon that I, along with a pen-wielding angry mob of animators and film critics, can’t seem to get over. A lot of these live-action films are just not good. At all. Rather than a feast, they are more like a tepid buffet. Trays of sloppy mush of no real substance that just make you achingly long for your usual, favourite restaurant and their classic carbonara instead.

discovering they were cutting all of the songs and Mushu for a seemingly more mature and grittier remake that would revitalise the beloved story for modern cinema goers. Instead of songs, we were promised by producer James Reed the “whole breath” of the Mulan character as represented in ancient Chinese culture. He said in an interview with Collider that removing the songs made room for this to be explored. In a cultural climate that is always striving for more representation and diversity, this could have created great enrichment for the character and story.

Except this does not happen. The catastrophic changes to Mulan’s character don’t enrich the film at all. In fact they somehow manage to butcher one of Disney’s most likeable and charismatic princesses along with her message. Mulan in the animated film is admirable as a great protagonist because she’s a relatable, ordinary girl who goes against the odds of a gruelling patriarchal society, using her resilience, intelligence, and unique femininity

to overcome obstacles in the army. In the live action film, however, Mulan is born with powerful ‘Qi’, Mulan is born with powerful ‘Qi’, which grants her supernatural abilities reserved for warriors. There are so many things wrong here. First and foremost, it’s not even culturally accurate. ‘Qi’ in Chinese culture is described as being the life-force of any living entity, not a Captain America strength serum that women can’t possess. It completely nullifies the empowering stance of the original film by bastardising a cultural philosophy and weaponizing it to create a weak feminist rhetoric that undermines its own message. This sentiment was put best by Christina Pan who writes, “Now instead of having Mulan fight alongside men and prove that women are equally as competent as men, the message is that only the few women who are “chosen” are capable.”

Furthermore, the film is drained of any fun. In removing songs, the animation medium, and the entertaining side-kick, there’s an empty, gaping void left behind that isn’t filled. Removing fun doesn’t add grit like these live actions crave. Instead, it creates a blackhole that further sucks life from these remakes.

The Lion King also suffers from this desired element of realism. In Disney’s mission to push its CGI to the limits and dazzle us with feats of visual technology, the film loses all of its original spunk and persona. A prime example of this is the watered down version of Scar’s ‘“Be Prepared.” The song was shortened and spliced to make room for a Beyoncé contemporary gospel track that adds nothing as it plays over a montage of Simba running through photorealistic landscape backgrounds. Now, Scar’s iconic scene becomes a pretty realistic looking lion wandering around some fabricated rocks. That could describe the energy of the entirety of this film. Disney seems to be putting everything and anything over the value of it’s source materials, whether that be performative acts of undermining feminism, cultural brutalisation or technological exploration.

There’s also a notable coincidence in the films that Disney has been remaking. Three out of the four billion dollar remakes are from the ‘Disney Renaissance’ period (1989-1999). They are clearly marketed towards millennials, who grew up with the originals (and Beyoncé for that matter) and now have children of their own. If anything, one of the few points that these live-action remakes do prove is that childhood nostalgia is powerful, and many viewers are unknowingly looking through rose-coloured spectacles when watching these less than spectacular films that remind them of simpler times.

If these original films are from the Disney Renaissance, then we’re deep in that strange period around the mid 1800’s when the stark photorealism of the camera was all the rage and artists were struggling to reinvent their creative purpose in a modern world. After this, however, there was light at the end of the tunnel with the glow of the impressionists and their use of soul-stirring colour and light. With that in mind, we can only pray that Disney takes on a similar trajectory in the future with more vibrant, and I dare say, original storytelling.

WORDS Marissa Hennessy

Live Action Remakes

FILM

The Rise of

WORDS Ava Bolger

Three characters, two numbers, one letter and a production studio named after an Italian highway. We need to talk about A24. What is that little white logo that flashes on screen before most of the low budget, aesthetically pleasing movies from the past decade - the one that introduces all the movies recommended by your film degree friends?

A24 Films was initially founded as a distribution company in 2012 by Daniel Katz, David Fenkel and John Hodges in New York City, with the aim of showcasing “movies from a distinctive point of view”. Since they first began ten years ago, the studio has distributed 110 films and their films have received a total of twenty five Academy Award nominations to date. But what is it that has taken this small movie distribution company and set them on the path to becoming the face of arthouse films?

First and foremost, it is clear to see that in an industry laden with sensationalism, explosions, reboots, and reboots of reboots, the masses value the authenticity of A24 films. A24 tells stories about people to people and does not limit themselves to just one genre. They have made movies exploring the horror genre, such as Midsommar (2019) and Hereditary (2018). They have produced drama movies such as The Lighthouse (2019), and The Farewell (2019) , as well as some curious comedies such as Swiss Army Man (2016), and their now infamous, Everything Everywhere All At Once (2022). However, they are best known for producing some of the most beautiful coming-of-age films of the last decade, such as Lady Bird (2017), Mid

90s (2018), Eighth Grade (2018) and The Florida Project (2017). Using beautifully crafted stories and picturesque scenes laden with emotion, they portray real life perspectives and narratives which are rarely seen in the film market today. Many of A24’s films have very loose and minimal plots, with a stronger focus instead toward theme, characters, and cinematography, and this niche aesthetic is what they have become associated with. There are innumerable amounts of TikToks and Spotify playlists trying to recreate the vibe of an A24 film; of hazy summer days and the fear of growing up but it is impossible to truly claim the style of one of these movies because there is no definitive style. That’s what everyone says, ‘I know what an A24 film is, but no A24 film is like any other’.

With their wide array of movies, there is something that caters to everybody’s taste but that is not to say that they cater to the masses. They are very creator driven, constantly looking to find universality within specifics, and, as cheesy as it is to say, there is a strong sense that they are driven by passion over profit. These films are not about pleasing the audience with a happy ending and tying up everything neatly with a bow. They are uninterested in catering to the masses as can be seen in the way that they shy away from mass theatrical screenings. Despite their internet infamy, A24 movies are notoriously hard to find in commercial cinemas. They recognise that most people aren’t trying to watch a man use a corpse’s flatulence to propel him across the sea (Swiss Army Man), or a movie about two lighthouse keepers slowly descending into madness (The Lighthouse).

Therefore, they are strategic in putting the films into cinemas with an audience that will be more eager to watch them, normally opting for smaller ‘indie’ cinemas.

This is linked with the second major reason for their success which is their brilliance in marketing. A24 have been pioneers in their marketing strategies from their debut. They have always been a brand associated with their social media presence, most notably their personified twitter account where they retweet memes about themselves and show a general sense of self awareness. The New York Times reported that “for most theatrical releases, A24 would spend roughly 95 percent of its marketing money online,” and this definitely comes across when one looks at the marketing campaigns they hosted for a variety of the films they have distributed. For instance, when Spring Breakers was released back in 2012, putting the studio on the map, a large percentage of ticket sales were generally thought to be owed to the social media marketing campaign which featured the star studded cast of the film arranged in a parody of Leonardo Da Vinci’s painting ‘The Last Supper.’ The internet exploded at the controversial image circulating the internet and this controversy ultimately coincided with cinema attendance. The LA Times raved about how the studio let loose “the viral image of James Franco as a resplendently thugged-out Jesus.”

They continued to lean into the steadily growing influence of social media over the years and learned how to manipulate it to their advantage. One of their

most memorable stunts was when they created a tinder account for Ava, the protagonist of the 2014 hit Ex Machina played by Alicia Vikander to promote the movie on the weekend of its release. AdWeek reported that, ‘Ava’ asked questions such as, “Have you ever been in love?” and “What makes you human” before sending her matches a link to an Instagram, which revealed the nature of the stunt as it was filled with an ad for the Ex Machina premiere and a short clip from the movie.

This is not the only social media account they have made for a movie character- shockingly, not even the only one they have made for a non-human character. Back in 2015 to promote Robert Eggers horror film, The Witch they created a Twitter account for ‘Black Phillip’ the breakout goat star of the film. Undoubtedly hilarity ensued with them posting memes and even poking fun at Donald Trump who was running for president at the time

Perhaps their success is owed to everything I’ve mentioned above, their unflinching authenticity and smart marketing interns- maybe- or maybe they’re just catering to an audience proven to love any modern movie with a four by three aspect ratio. Either way, they’re doing something right. In an industry as flashy and competitive as cinema, distributors tend to be quite invisible and yet the production logo for A24, a relatively tiny company, carries cultural weight with filmmaker Augustine Frizzell even describing it as a ‘stamp of approval.’ That has got to mean something.

