TN2 Issue 4 20/21

2020-21 TN2 ISSUE 4 SPRING TN2MAGAZINE.IE

ART/ FASHION/ FILM/ FOOD/ GAMES/ LITERATURE/ MUSIC/ SEX/ THEATRE/ TV/ ALT.

THIS ISSUE’S ART TEAM:

Cover Artist Alice Payne Featured Artists and Photographers Lola Fleming, Megan O’Rourke, Ella Sloane, Lindsay Leach, Andrés Murillo, Meghan Flood, Ellecia Vaughan, Emily Stevenson

Featured Photographer Andrés Murillo

Lindsay Leach

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Editor-in-Chief Ursula Dale Deputy Editors Sophia McDonald, Sam Hayes Social Media Manager Ciara Connolly Online Editor Connor Howlett Art Oona Kauppi Catherine Byrne Fashion Gelsey Beavers-Damron, Ciarán Butler, Millie Brennan Film Connor Howlett, Savvy Hanna, James McCleary Food Dearbháil Kent, Grace Gageby, Kiara Kennedy Games Seán Clerkin Robert Gibbons Literature Shane Murphy Fiachra Kelleher Music Sophia McDonald, Ben Pantrey, Rory Codd Sex Alice Payne Chloé Mant, Karla Higgins Theatre Lucamatteo Rossi Sarah Joan, Seirce Mhac Conghail Television Ciara Connolly Gillian Doyle ALT. Clare Maunder Aditi Kapoor, Gráinne Sexton Layout Ursula Dale, Sophia McDonald, Sam Hayes, Fiachra Kelleher, Clare Maunder, Alice Payne, Oona Kauppi

Head of Illustrations Lola Fleming Head of Photography Andrés Murillo

CONTENTS Letter from the Editor Art & Design A Foray into Trinity's (Dormant) Creative Community Making Art in the Digital Age: David Hockney Creativity, Clay and Catherine Forristal

Fashion Back to the Future: 90s Fashion History: Edith Head and Hollywood Glamour The Fashion of RuPaul's Drag Race

Film

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The Silence of the Lambs: 30 Years on Racial Oppression Exposed on Film

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Food Healthy Snacks For Study Season Now We're Cooking (With Guinness)

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Games How to End a Game Mario 128: The Unfinished Game You've Probably Played Literature Is 10:04 Art Writing? What is Art Writing?

Can I Believe Her? // A Piece on Autofiction Music Crate Digging: A History Radio Blah Blah: Sharing Music in the Age of Technology Sex What My Time at Trinity Has Taught Me about Love Sex and Sexuality Myths: Debunked Self Love

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Theatre

What have we learned from a year of remote theatre? 36 Interview with Robert Gibbons 38

TV WandaVision - The Trials and Tribulations of Marvel's Official Tv Expansion Shameless in the time of COVID

ALT. Making an Archive Is a Playlist a Clock or a Mirror?

The Case for Rituals Happy Birthday Instagram

Gaeilge Seachtain na Gaeilge: Céiliúradh ar anam na tíre Ba é YouTube an Suíomh Shruthú is Fearr de 2020

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Featured Photographer: Andrés Murillo

Letter from the Editor: In my final letter to our readers, I’d like to address all of the wonderful writers, photographers, artists and editors who have helped make this year of TN2 possible. With shorter print runs and greater emphasis on our ‘online print’ editions, all of our staff this year have gracefully facilitated the ever-changing circumstances of both public health guidelines and access to much-needed resources. I cannot express my gratitude enough to those who have stuck with me through all of this, in what is likely the most challenging year of college, so far, for all of us. My vision as editor has been only a small part of the final result for any of this year’s issues and, thanks to the collective effort of our team, I couldn’t be prouder of what we have all managed to endure and accomplish.

As an arts and culture magazine, TN2 has had a tough time of it these last 12 months. This issue seeks to examine the creative innovation and the benefits of reflection which can come with time spent alone, featuring interviews with two lockdown creators, Catherine Forristal and our own Robert Gibbons. Other highlights include healthy snacks for this exam season, lessons learned about love during college, as well as tips on curating your own playlists and developing archives. These pieces reflect on the growing importance of self-care when managing prolonged uncertainty, as Ireland faces another few months of lockdown. The value of producing art and continuing to record memories is especially pertinent now, when the worth of doing anything we enjoyed pre-COVID is constantly tested. Writing or creating for the joy of it is at the heart of student publications, and this message is something I hope will resonate throughout this final issue of the year. Our spring-themed cover celebrates the essential truth of springtime: the potential for growth and the inevitability of change. With this in mind, please enjoy.

Stay safe.

Yours sincerely,

Ursula

www.tn2magazine.ie ART BY LOLA FLEMING 1

Art & Design

A FORAY INTO TRINITY’S (DORMANT) CREATIVE COMMUNITY We decided to conduct a survey in order to acquire a better understanding of the individuals that make up

Trinity’s creative community, as well as their artistic tastes. Below is a compilation of the responses we received.

We have condensed them for clarity.

Do you consider yourself an artistic person? How so?

It may not come as a surprise that every respondent to this survey on artistic taste noted that they were, in fact, artistically inclined. Many seemed to indicate that creativity was an intrinsic part of who they are, with one person remarking that they “view everything with a creative disposition”. Another person explained that they “believe in the old idea that practicing life is a kind of art requiring attention to style and attitude”. A majority of respondents stated that they enjoy visiting galleries and creating art through various media, including drawing, scrapbooking, knitting, photography, and making music. Some of the respondents clarified that they study the arts in college.

How would you describe your artistic taste? If describing your artistic taste seems too difficult, what might your favorite works of art have in common?

The descriptions of artistic taste noted in the survey were generally quite specific, and ranged from aesthetics (“Soft, feminine, and pastels”) to art movements (“Futurism and Absurdism”) to quite abstract (“Raw, clearcut emotion”). One respondent referenced the way that their favorite works “engage the mind and make you think”. Similarly, another respondent enjoyed the way that art “challenges you to create your own meaning”.

Three respondents wrote about not having a specific artistic taste, one of whom specified that their taste is very eclectic, comes mostly from Instagram and Twitter and has much to do with “composition and the use of color”.

One stated that they gravitate towards “art which is aware of itself and the community it belongs to, whether that means it expresses an identity, explores history, or tries to make some sort of political effect on the world”.

Do you have any particular inspirations, or favourite artists/architects/designers? Feel free to name a few.

Various creators of fine art, including Carrivagio, Botticelli, Picasso, Lee Krasner, and Gerard Byrne, were mentioned. One respondent remarked upon their affinity for the “multimedia post-punk generation: Kathy Acker, Derek Jarman, Mapplethorpe, or performance artists like Genesis and Lady Jaye of the Pandrogeny project”. Other art movements that people felt inspired by were Bauhaus, Symbolism, and Pop Art, in addition to the Italian Renaissance, Abstraction and Expressionism. The influence of social media upon artistic taste and its capacity to acquaint us with lesser known artists was noted by one person, who spoke of their favourite creators being “small digital illustrators on Insta[gram]”. Some cited creators of media other than traditional art as their inspirations, such as “Seamus Heaney, Richard Siken, and Alice Phoebe Lou”, “Philip Treacy”, and “Brandon Woelfel, Wes Anderson, and Teuta Matoshi”. Two respondents found their inspiration in those they know well, citing their friends.

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What do you think your artistic taste says about you? Do you think that the clothes you wear and the way you decorate your spaces, the objects you choose for them, is a way of reflecting these tastes in a physical form?

The responses to this particular question were quite varied, with some respondents claiming that they manifest their artistic tastes physically, and others saying that they express their taste solely through art they create rather than the clothing that they wear or the way in which they adorn their space(s). Some felt that their self-expression was tied quite directly to their artistic inspirations, and that finding new inspirations helped them discover a new part of themselves, with one person remarking “when I’m truly wearing what I want I am my happiest”, and another statting that “if I had my own home it would look like a Pinterest page”. Another respondent felt that their self-expression was more loosely linked to their own life experience, especially considering that being “a queer person who grew up in a very conservative environment”, there “wasnt a lot of media [...] that reflected who I was”.

OBLIGATORY COVID Q: Young people have been jolted pretty severely by the pandemic, as has Dublin’s art scene. In what way(s), if at all, do you feel your artistic tastes and methods have changed/developed, in a time synonymous with stagnancy?

The responses to this question were very varied, understandably! ‘Improvise, adapt, overcome’ seems to be the underlying approach that many of the respondents to this survey have taken with regard to creating under lockdown, with quite a few describing the ways in which they have modified their artistic processes, or changed mediums entirely. One person has “diverted towards illustration”, a newly found skill, from photography; others have been putting more “focus [...] on social media and Etsy art sellers”, or have been “producing more [and] making things for friends”. One respondent spoke of how the perspective from which they create has completely changed, saying that “I used to mostly create to work towards some future goal […] being stuck in one place has made me think about said place and all the ghosts around me here”. However, others described how, within the doldrums of these lockdowns, their artistic process has “flatlined”, and that this artistic fatigue alongside the “pressure to be doing stuff ” has led to feelings of guilt. Two respondents lamented the closing of museums and galleries, which one respondent claims have been “left behind big time”, despite the shift to online events.

What we gleaned from this survey, and found particularly interesting, was the marked difference in how respondents felt that their artistic taste related to themselves. Some considered their artistic taste an extension of their personality - as intrinsic a part of them as their beliefs and values - while others indicated that it is something less representative. The large range of tastes expressed in responses was enlightening, and a testament to the diversity of individuals at Trinity. Those for whom creating art and developing artistically is a collaborative process have felt that they have been unable to evolve creatively, while others, who engaged in solitary creative activities pre-Covid (such as photography) seem to have adapted more comfortably. Although Trinity’s creative community has been reduced to its core operations, the people that make it what it is continue to evolve.

WORDS BY KATE BYRNE AND OONA KAUPPI

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Art & Design

MAKING ART IN THE DIGITAL AGE: DAVID HOCKNEY At the end of 2020, The New Yorker published an article on painter and printmaker David Hockney, who made the

cover art ‘Hearth’ for their December issue. His recent works are scattered at intervals throughout the text. They are vibrant and profound. The most fascinating part? 83-year-old Hockney has ‘painted’ them on his iPad. Art has evolved an enormous amount in the last ten years, but with technological progress come increasingly pressing questions about creativity in the 21st century.

Painting, as a visual art practice, has largely remained unchanged over time. The fact that it is the sum of paper, paint and paintbrush is clear to us. However, these three elements have gradually been converted into digital replications, in the now-defunct Paint application and newer applications like Procreate. The effect of ‘brushstrokes’ in Procreate, for example, is not unrealistic. Hockney himself has made use of the original Brushes app, calling it ‘the best’, and even has six custom ‘brushes’ on his personal illustration app. He claims that the works he has made on his iPad are ‘paintings’ - but are they, really?

All of the elements line up, and yet, something does not quite click. Digital tools have unconsciously been reserved for practices like illustration and graphic design. Painting has remained within physical art-making. There is the sense that this medium requires a healthy dose of serendipity in its process. It is unreliable in that paint may splatter or you may not achieve the colour you want. Oil painting is the most forgiving form of painting, and even then, changing a black background to white is not a piece of cake. Digital painting, on the other hand, allows you to make all brushstrokes exactly the same colour, and shape, and size, and then change them completely later. In Hockney’s work, which verges on pop art pointillism, each ‘brushstroke’ dot is identical. While we know that digital art can reflect an artist’s style, there is also a certain degree of uniformity. As Zach from Gilmore Girls famously says, ‘it’s very not rock n’ roll’.

But this view of digital art is reductionist and close-minded. Hockney was never a ‘traditional’ painter. There has always been a vein of anarchy in his works, from the unsettlingly stylised landscapes to the acidic colour palette.

Hockney’s most famous work, ‘The Bigger Splash’ (1967), might as well have been created on an iPad. His style may have even influenced corporate art styles. Ultimately, though, the difference between artistic mediums is not all that significant nowadays. Yayoi Kusama’s dotted installations are incredibly systematic despite their manual creation.

Experiential installations such as ones by teamLab are computer-generated. Art is meant to be subversive, and is very much rooted in the interactivity of mediums. The use of digital tools may have more to do with an artist’s inclination for sleek outlines and precision, as a more effective way of expressing their vision, than a rejection of chance creativity.

The question ‘Are Hockney’s digital works still paintings?’, has turned into the broader question, ‘What is art?’, in one swell swoop. Perhaps, digital painting is shocking precisely because it makes us revaluate the nature of art, sending a formerly liberating form into the clutches of technological conformity. Or perhaps this outcome goes to show how irrelevant and pointless it is to debate labels in the ever-expanding art realm. I’ll leave you to draw (or paint) your own conclusions.

WORDS BY OONA KAUPPI 4

Creativity, Clay and Catherine Forristal C: Yeah she did that, but what she did was scenes. She would do a child sleeping in a bed or something, and she would customize it for people. So if they had a dog, she put a tiny little picture frame of them and their dog. She would go to craft fairs and sell them and put their name on it. And so as a kid, I suppose I had access to all of those things. It made sense to start. That continued into secondary school... and I also grew up around a pottery school.

G: Do you think with the pandemic, there's been an upsurge in people who are doing creative things, because they're either on PUP (Pandemic Unemployment Payment) or they're working from home? So with more free time and less emphasis on making money, they can now pursue these race: So, Catherine, you started a small business creative hobbies? during Covid-19 as a creative outlet, called Wonky Trinkets.

What is Wonky Trinkets?

C: I would definitely agree with that. I think [the pandemic has] also encouraged more people who wouldn't Catherine: Ok, I think it’s very nice that you go as necessarily consider themselves to be creative to start far as to call it a small business. I'm a very idealistic dipping a toe into creative stuff. My brother worked in person, and I was like, maybe this is going to be my thing. bars and pubs for the last 10 years since he came out of I was also working a part time job and studying and college. He's been doing woodwork as his passion project trying to maintain some sort of social life. So it wasn't the for the last seven. And over the last seven years, it's really best time to start. But since lockdown happened, I started to grown. He's been doing exhibitions of his work, there are really get back into making art. Essentially, I like [the a lot of independent shops that are selling his stools and medium of] clay, and you know how on TikTok everyone tables and stuff. He's always wanted [for that to] take off. started making those little clay figures? I started making He was like, “Okay, this pandemic. I don't want to work in little funny face ashtrays. I was like, “Oh my God, it's so fun!”. a bar for the rest of my life, so I'm going to go ahead and just give this all my energy instead now because I am on G: So, were you always into making things out of clay or was PUP, I don't have to worry about money at the moment.” it something you picked up in quarantine? Were you only So, yeah, I think [the pandemic has] also given people the inspired, like you said, by those TikToks? space and time to step back from what they’re doing and be like, “Is this actually what I want to do or would I be happier C: I’ve always really liked making stuff with clay. I grew up doing something else? What's important to me and what do with clay all around the place. My mom actually used to I like doing with my free time? Why don't I do more of it?” make door locks. They’re things you can hang on your door And I think the fact that he had the time as a kid and it has your name. to step up and not worry about money and working all the time, and actually do G: Oh, my God, I love those things. I had them all over my something that was his hobby [was really door as a child. important]. Also, that he could make a bit of money without being so stressed out about making a living from it.

G

WORDS BY GRACE CULHANE

G: Absolutely. So, yeah, crazy times. Thank you for the interview!

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Fashion

Back to the Future: Trends from the nineties that are making a comeback.

There’s no denying it anymore: the nineties are

back and better than ever. This realisation came to me rather spontaneously last night when I found myself, not for the first time, watching Friends and focusing on Rachel Green’s casual chic style more than anything else that was going on in the episode. For me, this is no new phenomenon. For years I’ve adored Rachel’s baggy jeans and tight graphic tees, but until now I’ve always seen her style as being cool but out of date, chic but not emulatable two decades later. However, last night that all changed when I was drooling over one of her iconic looks and suddenly found myself thinking: I would definitely wear that.

And so, the beginnings of this article began to take shape.

Inspired by the legendary style of a fictional character, I began by scouring my wardrobe, then online shops and, finally, the Instagram pages of the myriad fashion influencers that comprise my newsfeed, before eventually landing at the final conclusion that the nineties are, most certainly, back.

While (thankfully) not every trend has made a comeback, I have gone and compiled a list of some of the most prominent styles of 2021 that have all been plucked straight from the nineties and transformed in some way to conform to the more minimalistic, toned-down tastes of today. Keep reading to see which trends we’ve stolen from the nineties – I guarantee you’ve already succumbed to one of them without even realising its origin.

