tn2 Issue 3, 2014-15 by Trinity News

confessions

of a dangerous

mind

CONTENTS 04 06 07 24 26 32 34

Jumble Uppers & Downers Homegrown Photo Essay Reviews Calendar Sex

EDITORIAL TEAM Meadhbh McGrath Matthew Mulligan Lola Boorman Alice Wilson Stephen Moloney Olen Bajarias Megan Burns Sarah Lennon Galavan Sorcha Gannon Daniel Scott Kathleen Girvan Kerry Brennan Eoin Moore Nicholas Kenny Elizabeth Mohen Michael Kemp Tara Joshi Eoin Lynskey Heather Keane Matthew Malone Ciara Forristal Emma Boylan Louise Curtin Aisling Kelly

COVER PHOTO BY Nadav Kander PRINTED BY Grehan Printers

THE DEADLIEST CATCH “I mean, I don’t know if you’ve spent a lot of time in Connemara, but there’s not a lot of murder and drug shipments coming in all the time.”

LARP CONFIDENTIAL

“If I had the capacity to understand, experience, and enjoy what all these people had come here to celebrate, I would do my utmost to find it.”

NEIL HARBISSON

“If this is a work of art, I am constantly showing it to other people, using my own body as a sculpture where the antenna is a unique work of art.”

WHO’S THAT GIRL?

14 18 20

“Some things are meticulously planned, and some things just burst out of the scenario, they’re kind of unhinged and exciting for that reason.”

A MOMENT WITH MYKKI “I could keep making these club songs and kind of just roll through culture but that’d take away my depth.”

FROM PROJECT TO THE PEACOCK “There are housing schemes like ours all over the world. But my focus is the audience here, that’s why I live here.”

A NOVEL ROMANCE

“As far as the romance community is concerned, the love story remains the most important element even in ‘erotic romance’.”

The Science Gallery is an amazing part of campus. Sure, the exhibitions are fascinating, but the cafe is the real hidden gem. I love people-watching in the bright and airy space, next to the fulllength windows that stare out at Pearse Street. When ordering, there’s a choice of coffee beans, roasted by in-house microroaster Cloud Picker. My favourite is the Henry, a blend of beans from Brazil, Guatemala and Ethiopia. The taste is a revelation: a deep, slightly smoky background of flavour gives way to toffee sweetness, complemented by a refreshing citrus acidity. I don’t deliberate over the cakes; for me, the Rocky Road is the obvious choice. Their version of this childhood staple is a classic: crunchy biscuit and pillowy marshmallow buried in sweet, milky chocolate. In Trinity, being on campus doesn’t mean bad coffee and vending-machine chocolates. Not when the Science Gallery cafe is just round the corner. Vice does it right: delic WORDS BY LEONIDAS CONSTANTINIDESi thout losing its cool. This isn’t PHOTO BY MATTHEW MULLIGANi

PUBLIC SPACE

IN THE GAME: PARITY PRIORITIES It’s been said that videogame developer Ubisoft and controversy go hand in hand, and in light of recent events, it’s difficult to argue with this assertion. Debate has sparked up over the resolution at which their upcoming title, Assassin’s Creed: Unity, runs on PlayStation 4 and Xbox One. This all began when a senior producer on Unity, Vincent Pontbriand, revealed that they had locked the Xbox One and PS4 versions of the game at 900p because they wanted to maintain parity between the two versions to “avoid debates and stuff ”. Not an unmitigated success, unfortunately. Shortly after, developers of EA Games’ Dragon Age: Inquisition announced that they would not be locking the potential of their game, with the PS4 version running at 1080p, while the Xbox One remained at 900p, citing the limitations of the latter’s hardware.Later, an anonymous Ubisoft developer sent out an email unofficially addressing the controversy about Unity’s resolution on both platforms, stating that the PlayStation 4 couldn’t handle the higher definition, claiming, “The game is so huge in terms of rendering that it took months to get it to 720p at 30fps […] We only achieved 900p at 30fps weeks ago. The PS4 couldn’t handle 1080p 30fps for our game, whatever people, or Sony and Microsoft, say.” WORDS BY NICHOLAS KENNY

VIDEODROME

COFFEE X CAKE

Designed by Desmond Fitzgerald, also responsible for the beacon of Modernism that is the original terminal building at Dublin Airport, the Moyne Institute opened in 1953 in the corner of College Park. With its uniform fenestration, colossal order of columns and placement upon a stepped podium, the building is quietly monumental in form. Neoclassical in spirit, it is highly refined in execution. The shock of copper roofing which caps the building’s Y-shaped footprint tempers the austerity of the grey exterior walls. Far from being just dull and dreary, the Moyne Institute is a lesson in drabulous, straight to the point architecture: the normcore of the built environment. Beyond the façade is a surprising domed entrance hall awash with natural light. Think twice before passing judgement on this building next time you glance it from the steps of the Pav while nursing your can of Pražský.