November Recommendations From An Amateur Gamer

Little Nightmares I (2017) & II (2021)

I’ll begin by recommending the most frustrating and difficult out of all my favourite games. The Little Nightmares series is a puzzle-platform survival horror game and the first game took me about eight hours altogether to complete. This may not seem too bad, but you’d be amazed at how frustrated you can get at its protagonist, Six. Either I’m bad at survival games or she was actively trying to get herself killed. If you enjoy puzzles, being scared out of your mind, and futuristic dystopian worlds, this game is for you. Watch out for any scene involving a kitchen; those are what certainly caused me the most frustration. The second game, in my opinion, is better than the first game, but that may be because I enjoy plot-based games too much. Although there’s no speech, we learn in this game why the world is the way it is and it offers a twist at the end of the game that I still think about daily. I played both games on a Playstation, but it is also available on Nintendo Switch, Xbox One, PC, and mobile. Enjoy being terrified by childhood fears and feeling incredibly clever after you finish each chapter.

This is a story-based indie adventure game that follows the life of Sal Fisher, a boy with a prosthetic face, after he moves to the Addison Apartments. The game can be occasionally challenging, although it requires significantly less gameplay than Little Nightmares - there is no real time limit on the challenges and you don’t have to worry about starting a puzzle all over again if you fail. If you enjoy murder myseries, found family, and supernatural activity, this is the game for you. I will say - there are some graphic and unsettling scenes, with one on-screen suicide and graphic depictions of cannibalism. There are also themes of internalised homophobia and self-loathing, particularly in the third chapter. The game consists of five chapters total, each taking about four hours to complete. This game is available on PC, Nintendo Switch, Xbox One, and both Playstation 4 and 5.

Sally Face (2016)

Little Misfortune (2019)

This is the shortest game on this recommendation list, as I finished it in one five hour sitting. Still, it holds a very dear place in my heart. This is a short adventure game that revolves around the character of Misfortune (who is incredibly misfortunate), as she is guided by a voice in her head claiming that it (the voice) will lead her to eternal happiness. The game is very amusing and your actions have consequences, which I love very much. You will laugh and, if you’re anything like me, you will definitely cry by the end. The game focuses mostly on exploration and the journey. Don’t worry about solving puzzles in this one, just focus on collecting tokens, making choices and having fun. You can play this game on Playstation 4 or Nintendo Switch, or you can spend about ten euro on Google Play and play it on your phone. It’s definitely worth it, although I will say the experience is much more fun on a big screen.

Night in the Woods (2017)

Finally, we come to what might just be my favourite game on this list. This is an adventure game that follows the life of Mae Borowski when she moves back to her hometown after leaving university. There isn’t really much gameplay other than exploring the town and choosing which friends you want to hang out with the most, but the story is beautiful, the scenery is amazing and I find myself quoting from this game often. There are many characters to interact with and depending on who you interact with and how often you do it, the story changes ever so slightly. It takes around ten hours to finish and it is completely worth it.

In conclusion, whether you want to be challenged or just sit back and explore new worlds, there is something on this list for you. Get frustrated, become attached to the characters, gasp at the twists - gaming is like being inside your favourite movie. You care for the characters deeply and can influence them to an extent. Give it a go, fellow amateur gamers!

Do you want to get into gaming, but have no idea where to start? Do you watch game play throughs for the storyline, character and plot rather than the actual game-play? Well, don’t worry, because this article is for you!

GAMES & TECH

Context: I am not a tech guru. Everything I know comes from friends who work in the industry, engineers, or from YouTube. I am the absolute last person anyone should ever come to for tech advice. Ironically, this makes me perfect to tell you my experience and feelings about the Steam Deck! I am someone who likes video games, owns a Nintendo Switch, and does not have a PC. In other words, a target audience member for this particular step into on-the-go gaming!

I purchased a Steam Deck for a variety of reasons. One is that while I want a proper gaming set up, I don’t have the money or time to invest in a project that is extreme. Another reason is because I - brace yourselves - am an Apple user. Please hold on to the rotten fruit, or better yet compost it, because I have my reasons. The problem with a MacBook is that most Steam games can’t or won’t run on the Apple operating system (macOS) and many game development companies don’t see the point in expanding the market in that direction. This means I can’t play certain games with my friends, such as Phasmophobia, that they all have a great time doing together.

So when the Steam Deck was announced I was ecstatic! I couldn’t wait for this Steam version of the Switch to exist! Then I saw the price tag. This was the biggest issue for me, simultaneously a pro and a con regarding the Steam Deck. The version with the biggest storage (and some other perks) was more than €680. That put me off a fair bit. That’s more than twice a Nintendo Switch, about half the cost of an iPhone, and is about two weeks worth of rent and utilities. But in the end, that price versus a full gaming rig? Which can be about €2,000-6,000 due to the parts shortage? No contest.

When it arrived, I cried tears of joy. I couldn’t wait to get started.

The Steam Deck itself is glamorous, slick, and heavy. I quickly realized that I would need wrist strength or to be propping it on a pillow or something for long periods of gaming. But after playing it for several hours it wasn’t terribly different from my Switch, just a bit bulkier. The main difference has been the battery. Be warned that the battery is not particularly hardy, nor long lasting compared to things like laptops or the Switch, so I basically play it at home. This does not dissuade from day trips however - the battery does

Console Review:

Steam Deck

Tech Review from a Newb

last several hours, depending entirely on the games you play. So, while you might see me with it on campus, I don’t currently have plans to take it camping.

Other aspects: the display is great! It’s a touch screen for those who, like me, have issues with patience and wanting to just tap something on the screen as op -

Bluetooth capabilities. I have not noticed a significant difference in quality depending on which I use. I managed to connect my keyboard and Bluetooth headphones at the same time and watch a YouTube video, so know that if you are willing to deal with the oddity of a desktop on such a small screen, you could probably do your essays on your Deck.

posed to using the toggles to move around my selections. The brightness is good and the Steam Deck has nighttime darkening options. In short, it works well for what it is meant to do!

The buttons and toggles are also good. The placement for everything is comfortable, though my biggest issue is that the X, Y, A and B buttons are switched. This is because they are one way for XBox and the other for Nintendo and can you guess which Steam chose?. I keep hitting B instead of A to select something and go back to the previous screen. But that’s a me problem! All the buttons and triggers are very responsive. I have an easy time using them when I remember which configuration I am supposed to be using. The track pads are also easy to use, though they have less of a purpose in the Steam/Game Mode than they do on Desktop Mode.

Did I forget to mention? The Steam Deck has multi-use capabilities! There is basically a computer in the Deck that you can access! The main way to move the mouse around is the trackpads, which can get a bit irritating because the screen is a tad small for those tiny ‘x’s for closing windows, but it’s cool all the same! I have read of people “breaking” or “hacking” their Decks in order to run various games, but based on my understanding this can lower the function ability of the Deck as a whole so I have chosen not to do this.

For audio there’s an audio jack and the Deck also has

The only hardware thing left to mention for me is the cooling system. Remember I mentioned this is basically a computer? Well, it has a fan and starts heating up after extended periods of use. I have not been uncomfortable using it, and while it can be a little loud, it is no louder than a personal fan or background noise from the street. I don’t really notice it, but different people have different irritants and I know that can be a big one.

For gameplay, I prefer gaming on the Deck than my computer. I have gamed on PCs, my MacBook with a streaming setup, but so far my penchant for casual gaming is consoles. That I can play in almost any position on a couch, chair, or on my bed is such a benefit over having to find a comfortable position for my hands on a keyboard while my buttocks goes numb in yet another office chair. I have spent many hours playing Hades on both my computer and on my Deck and I have a definitive preference.

In closing, I love my Steam Deck and it was worth every single penny I paid. The price still makes me cringe, but I made a little extra at my summer job which helps make up for that a bit. If you are happy with your keyboard and aren’t going anywhere anytime soon, maybe save your money. But if you are regularly travelling, or don’t have the space for a whole gaming set up, this is definitely an option you should check out!

TLDR: I love my baby and you will suffer terribly if there is a scratch - but it is a little expensive.

Books Which Encapsulate Autumn

WORDS Leah Kelly ILLUSTRATIONS Linde Vergeylen

For me, autumn is the season for reading. The academic year has started. I’m feeling motivated, maybe I’ve even bought a bullet journal. I’m attending all my lectures, wearing sweaters, drinking coffee, and feeling like Rory Gilmore. This mood naturally lends itself to reading more and trying to embrace the season as much as possible in my reading. Some books just scream autumn. This might be because they are set during the season, or because they capture some of the vibes associated with autumn and Halloween.

Autumn is a versatile season and there are a few genres of books I associate with it. There are spooky and scary horror novels that remind me of Halloween and are best read during October. Then, we have the gothic novel; full of gloomy weather, angst, a fixation

on decay, with supernatural beings, haunted settings, and the tropes we now recognise in horror novels.

There’s something so melancholic about autumn in how the sun has just left us, the trees have lost their leaves and the winds rise, making gothic novels the obvious way to embrace the season.