BUCKET HATS Famous for its artsy, somewhat grungy-hippy vibe, the bucket hat has made a huge comeback in recent months thanks to big-name, high-end brands like Prada and Burberry who have included them in their latest collections. After a two-decade-long period of hibernation, the bucket hat has finally found itself back on the heads of celebrities and arts students alike.

SLIP DRESSES Soft, feminine and effortlessly chic, the slip dress is personally my favourite thing to come out of the nineties (aside from myself of course).

Stylish and practical, slip dresses can take you from day to night depending on what you pair them with. I personally like to throw them on over a jumper and tights during the day and wear them with heels and a cute bag at night.

DAD SHOES Probably one of the most iconic trends of the nineties, chunky trainers are back this year with a vengeance. A quick scroll through Instagram will show that seemingly everyone these days owns a pair of New Balance 530s, Adidas Ozweegoes, Balenciaga Triple Ss, or knows somebody who does. Insanely comfortable and amazingly versatile, it’s easy to see why 2021 has

decided to give this trend a new lease of life.

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MATCHING TRACKSUIT SETS Does anything scream late nineties/ early noughties more than a matching tracksuit set? Praised for their comfort and practicality, the mere thought of matching tracksuit sets (especially ones with glittery slogans across the bum) will make nineties kids everywhere feel seriously nostalgic. This trend owes its rejuvenation mainly to the pandemic (I personally can’t remember the last time that I wore anything that wasn’t a baggy sweatshirt tucked into a pair of oversized joggers) and has recently become the undisputed working-from-home uniform.

STRAIGHT-LEG JEANS This is one nineties trend that I was seriously surprised at. A surprisingly understated style when compared to the typically outlandish trends of the nineties, straight-leg jeans were the most popular style of denim before the turn of the century and were only replaced by skinny jeans in the early 2000s. As of late, this casual style of jean has made a major comeback and is set to take back its top spot.

SHEER EVERYTHING Love it or hate it, sheer dresses and tops were all over the (virtual) catwalks this spring/summer.

This trend won’t be for everyone, and some will inevitably wonder why we didn’t leave the mesh tops back in the twentieth century where they belong. However, all of the looks that I’ve seen incorporating sheer garments have been amazing and I can’t wait to see this resurrected trend really gain some momentum off the runway when nightlife returns.

CYCLING SHORTS Originally brought into the spotlight by Princess Diana, cycling shorts were everywhere in the nineties and have been on the comeback for the last few years.

Predictions say that this season will be no different. The perfect form of athleisure for the hotter months, paired with a graphic tee or oversized sweatshirt, cycling shorts can look effortlessly chic. Comfortable, stylish and for the most part very affordable, what’s not to love?

WORDS BY MILLIE BRENNAN

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Fashion

Fashion History:

Edith Head and Hollywood Glamour WORDS BY AISLING FINNEGAN

T

he Golden Age of Hollywood (1920s-60s) saw the fashion and film industries working in unison for the first time. We associate this era of cinema with glamorous stars, luxurious accessories, and timeless clothing pieces. Edith Head was the costume designer who largely contributed to this image of Old Hollywood. She often said that she would never be the world’s greatest costume designer, but claimed she could be the smartest. This proved true as Head became the first head female designer at Paramount Pictures and still holds the record for the most Oscar nominations and wins for costume design. So, with no formal training in fashion, how did she do it?

Head began her career as a sketch artist for Paramount in 1924, working previously as a language teacher. Despite her lack of experience, she worked tirelessly to prove her place amongst the leading men in the industry. She paid special attention to the female stars she designed for, garnering their input and ensuring their comfort in the clothing. Her fashion formula was to ‘hide imperfections’ and ‘accentuate the good.’ We undoubtedly see this as problematic today as it suggests that bodies should look a certain way. However, it proved a successful method for Head at the time and made the actors feel confident with their figures.

Design inspiration for Head came from her biannual trips to Paris Fashion Week, where she kept up with the latest trends. She also worked alongside up-and-coming fashion designers such as Hubert de Givenchy. Collaborating with important members of the film industry further boosted her career. Two of her most extensive collaborations were with director Alfred Hitchcock and actress Grace Kelly – who Head stated was the easiest leading lady to dress.

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Working on several hundred films throughout her career, it would be near impossible to sift through them all to find Head’s best designs. But since you would probably like to see at least some of her beautiful costumes, let’s break down some of the famous gowns from her Oscar-nominated pictures.

To Catch a Thief (1955) This strapless white gown worn by Grace Kelly has a classic 1950s silhouette made to highlight the actress’ best features: her prominent collarbones that shine almost as much as her diamond necklace - and her slim waist. This film is my favourite costume collaboration between Edith Head and Alfred Hitchcock. Kelly looks like a princess (ironically, she later became one!) in every scene and I would happily spend the rest of my days in her To Catch a Thief costume wardrobe!

Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961) Head worked with designer Givenchy on Breakfast at Tiffany’s to realise Truman Capote’s vision of the ‘little black dress.’ Pairing the simple dress with gloves, dark sunglasses and pearl and diamond jewellery appropriately enhances the ensemble for the fashionable Holly Golightly (Audrey Hepburn). With a simple structure and flattering colour, it is no wonder that this remains one of the most iconic costumes in film history and that the little black dress has now become a classic wardrobe staple.

What a Way to Go! (1965) If you’re ever thinking of watching a film for the costumes alone, What a Way to Go! should be at the top of your list. Arguably the most flamboyant of Head’s films as it came later in her career, she went bigger and bolder with her designs than ever before. The film is filled with pomp, colour, and eye-catching pieces such as the bold all-pink ensemble above worn by Shirley MacLaine.

The green satin number, while still extravagant, is more compliant with the elegant old Hollywood style that Edith Head is most recognised and celebrated for today.

Head never retired but worked until her death in 1981 after a career as a costume designer that spanned over 50 years. Her final project was Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid (1982), directed by Carl Reiner and dedicated to her memory. By not coming from a design background, Head proves that dedication and hard work are the main factors to success. Her timeless designs moulded the ‘golden age’ of Hollywood and popularized the objects we now associate with feminine glamour: pearl earrings, diamond necklaces, little black dresses, and white chiffon ball gowns. With 35 Academy Award nominations throughout her career and a legacy of star-studded films, I have no doubt that Edith Head will live on as a Hollywood fashion icon forever.

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Fashion

Thee Fashion of Th

R

u Paul’s Drag Race has become a phenomenon in recent years. What started out as a LGBTQIA+ staple, has now breached its way into mainstream culture and has given a platform to queer artists around the world.

Simultaneously, it has raised the bar for the art of drag, and fashion wise, it has given birth to some notorious fashion queens.

The art of drag and fashion are the ultimate collaborators, resulting in an amalgamation of curated, couture looks, with a drag twist. Fashion queens, such as Gigi Goode, Symone and Crystal Methyd, are just some examples of fashion excellence highlighted on Drag Race, each bringing an intelligent twist to the runway. Each contestant has shown versatility and individuality in challenges, but particularly on the runway. In turn, these queens and the countless others that have sashayed across our screens have inspired many to get involved in the art form. They have elevated fashion within drag and inspired creativity in our community. The competitive level within drag has risen, and a standard has almost been set. Queens are investing more, learning more and incorporating trends into their new looks. Chaps, which made a major comeback in the 2019 festival season, were reverent all throughout the drag scene, as well as tulle.

Drag was always a major part of fashion, but its importance is now being given the respect it deserves. The 2019 Met Gala was focused on Susan Sontag’s “Notes on Camp”, which honestly could have just been on the runway of Drag Race.

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The runway on Drag Race has now become a tricky obstacle for many a queen. To slay the runway, you must be either creative or have bank. Michelle Visage once said “You don’t need money for drag”, which was a gross miscalculation of how much these queens spend to prepare for the show. While some may have a wardrobe full of looks, the runway criteria may call for a space themed look or even a 2-in-1 piece. Adding in the cost of materials, fees for a designer (if needed), wigs, accessories and makeup, an entire look for one runway could be costly. Factor in the fact they could be there for anywhere between one episode or twelve, it is a high volume of money on a single competition. Queens have been said to spend thousands on Drag Race, only to be sent home after a few episodes.

Ru Paul’s meltdown over a H&M dress on Drag Race UK showed us that drag has changed, and that there is a cost to compete in the race. While a queen may be talented in acting or singing, not having a wardrobe to back up the talent is now detrimental in the competition. However, I think it’s unfair that queens have to afford a new wardrobe of custom looks for a competition to further their progress and to win challenges. It seems to pit an unfair advantage on those in unstable financial waters to have to be in debt over an opportunity to further their career.

The sewing challenges do highlight the raw fashion talent in the show, and convey the creative side of drag. Awhora of Drag Race season two is a prime example, a recent fashion graduate, who won a challenge after constructing a NHS tribute look out of a light fixture and plastic tarp. The transformation of everyday items, such as tarp or tape, into a high-fashion garment is an incredible skill and really brings Drag Race back to the roots of drag. Naomi Smalls of season 8 and All Stars 4 used sheets of paper to make a couture gown. Drag at its very essence is creative, born out a desire for expression, and so both freedom and fashion are integral.

While I do believe that the runway element of Drag Race is unfair, it is also my favourite part of every episode, as I love what every queen brings to the runway. Every episode is always outside of the box and exciting, which is at the heart of what fashion is.

WORDS BY CIARÁN BUTLER 11

Film

The Silence of the Lambs: 30 Years On WORDS BY RÓISÍN RYAN ART BY MEGHAN FLOOD

Thirty years on from its original release, The Silence of the Lambs (Jonathan Demme, 1991) remains an

enduring cultural touchstone. Even those who have never seen the film will still likely recognise a certain infamous quote involving fava beans and a nice chianti. So iconic is Dr Hannibal ‘the Cannibal’ Lecter that first-time viewers may be surprised that Clarice Starling is hunting another serial killer entirely, the demented woman-killer Buffalo Bill / Jame Gumb (played with unnerving efficacy by Ted Levine). Silence brought groundbreaking gravitas to its gripping, if grisly, story of serial killers and cannibalistic psychopaths, material once primarily the preserve of pulpy thrills. The effects can be seen in the media landscape to this day, from weighty crime dramas to true crime deep-dives.

The central performances remain of gold standard. Jodie Foster never lets you forget that Clarice is an FBI recruit painfully out of her depth, yet also suggests an unshakeable inner determination. Anthony Hopkins’ Lecter on the other hand combines a chilling stillness with a camp flair for the theatrical to enthralling effect.

Suspense is built masterfully throughout the film. The relentless close-ups build intensity to occasionally unbearable heights. Brief twists of humour let you off the hook now and then, but the edge of your seat rarely gets a break. There is no flab in this film; it exploits every minute of its near two-hour running time to the fullest extent. Horror and the thriller, the two genres from which Silence draws its lifeblood, can be particularly susceptible to aging as story beats become too familiar and new techniques become ubiquitous and stale. Not so with Silence. The twists still thrill, the characters still compel.

In certain regards, Silence possesses a prescience that makes it feel remarkably fresh. Seen through the prism of post-#Me Too sexual politics, it is striking how much attention the film pays to what it means to move through the world as a woman. Clarice first appears surrounded by soaring pine trees as she jogs through a symbolically weighted obstacle course, but more often than not it is male colleagues and professional contacts crowding her out, looking down on her, excluding her, dismissing her.

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Clarice is a woman in a man’s world. Her femininity, and in particular her sexuality, keep getting in the way of her doing her job. She is so consistently hit on or leered at that it almost becomes a grim running joke. Lecter is genteelly appalled when a fellow inmate flicks his semen at her, but he is not above wondering voyeuristically about her sexual history and the nature of boss Jack Crawford’s interest in her. Crawford himself is Lecter’s subtle double, his investment in Clarice teetering uneasily between the paternal and the sexual. Crawford’s lingering handshake with Clarice at her graduation overlaps with a wittily ominous surprise call from Lecter to conclude the film on a note of lurking dread.

Sex and death form a macabre dyad, the two meeting constantly in the female body. We don’t see any of Bill’s murders, but we see plenty of his naked, mutilated victims. Clarice is alternately (or simultaneously) lusted after and menaced. Bill reaches out to caress Clarice’s hair and then points a gun at her head. Look closely at the film’s iconic poster and you’ll see that the skull on the death’s head moth is in fact a miniature copy of the famous photo In Voluptas Mors, in which seven naked women form the shape of a skull.

The film’s treatment of vulnerability is complex. Crawford sends Clarice to Lecter in the hopes that a young, pretty, female trainee will disarm him, presenting her with an invaluable opportunity for advancement.

Clarice trades her deepest secrets for information on Bill from Lecter. But it is a double-edged sword that cuts ruthlessly. We see Clarice reduced to tears after her first meeting with Lecter, fighting them back as she examines the body of a victim. In the film’s climax, we watch her stumbling around in the dark, blind and terrified. Horror has a long-standing relationship with female vulnerability. This is the genre that gave us the trope of the final girl: the last survivor must be a girl because, bluntly, it heightens the sense of danger. Clarice straddles the line between final girl and heroine, victim and saviour. Her vulnerability draws us in and keeps us terrified.

The perspective of thirty years is not uniformly kind to Silence. LGBT groups criticised the characterisation of Jame Gumb at the time of the film’s release and the advances in understanding since 1991 only make this aspect more obviously problematic. Gumb has had relationships with men and women, although he is not explicitly identified as bisexual. He is making a woman-suit to become a woman, but Lecter insists he is not truly trans. Yet the film draws horror from the transgression of gender boundaries in a way that deserves scrutiny. A particularly memorable scene in which Gumb dances naked for the camera, made up, penis tucked – as Catherine screams from her makeshift prison – is troubling in more ways than one.

Flaws and all, The Silence of the Lambs still demands viewing, engagement, and interrogation. It is a cultural moment, a fascinating piece of art, and a simply brilliant piece of entertainment. A cinematic masterpiece: it remains, at thirty years and counting, an essential watch.

13

Film

Racial Oppression Exposed on Film WORDS BY CONNOR HOWLETT

In July, I wrote about several films that have raised my awareness of racial injustice. Cinema provides us with an

alternate perspective and worldview, and for the duration of a film’s running time we see something very special beyond our own experience. Since I first wrote that piece last summer, I have seen several films that would make worthy additions to the original list. All were released in Ireland over the past year, which further emphasises the significance of increased representation in the industry. It is vital that this increase of diverse voices in cinema does not go unrecognised by audiences.

As I wrote in the last piece, I would encourage you to seek out films beyond the limitations of this list and recommended by those with far more research, experience and authority on the subject, such as Time’s “24 Essential Works of Black Cinema Recommended by Black Directors.” It may appear axiomatic to suggest, but the films listed here all specifically address racism, and it is therefore important to remember that there is significantly more to Black culture and the experiences of ethnic minority communities than oppression. There are also many worthy mentions, such as Rocks (Sarah Gavron, 2019) which I haven’t seen yet, so what I offer here is by no means a complete curation. This is simply a collection of films that continue to keep my eyes open to racial injustice, and that is always worth sharing to open more.

Les misérables (Ladj Ly, 2019)

My top film of 2020. Ly’s searing feature début follows three police officers in the Anti-Crime Brigade as they spend a day on the streets of the Parisian commune of Montfermeil. The film interrogates the culture of silence around police misconduct within the force, and the casual racism that is so often a warning sign for future tragedy.

White Riot (Rubika Shah, 2019)

This brilliant documentary charts the context that led to the Rock Against Racism movement forming in 1976. This is an eye-opening watch featuring shocking and troubling quotes from figures such as Eric Clapton and David Bowie, and paints a stark image of the racism prevalent in 1970s England. If you ever hear anyone tell you that England is not a racist country, here is some explicit archival evidence to the contrary.

Anthony (Terry McDonough, 2020)

Far too often, true-crime dramatisations focus on the perpetrators, leaving the victims a mere salacious detail to the overall story being presented. Anthony is a profoundly moving riposte to that, with emotionally devastating consequences. In Liverpool Park in July 2005, Anthony Walker was brutally murdered by two racist white men in an unprovoked attack. He was eighteen. The crime that cut his life tragically short is addressed in Anthony, but not until the very end. The majority of the film imagines the many things Anthony Walker would have been able to do with his life if it had not ended in 2005. We see the relationships he may have formed, the people he would have helped. As the film closes, you’ve seen what the world has lost.

Small Axe (Steve McQueen, 2020)

A new Steve McQueen film is an unmissable cinematic event in itself. In 2020, he provided us with five in a remarkable feat of creating a film anthology focusing on the real-life experiences of the West Indian community in London from the late 60s to early 80s. Lovers Rock is the only one I haven’t yet seen, but if it’s anything like the rest of the anthology, it’s essential viewing. McQueen allows his shots to linger on his characters: one of the ways in which he masterfully lets the emotional weight of a scene fully sink in. We see a tear slide down a cheek, and are given the time and space to engage with that character’s emotions. He is one of our greatest contemporary filmmakers.