The main event in autumn is, of course, Halloween. Naturally, the season with a holiday dedicated to all things scary is the best time to read a good horror novel or anything supernatural related. I always make an effort to read more horror novels during October as horror isn’t a genre I usually read, and the Halloween holiday gives me an excuse to branch out. Some of the horror novels which encapsulate autumn the most for me include -

PET SEMATARY

by Stephen King

This is one of Stephen King’s best works, and its theme of decay relates to the autumnal vibes. Obviously, during autumn, leaves fall off trees, and flowers that bloom in summer begin to wither and die. Therefore anything with themes of death or decay is associated with autumn in my mind. Our protagonist Louis moves with his wife and two children to rural Maine. With the help of his neighbour Judd, he discovers a mysterious burial ground that resurrects dead creatures. It is creepy and dark, a book you want to read with your back to a wall so you know no one is behind you. Featuring cats, death, and creepy cemeteries, it makes a perfect read around Halloween time.

THE COLLECTOR by John Fowles

This is a classic horror novel that doesn’t involve the supernatural: just plain human cruelty. Shy and withdrawn Frederick collects butterflies because he is enamoured with their beauty. He meets a woman named Miranda who he also finds beautiful - so he decides to collect her too. This novel takes place during autumn, as Frederick kidnaps Miranda on October 7th. Being a horror novel set in October, it screams perfect autumn reading.

FRANKENSTEIN by Mary Shelley

Frankenstein is part gothic novel, part horror, and part science fiction. You’re probably familiar with the plot - Victor Frankenstein, a young mad scientist creates a monster out of old body parts. After creating this life, he rejects it and runs away due to its monstrosity, setting off a horrifying chain of events. I read this for the first time last October, and it is now one of my quintessential autumn reads that I would come back to any year. It is not only a gripping horror

story but also an exploration of parental rejection and how evil can grow in a person who has been terribly wronged.

Gothic novels, characterised by gloomy settings and dark themes, capture the dark aspects of autumn perfectly and make for excellent reading on a cold November night. In particular, Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte and Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier come to mind. Other gothic novels like The Haunting of Hill House, The Picture of Dorian Grey, Wuthering Heights and The Phantom of The Opera can also be best enjoyed with a sombre autumn backdrop.

JANE EYRE by Charlotte Brontë

Jane Eyre is perhaps the most iconic gothic romance novel. Jane, our headstrong protagonist, goes to work at Thornfield Hall where she meets Rochester and their romance begins. Apart from this romance, there are also very strange things happening at Thornfield Hall, and our broody Byronic hero Rochester is at its centre. The book begins in Autumn, on a ‘dreary November day’ when Jane is a child and she arrives at Thornfield on a ‘fine autumn morning’ Most of the main events of the novel take place in autumn and it is saturated with the gothic style throughout, making it a quintessential autumn read for me.

REBECCA by Daphne Du Maurier

Rebecca is an atypical haunted house story. We follow our young unnamed protagonist as she marries and moves into the house of Maxim De Winter, a charming and brooding widow. Rebecca was his first wife who died in mysterious circumstances less than a year ago. There is nothing supernatural in this book, but every page is haunted by Rebecca’s ghost. The whole manor seems to belong to her still. The fixation on death, the bleak setting, and the engrossing mystery at the heart of this tale make it perfect autumn reading.

Cosier Autumnal Alternatives

Autumn is not all darkness and gloom. It’s also the season of productivity, coffee, pumpkins, starting to wear jumpers again, apple pie, acorns, and many other lovely things. When I’m not looking for something quite as macabre as horror and Gothic novels, I gravitate to these cosier autumn reads. These novels deal with university life or are set during autumn and encapsulate the warmer and sweeter side of Autumn.

NORMAL PEOPLE

by Sally Rooney

This book’s association with autumn is mostly due to the setting. Autumn is the beginning of the academic year, and for me, is a time when I feel most productive and happy at university. Normal People tells the story of Connell and Marianne, who met in secondary school, and how their connection with each other matures and changes over their four years at Trinity. The book takes full advantage of the setting and mostly revolves around college life, reminding me of that productive beginning of September feeling. It is the perfect book to read just after heading back to college after summer so that you can romanticise your life a bit.

OUTLANDER

by Diana Gabaldon

In 1946, Claire Randall and her husband Frank go on a second honeymoon to the Scottish highlands to reconnect after spending so much time apart during the war. After witnessing a Samhain ritual at the local standing stones, Claire is transported back to 1746. There she meets a charming young man named Jamie Fraser. It is part historical drama, part romance, and part fantasy. The autumnal association is that the event which sends Claire back to the past is the Sam-

hain (also known as Halloween) ritual. Besides that, the setting of the Scottish Highlands allows for many lush descriptions of nature. The blend of genres and the beautiful romance at the centre makes it a perfect book to escape into as the temperatures drop.

THE ONCE AND FUTURE WITCHES

by Alix E

Harrow

This is a book about witches, but not the scary Halloween kind. In this world, witches were once powerful and numerous before the burnings began. Years later, in 1893 they only exist in rumours. That is, until three estranged sisters join the suffrage movement and start to pursue witchcraft and delve into the old magic to help the cause. By focusing on witches, it taps into the supernatural and Halloween aspects of autumn without being a horror novel.

TWILIGHT by Stephenie Meyer

Weirdly enough, this might be the book which most encapsulates Autumn on this list. The bleak setting of the gloomiest city in the US, the romance, the vampires, a broody Byronic hero, taking place in high school and starting in September, an apple on the cover? There is no other season that could be associated with Twilight, it is so steeped in everything autumnal. With romance and vampires, it is perfect cosy escapism - a Halloween staple.

Whether you love Autumn for Halloween, its glum nature and dreary weather, feeling productive in September or just drinking coffee and getting cosy with a light read - there’s an autumnal read out there to fit any vibe.

Sophie Fullam

LITERATURE

Éire

I see you across the water.

You are not emerald as I imagined protruding, like a cold pebble washed over by shoreline chaos and released exposed again, dark and damp. Glistening

you, Éire, are the horizons of my hopes what am I? Small Brit looking for new life at sea: waiting for grey to turn Emerald,

I see you across the water.

Dublin Fox

Scruffy bog brush aloft, up to mischief Dublin fox follow me home, an umber escort against Night sweats, spiritual therapists and risky business – doing his business in the street.

Simon’s Blues

Dog eared pages barking coffee machines bleat Shit the milk is burned a caricature laugh from the interior beckons –carried on air steeped in caffeine stink –trills in harmony with screaming milk slurping his coffee as I chew on cake-fudge and continue to turn the scuffed page over over over chasing the scent of the next big thing that means very little

Line Break: Featured Poet, Rebecca Gutteridge

Sea swimming

Cosy Macs (NOT dry robes – we are the cosy mac gang), UGGs, sea shoes, sun cream (to help the sea shoes slide off), hot water for hands and feet afterwards (a swimmer’s tip) Jaffa Cakes for Sustenance: all the right kit. The sea swimming brigade descends acrunch onto hostile surface chit chatting, pebbles clattering, grit cascading.

The weather is good. (It is spitting and 11°C) Aye, it is. how are your sons? 10 degrees, do you reckon? In there.

I got stung by bees yesterday. The Queen is called Trix, after my mother. I was only trying to give the blasted animals water; sidling in timidly, then wading triumphantly before the Earth drops out. Disconnection; Momentary panic; ecstatic thrill; pride. Bobbing, water sliding between toes smooth, oleaginous, weightless –then out. Ten minutes up, the lengthy after-faff of getting dry now human again extremities then to land and away.

TN2’s ongoing poetry series Line Break is thriled to feature four poems from Trinity poet

Line Break aims to give a platform to exciting new poets from Trinity. If you would like your poetry to be considered for publication, simply submit it to literature@tn2magazine.ie, along with your name and a one-sentence bio.

Rebecca Gutteridge is a British master’s student studying Irish Writing at Trinity. Her academic interests lie in gender and material culture, and her poetry – while finding freedom from the rigid constraints of academic writing– follows similar themes. Her lyric is set within dislocating domestic spaces that bridge childhood and adulthood: playing on spatial awareness and distance to convey a sense of alienation. Memories of childhood often invade present concerns with love and loss. More recently, her writing has been shaped by her move to Ireland, expatriatism, and the uncanniness of cultural similarity within difference in a postcolonial landscape.

MUSIC EVOLUTION, AMBITION, ANDARCTIC MONKEYS’ THECAR

WORDS Frank Crossen

Describing music as ‘Beatles-esque’ is a dusty platitude. Even worse, it’s quite meaningless when taken literally – am I referring to ‘She Loves You’ or ‘A Day in The Life’? It’s true that “Beatles-esque” could mean a plethora of things. Yet, this is exactly why I think there is, at least philosophically, something ‘Beatles-esque’ about Arctic Monkeys’ new album, The Car –and it’s not just strings.

Arctic Monkeys have amassed a truly chameleon crop of albums; from the frenetic noise of their debut, to the supermarket-ready sounds of AM, to the more sophisticated sci-fi of Tranquillity Base Hotel & Casino. They have, for better or worse, embodied a philosophy of constant growth – or change, at the very least. On their new album, this ethic leads them right and wrong in equal proportion, with tunes I can tepidly vouch for, and others I can heartily respect for their artistic ambition – if not for much else.

The Sheffield four-piece consists of bassist Nick O’Malley, drummer Matt Helders, lead guitarist Jamie Cook, and vocalist-guitarist Alex Turner. The band exploded onto the scene in 2006 with their debut album, Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not, wherein Turner spins tales of teens on the town over punky power-chord riffs, told with an eloquence unexpected of a rambunctious teenager. The Car is their seventh studio album and serves to further vex any effort to stratify the band into a genre more specific than ‘rock’.

The Car is laden with musical explorations utterly alien from the pre-theoretical punch of their first record. Harmonically, it lives in the land of large chords, dizzyingly dense when compared with those two-note power-chords of early days. Chord progressions are unusual; often pleasantly so, as in ‘Body Paint’. However, this approach sometimes yields progressions that can uncharitably be described as directionless, as in ‘Mr. Schwartz’. The record also features some rhythmic experimentation that is refreshing and tasteful. ‘Body Paint’ boasts many such instances, with an odd number of phrases in the bridge and some dropped beats in the outro jam. These curiosities are seamlessly executed, coming across as interesting and novel rather than unnecessary or pretentious.

Although it certainly has some singable tunes, the catchiest track on The Car doesn’t hold a candle to the dankest deep cut from AM. While this isn’t a problem in and of itself, there are certainly some tracks where the melody seems to wander without direction. Turner croons enigmatic, moody sketches, which are by turns ominous, manic, and melancholic. He alternates between rich, intimate lows and strained, often plaintive falsettos, which all come together in an emotive singing-in-the-shower synthesis.

There are a handful of highlights where all this experimentation pays off. ‘There’d Better Be a Mirrorball’ introduces the album with a unison of strings and piano that is all at once lush, loungey, and foreboding. An undulating synthesiser ostinato carefully weaves through staccato piano chords, while Turner sings of fleeting romance in a wistful ebullition. The track ends in ecstasies of melancholy, with a forlorn falsetto climax supported by the swells of the string section. ‘Body Paint’ also features an earworm ostinato, preceding a wonderfully crafted chord progression which develops in myriad unexpected directions. An upbeat mood-shift a la ‘A Day in The Life’ punctuates the track, prior to an explosive overdriven

guitar interlude. A slightly cumbersome but effective guitar solo adorns the extended jam which concludes the track.

‘Sculptures of Anything Goes’ is sparse, drenched in an ominous atmosphere. A rumbling, premonitory synth underscores surreal lyrics fascinated with creation and performance. Turner sarcastically barbs the backlash towards the band’s ever-evolving style; “Puncturing your bubble or relatability/ With your horrible new sound”. The eerie conclusion is ever-soslightly coloured by tinctures of the parallel major key, which conjure a wonderfully beguiling brightness that feels deceptive given the context. ‘Big Ideas’ betrays Turner’s thoughts and frustrations with ambition and creativity, with apropos lyrics that are particularly relevant to the album as a work. ‘I Ain’t Quite Where I Think I Am’ grabs the listener with a charmingly jaunty guitar riff and a fragmentary stream of consciousness about disillusionment and “stackable party guests”.

In many remaining tracks, the core idea doesn’t seem strong enough to support the orchestral addons, leaving the finished product feeling mercilessly overwrought, and the listener bereft of any assertive elements to cling onto. For instance, the title track is burdened by an inertia which it never overcomes, suffering from meandering progressions and listless melodies. For a song named after a vehicle, it is ironically stationary.

Nonetheless, when a Beatles analogy is made to describe an album, it surely carries some intrinsic praise. Many of the tedious tracks are redeemed to some extent by the ambition on display, deserving of far more respect than some of the band’s more insipid and spineless tunes. Whether some little piece of posterity will look on this album with the same reverence as a Sgt. Pepper’s or an Abbey Road is impossible to know, but credit is certainly due for its boldness in continuing the band’s ideal of constant evolution.

"They have, for better or worse, embodied a philosophy of constant growth"

MUSIC On Plagiarism

Are artists actually stealing from each other?

It’s been more than a year since Olivia Rodrigo gave songwriting credits to Paramore’s Hayley Williams and Josh Farro for ‘good 4 u’. Personally, I recall being extremely surprised by the similarities between the two songs' choruses upon their release. However, whilst the choruses of both songs are extremely similar, the other sections are not. Lately, I have been wondering if this can be really deemed as stealing. I decided to take a look at some confirmed plagiarism cases in the recent history of popular music, to see how similar the incriminated songs actually are.

This requires a couple of clarifications before I proceed. For the purposes of this article, I will not talk about the practice of sampling, which poses completely different challenges, and I will intend the term ‘pop’ as ‘popular’ music. That is, any music genre that is not academically considered “serious music”. This means I will be grouping ‘pop’ into sub genres like indie, alternative, rock and so on.

The list of alleged and verified plagiarism cases in the last fifty years is substantial, so it would be extremely difficult and tedious to talk about every case. However, if we ignore those few instances in which the two songs in question are actually a mere duplicate of one another, a trend emerges. Generally, there is a discrete level of similarity between ‘plagiarised’ songs, but it is extremely difficult to find a song directly ripping off another. Mostly, the two songs involved are similar in a way that is not really different from the resemblances that can be noticed between two songs up in the charts or between songs of similar genres from different eras.

Radiohead were forced to cede a third of the royalties from their hit song ‘Creep’(1992) to Albert Hammond, as well as songwriting credits, because of alleged plagiarism of Hammond’s ‘The Air that

I Breathe’ (1972). Comically enough, 25 years later Radiohead’s management accused Lana del Rey of plagiarism and asked for 100% of the royalties of her song ‘Get Free’. Is it really possible to talk about stealing in these instances? All three songs share the same chord progression for specific sections (and not even for their entire duration), but not much more. ‘Creep’ and ‘The Air That I Breathe’ are in a different key; the arrangement, and therefore the overall vibe, could not diverge more, and the melodies used are both extremely unique and cannot be overlapped in any way. ‘Creep’ and ‘Get Free’ are indeed more similar, mainly in terms of mood - although, this is an extremely abstract and subjective concept that should probably not be used to identify plagiarism. Moreover, the verse’s melody in ‘Get Free’ resembles more closely the verses’ melody of Radiohead’s ‘Creep’, but can it really be considered different? The two songs are also in a different key, and the arrangement, production and even structure are completely different.

Madonna and Sam Harris settled on an undisclosed amount after Madonna got sued for her song ‘Papa Don’t Preach’ (1986) for its similarities to Harris’ ‘Sugar Don’t Bite’ (1984). The two songs share the same key and tempo, and the production style is extremely similar: they both feature a classic 80s sound. The plagiarism accusation is likely related to the first section of Madonna’s chorus, which is almost identical to ‘Sugar Don’t Bite’. The question is, again, is this enough to constitute plagiarism? Both choruses evolve into two second sections which are completely different, both harmonically and melodically. And if we don’t consider the choruses, the verses have the same degree of similarity, musically speaking, as any two songs you might listen to on the radio.

However, there is another point to talk about here. One of the melodic fragments of ‘Sugar Don’t

in Pop Music

Bite’ is extremely similar to the verse’s melody of Bon Jovi’s massive hit ‘Living On A Prayer’ (1986). Furthermore, Madonna’s song features the exact same chord progression, with the same harmonic rhythm as the one we find in ‘Living On A Prayer’s verse. So, all three songs are in the same key, same tempo, have similar vibes and production styles, and share extremely similar material. Why was Madonna accused of plagiarism, but Bon Jovi wasn’t?

I don’t think it is possible to determine if a pop song is intentionally plagiarised by just looking at the music, unless of course there are two songs that are exact copies of one another. Certainly, it would be more useful to talk about unintentional plagiarism, and here’s why.

Popular music tends to be highly standardised in form, style, and even elements that theoretically should be more “individual” like chord progressions, rhythmic patterns and melodic ideas (think of Reggaeton or the twelve-bar blues). In addition, pop songs are generally built using specific musical scales out of which only certain chords can be built and used in a certain manner. Producers and writers tend to adopt this musical language, which favours simplicity, repetition and what is commonly considered “consonance” or, in very simple terms, instantly pleasant for the ears. These qualities require less effort to be appreciated and are generally more easily considered as “good-sounding”. Therefore, a song with these features is potentially more popular and will have more streams and sell more.