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Mangrove (Steve McQueen, 2020)

Frank Crichlow (Shaun Parkes) is an honest man trying to run his restaurant (the titular Mangrove) and provide a place to call home to the West Indian community of Notting Hill. However, repeated harassment, violence and vandalism by the Met Police lead to a breaking point, forcing him and others to protest their treatment. What follows is the very public trial of the Mangrove Nine at the Old Bailey, and an historic ruling in the face of systemic modes of oppression. My fists were clenched, and I could feel my heart pumping out of my chest.

Red, White and Blue (Steve McQueen, 2020)

Leroy Logan (John Boyega) is training to be a police officer in the Met to protect his community and change systematic racist attitudes from within. He faces immense hostility not only from his colleagues, but from his community, and his father, who is himself a victim of police brutality.

Alex Wheatle (Steve McQueen, 2020)

This is the story of the formative years of award-winning writer Alex Wheatle (Sheyi Cole). After neglect, abuse, and alienation growing up in an all-white care home, Alex finally finds a sense of community and identity in Brixton. He is then sent to prison after the Brixton Uprising in 1981. The dangers there are not from fellow inmates – those who have been condemned by society as dangerous – but from the violent and bigoted prison system and supposed figures of order and justice. Alex finds solace in his cellmate who acts as a mentor figure and helps him to find a new, creative channel for his rage.

Education (Steve McQueen, 2020)

12-year-old Kingsley (Kenyah Sandy) wants to be an astronaut. This dream is shattered as he is pulled into the headmaster’s office for being disruptive in class and told that he is being transferred to a special needs school. His parents are unaware of an unofficial segregation policy that prevents many Black children, such as Kingsley, from accessing the education they are entitled to. A group of West Indian women decide this is not good enough and help Kingsley to access the resources he needs in order to learn which his other schools had neglected.

His House (Remi Weekes, 2020)

After escaping from war-torn South Sudan, a refugee couple settle into a house in England whilst waiting to be granted asylum. Bol (Sope Dirisu) and Rial (Wunmi Mosaku) both struggle to adjust to their new lives, made all the harder by unwelcoming neighbours, and the trauma and loss that have followed them there.

Judas and the Black Messiah (Shaka King, 2021)

Bill O’Neal (LaKeith Stanfield) is given an ultimatum. Go to jail for five years, or inform on the Black Panther Party for the FBI. The film that follows is a damning portrayal of the FBI’s role in the assassination of Fred Hampton (Daniel Kaluuya), and the active policy of prejudice led by J. Edgar Hoover (Martin Sheen). Kaluuya and Stanfield both give the performances of their career, and Shaka King is clearly a director to keep an eye on. I couldn’t look away. If there was ever a film to pay a premium price to watch at home during this pandemic, it’s this one.

15

Food

Healthy Snacks for Study Season

You’re an independent adult that needs nutrients to revise well and finish those assignments last minute. Grow up and eat some veg.

When exam season rolls around, you inevitably hear of several students who have contracted diseases

usually only seen in 18th century orphans or malnourished pirates as a result of surviving on a diet of pot noodles for 2 months. Though I have not yet contracted scurvy, things are probably heading that way if I don’t change my habits. “Too busy” to make actual meals in the run up to exams, I have survived on chocolate digestives and a constant stream of tea and convinced myself that eating a single piece of fruit every day would provide all the nutrients I needed to stave off a range of concerning deficiencies. However, this exam season, I am pledging to take that extra 10 minutes to make healthy meals because honestly, I’m in my twenties now and my body can no longer handle that kind of abuse. So, here’s a few quick meals and handy study snacks to help you avoid becoming another university urban legend who lived off Monster Munch for half the semester and contracted rickets.

Banana pancakes:

These fluffy banana pancakes are ridiculously simple and will certainly fuel your study better than the soggy Special K you’re currently eating for breakfast.

1. Mash half a banana and mix it with one egg in a bowl. You can double these amounts for two pancakes.

2. Optional additions: you can throw in a tablespoon of oats for extra fibre. Blueberries or raspberries can also be added into the mix for a bit of sweetness.

3. Heat a frying pan over medium heat. Once hot, add a small amount of butter or coconut oil to coat the pan.

Reduce the heat and pour the pancake mix onto the pan.

4. Cook for a few minutes on each side, until both sides are lightly browned.

Apple slices with nut butter (Vegan):

Studying late? Oreos are the ideal midnight snack. Unfortunately, they will not help you stave off scurvy. Apples slices with nut butter may be a slightly better option.

1. Core an apple (Granny smith or Braeburn preferably) and cut it into slices.

2. Spread a little bit of nut butter (natural peanut, almond or cashew butter all work) on top of each slice and you’re all done.

Note: do not use heavily processed nut butter for this – it absolutely will not taste good.

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Guacamole and crackers (Vegan):

If you’ve only ever tasted sad shop-bought ‘guacamole inspired dip’ made from modified maize starch and rehydrated avocado paste, I implore you to try this easy home-made snack. I thought guacamole was awful for years – it turns out my mother was just buying awful guacamole.

1. Mash half an avocado and add a teaspoon of lime juice.

2. Finely chop a quarter of a red onion and a few cherry tomatoes and mix into the mashed avocado.

3.Salt and pepper to taste.

4. Serve with crackers or lentil crisps.

Pesto-pasta salad:

Last year, Grimes admitted that she ate nothing but pasta for 2 years and her hair stopped growing from lack of nutrients. Honestly, this reminded me a lot of a university student’s diet; pesto-pasta twice a day, every day.

However, there is still hope for your hair goals as pesto-pasta is a great base for a nutritious pasta salad.

1. Cook a portion of pasta in boiling water and rinse under cold water before draining.

2. Add 2 tablespoons of pesto to the cooked pasta and a little water to thin the sauce out if necessary.

3. Add in a few chopped cherry tomatoes, a handful of spinach and 1/3 can of rinsed chickpeas.

4. Toss the salad to combine and season with salt and pepper. You can also add in a little lemon juice for extra flavour.

Quesadillas:

‘Liberal sprinkling of cheese’ may not be a phrase that comes to mind when you think ‘healthy’, but remember - it’s better to force down vegetables disguised in cheese than to forgo vegetables entirely during study season.

1. In a frying pan coated with a little oil, fry half a chopped yellow pepper, half an onion and a clove of garlic in oil for 2 minutes over a medium heat.

2. Add in one chopped tomato and half a can of black beans (drained). Cook for a few minutes longer.

3. Season with salt and pepper and at this point, you can add chilli powder or a chopped jalapeno for some extra heat!

4. Remove this mixture from the frying pan and place a tortilla onto the pan.

5. Spoon the vegetables onto one half of the tortilla and liberally sprinkle grated cheddar cheese onto the same half.

6. Allow the bottom of the tortilla to brown for a few minutes before folding it over to cover the melty mixture.

Serve with guacamole or salsa if you’re feeling ambitious.

WORDS BY SAOIRSE FLATTEY ART BY ELLECIA VAUGHAN

17

Food

Now We’re Cooking (with Guinness) From savory to sweet here are a few creative ways to cook with your favorite pint WORDS BY LINDSEY LEACH ART BY LOLA FLEMING

I live in a house full of avid Guinness fans. As a monument to the depth of our appreciation for the Black

Stuff, we currently have a wall of cans stacked up higher than the average person (please see the picture attached). As an added bonus, we live in the shadow of the world famous Guinness storehouse and the smell of hops serves as our room freshener. A regular dinner for us is Guinness stew served over mashed potatoes, with a pint on the side of course. But admittedly, that was as far as my experience cooking with Guinness had gone until this St. Patrick’s season.

I decided to get into the spirit by cooking a few new recipes, some found on the Guinness instagram, some on Pinterest, and others by word of mouth. There are so many different recipes that recommend adding Guinness in order to bring a smokey flavor to the dish or bring out the richness of the other ingredients. I was surprised to learn that Guinness makes a welcome addition to both sweet and savory dishes. With the options overwhelming, I decided to narrow my experiment to three dishes, and all have been a success!

Of the three recipes - the stew, fondue, and brownies - I was most nervous about the fondue, having never attempted something similar, but this was quickly a crowd pleaser! This cheesy sauce is incredibly versatile; I personally used it for dipping, using carrots, bread, and crisps. I’d really recommend the bread and feel confident it would be delicious over a burger patty in place of a cheese slice.

The stew is comforting and delicious, albeit a bit more time consuming. This recipe came from my roommate, and I quickly had to pass it along to my friends and family as well; its that good. If you wake up after St. Patrick’s Day with a head like a possessed couch, this could be a welcomed cure.

And finally the brownies; the Guinness helps to create a soft and gooey texture with a general creaminess that is reminiscent of the creamy pints themselves. The flavor of the Guinness is not obvious or strong, so those who are looking for a creative use for that pint you forgot about, this is it.

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The Guinness Fondue (from the Guinness Instagram): 30g of butter 30g plain flour 150ml of Guinness 1tsp mustard 2 tbsp worcestershire sauce Splash of Tabasco (optional) 450g grated cheddar cheese (I recommend a mild cheddar) Sprinkle of nutmeg Make sure to combine butter and flour first in a roux, then add the rest and stir gently till all cheese is melted.

Keep on low heat if using as a fondue.

Serve as a fondue for dipping or as an added sauce on any sandwich.

Make sure to combine butter The of Rob Bowman): and Guinness flour firstStew in a(courtesy roux, then 1-2 olive addtbsp the of rest andoilstir gently till 500kg casserole steak, cut into one inch chunks all cheese is melted. Keep on 1 onion, chopped low heat if using chopped as a fondue.

2 carrots, roughly

2 celery sticks, roughly chopped 2 clovesasgarlic, finelyfor sliced Serve a fondue dipping 150ml beef stock or as an added sauce on any 500ml of Guinness sandwich.

Sea salt and ground black pepper to taste 1 bay leaf Juniper berries A few teaspoons of cornflour (starch if you’re american...)

1. Brown the beef with the oil and put aside, then add onions, carrots, celery, garlic.

2. Once softened, add back the beef and the rest of the ingredients (excluding the cornflour) and let simmer for 45 minutes. Watch out for the Guinness - it likes to foam!

3. With 10 minutes left to go, blend the cornflour with a drop of water and add to the mix.

Serve over mashed potatoes or on its own.

The Guinness Brownie (Pinterest): 60ml vegetable oil 175ml guinness 260g sugar ½ tsp vanilla extract 55g salted butter, melted and cooled (add a dash of salt if you want) 2 eggs 136g flour 65g cocoa powder 1. Combine dry and wet ingredients separately, then combine.

2. Pour into a greased or lined pan, cook at 175 for 20 mins, add time as needed for deeper pans.

Serve plain or add a chocolate icing if desired.

19

Games

How to End a Game

Goodbyes are tough. Sometimes it’s a person you love traveling across the world, other times it’s the finale

of your favourite TV show. Sometimes though, it’s your university magazine. After four years writing and editing, we’ve reached the end of our time and we’d like to say goodbye to TN2 by discussing what the “ending” in video games means for us, as well as its importance in this wonderful medium.

Seán - Games Editor The true “ending” of a game is difficult to define nowadays. Modern games often have no shortage of things to do after the main story is over. But while this might seem like a symptom of game bloat, it’s more of a blessing than a curse. In 2016, during a stressful set of college exams, I took respite in playing an hour or two of Ratchet and Clank every evening. When the end of the story came, I needed a reason to continue coming back to the game every night. So it was straight on to the New Game + mode, then on to the PSN platinum after that. The true ending only came when there was definitively nothing left to do. I completed the game again in March 2020 and I can confidently say that it will not be the last time. I’ll continue coming back to it whenever I need an idle distraction.

I think the most memorable endings in games are the traditional narrative conclusions - the ones that hit you like a train. You know the feeling - it’s 3am, you’ve just played through to the end of a story that you’ve been emotionally invested in for weeks, maybe even years, and you’re left with a void in your very soul. One of my personal favourite endings is in Final Fantasy XV (the very first game I wrote about for TN2). The story follows four young men on a fantastical road trip across the game world. It culminates, in typical Final Fantasy manner, with a cataclysm that only the protagonist, Noctis can avert by sacrificing his life. Gut wrenching as this is, the real kicker comes after the credits, in an extra scene with Noctis and his three closest friends sitting around a campfire before the final battle. There’s no music, no grandeur, no sprawling speech praising the valorous sacrifice Noctis is about to make. It’s just four friends having a heartfelt conversation that they know will be their last. The groundedness and sincerity of the scene is palpable. Noctis pauses, the silences long and poignant. He fumbles his sentences and through teary eyes, eventually finds the right words to express his gratitude to his lifelong friends: “I’ve made my peace. Still, knowing this is it...seeing you all here…it’s more than I can take.” While the same can’t be said for the rest of the game, this scene is exceptionally well written and drives home the steadfast friendship between these four characters, galvanised over the course of a years-long journey. I think about it often, even five years later. Whenever I do, I am reminded of my first article with TN2 - a review of Final Fantasy XV. As my time at the magazine comes to a close, I look back on that article with great fondness, and I’m certain I will look back on this, my final article, with the same sentiment in five years’ time.

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Sam - Deputy Editor

In 2011 a CNN article only 10% of the players on the now deducted social platform Raptr had completed the critically acclaimed Red Dead Redemption. Raptr was a platform dedicated to video games, and as such its users were hardcore players, so it is entirely possible that the figure among casual players was lower. Changes to this figure in light of the pandemic notwithstanding, this statistic is likely disheartening for any developer. This is why I think that it’s all the more impactful for me when a game truly has effort and thought put into it. I would like, in light of this to take you through two games that would not be the same without their endings.

Celeste follows Madeline, a girl at war with herself. This personal tale sees Madeline’s insecurities literalized into a herculean mountain climb. I call it a challenge game because the difficulty is central to helping the player empathize with her struggle. Throughout the journey she is taunted by a dark manifestation of her anxiety. This character begins antagonistic, and Madeine only begins to overcome her struggle when she reaches out to this part of herself. In doing this they become one. A key mechanic in Celeste is Madeline’s mid-air dash that is recharged when she touches the ground. In this final section however, Madeline receives the ability to dash twice without touching the ground symbolizing her growth. This helps the player through a final gauntlet of platforming challenges that reflects the journey to this point, while the steady pulse provided by the driving strings of Lena Raine’s score gives a feeling of power as they glide through this final level employing the skills they have picked up over the entire game. The ending truly crescendos after the climb. Madeline and her inner self sit on the summit watching the sunrise. The music slows to a bittersweet number, offering time to reflect on the journey.

Madeline has begun to heal, but there are still challenges ahead, now she doesn’t have to face them alone.

Child of Light is a fairytale, but unlike a Disney princess, protagonist Aurora’s tale is one of woe. She loses her mother and then she falls into a comatose state. She ascends to a magical world that is implied to be some sort of afterlife. Princess Aurora is petulant and frequently wishes to leave this fantasy world much to the dismay of the delightful party of lost souls that she befriends along her journey. Over the course of the journey she mellows. Her ability to comfort her party is an asset. She meets people who she could never empathise with from the Austrian castle she grew up in. Over the course of the journey she becomes a leader, listening to her comrades and ultimately defeating her elitist step mother. What struck me about the ending though, was what happened after I put the controller down. In the real world the kingdom is slowly sinking under a flood.

Aurora must now return to the kingdom as queen and does what the previous generation never would have, she invites the subjects of the kingdom into the castle, breaking the boundaries of class. The flood continues to rise however, and Aurora is forced to evacuate everyone to the magical land of Lemuria. As they ascend to the next world, Aurora is with her people.

I was moved by the maturity of this ending when I first finished this game seven years ago. Now I am struck by the poignancy of its mythologization of the struggle against rising tides and a changing climate amid the obstructions of class and the inaction of the ruling generation.

Endings are difficult to write, not only due to the weight of expectation that will hopefully be built up by the preceding work, but also because it has to make the player feel like they have had a complete experience. This is what will be sitting with them as they put down the controller. A truly impactful ending will leave the player with a mixture of emotions and thoughts that they will hopefully internalize and remember for years to come.