Sadly, this approach has its limits. Because of the way this music style works, only certain notes sound good with certain chords and vice versa. On top of that, the research of easy and “good-sounding” elements further restricts the possibilities for originality.

There’s also some other points to consider. Firstly,

it should be remembered that the history of music dates back to prehistoric times. That means millions of pieces of music, billions of musical ideas, melodies and various combinations. And this is without even considering the fact that notation started to be used around the 11th century. Imagine how much music we are missing. Therefore, it is inevitable that two or more works will sound very similar, if not the same.

We should remember musicians are subconsciously influenced by the music they happen to listen to. The style and sound of a musician can be easily and unintentionally influenced by the music they are in contact with.

Lastly, we should consider how music is taught and learned - primarily by imitation. The great BB King in 1988 said “I don’t think anybody steals anything: all of us borrow”. Composition, songwriting and production are taught by imitation in schools and colleges; students are presented with the works of many different musicians, and are expected to be inspired by them, to absorb specific techniques and styles that have been previously used. Consider also that reading a score is not enough to learn how to play an instrument: it is by listening to the great performers, imitating the so-called “masters”, that people learn how to play. Many of these court cases seem to me as mere marketing and economic operations that are not sufficiently supported by musical evidence. It is probably time to realise that, considering how pop music works and where we stand in music history, it is becoming increasingly difficult to write something completely original, especially in pop music. It would not be crazy to acknowledge that, most likely, nobody is writing original music anymore;after all, as Stravinsky said, “lesser artists borrow, greater artists steal”.

Istarted studying at Trinity last year, doing a degree

I thought I would love on a beautiful campus, with notions of divinity surrounding me. I had earned this; worked hard through all six years of secondary school, I had gotten a job over the summer and worked as hard as I could to live away from home for my first year at least.

College began like a dream; slowly and all at once. I made friends and lived the life I had dreamed of ever since I started school. Boys and booze and going to

lectures still drunk on a Friday morning, clean mascara on top of an old coat, cleaning my teeth with vodka rather than toothpaste. My flatmates and I huddled together during exam season, living in pyjamas and crying over assignments that would probably have made sense if I paid attention during class.

Semester two was when everything fell apart. It was a crisp January morning, and I had just endured the hell that is a nine a.m Friday tutorial. For once, I was the right temperature, not too hot, not too cold. My

My Abuser on

jacket was wrapped tightly around me, protecting my organs as I sat outside the arts block with some new friends and we discussed how much we ‘actually really liked this module.’ Trying to scope out the good people from a large group is hard, but I knew one of the boys from a module last semester, so I sidled with him as we moved around on the benches. Coffee was suggested, someone had to go to the library, and one of the girls had an early train home from Heuston so she headed on her way. Nothing sounded more appealing than my cosy bed and a hot water bottle, so I walked alone towards Dame Street, music blaring in my ears as I crossed Front Square.

And there he was. Back from Erasmus.

He was conversing with two friends, with his best friend beside him. His hair was longer, to his shouldershe had been transformed. Clad in Doc Martens and Levi blue jeans, the Vans wearing, black-jeans boy I knew was gone on the surface. The glint in his eye, and the stretch of his hands, was still there. The tilt of his head when he listened hadn’t gone anywhere and when he looked at me, my vision blurred. Unmoving, no breath escaping my lungs, I turned into a statue with my legs locked into place with fear. Slowly, I came back to reality. I walked out the gates onto Dame Street.

That would be the last time for seven months I stepped foot on campus. Deleting Instagram, Snapchat, Facebook and Gmail, I didn’t reply to texts or emails for weeks. Exams were missed, attendance sheets had large red X’s beside my name, and friend’s birthdays were bypassed by fear. Broke, broken and largely living alone in this large city all of a sudden, I worked five days a week, sometimes six or even seven.

Commuting to work began to take an hour instead of twenty minutes because I had seen his friends on the bus I usually took. Coming home was a different story. A bus, a luas, another bus; anything to avoid College Green and the possibility of running into him again.

I filled out all the forms necessary to drop out, feeling like everything I had worked towards was completely lost. My social circle, like my own self, was emaciated. I sold the books I had bought for my first year to strangers on the internet. I gave away clothes I wore during those days. The painful thought that enjoying myself in semester one was a catalyst for seeing him was so strong that I promised myself, in my heart of hearts, that I would never set foot on campus, or go to college again.

in usually hearts, I writing

However, I am here, sitting in the library writing this article, with a coffee from the Buttery and my textbooks that I bought again in front of me. How did I do it?

Lots of therapy. Liaising with the student counselling service, which offers emergency appointments Monday to Friday, even during the summer, helped me tremendously. Building a secure network of people, both professional and casual can help you feel more secure on campus itself and by sharing the situation with friends, a concrete plan in case of emergency can be made so you don’t break down, like I did.

PHOTOGRAPHY

PHOTOGRAPHY Peggy MacHale

PHOTOGRAPHY Séamus Carroll

sounds like a cliché, but the work is good for one’s confidence. It’s good fun to have the mindset: ‘I’m going to be buck naked for watch of course). I mean if they like it, that’s what porn is there for, and if they don’t like it, big deal. I have yet to get anything close to a negative comment on my approximately 25 videos, amassing a grand

this whole website to see’ (should they choose to total of sixty five thousand views

Confessions of a Real Male Pornstar

Sex Week was the 3rd - 7th of October in Trinity College. A week heralding positive views of love, sex, and equality. In keeping with this trend, I thought that maybe I have something to offer. Well, I do. But do I want to expose myself?

I am a solo male pornstar. But I hate the term ‘pornstar’. It conjures images of blonde female models, California, and a whole industry based on sexism and control. Not for me.

However, technically, as I have been paid, I fall into that bracket. Ooohhh, I hear you think ‘paid’? Readers, don’t get your hopes up. Within a year of starting my work, I have only begun to receive payment in July. Since then, I have made a whopping four dollars and eighty four cents. For a lot of time and effort, that’s not great. In fact you could say that it’s less than great!

Why bother then? Let me clarify; I am a straight male making porn for a predominantly male audience. I am not getting paid enough to warrant the process, and most of my videos are free. I never really bothered with the Onlyfans / paysite type jobs.

It’s good fun to have the mindset: “I’m going to be buck naked for this whole website to see”.

watch solo female porn, so why shouldn’t women watch solo male porn?”

It sounds like a cliché, but the work is good for one’s confidence. It’s good fun to have the mindset: ‘I’m going to be buck naked for this whole website to see’ (should they choose to watch of course). I mean if they like it, that’s what porn is there for, and if they don’t like it, big deal. I have yet to get anything close to a negative comment on my approximately 25 videos, amassing a grand total of sixty five thousand views.

Of course it’s kind of awkward setting up the camera, fixing the scene, and acting out something that you hope people will enjoy, but you have to be in a specific mood for the act. After practice, you do get over the inherently cringy nature of it, eventually. (I still haven’t gotten the hang of dirty talking to the camera though!)

Homemade solo scenes involve a deceptive amount of planning. Creativity is required. You have to vary your content somewhat to keep people interested. A very challenging task. I have had the most success with my pillow humping videos, something which I didn’t expect, but proof of the audience’s desire for slightly more alternative porn.

fixed on fake actors, mass production, and perfect figures, both male and female, I try to offer something different. In other words I’m just fed up with the same old stuff, so I thought I’d do something about it. (Even if it is in an extremely small way). Hopefully my work promotes some degree of equality, making porn more appropriate to a large audience. Men watch solo female porn, so why shouldn’t women watch solo male porn? And if women want to do that, there should be a similar selection of videos for them to choose from. But there is not the same level of variety of content. Not even close.

I suppose that’s my reason for uploading my porn. But not a week goes by where I get terrified at the thought of a co-student, or a friend, or a relative, stumbling upon one of my videos. I mean, it could destroy a friendship in a heartbeat. Even in the future, would an employer hire a porn actor? No matter what qualifications I may have, that would be the fact that would stand out about me. Most people would see me in a negative light as a result. This is the taboo I am confronted with. The risk.

I take the occasional request from other users on the website on what sort of videos they would like to see. It’s tricky. I mean, I wouldn’t be freaked out by much, but when someone asks to see a self-facial, there is a considerable amount of planning involved. Ultimately, I don’t know what I really expect from the whole fiasco, only that I feel like I’m making the industry a little bit more accessible. Despite many websites being so

I don’t know what way my channel may go. Am I overly concerned? No. I’ll see how it goes. It’s a weird experience, shrouded in secrecy, but I’ll take it for what it is. An experience.

I would give my profile and website now for anyone interested, but I’m afraid there’s no way I’m taking the chance...Not yet at least...xxx

“Men

When reality television began to find its feet in the early two thousands, it soon realised its greatest talent: drama. With the success of shows such as Big Brother and Top Model, tantrums, arguments and petty fights became synonymous with all things reality television. This trend, of course, has never gone away. Who could possibly forget Ablisa's iconic X Factor punch? Who doesn’t watch “Gemma Collins: CBB Best Bits” at least once a week? And need I mention Maura Higgins’ entire run on Love Island? So of course when RuPaul’s Drag Race began airing in 2009, it was the show’s drama that catapulted it to superstardom.

In the early days of the show, drama was never in short supply. Contestants, untouched by social media, were unafraid of controversy, with some of the most iconic moments in the show’s thirteen year history coming from these seasons. Though the show was still figuring out things like format and pacing, it was clear that it was the queens’ personalities that made Drag Race so special. The show allowed the viewer insight into every process of drag, including every ounce of bitchiness and shade usually found only in nightclub dressing rooms across the world.

ly towards queens portrayed as causing the most drama, with queens of colour (including The Vixen and Kandy Muse) consistently facing harsh backlash. Because of this, a culture was created within later seasons of Drag Race where contestants have become overwhelmingly fearful of bullying and being perceived as “a villain” in the media.

With this, the drama on the show has lost its passion, becoming less authentic overall. It is common amongst fans to reminisce about older seasons, with seasons four through six being described as the so-called “Golden Age” of the show. Now just renewed for its fifteenth season, as well as having multiple franchises across the world, Drag Race has tried again and again to return to its glory days, but has failed. Drama now appears more manufactured, with heavy production evidently being put in place within many avenues of the show. Producers of the show have filled modern seasons with so many twists and turns it would make even those with the strongest stomachs motion sick, in a desperate bid for some genuine excitement. Even without producers’ involvement, the queens themselves appear to have become more self-produced in an attempt to have the production’s team favour them, creating false, previously-arranged drama with fellow competitors.

However, as the years progressed and popularity grew, the influence of social media on the show can be seen more clearly (from the term “social media queen” becoming a commonplace in season seven, all the way to the inclusion of a Tiktok dance challenge in the latest series of RuPaul’s Drag Race All Stars). Online fan response has been fundamental to the show’s development, though there has been an increase of bullying towards contestants as the show grows more popular. Bullying is seen most-

The problem has become evident. RuPaul’s Drag Race is now wholeheartedly formulaic and nothing remains of what we actually loved so much: the drag queens’ authentic personalities. This was partially rectified in the most recent All Stars season, a season where no one went home, and no one was negatively critiqued. It became clear that queer artists being great at their craft is what makes the show so special. The show should fill the genuine drama-sized hole by shifting its focus from fabricated drama to prioritising its contestants; showcasing every ounce of the charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and talent that they have to offer.

"The problem has become evident. RuPaul’s Drag Race is now wholeheartedly formulaic."

Long has the “Snatch Game” been a fan favourite challenge on the show - a challenge that notably relies entirely on the talent of the contestants. When the queens are forced to compete in acting challenges with mediocre scripts and a green screen, the show does both the queens and the audience a disservice, by mishandling the great talent that comes onto the show year on year.

Instead of the show putting its energy into trying to find how to make the format more interesting and dynamic, it must instead focus on the talent and lives of the queer people it casts. Of course, drama is bound to happen when you put fourteen drag queens in a room, but when it does, the show must naturally let it play out, rather than choreographing the whole debacle. This approach would be more authentic and present the show as one that values all that drag has to offer. Drag Race must shift its direction to one that celebrates all of the queer community, instead of being another enterprise that takes advantage of marginalised creatives. It is my opinion that the show can only continue its unprecedented success if its performers are given maximum control and support. I hope that the show, too, will soon reach this realisation, if it doesn’t wish to fade into irrelevance.

It’s Time For RuPaul’s Best Friend Race

Contestants need

to shine in the reality franchise.

WORDS Jenny Maguire

Fate: The Winx Saga’s Aisha is introduced to viewers as a straight-laced nerd whose only purpose is to ‘solve’ the issues of her friends. She fills her days with school work, networking, and a disciplined swimming routine. Aisha is not the type of person to allow herself to get swept up in romance. Nonetheless, Aisha is given a love interest in the second season. While attempting to go swimming one day, Aisha happens upon Grey, a student at Alfea, who is a specialist. Considering the incredibly remote location that Aisha swims in, it appears as if fate itself is working to bring the two together. Their relationship begins with some playful banter that moves toward frequent texting. During this period Grey, alongside viewers, stand in suspense, waiting for the duo’s relationship to progress into real life interaction.

Grey and Aisha’s romance plays out like Romeo and Juliet (if Romeo and Juliet were more compatible!). Aisha is a powerful water fairy whereas Grey is an equally formidable blood witch. They are on opposite sides of a war, yet it is clear the pair are better off when they are together.

Like Aisha, Grey is portrayed as someone who carefully chooses how to allocate his time and emotions. He mentions that he prefers to be an acquaintance over a friend, a clear implication that he is selective of who he gets close to. Yet, Grey has no issue opening himself up to Aisha, and even more shockingly, he appears to have minimal struggle getting Aisha to open up to him. Grey takes the first step of asking

Aisha out on a date with him. When she turns him down, claiming she cannot find the time, he respectfully waits for her, understanding that they share feelings for each other but that Aisha may need to take it slow. However, even with their relationship in limbo, they can’t help mirroring each other’s habits. When the students attend an alumni banquet, both Aisha and Grey indulge in the same ‘dorky’ activity of creating index cards with talking points for each prominent alumni. None of the other characters have begun to think of personal networking when attending the banquet, yet Aisha and Grey share a similar ambition and passion for planning and preparing for the future. They understand one another in a way that no one else does.

The tension between the pair is off the charts, making viewers desperate for their union. However, Aisha cowers in the very relatable fear of inexperience. Aisha has never kissed a boy before, nevermind had a boyfriend. Her fear of imperfection holds her back from taking the next step with Grey for a large part of the season. However, by the fourth episode, members of the audience finally find fulfillment. While all of the girls are drinking at a bar, Aisha is persuaded to step away from her friends and embark on a mini romantic excursion with Grey. Grey healthily pushes Aisha to take her first steps into taking time for herself and cultivating her own social life outside her friend group. He tells Aisha that her friends all have lives, and that it is okay for her to have one of her own. He releases her from her sense of constant obligation to her friends, and brings her on a date to a hidden glade where the two share a kiss so passionate that Aisha’s water powers are activated, conspiring a beautiful swirl of water droplets around the pair as their lips lock.

Love in Fate: The Winx Club

Why Aisha and Grey belong together!

When Queen Luna unexpectedly reveals to Aisha that Grey is a blood witch, a wrench is thrown into their relationship. By this point in the season, blood witches have been established as vile monsters who aim to steal fairy magic to open a portal to the dark realm and resurrect murdered blood witches from Asterdell. However, little is explained about the historical rivalry between blood witches and fairies. They are simply stated to be sworn enemies. Perhaps this is why I remain loyal to the idea that Grey and Aisha belong together.

Blood witches possess powers of Hematokines (utilising blood for magic), and blood puppetry (the ability to manipulate blood to control bodily movements of either humans or animals). These powers are deemed disturbing and disgusting to fairies. However, are their powers not just a cousin to powers of mind fairies? Musa, one of Aisha’s dearest friends and one of the show’s protagonists, is a mind fairy. She is able to feel people’s emotions and more or less control them. Mind fairies dictate matters of mind and heart, both parts of the body. Blood witches simply control the power of the tangible body. The ‘interspecies’ divide between Aisha and Grey, therefore, seems silly and unnecessary when you consider the positivity they bring into each other’s lives.

Additionally, Grey’s morality is never questioned. His motives for helping the blood witches are understandable. His parents lost their beloved son in Asterdell. They only had him as a replacement. His entire life was a dream that he could reverse Asterdell so that his family would finally grant him his own identity. It is understandable that he would support a blood witch movement to rectify Asterdell. His morality is further proven when he encounters Aisha after she discovers his powers. He immediately apologises for not telling her and allows Aisha’s friends past him to help, even though he knows it will work against his cause. And, when Sky is dying, Grey even pumps blood back into his heart, saving his life.

Aisha tells Grey that the memories of her first kiss and her first boyfriend are ruined and that none of their relationship was real because she didn’t know he was a blood witch. However, I don’t think it would be right on Winx’s part to take Aisha’s words seriously. The pair present the most complicated but compatible relationship in the show. It isn’t wise to split them up. Therefore, I don’t think the show will. Grey and Aisha belong together and I look forward to seeing a redemption and revival of their relationship in the third season.