“When I’m parting with a friend, regardless of the circumstances, I find it best to just say, ‘See you later.’ We’ll meet again. After all” - Shigasato Itoi 2015 ART BY MEGHAN FLOOD

21

Games

Mario Mario 128 128 The The Unfinished Unfinished Game GameYou’ve You’ve Probably Probably Played Played WORDS BY ROBERT GIBBONS

The year is 1996. Nintendo is hot off the launch of the Nintendo 64 and the groundbreaking, genre defining

game: Super Mario 64. It was the darling of every critic and consumer. Wanting to strike while the iron is hot, work began in the back rooms of Nintendo on its successor: Mario 128. A game that held so much promise, yet never came to pass. A game whose development characterised the next decade of Nintendo games, yet is erased from the annals of their history. A game that doesn’t exist, yet one that you’ve likely already played.

Mario 128 began with a few simple ideas that had been scrapped from Super Mario 64: Luigi as a co-op character and a rideable Yoshi being chief among them. With these, Shigeru Miyamoto began work on the last game he would ever direct. The Nintendo Entertainment Analysis and Development Division (Nintendo EAD) began work on several prototypes to see how these ideas could play out. Through this process, what began as a simple Super Mario 64 sequel, began to grow. Firstly, Luigi stopped being an optional character for co-op, but instead became someone the player would control simultaneously with Mario. Secondly, Miyamoto, following the release of Super Mario 64, grew increasingly frustrated with Mario’s popularity as a children’s character. So, in a 2002 interview with Playboy Weekly Japan (yes, that Playboy), he promised that Mario 128 would have more mature graphics and themes. Thirdly, they wanted to include a new type of enemy AI that would react in more varied ways to Mario’s attacks. Finally, Miyamoto wanted a more complicated way of platforming that would see Mario traversing spherical stages.

The production process dragged on with countless delays. It was first delayed by the release of Ocarina of Time, which was intended to be an N64 launch title, but was delayed by almost a year. Nintendo was unwilling to devote the staff necessary for Mario 128 until production was completed on Zelda. It was then delayed further by Miyamoto’s own schedule, since he insisted on directing Mario 128, despite supervising countless other games simultaneously. Even when Nintendo EAD had prototypes ready, Miyamoto didn’t have the time to play them.

In 1999, he told Nintendo Power that he had a prototype for Mario 128 that had been sitting on his desk for over a year, but he hadn’t had the time to play it yet. What these delays meant in concrete terms was that the goalposts kept shifting on where Mario 128 would end up. It began as an N64 game, then it became a game for the 64DD (a failed disk drive peripheral for the N64 that only saw release in Japan) and then it became a Gamecube title.

This brings us to Nintendo SpaceWorld 2000. The SpaceWorld showcase was an annual trade show that Nintendo hosted from 1989 to 2001 which Wikipedia describes as “three days of high-energy party atmosphere”. Existing before widespread international video game journalism, it has become a treasure trove of video game legend and hearsay. From SpaceWorld 2000, however, we have footage from the crowd as Nintendo shows the only public demo of Mario 128 A blank screen with the words Mario 128.

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An 8-bit Mario runs across the screen, pausing at the centre, before it zooms out to reveal that this Mario is made of a collection of cubes on a circular board game board. 3D Marios begin to come from beneath the blocks, dismantling their 8-bit counterpart. A number on the top of the screen keeps track of how many Marios there are, counting upwards to 128. 128 Marios run around the board chaotically. Suddenly, the board starts to morph at random, throwing Marios off as more fall from the sky. Suddenly the board becomes a pizza. The pizza tosses off the Marios that remain. The pizza then goes into the disk drive of a Gamecube and that’s it. This is the only footage we have of Mario 128.

This demo was designed by Yoshiaki Koizumi - the Assistant Director of Super Mario 64. From here, Nintendo’s work focused on two different prototypes: The Mario 128 Project (a sequel to Mario 64) and The 100 Marios Project (a full-game version of the SpaceWorld prototype). The next six years saw Miyamoto constantly confirming that Mario 128 was coming. Super Mario Sunshine was confirmed to be an unrelated project, despite being directed by Koizumi. Miyamoto expressed that he was hesitant about public displays because the technology was so utterly revolutionary that it would be stolen by other developers. Miyamoto said it would be present at E3 2004. Nintendo of America President Reggie Fils-Amié was insistent that it would have a showing at E3 2005. In 2005, Miyamoto took a leave of indefinite duration from the project handing the reins to Koizumi and the Sunshine development team.

After three months of work, Miyamoto gave Koizumi his blessing to begin work on Super Mario Galaxy.

On March 8th 2007, Shigeru Miyamoto gave the keynote address at the Annual Game Developers Conference where he said this: “The one question I’m always asked is, ‘What happened to Mario 128?’... I’m always at a loss as to how to answer it, because most of you have already played it - but you played it in a game called Pikmin.”

Nintendo have since come out and said that the SpaceWorld Prototype was just a tech demo to display that the Gamecube could have 128 3D Marios simultaneously. Many people accept this as the epitaph of Mario 128.

It was a tech demo that was overhyped by overzealous fans. This, however, ignores the more complex reality.

Mario 128 was never a game, it was a decade’s worth of games. The 100 Marios Project became Pikmin, with a hoard of characters acting as both individuals and a group. Controlling two characters simultaneously, though originally envisioned for Mario and Luigi, was realised in Pikmin 2. Yoshi became a rideable character in Super Mario Sunshine and returned as one in Super Mario Galaxy 2. The more mature graphics and themes are visible in Majora’s Mask, Twilight Princess, and the Metroid Prime trilogy. The physics engine developed through those prototypes was utilised in Metroid Prime. The sphere walking technology was first trialled in a dungeon in Twilight Princess and fully realised in Super Mario Galaxy. If I were to put on my conspiracy theorist hat for a second, I would say that the lull that came from Nintendo in the early 2010s - their “WiiU Dark Age” - was because the Mario 128 well had run dry and it was time to start from scratch again.

For me, the story of Mario 128 is an ode to the creative process. It is a game that Miyamoto held onto so tightly for so long. In 2004, he stated that if Mario 128 didn’t appear at E3 2005, he would consider himself a failure and it’s easy to see this project in those terms; after 9 years of pushing, he gave up and the project fizzled out. What began as a swansong to the character he created in an office cubicle in 1981, ended as something so ambitious that it defined Nintendo for the next decade and beyond. Like so many creative endeavours, the thing Miyamoto set out to create grew and transformed until it became unrecognisable. Mario 128 is not a game, but instead a story about how every success is built on the bedrock of failure.

23

Literature

Is 10:04 Art Writing?

What is Art Writing?

10:04 begins with moneytalk. Ben Lerner – the autofictional Ben Lerner – discusses with his agent the “six figure deal” she has negotiated for him on the strength of his debut novel and a story he’s had published in The New Yorker. She asks him what he’ll write, and he tells her he’ll write the book you’re now reading. 10:04 is full of metatexts and puzzles; the second chapter is, reprinted in full, the story that helped secure financing for the book.

Here though, I’d like to look at the ways in which Lerner harnesses metatextuality to explore contemporary art.

The narrative of Lerner’s debut novel Leaving the Atocha Station, is interspersed with explorations of writing and art practice that interrupt and recontextualise the story. While, in 10:04, Lerner certainly dives into esoteric questions of reality-building, he retains a focus on the concrete means by which his writing, like any artform, is facilitated.

Where the story of Atocha was punctuated by discussions of poetry and classical art, 10:04 circles back to various contemporary artworks Lerner encounters in New York and Texas. He watches Christian Marclay’s The Clock at a local cinema, attends the “Institute of Totalled Art”, modelled off Elka Krajewska’s Salvage Art Institute, and visits the Chinati Foundation in Marfa, Texas. Lerner was in Marfa on a Lannan Foundation residency, and this was one of several means by which he managed to afford to write the book you’re reading about him writing; those other “means” include a teaching job and the six-figure advance. The “Institute of Totalled Art” is a particular exercise in art-financing-as-art, as it consists of damaged artworks that have been removed, by insurance companies, from the art market, but are being redisplayed in gallery format by Lerner’s (fictional?) girlfriend.

In the acknowledgements section, Lerner credits Krajewska, and even Daniel Zalewski’s essay on The Clock, from which Lerner borrowed details of things he didn’t get the chance to see; he notes that he’s taken his epigraph from a book by Giorgio Agamben, and that the self-published pamphlet he cowrote with “Roberto” and reprinted in 10:04 is based on a book he wrote with Elias Garcia; he tells us that, as well as The New Yorker story being a reprint, two other sections of the book had previously appeared in The Paris Review; the poem he wrote in Marfa, and which he includes and discusses in the novel, was published in a poetry journal. With so much of the book being something other than “original” content, we start to wonder what our expectations for a book are. Is it okay if everything in this novel is available elsewhere? And if not, how much “new” material is necessary? And given that pre-releasing sections of the book was the means by which Lerner funded writing it, do our expectations for originality exclude from the publishing market authors who are not reliant on their writing for an income?

If you’ll allow me to speak generally about a topic I don’t know very well, I’d like to make this observation: one of the dominant preoccupations of contemporary art is with interrogating the means by which art is made and monetised; this focus seems to have started with the process-oriented conceptual artists of the twentieth century’s latter half. A renewed focus on the means of production has led to some very self-reflexive art that foregrounds the (im)materiality of artworks, and reconsiders the means by which art and literature is disseminated, commodified, and consumed. Called into question, too, is the notion of the “sole author” (to whom copyright reverts), which is an inheritance from Victorian London’s publishing and legal practices. While Lerner’s name is the one on the cover, therefore, and while he is paid the book’s royalties, his far-reaching acknowledgements section calls into question the extent to which the book is “his”.

Image Credit: MusikAnimal

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One of the frustrating things about contemporary art – aside from the fact that contemporary artists are often so cool you can’t look directly at them* – is that it’s very often extremely difficult to access. Many artists’ magazines that challenge dominant modes of dissemination do so by limiting the size of their editions or circumnavigating the usual means by which we all get our stuff; performance art usually takes place in galleries in the major cities of the world, and is staged for a tiny (and select) group of people. This isn’t necessarily wrong, but it does mean that Cork/Dublin-based neophytes such as myself must rely, if we’re lucky, on PDF scans of physical magazines, grainy photographs of 1970s art performances, and testimonials from the few people who happened to see an artwork in person. This article is predicated on the notion that, no matter how faithfully art is described or documented, a direct encounter with an artwork is always different to a second-hand one.

I did some research recently on Tellus Magazine, a New York magazine published in audio cassette form and distributed by mail between 1983 and 1993. Almost every track on each Tellus cassette is unavailable anywhere else: Tellus #1 has an otherwise unhearable track by Sonic Youth, and Tellus #21 has recordings of a performance by George Brecht and extracts from “A l’infinitif ” by Marcel Duchamp. Given that these tracks exist only in cassette form (and would therefore be difficult for me to listen to even if I had one of the extremely rare copies), I was very lucky to find them all on UbuWeb, which describes itself as “a pirate shadow library consisting of hundreds of thousands of freely downloadable avant-garde artifacts”. The site operates in what it calls a legal grey area, in that it “openly violates copyright norms”; it refuses to incorporate money into its practice, neither paying it nor being paid. As such, UbuWeb might get shut down at any moment, and the archives it hosts disappear from circulation.

What does 10:04 have to do with any of this? Since we’re talking in general terms, I can assert that, like the contemporary art world, 10:04 is concerned with the transience of human experience, and the ephemerality of the world. Lerner tells and retells a fictionalised account of his having written the book you are reading, and swaps various details around on each retelling, interrogating the processes by which we narrativize our experience of the world and attach stable meanings to collections of random events. He documents his writing of this book, a book that is a documentation of his documentation of his life, a life that involves, among other things, finding new ways of documenting human experience, and which frequently finds Lerner documenting pieces of art that interrogate the ways in which we document experience. You see what I mean, about all this.

Excuse me while I try to define a genre that actively resists definition, and which I, again, don’t know that much about: “art writing” is writing about and of art, which finds its exemplars in publications like Critical Bastards and The Happy Hypocrite; art writing is art in form and content. If, as I hope I’ve been able to get across to you, 10:04 is about contemporary art and is also a piece of art, then it can be considered art writing. Yet, where most contemporary art writing finds its home in magazines that tend to be written and read exclusively by denizens of the art world, Lerner’s novel is significant because it’s one of the very few pieces of art writing I know of that has been distributed in mainstream literary fiction circles. If you, as I do, think that the more people who read and learn about contemporary art the better, then this is very good news indeed.

There is no substitute for seeing art first-hand, and hearing a description of a piece of art will always colour our perception of it; the same is (assumedly) true of The Clock, the Salvage Art Institute and the Judd sculptures described in 10:04. For now, however, given that much of the art produced today was inaccessible to (or just unaccessed by) the masses even before Covid happened, 10:04 might be instructive. It is at least entertaining. *And by this I mean somewhat more seriously that because an artist’s name is fundamental to their ability to make money (thereby facilitating their making more art), success in the art world can become synonymous with one’s ability to create a personal brand. Would artists have the cool hairstyles and clothes and apartments they have now if their livelihood didn’t depend on convincing fans that they are through-and-through, imitable artist-types? Would they have social media accounts?

Photo Credit: Nan Palmero

WORDS BY FIACHRA KELLEHER

25

Literature

Can I Believe Her? //

A Piece on Autofiction Autofiction is having its moment and if you haven’t noticed you’ve been reading on autopilot. Described as the

collision of autobiography and fiction, autofiction has been criticized as lazy, self-indulgent and downright solipsistic. Reading autofiction can feel like being pranked on (see Chris Kraus’, I Love Dick) or being given access to a new best friend who has chosen to give all of themselves to you, the reader (Elena Ferrante, Neapolitan trilogy). This is of course an illusion of intimacy and one can expect the author to falsify important details or characters. Memory, truth, and recollection are toyed with in the genre, as fiction is used in service of a search of self.

Autofiction has gone from a cult classic in the 90s to a bestseller mainstay. Fiction with the authors’ persona stalking the pages includes Rob Doyle's Threshold, Rachel Cusk's Outline trilogy, Ben Lerner’s The Topeka School, Ocean Vuong’s On Earth we’re Briefly Gorgeous. My personal favourites are Meena Kandasamy’s When I Hit You and the experimentalist Chris Kraus’ Aliens and Anorexia. However, the author as a central character of fiction has long been used as a popular device. See Joyce’s Stephen Dedalus in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man or James Baldwin’s John Grime in Go Tell it to the Mountain.

‘How much of this is a true story?’ and ‘Is this real?’ are questions that have been on readers' minds since the dawn of literary fiction. In autofiction, our impulse for speculative gossip is addressed directly. As personal identity became increasingly public through time, we have been given unsatisfactory answers to these questions. The 17th century saw the author’s name as a social construct attached to a book. In the 20th century, with the advent of TV and radio, the status of the author was promoted and became a heightened public presence. Fast forward to 2021: the author is a constant media presence. Their image is a shadow that is inescapable in their work. The internet gives us a false solution to the ‘truth’ of a novel. How much of the story is derived from the author’s lived experience is a Wikipedia search away.

I find autofiction to be the most contemporary form. It is the only mode that can consistently incorporate the internet. Autofiction counteracts the cultural urge to flaunt our success and instead often centres around narratives that end in failure. Self-representation and narrativization of identity are second nature to millennials and Gen Z. Autofiction takes the fleeting rapid-fire observations of social media, co-opts them, and makes them slow. The traditional novel’s intricate plotting of events is waived for a looser narrative of experience. Interestingly, the dated letter and email form is a common narrative device. The epistolary novel, favoring subjective experience and slow communication, is vogue in autofiction. Exemplified in Chris Kraus’ I Love Dick and Rob Doyle’s Threshold, the technique is also popular in fiction, ala Sally Rooney’s Conversations with Friends. There is a sense in this new trend that audiences and writers are yearning for a deeper connection and intimacy. The subjectivity of letter writing and the performance of putting one’s thoughts on show for another is, to my mind, emblematic of how our way of relating to one another has been changed by the internet. Radically, the form is self-aware of the celebrity culture that governs our media consumption and purchases. The author and character’s persona become blurry in autofiction, similar to Instagram profiles and “real” life. In autofiction, confessional and vulnerable voices are prized in our cultural moment fixated on individualism.

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When women writers or writers of colour are interviewed about their fiction, there is often a presumption that they are writing from their lived experience. Repeatedly they are asked how much they draw on their own lives in their writing and which characters they have modelled on themselves. As if women and people of colour are unable to invent or create worlds and characters outside their own experience. Autofiction can be an attempt to reclaim the personal but alas, still exists in the context of patriarchy. Consider two markedly different critical receptions of autofiction: Ben Lerner, acclaimed author of the Topeka School, was praised as vulnerable; meanwhile, the reception of autofiction pioneer Chris Kraus’ I Love Dick largely focused on uncovering the identity of her novel’s love interest. Perhaps women’s autofiction, seizing an exposed, painstakingly aware and personal style, wishes to defy misogynistic readings of fiction.