WORDS Eva Criscuolo

“Grey and Aisha’s romance plays out like Romeo and Juliet (if Romeo and Juliet were more compatible)”

Joyce’s Women

Abbey, Written by Edna O'Brien, directed by Conall Morrison

Edna O’Brien’s involvement with James Joyce began far earlier than her publication of James and Nora in 1981, and her subsequent biography about Joyce in 1999. According to O’Brien, it began while she was studying to be a pharmacist in Dublin and she obtained a copy of Introducing James Joyce, a selection of his work collected in 1942 with an introduction by T. S. Eliot. Long before she became aware of it, the influence of Joyce played a role in her life: from her “suffocating” childhood and education at the Convent of Mercy, to the realisation that her unhappy childhood home was much like that of Stephen Dedalus in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. I might even say that Joyce’s influence upon O’Brien was felt from the very beginning, by merit of her being born Irish.

Written for the Ulysses centenary, O’Brien’s play Joyce’s Women premiered at the Abbey Theatre on the 22nd of September. Even the date for the play’s premiere follows a numerical pattern: 1922, 2022, 22/09/22. The title of the play suggests that it will give voice to the central women of James Joyce’s life, including Nora Barnacle, Lucia Joyce, Harriet Weaver, and potentially Sylvia Beach. Before reading anything about the play, it was not impossible to imagine a story about the women in Joyce’s work, such as Emily Sinico (“A Painful Case”), Mary Dedalus, or the infamous Molly Bloom. The possibilities were endless in the world of James Joyce, and in preparation for the viewing, I specifically did not do research about the production.

Anyone who says they understand Joyce’s work is a fool; furthermore, the joy in Joyce’s texts come from not understanding them. I claim no such thing about Joyce’s work, but in a modest effort to understand the world more clearly, I have spent the last few years studying him with nothing more than a cursory effort.

In spite of this, my expectation for Joyce’s Women was invariably high, even without knowledge of O’Brien’s biographical work on Joyce. In this review, I should make it apparent that I will not comment on the historical accuracy of the play, but will discuss the play holistically as a work of fiction, since I am suspicious of interpreting it as a historically accurate work. Given her biographical work on the life of James Joyce and Nora Barnacle, it should be safe to assume O’Brien has it all right.

Joyce’s Women ought to have been titled Joyce Framed by his Women instead. Structured through a sequence of moments leading from Joyce’s childhood to his death, the play uses the women in his life as a structural device, as opposed to being the centre upon which Joyce (Stephen Hogan) himself moves in the work, as I was inclined to expect. Before May Joyce (Deirdre Donnelly) enters the narrative, we already hear the character of Stanislaus (Patrick Moy) describe a scene from James’ childhood, in which he wrote playlets about the story of Adam and Eve. “Jim played the Devil,” says Stanislaus, as he turns and leaves the stage.

A redemption of this failed feminine centre occurs through the character of Lucia Joyce (Genevieve Hulme Beaman), who embodies the distorted legacy of her father’s artistic genius. Although parts of the play are structured through memories which Nora (Bríd Ní Neachtain) recounts to a seamstress named Brigitte (Hilda Fay), Lucia repeatedly returns to demand the attention of characters and audience alike through her arduous attempts to close the gap with her father and coexist with her mother. This latter endeavor proves impossible over the course of the play, but Lucia’s relationship with her father becomes a turning point of Joyce’s Women: a site of intoxicating closeness and biting betrayal.

The

Joyce’s Women ought to have been titled Joyce Framed by his Women

My primary issue with Joyce’s Women is its attempts to justify the fate of Lucia Joyce, who suffered no shortage of miseries in her life starting with signs of mental illness at the age of twenty-three. I asked myself if O’Brien blamed the father for what happened to the daughter, perhaps one of the best kept secrets of the literary world. O’Brien capitalises on a study of Lucia being her father’s muse for Finnegans Wake, which appeared in Lucia Joyce: To Dance in the Wake (2003) by Carol Loeb Schloss. Joyce’s Women seems to suggest that Lucia was the true author of Finnegans Wake: with her father refracting her mental illness and unwell quibblings, as well as her obsession and talent for dance, into language.

Much of the play operates in the register of Finnegans Wake, making it understandable but not totally clear unless you have a familiarity with that text. You can imagine my relief when, after the performance, a person who worked at the Abbey Theatre offered me a print copy of Joyce’s Women for ten euros. Despite a few small reservations about O’Brien’s play, I certainly felt no remorse in buying a print copy, which sits proudly on my shelf alongside the plays of W. B. Yeats and J. M. Synge. Just as anyone would write about their hero, O’Brien places James Joyce close to her heart; so close, in fact, that he usurps the purpose of a play about the women in his life. Viewers of Joyce’s Women have to find the humour in it, because Joyce himself, as proven by the play, casts too large a shadow to ever escape.

WORDS Matthew James Hodgson

THEATRE Anatomyof aNight

Nick Nikolaou, Dublin Fringe Festival

I was invited to witness a fantastic play of joy, distress, and kindness, told through the medium of dance.

The show took place in The Complex, situated on 21- 25 Arran Street East. The space opened its doors in September 2019 and is a welcome addition to a city with a dwindling number of creative venues and spaces.

I was delighted to find a space that rivalled Smock Alley Theatre or Project Arts Centre in size. Alongside its dimensions, the locale boasts a five euro pint which is a rare surprise in a Dublin theatre. Spurred on by its unique features, I eagerly noticed several people involved in Dublin’s art’s scene, LGBT activists, and some people who looked like they could be your Mam or Dad in attendance. To put it simply: it was a great crowd.

What looked like a black stage with a wide platform was transformed into a club night catwalk by the talented performer, lights (Kevin Murphy), and the sound designer (Rory Sweeney). Think of Peter Brook’s concept of an ‘Immediate Theatre’ - a show that pursues risks and active intimacy with the audience. Now imagine that that immediate theatre in question is soundtracked by pop goddesses Britney Spears, Charli XCX, and Kelsey Lu.

Nick trained as a dancer at the University of Limerick and has performed all over the world (Greece). Their dance performance featured contemporary influences, voguing, and rave staples - such as moves like ‘feeding the chickens’. At every point of the show, the dance was precise, beautiful, or provocative and emotional to watch. At one point, I was convinced that there were wings emerging from Nick's back muscles.

Mixing many different costumes, performances of gender, and stages of an insane night out, Nick held the audience in a mesmerised state. Tactful exits from the stage and moments of silence in the thrilling dance score gave the piece a tension and a space for the audience to think and breathe. Though the long runway moments may have paused the action of dance narrative, the show is ultimately well-crafted.

And then, after the audience has adjusted to this dance of extremities and costume changes, the momentum broke. Nick sits and talks to the audience about how months ago, they thought of leaving. With rental prices and a city that makes little to no effort to support a nightlife and the arts, they felt left with no option but to emigrate. But then Nick danced at a SOPHIE memorial gig, and they went and kissed their friends, and they devised this breath-taking piece of art. In the brief monologue, they pay tribute to the presence of ‘the dolls’ (a colloquialism for trans women) and ‘teenagers doing poppers’ being the marker of a good night out. One of their final lines haunts my mind. They looked at us achingly and pleaded for a ‘space to dance and kiss and fall down the stairs’. With that, ‘we’ll be fine’.

Lovingly, they left the audience in the safe hands of DJ Rory Sweeney and we danced the night away. Under the beat I felt the urgent tone of the community’s voice:

‘Let us have the night. Give us a place to live’.

WORDS Brídín Ní Fhearraigh-Joyce

Arriving in Dundrum on a gloomy Wednesday morning, I was greeted by an incredibly enthusiastic team in the Mill Theatre, who could not have been more helpful or accommodating. In the audience, I sat alone, surrounded by three or four different groups of school kids, all studying Macbeth for their Leaving Cert, and now preparing to witness the play put to life in front of them. Coming in at a runtime of just over two hours, this performance of the bard’s Macbeth was a true achievement in adapting a 17th century play with a 21st century twang.

First and foremost, the cast deserve recognition. Taking place in a vaguely post-apocalyptic setting, Ruairi Lenaghan’s performance as the titular Macbeth was standout, capturing both the suave, populist side of the king, as well as the deeply sinister, malicious aspect. To compliment both his noble and irredeemable sides, Lenaghan acts against Ben Waddell as Banquo and Jenny Fennessy as Lady Macbeth. Waddell’s performance serves as a wonderfully collected contrast to the explosive, and oftentimes maniacal Lenaghan, further driving home the widening gorge between the two characters. The on-stage chemistry he has with

Macbeth

eMill Th eatre, Dir. Geoff O'Keeff

Th e

Fennessy is electric, as her character attempts to push him towards a direction of greater evil.. A stand out scene for all three of them is the banquet - Lenaghan, demanding peace from the sinister presence of Waddell’s ghost, and Fennessy wholly reprimanding her husband’s behaviour. Lastly, mention must be made to Eoghan Collins, who plays Macduff, for his incredibly emotional performance as the character, serving as a distinct foil for the Scottish King.

Whilst the banquet scene jumps to mind as a highlight of the whole show, primarily for Lenaghan’s performance, I took a particular fancy to the scene where he confronts the Weird Sisters in their lair. The Witches themselves are spectacularly crafted - with their lines pre-recorded and faces covered, they are given great liberty for creative experimentation, with lighting, choreography, and sound design. The actors playing the Witches remain totally anonymous, oftentimes there are five or six of the cast in costume, ready to appear from the back of the stage immediately after one disappears off stage. Whilst simple, this creates the impression that these witches are truly otherworldly, and has a distinctly unsettling effect.

With the superb lighting, sound design, excellent cast, great choreography, and solid direction from Geoff O’Keeffe, this performance of Macbeth at the Mill Theatre in Dundrum is highly recommended by me, both for fans of the play itself and for those seeking an accessible introduction to the work of Shakespeare overall.

WORDS Luke Hayden

WORDS Libby Marchant ILLUSTRATION Linde Vergeylen

Unconditional Love.

The first time I got covid, I was just barely, barely emerging from my first heartbreak. That week, serendipitously, the one in between Christmas and New Year’s, was the best thing that could have happened to me. I was still unsure of myself. I was still in love with someone I hadn’t seen in months and I hadn’t yet realised that I’d never not be in love with him. That is to say that, back then, I was still waiting for The Feeling to pass. I stayed up until 4 a.m. I wrote a short story about walls that could listen to me. I watched a Stanford lecture series on Human Behavioural Biology. I thanked my mother when she brought me cups of tea, and little bottles of beer. I barely ate. I read. I waited. I smoked cigarettes out of my bedroom window until mother yelled at me to stop. God, in ways, I was miserable, but I was by myself and I was surviving and that felt like a small miracle. However, I cannot escape the law that no writer is exempt from: the retrospective romanticisation of my past self.

I am jealous of the weight I was at when I was seventeen. I am jealous of a seventeen year old me who fell in love for the first time. I wish I was her again. I wish I was her the night she fell in love just one more time. And I know, I know, that when I was seventeen I was just a child and I didn’t have any of the freedom I have now. I barely wrote, I didn’t know anything about radical philosophy, I was lazy and insecure. Still, I look at pictures of myself wearing the white shirt and the red lipstick and I can’t help but believe that was the best it was ever going to get.

It’s the same principle as the last time I had covid. The last five months have been the longest I have been consistently, ridiculously happy. I make porridge with honey and chia seeds as the sun rises, listen to music

as I stir, and watch the pot slowly heat up. I go running, past the farmer’s markets on a Sunday, past the kids playing hurling on a Thursday and it makes me feel like I belong here, with all of the other people in this park, in this town where I live. I am saving my money as carefully as I can because I am starting to consider doing a master’s – something I swore I’d never do. I am hopelessly in love with a boy who makes the best pancakes in the world, rubs my hair as I fall asleep each night and goes on adventures with me, whenever. I just say the word and we’re gone, exploring and giggling. I have put on weight and grown soft and kind now that I am in love. And yet I am forever craning my neck to look behind me. Looking back, yes, to a time in my life when I genuinely couldn’t picture a future for myself in which I was happy. And as I sit down to write this article, it is her that intrigues me.

I was so lonely and so full of intensity that all I could do was write and write and write. I wouldn’t have survived it otherwise. And I miss that desperation.

That’s passion, I suppose. It kills you and it keeps you alive. I see it every day. In doctors, chefs, actors, and in the mirror. I examine my face and try to find clues about what’s going on in my brain. I look into my eyes, touch my eyebrows, my lips, and try to figure out if this is what a writer looks like. Maybe. I have serious eyes, and then lips, that quirk to the side slightly when I find something funny that I know I shouldn’t.Yet even I, a self-proclaimed cretin, can dimly recognise that the aesthetic of passion, much like all other aesthetics, is baseless.

I’ll tell you something useful now. When I forget how happy I am today. When I think about the poems I wrote when I was seventeen, and I think about the story I wrote the first time I had Covid, or even the

behind a so had or

old diary entries from last summer where I was so excited about college but so naïve (like really naïve), I forget to give myself credit for all of the terrible writing I’ve done because even though it was terrible, it was completely my own. A more well adjusted person than I would think “Gosh darn, I’ve really worked hard at this skill for a very long time and I should be proud of myself and hopeful about my future” (Don’t you just hate those people). When I do those things, this is what my goblin brain thinks: “you’ll never write anything as good as that again”. And that’s a dangerous way to think. If you start to believe your idiot goblin brain, the logical next step is to just give up altogether.

You cannot romanticise your passion, I’m afraid. Besides, you have a passion! That’s romantic enough! But there are rules to this thing and the first one is that you can’t take it too seriously. Yes, I used to stay up until four a.m. writing stories about silly walls, and now, I’m asleep wearing my retainers by twelve p.m, even on Friday nights. And you know what? I’m so much happier now. And you know what? I write just as much. If you romanticise the aesthetic of your passion then your love for it has conditions. “It’s only good if I was drunk writing it”, “it’s only good if it was

published by Icarus”, “it’s only good if it’s about pain”. Bullshit!

You have to love everything that you do because, and this is a promise, nobody else will. I spent too long hating myself for hating myself. I spent too long trying to seem like a writer instead of actually writing, that writing became synonymous with my pain and when I started to heal I wasn’t sure if I could ever write again. All of my favourite pieces have been rejected� The story about the goddamn walls was met by pretty much universal confusion. Some fluff pieces that I’ve written have touched strangers in a way that I never could have expected. It is in those moments, when someone reads one of my lines right back to me and tells me that they’ve felt like that too, that is why I write. Not so that I can be the “Cool Girl” in the little café, or so I can manipulate my sadness to get attention and stop myself from ever evolving. My passion is not a way to prove that I am interesting and my life cannot be dictated by what I think would make for good content. That is all that writing is: changing and remembering and loving, unconditionally. tis all that writing is: changing and remembering and loving, unconditionally.

that prove all

“It’s only good if I was drunk writing it”,“it’s only good if it was published by Icarus”, “it’s only good if it’s about pain”. Bullshit!

Searching for the everyday extraordinary

PHOTOGRAPHY Séamus Carroll

People Watching by a People Watcher

Sitting in a cafe, on a bus, on a park bench, and virtually anywhere else there are people around. You begin to notice what people are doing. Not subscribing to any wider philosophy other than to simply exist in the present moment, noticing other people existing in the same moment as you. Passive and perhaps unconscious observations of the interesting and exciting takes place constantly as we go about our day.

A more active people-watching takes a deeper turn, as you begin to stray from the eye-catching to seeing what the eyes skip over. Subtle and unassuming actions, words and phrases that occur around you catch your attention, everywhere, at alarming speed and varying complexity, and form the bones of the strangers you meet or pass, but will ultimately never know.

Studying the more mundane moments of an unfamiliar person’s day comes with the responsibility of acknowledging a lack of context. This takes place while you also embrace the wonder of learning without this burden of context. Sometimes there is no greater picture. Sometimes you see someone put two sugars in their coffee and that’s all there is to it. The beautiful thing is, though, especially if one people-watches as a writer or creative, there can be so much more to the story than what you first see.

It can be overwhelming. In this moment as I sit by this window, that group of friends by the door point at a laptop screen, working on a group project. A man in a suit spills his flat white on the counter as he picks it up too fast. One very stressed barista makes coffee after coffee while throwing her eye over her shoulder as she looks for a manager to help, the line growing longer. Each one of these individuals have their own full lives, much greater than the snippet I have witnessed in those few seconds, as intricate as mine and all the more interesting because of what I cannot know. Recognising the levels of complexity behind every small action by every anonymous stranger I could never possibly know is a weird thought. All I will ever likely know are these small, insignificant and isolated moments of their existences. As I watch, witnessing nothing more than a glimpse of the little details that combine to make a human being a person, I wonder, if someone else were to take notice, what would they think of me? Noticing the details of other people surprisingly makes you acutely aware of your own self.

People watching with practice teaches you to find the unbelievably infinite and spectacular in the ordinary of everyday routine. As you watch someone run for a bus, think of how many places they could possibly be trying to go and for what reasons. When you see someone smile at a notification on their phone, wonder whose name and words made them light up so quickly. When you see someone sitting by themselves on a park bench, ask if they could be people watching too.

In this issue you will find an inspired avant-garde TN2 fashion spread, a poetry series featuring a fox, and the accounts of a student porn actor. On a more serious note, you will also find a review of the Doughlas Hyde’s fantastic recent exhibition of ‘Love is the Message: the Message is Death’ by Arthur Jafa, a personal essay on how to survive on campus when your abuser is also a student, and a review of the new Arctic Monkeys’ album.

Cutting edge student photography and tender illustrations line our magazine. We want to thank our editors and contributors for our amazing issue. At TN2 Magazine, we aim to work gently and play gently. I hope you do too.

ILLUSTRATORS

ILLUSTRATION Linde Vergeylen