In autofiction, the author constantly announces their presence to the reader, creating a distance. This is contrasted by the intimate use of the ‘I’ form, narrated as a real person’s experience. The purity of the first person ‘I’ form is constantly contested, as it wrestles with selective truth. In the 21st century truth, history and voice are dubious. To intermingle what can be true or artifice about yourself is a perfect response to our (in)credible times. This act is disruptive to us, the readers, who are interested in identification with what is sympathetic, moral, and real. Autofiction throws these values on their heads. The novel’s traditions and motives are being revaluated for our times and we are lucky to be alive to witness the process.

In the words of Chris Kraus, we can view autofiction ‘as a philosophical intervention. Though written in the first-person, the books are well-constructed rants, not introspective memoirs. Finally, she thinks, a female public I aimed towards the world, more revolutionary that the 20th century male avant-gardes! This is the only counter-cultural trend worth mentioning.’

In a sense, autofiction can be considered anti-realist. Instead of chronicling the details of external reality, the genre occupies a psychic personal space. Subjectivity is prioritized and dreams, secrets, and the private inner world are made into a fictive landscape. Autofictive prose has a poetic sensibility; its obsession is with sensation, memory and emotion. I must admit, this writer lives for the new sentience for sensitive girls. Chris Kraus’ lonely girl phenomenology and outcast philosophy gave me licence for my own unconventional life experiences that would be outside appropriate subject material for fiction.

I’m torn as to whether autofiction is a tool for self-liberation, a marketing ploy or a response to the internet. To write oneself as the main character requires an egotism that is refreshing and startling to read. Escaping into the psyche of another is engrossing and freeing in a time where we are almost too familiar with ourselves. Should you engage with these books you will find that the best autofiction transcends the self and becomes an inner spiritual experience.

WORDS BY BRÍDÍN NÍ FHEARRAIGH-JOYCE

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Music

Crate Digging: A History

One of the touchstones of hip-hop, how can one revive this practice in the age of digital music?

Crate Digging. Literally. The practice of rummaging through crates of records at car boot sales, flea markets and

second-hand record shops originated as far back as the early 1970s as hip-hop DJs, hungry for samples to pepper their beats with, turned to vinyl records as a way to integrate sounds from genres like disco, jazz, and funk into their music. These pioneers of the genre would cut, mix, and recontextualise familiar hooks and obscure cuts alike to generate new and fresh aural textures out of their musical archives. This practice of sampling can be seen in a wide variety of musical releases today, from pop and hip-hop, to electronic and R&B, while access to physical crates is becoming more and more of a luxury. With record shops facing alarming rates of closure due to changes in listening habits and the difficulties faced by small businesses during the pandemic, it has become more important than ever to preserve and continue the custom which has birthed some of the past few decades’ most beloved and important music.

Once only accessible to those with a record player, labels such as Habibi Funk, Numero Group and Dust to Digital have begun the process of reissuing vinyl recordings with previously limited releases for the modern digital listener. What follows is a short list of some of these records, reissued onto Bandcamp and other streaming services for your listening and foraging pleasure. I hope you are able to find something new to add to your digital music collection within this short selection and that it perhaps inspires you to do some of your own hunting once shops begin to open up again. Happy digging!

1. Disco Jazz – Rupa (disco)

Perhaps one of my favourite EPs of all time. This masterclass in disco grooves and catchy hooks could have perhaps remained unheard by future generations, were it not for it having been spontaneously discovered and uploaded to YouTube. Created as a result of a happy circumstance on a family holiday to Canada in 1982, the album is a fabulous mix of disco and funk rhythms on a backdrop of Indian instrumentation. Selling only very few copies, it wasn’t until Rupa’s son googled the album 20 years after its release that she even knew of how beloved Disco Jazz would come to be. It has since been reissued by Numero Group Records, allowing for it to achieve cult-like status among disco fans, transfixed by its effortlessly funky energy and rhythms. Stand out tracks are the absolutely glorious ‘Aaj Shanibar’ and the glitteringly funky ‘Moja Bhari Moja’. Give it a spin next time you’re sat somewhere sunny; you won’t regret it.

2. Love is a Hurtin’ Thing – Gloria Ann Taylor (soul) Another cult classic, this soul record times in at 35 minutes yet is absolutely full to the brim with haunting piano chords, powerful vocals and killer guitar riffs. Strikingly off the wall and completely innovative in its fusion of genres, this album remained a hotly sought-after item for collectors for years until its reissue in 2015 by Ubiquity Records. Every new listen uncovers a new common thread between tracks or an energising musical phrase which you just didn’t catch before.If there were ever an album to take to a desert island it would be this one.

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3. Mouasalat Ila Jacad El Ard – Issam Hajali (jazz folk) Recorded and disseminated in the form of 75 cassette tapes while in exile in Paris due to the mounting Lebanese civil war in 1975, this impressive blend of jazz, folk, and traditional Arabic and Iranian music was reissued by Berlin-based Habibi Funk Records in 2016. Now retired from music and the owner of a jewellery shop in Beirut, the collection of Issam Hajali’s Paris recordings titled Mouasalat Ila Jacad El Ard meaning ‘Journey to Another World’ stands as a beautiful testament to Hajali’s homeland. Chronicling his experience as an immigrant in Paris; nostalgia for the ‘other world’ saturating the gentle vocals and santur accompaniment. Reading the translated lyrics of the opening track ‘Ana Damir El Motakallim’ is enough to make you weep; ‘I am the rendezvous, the joyous cries of birth and the tears on the embroidered handkerchief of exile / I am the mint plant of the hill, I am the source, and the rose branch.’

4. Dreamin’ Wild – Donnie & Joe Emerson (soul, blues) No list of rediscovered gems would be complete without this album, now considered an indie classic, owing to the track ‘Baby’ being covered and sampled by the likes of Ariel Pink, Eevee, and Dean Blunt. Growing up in the small town of Fruitland, Washington, the father of the two brothers invested a loan of $100,000 into a home recording studio where this album was born. Selling only a handful of copies in 1979, Dreamin’ Wild was destined for a lifetime of obscurity until Ariel Pink’s cover of ‘Baby’ prompted a reissue in 2012. Listening back now, the album’s dreamy innocence fully encapsulates a sense of youth and naiveté. Its recording plunged the small-town family into financial insecurity, but now—30 years on — the pair have begun to re-release some of the lost demos through Light in the Attic Records. The recordings are miraculous odes to creative passion, unadulterated by the harshness of time, both eerie and affirming in their credulity.

5. Ethiopiques, vol. 21: Emahoy (Piano Solo) - Emahoy Tsegué-Maryam Guèbrou (classical) Released in 2016 as part of the Ethiopiques series by French record

label Buda Musique, the album is a compilation of the Ethiopian-born nun’s hard-to-find original recordings from 1967 to 1996. All solo piano pieces, they are some of the most profoundly beautiful and captivating pieces of music one could hope to find. Combining elements of classical piano technique and her unique, bluesy and off-the-cuff style, compositions such as ‘The Homeless Wanderer’, ‘Mother’s Love’ and ‘Homesickness Parts 1 & 2’ are poignant and startling in their inimitable breadth of form. Listening to this

album evokes in one such a meditative state, that it should come with a warning against operating heavy machinery. The release of Emahoy (Piano Solo) has opened up Guèbrou’s compositions to an even wider audience and the world is all the more beautiful for it.

WORDS BY SAM MAGUIRE

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Music

Radio Blah Blah

Sharing Music in the Age of Technology

T here are few feelings more exhilarating than suddenly landing on some decipherable, familiar sound after flicking through various genres of garbled static. Realistically, that intelligible noise you’ve come across is a song

you never would have chosen to listen to on your own, have perhaps heard a million times before, and in any other circumstance would even have demanded be changed to something else; but somehow, on the radio, hearing it feels different. Maybe that feeling is the prideful refusal to admit defeat after having scanned the entire radar fruitlessly with one hand off the wheel - radio tuning in this day and age is unlikely except in an older car that’s not yet transitioned from the cigarette lighter to the AUX cord - or maybe it’s that you haven’t heard Maroon 5’s ‘This Love’ in an awfully long time and now can’t stop the pre-teen memories flooding back. Who can really know what stirs emotions? But regardless of feelings’ provenance, you concede all agency to the radio gods, and sit patiently waiting for the upcoming song to clarify the genre of the station and get to the meaning of all this. It could go either way really. ‘This Love’ might arguably be considered either pop or rock. Spoiler, it was pop; revealed by some strange forgotten Katy Perry relic. You’d never have imagined queuing up these songs yourself but now you’re hooked.

But perhaps we don’t always want to play roulette. Spotify (or maybe the sophisticated Apple Music) is so convenient, and the four euro ninety nine student plan, is *chef ’s kiss* considering the unlimited potential of exploring world artists and hand-picking all your favourite singles. You are essentially the master of your own universe, but this comes at a cost. I am not going to go into the ethical or moral dilemmas regarding online streaming royalties, though we can keep in mind that artists don’t get the money they would if we were all out there buying albums; but I would like to bring to light the discussion of a lesser acknowledged issue: the isolation of online music streaming services.

There is an obvious level of intimacy lacking on any algorithm-based platform, especially one geared towards private account usage. You can share songs with friends, collaborate on playlists, or publicly display your recently listened to artists, but unless you are physically in the company of another person, chances are you are listening on your own. At times this can be a pleasantly sublime experience, but it carries equal potential to be a lonely one.

On the other hand, when tuning into the radio, you’re listening to music selected on the spot by another living, breathing person. This person has chosen to broadcast these songs to the locality at precisely that moment, for a myriad of reasons we might never understand (maybe it’s heartache, or maybe they just really like ‘Faithfully’). You, them, and all the other listeners are together sharing the same little slice of life.

You are not simply listening to music, but instead are partaking in some larger, communal, almost ritualistic activity.

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The same sense of excitement that comes from a mention of your hometown in the book you’re reading, or the introduction of a film character who shares your name, follows hearing some mysterious person out there DJ a song which you might enjoy or are simply vaguely familiar with. You might even be introduced to a song which you have never heard before, followed by the host’s anecdotal explanation of their choice or maybe a weather forecast. All great trivia. Song titles and weather forecasts you could get online, as well as any number of artificially compiled playlists; but in the amount of time we spend using technology, it almost feels more novel to hear about these things from another human being. The beauty of technology is in its ability to connect us as individuals to one another, rather than render our interactions redundant.

At Trinity we have our very own student run station, Trinity FM! An alternative route to the car radio by which you might find yourself tuning in: You have somehow befriended the host of an ironically titled show, who’s embarrassing ad-lib ramblings you’ve now been sympathetically induced to enable (a special thank you to these friends, it means more than you could know). All the potential radio has for making connections can be seen in our very own college community; students can host talk shows or play thematically arranged set lists to anyone who cares to tune in. Being introduced to the eclectic range of music that other students on campus are listening to and sharing the listening experience together through personally curated radio broadcasting renders an entirely different atmosphere for music appreciation than the more introverted online streaming. Through radio we create an open, non-discriminatory community of listeners and appreciators, who can enjoy the listening experience of music together rather than alone, call in to the station to share their thoughts, and be introduced to music across various genres that no algorithm could dream of throwing together!

With the various nostalgic musical movements in recent years (record players and vinyl, cassettes tapes, Walkman, etc.) the radio’s Renaissance should be next! Radios offer a far more interactive method of revelling in the old classics and seeking out the new alternative, creating an intimate bond among their listeners through the shared experience. Despite being one of the oldest methods of sharing music, aside from MTV modern technology has done little to embellish this original concept of group listening; a disappointing blind spot seeing as the appreciation of music has historically been a collective experience.

While online streaming services conveniently broaden our horizons, and provide us with some potential for collaboration, the communal and temporal bonding experience of sharing music is lost, still existing only in radio.

WORDS BY OLIVIA BAYNE

With modern lifestyles becoming increasingly digitised, it is important to use the technological resources at our disposal for connecting with one another rather than replacing one another. Next time you need a song recommendation don’t turn to Spotify; check out what other students want to share with you on https://mixlr.com/trinity_fm/ and be sure to leave some comments in the chat box!

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Sex

WHAT MY TIME AT TRINITY HAS TAUGHT ME ABOUT

LOVE

T

ales of tribulation and triumph and words of wisdom straight from the mouth of a fourth year.

College is many things. It’s a wonderful place full of new and exciting experiences with so many opportunities to learn things about yourself that you may never previously have known. It gives so much and takes so much away that by the end of the years, I have now found myself asking; ‘What did I learn?’ - aside from the content of my degree, of course.

1st year First year was a rollercoaster. From the start until the finish it was full of new faces, names and places that easily becomes a blur where you can’t remember anything. What I learned about love and relationships from this year was simple: do not expect what you see in films and television. There were no meet-cutes and no spontaneous meeting of the love of my life. In reality, many of the people I dated in first year taught me that dating can really be a tribulation. The first tinder date I went on whilst at Trinity resulted in me waiting outside a pub for an hour to meet someone who was clearly not interested once they eventually showed up. Worse still, I did not seem to grasp this disinterest until quite soon after the date had ended when I asked to meet up again and was subsequently told that the person was busy for the whole next month. I’m not blaming them for being uninterested of course - it just would have served me to be a little more perceptive. My love life fared no better for the rest of the year, with many unrequited crushes occupying my mind from January through to May. It was this year that I learnt that liking people was not like it was in secondary school, where you can get thrown into situations set up by friends. See I had never put in the actual work before - I had ended up in relationships through the expertise of my friends and many relationships that I had at this time were a result of other people’s toil.and meeting and getting to know new people in college was actually pretty difficult.

WORDS BY CHLOÉ MANT

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2nd year Second year taught me there’s a difference between infatuation and genuine feelings. I encountered my first true ‘f**kboy’ this year and if I could go back in time to tell myself something it was that I did not like this person, I liked the idea of them. I learned a lot about how idealising people,building someone up in your head and holding them to a standard they will never meet will not make you happy. I learnt this not only from my own experiences but from those of my friends, who I saw get caught out time and time again by people who did not truly care about them. Of course, while I gave them advice, it was not until the following year that I could follow this advice myself. Second year also taught me the value of trust. It taught me that someone can seem like they respect you and act like they’ve taken on board the various boundaries you’ve set in your relationships, only for them to surprise and ultimately disappoint you. For me, this led to a complete breakdown in a relationship that easily could have been avoided. Second year was not a great year for my perception of love; I was left slightly jaded with the idea that the adult dating experience was nothing more than a series of inconclusive and disappointing mishaps.

3rd year Third year taught me a lot while also leaving me with very little. It taught me about my own self-worth and how communicating your needs to your partner is one of the most important things you can do, even if it spells out the end of your relationship. It taught me the value of truly letting someone go, and that sometimes the best decision doesn’t always feel like the right one at the time.

During Third year, I dated someone who I saw something working out with. It took a few months of dating for this person to finally communicate their uncertainty over whether they could commit to me. While it hurt to let them go, it was empowering to know that I’d made the best decision for the both of us in the end, and I do wish them happiness.This year also made me realise that college is actually very small and you may think that you’ll neve hear from someone again until you start to see them on a weekly basis completely by chance and the wonders of Trinity timetabling. As tortuous as they feel at the time, I learnt that all these awkward encounters will make for very good comedic material when you’re a bit older and reminiscing over.... In third year, I learnt how prioritise myself and to really commit to figuring out what I want. I was making wonderful progress, only for it to all be plunged into chaos by a global pandemic. During the first period of lockdown, I found that suddenly the only love that mattered was the familial and platonic love that I have for friends.

4th year It’s now nearly the end of my final year, and what a year it’s been. Much like in first year, there are new and challenging experiences that my classmates and I never envisioned facing. There are a different set of criteria for how we interact with each other and face-to-face meetings are almost null and void. In spite of..., this was the year that things changed for me. It seems fitting to say that all my Christmases came at once. Now that I am a little bit older, not only did I realise that those people I thought were oh-so-cool are actually not that cool at all, but I also found that love truly does come when you least expect it. Meeting someone in the middle of a global pandemic was not something. This meeting resulting in a relationship was something I expected even less. If I could go back right now to my first-year self and tell her not to try so hard I would, but had I not done that, maybe I would not have realised that I never had to in the first place. Maybe I wouldn’t have learnt that when it comes to those who it did not work out with there was nothing wrong with either of us, it was just not meant to be. To these people, I say thank you for the lessons you taught me.

To finish this ‘story’ (if you will) with some form of universally applicable adage, I guess I would say that what my four years at Trinity have taught me about love is that the more you try to force it, the 33 less it works. When love is meant to happen, it will - don’t stress!

Sex

Sex and Sexuality Myths:

D e b u n k e d Myth: You can only lose your virginity by having penis-in-vagina penetrative sex.

Fact: The word ‘virginity’ has been knocking about in English society since the 14th-century. Believing in virginity as a state defined by your experience (or, non-experience) of penetrative sex is part of a hangover from the word’s historical usage during eras when only heterosexual, marital-based sexual expression was sanctioned. Times have changed, and with that, we have come to recognise virginity more and more as the social construct it is. Bottom line - you do not have to have penis-in-vagina sex to lose your virginity; your virginity is defined on your own terms. What’s more, you don’t need to give credence to the word at all if you don’t want to. You do you!

Myth: The clitoris is that little bulb just above the vulva.

Fact: Okay, so this bulb is the clitoris – that much is true. But, the clitoris is so much more than this bulb. To quote medical journalist Jennifer Chesak, ‘the full anatomy of the clitoris looks like an upside-down flower with large petals extending inside the body that embrace the vaginal canal.’ Think of the clitoris as being like an iceberg – the surface element is a magnificent, though comparatively small segment of what lies beneath.

Myth: Only ‘old’ people use lube.

Fact: Lube is for anyone and everyone. For starters, dryness anywhere is not embarrassing. It doesn’t make you or your partner(s) less sexy. Using lube can actually make you sexier! You don’t have to be experiencing dryness anywhere for you want to bring out your favourite lubricant. Lube doesn’t just combat friction. Lube can introduce exciting new sensations during intimate play. There are all different kinds of lubes to help you achieve maximum pleasure: try warming lube during a cold winter’s night; whack out the mint-flavoured lube the next time you go down there; use some spermicidal lube if you want extra peace of mind. Just make sure you check your lubes for potential allergens and condom-related interactions before you buy.

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Myth: My female partner should be squirting when we have sex.

Fact: To begin, I should say that scientists do not fully understand female ejaculation, as to date there has only been limited research into how it works and what its purpose is.

One thing is for certain, though: female ejaculation isn’t the guaranteed all-or-nothing spectacle which porn typically makes it out to be.

WORDS BY ALICE PAYNE ART BY EMILY STEVENSON A woman may expel fluid from her urethra during orgasm or sexual arousal. This fluid might be colourless and odourless and produced in large quantities. It might be thick and milky and less voluminous. There may not be any fluid at all. It really has no bearing on whether or not a woman is enjoying sex, and really shouldn’t be a source of anxiety for her sexual partner.

Myth: The amount and nature of the sex one has determines one’s vaginal ‘tightness’.

Fact: This is a dangerous myth to be out and about in society; it’s the fictional foundation often used to ‘justify’ derogatory comments about one’s sexual ‘looseness’. As Lauren Averbuch MD says, calling a person ‘loose’ is not only deeply offensive, it also demonstrates a complete misunderstanding of the vagina, which is composed of multiple muscles that define the pelvic floor. One’s vaginal muscles can tighten and relax depending on circumstances to make the vagina more or less accommodating. In other words, vaginas aren’t shaped according to the number or type of objects which enter them – penises and dildos included. Vaginas work with the other parts of your body to shape themselves. There are certain conditions which may weaken your pelvic muscles*, but these take the form of vaginal childbirth, menopause, traumatic injuries, and gynaecological cancer, not your average steamy session.

Myth: To be bisexual, I have to be equally attracted to men and women all the time.

Fact: If you or anyone you know identifies as bisexual and truly feels equally attracted to men and women all the time, then that’s genuinely wonderful and I applaud that level of self-knowledge, but, and this is a big but, this ‘equal’ attraction is not the sole way to understand bisexuality. Bisexuality means different things to different people and should not be reductively understood as a 50/50 split in terms of one’s attraction to males and females. Maybe there’ll be a period of timewhen a bisexual cis-gender man only wants to date cis-gender men and that’s grand.

Sexuality can change over time and acknowledging that can only help us better understand those around us.

Self Love WORDS BY KARLA HIGGINS ART BY ELLA SLOANE

If someone were to ask you how you felt about yourself, what would your response be? Would you say that you like yourself?

Dislike yourself? Find yourself annoying? Or do you think you are an amazing person, who deserves everything that this life has to offer?

Undoubtedly, there are numerous reasons why this may be the case, some of which are decidedly universal issues, while others can be a lot more personal, and will differ person to person.

Regardless of the “why” behind it, social media experiences a perpetual field day either way, as it exploits these insecurities and sense of fragility for every penny. And unfortunately, it would appear that there is no easy solution to be found, rather it is just another issue in a whole host of others that we simply have to accept for what it is.

Society may not want you to know it, but trust me when I say that loving yourself is an option. It certainly isn’t easy, and oftentimes it won’t come naturally to you, but the important thing to note is that it is a choice - a choice that you have to make What’s ironic about all this self-love talk is that, in everyday to make it happen. Choose to value theory, it should be the easiest love to come by - it comes from yourself as you would someone you love, choose to within, and from the one person in the world that you know will forgive yourself when you make a mistake, choose always have your best interest at heart (or should) - yet in today’s to see the qualities in yourself that make others love society, we seem to be much more willing to give our love, care you, and choose to be the person you would want to and affection to anyone but ourselves. Often, it is the leftover be there for your best friend when they’re sad - and scraps we reserve for ourselves, that is if there is even anything be that person for yourself. In order to make it work, I left to give. think you need to understand the simple fact that there By no means am I encouraging people to be self-conceited is nobody in this world that you will spend more time or apathetic; there is a substantial difference between loving with than yourself, and like anyone else, you need to yourself as a human being, and being so self-obsessed that the ensure that you are someone that you want to be around. feelings of others subsist as mere afterthoughts, or worse, go on entirely disregarded. The resulting confusion of trying to If someone were to genuinely ask me, you know what, distinguish between these concepts can be extremely yeah, I can honestly say that I do love myself, and problematic and damaging, when, in reality, these emotions I’m not exactly sure when I decided to feel that way. are worlds apart. What I’m talking about is establishing a Maybe it is the result of my Nana telling me to say it to meaningful relationship with yourself; a relationship that myself in the mirror as a little girl, or maybe it is just you see as being just as important, if not more, as any other something I learned along the way. But that doesn’t relationship in your life - a bond that you see as inextricably mean that it’s a constant feeling. There are times connected to your own happiness and well-being, the damage when I get frustrated with myself, and maybe even and ill-treatment of which should not be considered in terms dislike myself. But those emotions are fleeting. of indifference. Of course, this is easier said than done - it is Self-love is what’s left when those emotions fade, and they common knowledge that we are quicker to engage in acts always will. And yes, there are times when that love can of self-deprecation, often as the brunt of a joke, than acts of probably make me a little selfish - but that too is self-love. transient. Truth be told, I don’t think there is any set of The nagging question is why? Why is it so hard to treat ourselves as we would a friend, or loved one? We are so eager to show them that we understand whatever they are going through, and will be there for them rain, hail, or shine. We will cheer for them through their successes, and reassure them through their losses. However, when it is ourselves who are in need of that friendly ear, or those comforting words, they are nowhere to be found.

steps to follow to find self-love. I remember being asked by a friend before, and I was completely baffled by the question because I didn’t think it was something others noticed. But maybe it is a palpable quality that shines right through your character. Whatever way you want to put it, I think you just have to find something, one thing, that you do like about yourself, and work from there.

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Theatre

W hat h ave w e le ar n e d f ro m a y e ar of r e m o te th e atre?

Despite

a year of empty auditoriums, the past twelve months have seen an explosion of innovation within the realm of theatre. The notion of what a play is, or has the potential to be, has been radically questioned. After a year of experimentation, largely online, not only has a lot been learned in terms of how performance can be brought into the future, but also how much there is left to discover within the field. As the prospect of ‘in-person’ performance continues to feel distant, it seems worthy to reflect on what the past year has unearthed, and what lessons can be implemented going forward.

Recent discourse in the theatre community has frequently circled back to the idea of definition - can a streamed, archived production or zoom play be considered comparable to the likes of a production of Howard Pinter in the Gate?

This particular framing of validity on the basis of exclusion is common, but not always productive. That is not to say, however, that the inherent differences between in-person performance and a play staged on an online platform cannot be ignored. In a way similar to film, pre-recorded or streamed shows rarely allow for the same suspension of belief that in-person theatre does. It takes more effort to translate the feeling of unity that is derived from sitting beside strangers in the dress circle to solitary home viewing – with many valiant but infrequently fruitful attempts.

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This is not to say that the remote experience should be framed as less than, or beyond the bounds of what is conceivably theatre. The last year has reaffirmed the age old adage that ‘the show must go on,’ and in the midst of the clunky process of configuring the physical art form to a socially-distanced world many exciting possibilities have emerged. While the prospect of returning to the traditional theatre space is as exciting as it is enticing, it is theatre’s duty to engage and react to the present. Remote theatre is at its best when it's not trying to be filler in the socially distant liminal space or signpost towards a point when ‘things are back to normal.’

Acceptance of the times does not have to be a restriction to theatrical practice. Instead, they can inform, and elevate what current theatre can be. In this vein, the wheel doesn’t have to be re-invented, but some roles do need to be recontextualised to fit present media. Practice across the board has had to shift, which is a process theatre makers are still figuring out. While eagerly looking towards the opportunity to jump back into the rehearsal room, it is important to look at what roles have remained somewhat intact despite the circumstances.

The participatory role of the audience member is one that does not need to be severely impacted by current circumstances. Despite this, the active role has been neglected by many remote pieces – the transposition of the stage to screen shifts onlookers from active attendants to distant spectators.

As we progress with governmental restrictions in mind, this does not have to be the case. Going forward, the role of the audience member should be central to the intended piece. Traditional theatre arrangements create a clear contact between spectator and performer; the audience member knows that at the very least they will have to buy their ticket, sit down in a dark room next to others, turn off their phone, and watch the curtain rise and fall giving them specific cues to participate. These elements of the theatrical experience may seem innocuous, but they form the parameters which bookend a performance.

While mundane, instructions such as turning off phones or turning off lights may be helpful in injecting an added tangible level of theatricality to the remote experience.

What is exciting about the prospect of remote theatre is that it does not need to be confined to the predetermined location of the piece. The audience can be instructed to go on a walk for the course of the piece, to wear a particular article of clothing, or to bring specific household items to a zoom call. These are a mere selection of the possibilities that current times present.

As we continue to make and consume theatre at a distance, it is vital to remember that attention is currency, and even harder to be won without the supports we are used to relying on. This is undeniably frustrating for makers and audience members alike. In order to combat this, the ability to take frequent breaks for longer shows or streams, or shorter run times for conventional and linear productions seem like the most practical and appropriate move.

Another method that is currently becoming more prominent is reshuffling the structure and means of storytelling in a theatrical setting. Perhaps the story could be drip fed via email over a number of days, or is encased in an envelope that comes through your door. Structure in terms of start times, streams and liveness is important and comforting, adding another level of formality that has been lost in some remote productions. The fragile nature of theatre is something to be remembered and revered, that it is the art of reliance and balance before anything else. It is important that we trust both in the process and in the outcome. While remote theatre may not always feel as gratifying as an immersive, physical production, it is crucial to remember that it is still an attempt at reaching out, communicating a human story, and bridging the gap between people during a time when we need it most.

The necessary vulnerability and compassion needed to continue to extend humanity in this way is immense, and it is important for audience members to consider this while interacting with pandemic performances. As we mark the anniversary of the difficult year we have endured, it is important to note that such seismic shifts remind us why theatre is important. It is unquestionable that the past year has further confirmed the resilience of makers and spectators alike, and as we continue to ride the wave and strive to tell stories in spite of these trying times, we must not forget the tumultuous and impressive history of theatre that is supporting us, and the brighter and tactile future ahead.

WORDS BY SARAH JOAN 37

Theatre

Interview with Robert Gibbons

writer and producer of podcast play Playback WORDS BY URSULA DALE

Ursula: First, can you tell me a little bit about Playback?

U: Has COVID-19 impacted your creative process? If it has, how so?

Robert: Playback is a podcast play consisting of three different episodes of three different podcasts and it follows one person who hosts all three, whose name is Kate Morgan.

R: Yes, it definitely has. I mean COVID has impacted everything and the creative process is part of it. I suppose I'll start with the positives, which always feels weird given that we're talking about COVID, but like it has given me a lot more time to write and a lot more time to consume things and to watch. Like I've watched and listened to and read a lot more this year than I have in previous years. And a similar thing, I live way out in the country in County Meath and I live with my family and when I want to be alone I go on walks and I end up going on these long walks just through fields and fields and fields, which gives me a lot of time to think. In terms of negative impacts it's a lot harder to bounce ideas off each other – it's a lot harder to, you know, kind of have that contact with other people in that easy way. This is kind of all from a writers’ perspective, I wrote it and I did produce Playback as well, but from a writer's perspective I do miss just kind of sitting down with somebody over a coffee and chatting without having to schedule like an hour aside to do that.

U: What attracted you to radio theatre over a traditional dramatic format?

R: To be honest it was mostly the pandemic. I love in-person theatre and I love sharing space with people and I love the energy that an in-person performance has and the fact that it feels like it's all just there in the moment. Partially I think what it is that podcasting, which is the form that the play takes, has a similar improvisational quality and a feeling like it's kind of happening right in front of you. As a rule it feels very natural, so it's not in-person and it's definitely not completely ad-libbed, but that was part of it. So yeah, in absence of being able to be in a room with people, in a sense the kind of intimacy you get with podcasting is the next best thing.

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U: What do you enjoy about radio theatre in particular, compared to in-person performances?

R: One of the things I love about it is that, and I kind of touched on this before, is that they both have a very similar energy in terms of like an improvisation that is happening right in front of you that's in the present. With a radio play, because it's pre-recorded, it isn't [right in front of you] even though it feels that way, so it kind of creates this extra complexity to it that I find really interesting. That's something I really thought about when I was writing Playback. While, you know, traditional theatre is happening in front of you and it's in the moment, a radio play [also] feels that way and it sounds that way, but it's not that way. That is a very interesting thing to me, and this is further contrasted from like television where between, like, cuts and different changing shots of changing locations – it feels like it's not in front of you and you know that it's all filmed in the past.

Radio theatre occupies a place in my mind where it feels like the present but it isn't the present, and that's what really drew me to it as opposed to doing a zoom play or filming stuff.

U: What inspired you to create Playback?

R: I've always been really interested in podcasting as a form. I think it's a really fascinating one in terms of, like, as I listen to a lot of podcasts with a lot of similar hosts and you get this image of them that, to a listener, kind of feels 3 dimensional, especially because they're so conversational and improvisational.

In reality you know it's not [real]. A podcast is a form of performance as that type of conversation that doesn't actually exist, but it feels like it exists and that was a really interesting idea for me as a writer.

Because all plays are also a performance, so like the way that podcasting blurs the line between performance and not performance.

Also just in terms of podcasts that specifically inspired the show, Do Go On was a big one which is three Australian comedians [who] tell each other a report from history every week. Three Castles Burning really inspired Act Three, it’s a podcast about the social history of Dublin. And for Act One I'd say it's a podcast called Finding Drago, which is described as a true crime podcast without the crime. It's about these two guys trying to find out who wrote a piece of fanfiction.

U: Finally, is there anything the audience should know before listening to Playback? Do you have any advice for people curious about getting into Radio Theatre?

R: I always just recommend that people listen to it like it's a podcast. Don't sit down and feel like you're watching a play; go out and walk or maybe [while] you're cooking dinner or, you know, whatever it is you do when you listen to podcasts. Just do that and treat it like that, I think that's when it's at its best.

[In terms of] advice for people curious about getting into radio theatre, I would say think about why you're doing it as a radio play. What is it about this story that works best purely done through audio? Probably the best example I can think of a radio play is a radio musical 36 Questions where it's all told through voice notes on a phone. Within [that are] these musical numbers which are kind of more describing emotion. But yeah, so think about why the story you want to tell would work best purely done through sound and then kind of take it from there. I’m a massive proponent for thinking about the form as being just as [important], if not more important, than the content. Also make sure you have a team who you want to work with.

I was absolutely blessed by having a phenomenal director in Gelsey Beavers-Damron and some just top quality, stellar actors in Juliet Arpack, Lauren Kelly and Oisin Reilly. And, of course, Grace Kim, who's a supremely talented composer who did all of the music that you hear within the show and was a dream to work with, and fantastic Jane Loughman who produced all the show’s gorgeous artwork. They were all just so great and so fun to work with and so collaborative. That really made everything so much easier, I mean that's obviously not just true of radio theatre, but you know what you make is never going to be as important as the people you make it with – that is what I believe.

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TV

W aThenTrials d aandVTribulations ision of Marvel’s Official TV Expansion 40

W

hat is Disney+, if not Marvel persevering?

Way back in 2019, when Disney announced that WandaVision would be at the helm of Marvel’s first official foray into the world of television, I don’t think even the most devout fans of the MCU could have predicted just how much of a pop culture phenomenon it would become. Prior to the Disney+ chapter of the great streaming service saga of the 21st century, Marvel dabbled in small screen productions, mainly through a partnership with Netflix, with great (Daredevil) and not-so-great (Iron Fist) results. For better or worse, the arrival of Disney+ renders these titles non-canonical, and so begins an unprecedented new age for the MCU where the big and small screen finally collide, starting with the tale of arguably two of their most side-lined characters.

To use the synopsis derived from the trailers prior to its release, WandaVision appears to revolve around super-powered Avenger Wanda Maximoff (Elizabeth Olsen) and her sentient android partner Vision (Paul Bettany) as they settle down in the suburbs of a small town called Westview, through a series of rapidly changing decades. This premise is initially unsettling right off the bat given that the audience knows Vision is dead. The true plot of this series remained shrouded in mystery right up to its final moments, creating a nine-week epic of theorising and easter egg hunting across the internet unlike anything I’ve seen before.

Given the existence of decades-spanning comic book lore, Marvel fans are no strangers to their theories overtaking the internet, but this was something else entirely. When a new MCU film is released, audiences have an idea of what to expect based on the several interconnected films that have come before, leading to some online buzz right before the film’s release, and directly after in anticipation of the next instalment of the franchise. However, with WandaVision, eagle-eyed viewers found a film’s worth of hints in each half hour episode, for nine consecutive weeks. .

This episodic release strategy feels almost old-school, given the current trend of binge-watching popularised by Netflix, but ended up working in Marvel’s favour, keeping the show at the centre of hypothetical ‘water cooler discussions’ between friends and colleagues at a time where there is little else of note to talk about. As such, speculation about the origins of Wanda’s suburban paradise and the potential dark forces at play both within and outside Westview spread like wildfire as the series progressed. As a self-proclaimed Marvel nerd, these weeklong debates were almost as enjoyable as watching the show itself. However, in retrospect, many fans blew popular theories, such as the secret involvement of Marvel’s devil-like figure Mephisto, completely out of the water, which hurt their overall impression of the show when it eventually failed to meet these impossible standards within its limited run time.

The most widely covered unmet fan expectation was in fact Marvel’s own doing. By casting Evan Peters as Wanda’s deceased brother Pietro (better known as Quicksilver), a role he has previously played in 20th Century Fox’s X-Men franchise, the internet understandably blew up, taking this choice as confirmation that the X-Men would finally join the ranks of the MCU. This assumption was fueled by Wanda’s own mutant history in the comics, as well as Disney’s recent acquisition of the studio. Instead of easily tying in the two universes through the reality-bending setting of WandaVision, in a move that would have started riots in cinemas had this been a film and not a series, Peters’ ‘Pietro’ was instead revealed to be regular citizen Ralph Bohner. To cast such a well-known actor, one that was always sure to send fans into a flurry, for the purpose of a simple phallic joke felt like a wasted opportunity at best, and borderline cruel at worst, but is an important reminder that, like any creative entity, Marvel does not owe the viewers anything. It is important not to conflate expectations of a series with necessities, and admit that you got caught up in the hype instead of claiming the showrunners have done you a disservice. This lesson is hopefully one that fans will take onboard going forward into the next series on the roster, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier.

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TV As much as hearing Peters’ in-character chuckle at his own punchline of a last name was a bitter pill to swallow (although, admittedly I found the reveal so hilariously absurd that I still smile every time I think about it), it made sense in the greater narrative of the series not to include such a juggernaut of a concept.

Despite what the rampant fan discourse would have you believe, WandaVision is first and foremost, Wanda’s story. By stepping out of the cinematic realm, Marvel was able to provide some much-needed character development for its remaining heroes, finally giving Wanda the depth she deserves by showcasing her journey through the grieving process. The ‘big bad’ fans were desperate to identify from the first episode was not the demon Mephisto, or even the delightfully wicked Agatha Harkness (Kathryn Hahn), despite the certified bop that is ‘Agatha All Along’, it was actually grief itself. This revelation is not something I can see Marvel getting away with in a blockbuster film, but, woven through a nine-episode story full of misdirects, it works perfectly. Additionally, despite the god-tier trolling of Paul Bettany teasing the major cameo of an actor that he’d longed to work with all of his life, with turned out to be himself, many hypothesised that anyone from Doctor Strange to Professor X would come in and save the day, but Wanda doesn’t need saving. This is a character-driven story, and any last-minute heroes would have defeated this purpose. Instead, WandaVision finally exposes the full magnitude of Wanda’s powers, far beyond the lacklustre red sparkle emitted from her hands in previous films. This vindicates people (like myself) who have championed her as the strongest Avenger from the beginning. I couldn’t help but shed a tear as the music swelled when she finally earned her ‘Scarlet Witch’ mantle, defiant in the face of all the loss she has endured.

WORDS BY CIARA CONNOLLY ART BY ANDRÉS MURILLO 42

In comparison to the blockbuster MCU films that have to move a mile a minute to pack in all the action and quips audiences have come to expect, the longer format of the show was utilised to put these emotional, character-driven moments at the forefront. This is best seen through the show’s greatest feat, actually making me care about Vision as a character. Since their first moments together in Captain America: Civil War, the idea of a romance between a woman and a synthetic humanoid felt comical, but throughout the series, this notion dissipates, and the love between these two characters begins to feel tangible and genuine. Despite not having a real heart of his own, Vision delivers some of the most moving lines of dialogue I’ve heard in a long time, retroactively giving emotional weight to his death in Avengers: Infinity War. By giving their secondary characters an opportunity to shine in their own right, Marvel have ingeniously set the stage for a post-Robert Downey Jr. MCU, in which other heroes that resonate with the audience must come to the forefront.

With a fresh format and the restrictions of box office numbers and a two-hour run time cast to one side, WandaVision was given the space to experiment with form and genre in a way that no other MCU property has before. This structure allowed the series to tie in with its comic book roots, showing different adventures every week gradually building into an overarching story. In creating the future of the MCU, and superhero TV programming as a whole, the series masterfully borrowed from the TV shows of the past, with Wanda and Vision’s journey through the decades inspired by legendary sitcoms, from The Dick Van Dyke Show to Malcolm in the Middle. As these facades began to crumble, the show took on an eerie, and at times horrific (I’m looking at you, corpse Vision) undertone. It was in these moments that WandaVision was at its best, well and truly free of the shackles of the typical Marvel formula.

In their quest for complete screen domination, Marvel have hit the ground running with WandaVision, adding an excitement to television viewing that has been missing for quite some time. Ever since the series ended, I’ve come to miss waking up on Friday mornings in fear of picking up my phone, desperately avoiding spoilers. If Marvel can continue to push the envelope on the small screen, and manage to tie these stories into the larger cinematic universe, the golden age of superheroes has a bright future indeed.

in the time of Covid

As Showtime’s Shameless draws to a close after twelve seasons, the infamous Gallaghers navigate Covid-19, and post-Trump America.

Based on Paul Abbot’s UK series of the same name, and now concluding its twelfth season, Shameless follows the

antics of the dysfunctional Gallagher family, led by alcoholic patriarch Frank (William H. Macy) on Chicago’s Southside.

Although the release of the eleventh and twelfth seasons was delayed due to Covid-19, the latest episodes have taken the pandemic in their stride; the characters are masked to the nines, the schools yo-yo between opening and closing, and the Alibi bar owned by supporting characters Veronica and Kevin (Shanola Hampton and Steve Howey) struggles to survive under restrictions.

Although Shameless is endlessly outlandish, provocative and famous for its employment of shock value, it nonetheless doesn’t shy away from topics like the stark realities of intergenerational addiction, abuse, and poverty. Following eldest sister Fiona’s (Emmy Rossum) departure from the Southside in season ten, the remaining Gallagher children are left to take on the responsibilities of parenting the remaining minor in the family, Liam (Christian Isaiah). Where previously Liam mainly occupied the background, the latest season sees him take centre stage, particularly when exploring racism in post-Trump America, and what it means to be a young Black man today. In the initial episode of season twelve, Frank delivers a monologue lamenting the gentrification of Chicago’s Southside, wearing the now obligatory face mask. The camera then pans out to reveal a spray-painted mural of George Floyd with the words Black Lives Matter in large letters. While Shameless is known for its outlandish and comedic plotlines, the latest seasons have also explored the very real human consequences of political issues such as anti-immigration laws and restricted abortion access. The personal struggles of the Gallagher family take place against the brutal background of ICE raids and deportations which split countless families apart.

Middle child Carl’s (Ethan Cutkowsky) new job as a police officer sees him experience first-hand the corruption and racism within the Chicago police department, which is only complicated by the criminal behaviour of his immediate family members. Whether this story arc ends in a “good cop in a bad barrel’’ narrative, or a more radical anti-police conclusion remains unclear midway through the series. Next door, the racist Milkovich patriarch, Terry (Dennis Cockrum) poses a moral quandary for his son Mickey (Noel Fisher) who struggles to reconcile his estrangement from his homophobic father with his feelings of obligation to care for him as he is now paraplegic.

Although powerhouse Emmy Rossum’s departure from the show was a major loss, William H. Macy has, in this season, delivered his strongest performance yet, followed closely by Jeremy Allen White who plays eldest brother, Lip. Although the earlier seasons, which follow the Gallaghers’ adolescence, are firm fan favourites for a reason, the character evolution of Lip from child prodigy, to delinquent, to father and family man is handled with immense skill. Lip’s struggle with alcoholism is not only impressive in its grittiness and realism but also because it highlights the theme of breaking cycles of intergenerational addiction. Throughout all twelve seasons, both the Gallaghers and the Milkoviches struggle against the frightening possibility of turning into their parents; with Ian now happily married, and Lip and youngest daughter Debbie (Emma Kenney) now parents, all Gallagher children in some sense get their happy(ish) ending, in sidestepping the pitfalls of their parents and stepping up to care for their children.

While the direction Shameless will ultimately take is still largely unclear, if the first half of the season is anything to go by, fans are in for another six episodes which are funny, gripping, tragic, and above all, shameless. Although the pandemic may have delayed the release of season twelve, the manner in which the writers have incorporated not only Covid-19, but the realities of systemic racism, gentrification and political unrest means that the final episodes will be well worth the wait.

WORDS BY GRACE GAGEBY 43

ALT.

MAKING AN ARCHIVE

As days blend into each other, one year into our reality being shapeshifted, I’ve found myself

being attached, more so than usual, to possessions, material or otherwise. Anything before circa 2020 is an heirloom of a past that yearns to be lived. Cancelled concert tickets, free passes to the Academy - to what extent can one latch onto the past to make sense of the present? While this notion of past-possession may seem dated, seeing as we are a whole year into this soul-crushing calamity, some of us - arguably, most of us - see the future as an extension of our past, not our present. Last year was 2019 and if people are to refer to 2020, they call it twenty-twenty.

The only way to retrieve the past, or make an attempt at reliving it is through the only tangible evidence we possess from it: photographs. I have admittedly found myself going through my Instagram profile time and time again, just to appease myself with snapshots of “what once was.” That freshmen reading week trip when I first got a disposable and clicked what I believe to be every window in Venice. Or the time we cut my friend’s hair in the cubicle that was halls’ bathroom. “Good old days” primarily exist in the face of monotony and after a year of being holed up inside, photographs have proven to be my sole antidote. This isn’t to say that yearning is constrained to a polaroid that captured a moment in time but to emphasise, in retrospect, how glad I am to have documented all my days.

Most ‘finstas’ as of late are less haha-cannot-post-this-because-I’m-too-embarrassed and more an archival account of life. The same people that often questioned (read: critiqued) the concept of taking a photo of every meal have now jumped on the bandwagon to click every outfit-of-the-day, be it just for zoom. This culture of embracing every passing second is new and surprisingly, it encompasses both active and inactive moments. At the expense of romanticising life as though it were a Pixar movie, people have found pleasure in the mundane. From trees to clouds, there are a host of accounts dedicated to what would once be deemed trivial. Had it not been for the pandemic and the subsequent lockdowns, would we have embraced St. Stephen’s Green as we do now? In this day and age of commodification, parks too have fan pages documenting all their seasonal glory. Unarguably, the best part about this newly established culture is people all over the world, espousing the same idea.

Despite being separated by millions of miles, nostalgia for the past has universally united people and eerily enough, everyone is responding to it similarly: yearning through/for past experiences via amassed visual evidence.

Photography, I have realised, doesn’t have to be about the perfect subject, sight or lighting.

More so than anything, it’s about finding a frame for that fleeting feeling. God only knows what ‘cloud’ is but with the way Apple keeps reminding me I’m out of iCloud storage now is...almost comforting. I can only hope it means the irrepressible amount of photographs that are stacking up.

WORDS BY ADITI KAPOOR 44

is a playlist a clock or a mirror?

For many, this year felt like floating through endless space. With a sense that time was

suspended, the signposts we use to map out the days passing became especially significant. For me, those signposts used to be playlists. I used to make one weekly, curating them with a mix of old songs and new ones I wanted to give a listen to. My old Spotify account is a crowd of these weekly curations.

I thought I would be able to make a new faction of memory, that if I could adhere a week to a song, recalling that week would be as easy as listening back. As it turns out, it isn’t that easy. Memories are made up of more than background music. This is probably why I gave up that devotional curation for a more emotionally charged and occasional sort. My playlists have grown shorter and more precise.

Maybe this means I feel the time that has passed differently, or maybe it means I want to remember things differently. Overall, I think everything nowadays feels more vague.

There’s a lot in a name when it comes to a playlist. What does it say about me if I set certain songs side by side, and call them “happy”? Even when it’s just a fitting lyric, a date, time, season or some nonsensical inside joke, the title we give to a playlist is always telling. They reflect the mood we were in when we picked those songs and might hint at where we will be emotionally when we revisit the playlist again. In choosing a name, we have acknowledged that by putting these songs together, we have made something that could almost be called new.

Honestly, I think playlists are another surface we can see ourselves reflected in. It used to be mixtapes with names scrawled on in marker, now they are an abundance of playlists to scroll through endlessly on Spotify. A playlist at its simplest is a collection of what you like at that moment in time. It is the same as collecting particularly nice stones on a beach, or bright leaves on a walk. It says simply: I’ve gone through life, and here are some of the best things I’ve seen so far. I’ve picked them up to keep them close to me. Here they are, set out side by side. Here is the name I’ve given them. It’s a fairly simple act of expression, but one I feel is built on an enduring love of collecting small moments that affected us. The act of putting them together is to make something that reconnects us to places, people and moments that we have passed by.

WORDS BY RÓISÍN FINNEGAN ART BY LINDSAY LEACH

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ALT.

T H E C A S E F O R R I T UA L S WORDS BY SAM MAGUIRE

R

ituals define us. Whether it’s the specific way you take your morning coffee, a twelve step Korean skincare routine, or simply making your bed and setting alarms, the processes of routine and ritual have far reaching consequences for how we perceive time, place and even ourselves. The two great forces of the modern age (Neoliberalism and Goop) seem to have us convinced that the modern condition is defined by a permanent state of want. The ever-growing chasm between our reality and our ‘best lives’ must be filled by an increasingly costly amount of wellness rubble: clearasonics, curated vitamins, diffusors, sprays, mushroom coffee blends and CBD tampons. The idea of ‘self-care’ in the age of Instagram starts and ends with what is in your wallet. The concept is entirely predicated on the idea that your brand loyalty and purchasing choices hold a meaning that goes far deeper than your shopping cart. I charcoal mask therefore I am. So, what is to be done? How does one make their life absolutely perfect, whilst at the same time, stay true to their (obviously extremely deeply held) anarcho-communist principles? The solution, dear reader, is ritual. Here are four points to get you kick started on your journey towards creating your bliss, aligning your intentions and um...manifesting?

1.

Have a sleep schedule. The most ground-breaking thing I learnt at twenty-one was the idea of regular sleep and wake times. Lie-ins as an occasional treat are all well and good, but in order to get the right amount of sleep, the internal body clock must be set just right. Those mental health posters in doctors’ offices were not lying to us after all, you must ‘sleep eight hours to make the other sixteen bearable.’ Consider: eye masks, pillow spray and valerian root tablets.

2.

Talk on the phone. Nothing will make you feel more alive than walking around the house, picking up objects and putting them down again, while basically recording a live podcast with your friend on the phone.

If you’re lucky enough to still have your grandparents, ring them too; they miss you.

3.

Move your body. At the risk of this sounding like some horrendous ‘mental health during corona’ advice article, creating some sort of scheduled movement, regardless of what it is, does wonders for fighting off feelings of existential dread.

4.

Embrace fanaticism. Whatever it is that you enjoy, go all the way. The idea of doing things within moderation is simply a bourgeois tactic to keep us complacent. Increase the screen time! Drink the wine!

Play the video game!

Life in the middle ground gets old very quickly; be fanatical. Rituals are all well and good, but fulfilment is not always neatly scheduled in; find time for passion.

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Happy Birthday Instagram WORDS BY CLARE MAUNDER

I have an on-off relationship with Instagram. At times we’ve been deeply in love and utterly inseparable, documenting each other’s moments (did it really happen if there aren’t any pictures?) and talking into the early hours. Currently though, we’ve been on a break since December. Since then I’ve been witness to my own rebirth into a life outside the confines of an app that has both shaped and been shaped by my identity for near to a decade. If the metaphor of rebirth sounds overly dramatic, perhaps a retrospective glance over the previous decade of Instagram’s growth is needed for a full reality check of how we came to this cyborg-esque place of app codependency.

Instagram celebrated its tenth birthday back in October. Founded by Stanford graduate Kevin Systrom in 2010, it’s packed a lot into its first decade of life - it’s the fourth most downloaded app of the 2010s, and has an estimated value of $102 billion. During this time the platform has steadily amassed other auxiliary functions to supplement its central photo-sharing mission - direct messaging, stories, live features, and reels are now part of its collective weaponry. What these channels have in common is a sense of connection, each a different language for users to employ at will. But Instagram doesn’t run on the metrics of fluffy concepts like friendship and authentic closeness. It runs on the quantifiable metric of profit, which it absorbs through the attention economy. Every second of usage the app squeezes from you is more money to line the app’s pockets. The fantasy we might light to swaddle ourselves in of Instagram’s existence to provide a space to explore the contours of friendship and self-expression online crumbles. This is something I think often gets forgotten when navigating the channels of social media. Or, in my case, an awareness that these technologies are designed to cleave attention away from my life and instead pour it into neat square boxes on an app, which has a palliative effect that absolves me of the shape of responsibility. I no longer have to bear the weight of managing my own time on devices and apps with the nihilistic end-point of what they’re designed, and designed very well, to do.

Instagram’s Systrom seems an alright guy - he seems to have sidestepped the evil corporate villain mould Zuckerberg fills out so well. But even so, he admitted in an interview with Silicon Valley journalist Kara Swisher that we’re at a stage where we know that social media works, but that we don’t know how it works. I wonder who decides the criteria of success that is used in this model. Odds on, it’s not the users of the app.

‘Social life not social media’ and ‘love not likes’ are phrases which might circulate the upper layers of consciousness when navigating Instagram and other platforms, but I wonder how deeply we believe the things that we say. I’m frequently amazed, and a little worried, by the mental gymnastics my brain performs to convince myself the photos and profiles I’m consuming are real, despite knowing they’re both constructed and curated. Instagram and social media don’t trade on the language of rationality though, and much of those well-intentioned messages are dissolved by the time the conversation has moved past paying lip-service to the relationship between social media and ‘real life’. We’re living in an age of an overwhelming number of channels to communicate with anyone and everyone around us, but let’s not confuse communication with connection, especially if the communication is not a two-way, but a three-way channel. This puts a new spin on the ‘three’s a crowd’ idiom - social media has muscled its way into the intimacy of individual friendships, a silent voyeur we forget is there.

Instagram has subsumed the world quietly, almost insidiously so. In 2019 it developed an option to allow users to complete in-app purchases; Instagram’s got the whole world in its hands. It’s now entirely possible to live out a life through their channels of communication, or, maybe, because of their channels of communication. Memory works differently in immaterial spaces. Clear physical signs of development and change are replaced by background system updates and font changes that are quickly forgotten by collective memory. Instagram’s replacement of their vanguard brown polaroid camera icon with a minimalist multicoloured indication of a camera registers as nothing more than a dim memory. It seems it’s always looked this way because on the internet things aren’t memorialised in the same way as the material world. The real world becomes untethered from the world Instagram presents to us as reality. A world without Instagram registers instead as an unsubstansive day-dream, as a memory we might have dreamed up before drifting off to sleep.

I give myself one month before I fall back in love with Instagram again.

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Gaeilge

Seachtain na Gaeilge: Céiliúradh ar anam na tíre Ag céiliúradh ár dteanga i measc dianghlasála - agus an gá le hí a chéiliúradh Airímid uainn uilig an saol roimh an phaindéim nuair a bhíomar ábalta bailiú le chéile mar phobal chun na rudaí móra agus na rudaí beaga a chéiliúradh. Mar mhac léinn na dteangacha, mothaím i mbliana chomh maith an tionchar dochrach de bharr na heaspa idirgníomhaíochta atá againn, ní hamháin sna léachtaí. Níl na deiseanna céanna againn bualadh le chéile agus ár dteanga a úsáid. Sin an fáth go raibh mé thar a bheith sásta nuair a chonaic mé na fógraí uilig ar líne do Sheachtain na Gaeilge 2021 - deis chun an Ghaeilge a chéiliúradh agus cumarsáid a dhéanamh (cinnte go leictreonach) le Gaeilgeoirí eile!

Tosaíonn Seachtain na Gaeilge ag tús mí Mhárta agus téann sé ar aghaidh ar feadh coicíse nó thart faoi sin de gnáth, ag críochnú ar Lá Fhéile Pádraig. Ní chaithfidh mé mórán a rá faoi stádas na Gaeilge sa tír seo. Tá pobal na nGaeilgeoirí réasúnta láidir — rud a táim thar a bheith bródúil as — agus tá sé ag fásadh an t-am ar fad, ach is í an fhírinne shearbh ná nach n-aithnítear an Ghaeilge le dóthain airde nó measa. Is seanscéal é: “buaileadh sa scoil mar ghasúr mé agus mé á foghlaim”, “tá an tuiseal ginideach sin do mo chrá”, “is teanga mharbh í”. Go bunúsach, níl tóir ag roinnt daoine Éireannacha ar an nGaeilge, ach le féilí cosúil leis an ócáid speisialta seo, feictear blas den dóchas agus is féidir linn taithí agus taitneamh ceart a bhaint as anam ár dtíre.

Tá na srianta ar fad ag fágáil na tíre faoi néal dubh faoi láthair. Is iontach an rud é go bhfuilimid in ann freastal ar imeachtaí ar líne ach bíonn gá ann caighdeán na n-imeachtaí a laghdú. Ach gan amhras, cuireadh iontas ormsa nuair a chonaic mé clár na n-imeachtaí a bhí á eagrú ag ár gCumann Gaelach féin sa choláiste!

Léiriú a bhí ann ar phaisean don Ghaeilge i gColáiste na Trionóide. Bhí na ciorcail comhrá móréilimh ann, maidineacha caife agus neart ceardlanna. Eagraíodh díospóireacht agus plé painéil chun seans a thabhairt do dhaoine a scileanna teanga a chur in iúl agus a n-argóintí a roinnt. Sna tráthnónta, bhí na himeachtaí níos mó ar siúl, cosúil le Cúirt Éigse, imeacht ina roineann mic léinn a saothair féin as Gaeilge ó dánta go hamhráin. Is gnéithe tábhachtacha iad an litríocht agus an ealaín i dteangacha agus ní féidir a shéanadh ach go bhfuil an Ghaeilge lán le saothair agus scríbhneoirí iontacha. Chomh maith leis sin, bhí dráma ar siúl le rannpháirtíocht ó DU Players “Casadh an tSúgáin” le Dúbhghlas de hÍde, an chéad Uachtarán Éireann. Cé go rabhamar uilig taobh thiar de na scáileáin, mhothaigh mé an t-atmaisféar lúcháireach céanna agus mé ag freastal ar na himeachtaí. Agus níl dabht ann ach go raibh codanna eile na tíre ag céiliúradh sna hollscoileanna eile, sna meáin shóisialta, agus cibé slí eile a bhí ar fáil!

Tá sé tábhachtach nach ndéanaimid dearmad ar an ngá a bheith ag tacú le féilí cosúil le Seachtain na Gaeilge, go háirithe leis na cúinsí atá againn faoi láthair. Fiú roimh an phaindéim, bhí saghas stró de dhíth chun tionchar na Gaeilge a choinneáil beo. Is oth liom é seo a rá mar mhac léinn na teanga ach sin an chaoi a bhfuil sé. Agus uaireanta agus mé ag déanamh machnaimh faoi thionchar dosheachanta na paindéime seo don todchaí, imíonn mo smaointe go dtí an tionchar a bheidh le feiceáil sna cúrsaí cultúrtha, an Ghaeilge san áireamh. Leis an gcuid is mó den tír sa bhaile, níl an Ghaeilge mar chuid den ghnáthamh laethúil níos mó. Nílimid fiú ag éisteacht leis na háitainmneacha as Gaeilge ar an Luas nó na fógraí ar an mbus. Ní thugann neart daoine aird don Ghaeilge ar aon nós, ach mar a sheasann cúrsaí anois, níl an teanga mar pháirt an tsaoil ar chor ar bith do dhaoine áirithe.

Tugann imeachtaí Sheachtain na Gaeilge deis do roinnt daoine an teanga a chéiliúradh, ach deis do roinnt eile a chuimhneamh go bhfuil an teanga fós ann. É sin ráite, is soiléir go bhfuil a lán gnóthaí Gaeilge ag dul i ngleic leis na dúshláin atá romhainn sna laethanta seo. Tá siopaí Gaeilge i mbun gnó ar líne agus cé go bhfuil deacrachtaí ann le scannánaíocht faoi láthair, thug mé faoi deara an lá cheana go bhfuil neart clár suimiúil ó chartlanna TG4 foilsithe ar an seinnteoir.

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Is gearr go mbeidh an ghéarchéim seo thart ach caithfimid a bheith réidh leis an iarmhairt. Ní féidir liom míniú daoibh i gceart an saibhreas atá tagtha ar mo shaol de thairbhe na Gaeilge. Aon seans chun sult a bhaint as ár dteanga, tá dualgas againn é a thapú.

FOCAIL LE ELAINE NIC ÉIL

Ba é YouTube an Suíomh Shruthú is Fearr de 2020 Deich mbliana ó shin, bhí telifís i lár ré órga. Bhí an tírdhreach flúirseach le cláir iontacha cosúil le Mad Men agus Breaking

Bad. Bhí meánaicme rathúil, le tochaltóir gual ’s gluaisrothaí ciníocha. Bhí Community fós greannmhar, bhí rithim Parks And Recreation ag éirí níos sciobtha, ’s dhiúltaigh Kenny Powers a scaird-scí a dhíoladh. Agus, bhí clár beag faoi dragain ag tosú.

Cúpla bliain níos déanaí, d’fhoglaim na Bluths nach bhfuil airgead sa seastán banana i gcónaí agus scrios an réabhlóid shruthaithe an tamhnach fhlúirseach. Tírdhrearch sceirdiúil atá ann anois. Tá cláir spreagúla fós ar fáil, cosúil le I May Destroy You, ach tá cuspóir nua ag cláir teilifíse. Ní chaithfidh cláir a bheith iontach, is fuaim sa chúlra iad. Caithfidh an lucht féachana tiúnáil amach ní isteach a thuilleadh. Thosaigh an clár teilifíse is mó a raibh tóir ag daoine air i 2020, i 2005.

Bhí na cláracha is mó a ghiolc daoine faoi, The Last Dance agus Tiger King, imithe as cuimhne na ndaoine chomh luath is a tháining siad. Tá achar airde ag éirí níos giorra agus tá seo glactha le suíomh fís-shruthú. Bíonn The Mandalorian ag streachailt chun an t-am idir radhairc de Bhabaí Yoda a líonadh. An bhfuil suim ag éinne i bplota Bridgerton? An bhfuil sé fiú tábhactach? Tá comhéadan úsáideora Prime Video ag iarraidh a dtaisce a coimheád faoi cheilt. Maidir le Quibi, nílim chun caitheamh anuas ar na mairbh. Tá YouTube flúirseach leis an nuálaíocht ’s an úrnuacht atá ar iarraidh ó na suíomhanna seo.

Ní YouTube Red nó YouTube Premium nó cibé ainm eile a chuirtear air atá i gceist agam, ach díreach gnáth-YouTube.

Ní suíomh foirfe é YouTube. Léirigh sraith droch-fhíseán Videogamedunkey go bhfuil an leathanach treochtála briste.

Gorlann d’éalaíontóir atá ann, ainneon an chuma athráitheach atá air. Is iad seo roinnt de na cruthaitheoirí is fearr de 2020.

All Gas No Brakes Dá mbeifeá ag iarraidh dul siar ar 2020, ar chúis ait éigin, beadh físeáin AGNB an tslí is fearr é a dhéanamh. Bhí AGNB láithreach ag gach tráth sonrach, ó na hagóidí sráide i bPortland go dtí an chomhdáil AVN. Thaispeáin AGNB an fíor-Mheiriceá ina gcuid físeán: mórchúis na ndaoine a chuaigh go dtí an trá chun Lá na Saoirse a cheiliúradh i rith paindéime, an oibrí gnéis ag iarraidh a cíos a íoc, na coirpigh chogaidh gléasta i Reebok. Is minic a bhíonn magadh a dhéanamh faoi amadáin sna físeáin seo, ach bíonn muintearas ’s áthas iontu ar feadh bomaite fosta. Ritheann dhá shampla le Hollywood nuair a smaoiníonn siad ar shaol na tuaithe: bochtanas agus ciníochas. Ach, léiríonn AGNB an-chineáltas leis an muintir a dhéanann sé caidreamh leo. Is é a bhfiseán Bigfoot Hunting, go háirithe, scáthán álainn ar an saol. Lucht lán le creideamh atá iontu, cé go ndéanann beag dá gcuid oibre. Is domhan iontach a thaispeánann sé.

Conner O’Malley Ceaptar go n-aithneofar uachtaránacht Trump mar ré órga sa gcoiméide. Ceithre bliana níos déanaí, tá Alec Baldwin ag glacadh an buíochas ar fad i gcomhair treascartha Trump agus tá fear céile Sarah Cooper spíonta amach ón síor-gnéas béil. Ach, tá laoch amháin ar YouTube a bhíonn ag cruthú físeán i gcomhair daoine le hinchinn leáite. Físéain trína chéile’s domhainfhriochta atá iontu. Téann fuinneamh d’athar colscartha trí gach seat fíor-gar-amhairc ’s léine smálaithe le hallas.

B’fhedir go bhfuil aithne agat ar Chonner ón gclár iontach I Think You Should Leave nó fiseán suaimhneasach Joe Pera. Níl aon shuaimhneas sna físeáin seo, tá siad craiceáilte. Bíonn Conner ag rith idir trácht bóithre chun script a dhíoladh faoi Joe Biden ag sábháil an stocmhargaidh ’s ag caitheamh 500 toitíní chun an ghlas a bhaint de Verizon 5G. Rámhaille d’fhear mire atá inti, ach nach bhfuilimid go léir beagán as ár meabhair anois?

The Report of The Week Má bhí Conner O’Malley ró-dhian duit, tá Reviewbrah mar óiche chiúin os comhair na tine. Tá a fhiseáin sólásach suaimhneach. Tá stíl mhodhúil ag na fiséain. Bíonn sé gléasta i gculaith i gcónaí agus ní déanann sé craos ar a mbéile riamh ach ní féidir leat do shúile a bhaint den scáileán. Caithfidh go bhfuil Reviewbrah ar duine de na haisteoirí is fearr nó an fear is croíúil ar an domhan. Tá roinnt ceisteanna faoi Reviewbrah nach bhfuil freagartha fós, ach tá an mhistéir níos fearr ná na freagraí.

SuperMega Chaith Matt and Ryan ó SuperMega 2020 mar an chuid eile againn, ag caitheamh tréimhse fada ag imirt Animal Crossing sular stop muid gan choinne. Bíonn siad ag forbairt eaglaise i Minecraft, ag rangnú príomhach ’s ag aimsiú na gcluichí is macnasaí ar líne. Is féidir leat an grá idir Matt agus Ryan a mhothú i ngach físéan idir na scéalta greannmhara. In am nach féidir le daoine am a chaitheamh lena gcairde, nach álainn an rud é sin?

Cá mhéad uair a chonaic tú The Office? Cén fáth nach mbainfeá triail as rud nua?

FOCAIL LE CAL Ó MUIRÍ

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PHOTOS BY MEGAN O’ROURKE & ELLA SLOANE

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