Bisexuality, threesomes, androgyny, voyeurism, BDSM. No, not a cross-section of the Craigslist personals, but rather the content of one the most controversial videos of an already colourful career. Madonna’s Justify My Love video caused quite the stir in 1990 with its fearlessly erotic subject matter. MTV elected to ban the video, which translated into a frenzied cascade of publicity for Madonna. When interviewed about the censorship and confronted over the fact that selling the video in favour of broadcasting it was likely to make her more money, her staunch reply was, “Yeah so? Lucky me.” Unsurprisingly, upon release on VHS, it promptly became the highest selling video single of all time. The video itself is shot entirely in black and white, portraying Madonna and a host of other provocative figures engaged in the sort of wordless, suggestive exchanges you’d probably find in a French arthouse film that errs on the side of “blue”. Madonna’s almost trademark appropriation of Christian symbols perturbed the Vatican — who traditionally get a little touchy when the Cross is depicted amidst steamy relations in a hotel room. The video’s politics are ultimately progressive, championing the more marginalised corners of sexuality. The video ends with Madonna sauntering down a hallway, cheeky smile creeping across her face, before fading to a black background emblazoned with the words, “Poor is the man whose pleasures depend on the permission of another”. The video may be black and white, but the spectrum of human sexuality is anything but.

PHOTO AND WORDS BY STEPHEN MOLONEY

WORDS BY EOIN LYNSKEY

NOTES ON A SCANDAL Blatant misogyny, borderline child pornography, date rape, copious drug use and remorseless violence form the basis of Larry Clark’s directorial debut Kids (1995). Dissatisfied with the conventional angst and superficiality of teen movies of the period, Clark’s quasidocumentary style piece offers a nihilistic view of a youth culture bereft of any sort of moral compass. The film opens with Telly “the virgin surgeon” forcefully having unprotected sex with a prepubescent girl — a scene which becomes all the more harrowing once it is revealed that that Telly is, unbeknownst to himself, HIV positive. The film progresses with petty theft and full scale violence when Telly and his friends almost fatally assault a man, an action which leaves them with little remorse. Indeed, there is no relief for the teenagers against the ennui of daily life but the fleeting pleasure from violence, drugs and sexual experimentation. Clark, however, manages to avoid shock effects and refuses to lay the blame for the teenagers’ behaviour on the customary mitigating factors of ethnic conflict and social background. The script, written by Harmony Korine, and the the use of amateur actors was realistic to the point where many people believed that Clark had simply followed and filmed a real gang of teenagers. Such realism led to Leo Fitzpatrick, who played Telly, to be harassed by the public following the release of the film. WORDS BY CIARA FORRISTAL

LITERARY MILESTONES Born on 12 November 1931, Gregory Hancock Hemingway was the third and final child of Ernest Hemingway, with whom Gregory or “Gigi” would have a difficult relationship. Members of the Hemingway family had said that she was the most like her father. However, Gregory was not in any way an emblem of machismo, but rather an individual wracked by alcoholism, guilt over her belief that she inadvertently caused her parents’ deaths, and questions of identity and gender. Born with male genitalia, she had been considering gender reassignment surgery as early as 1973, finally having the procedure in 1995, after being married to four different female spouses and having six children. While in public she often presented as male, she occasionally went by “Gloria”. Her legacy lies in the revealing accounts she gave of her father in Papa: A Personal Memoir (1976), and how the similar personalities of father and child gave rise to a renewed questioning of the Noble Prize Winner’s sexual orientation and the macho persona he performed for the public. Ernest had said of his star-crossed child that she had “the biggest dark side in the family except me”. WORDS BY MICHAEL KEMP

FRONT SQUARE FASHION

Deirdre McAteer, JS English Deirdre tells us that she chose this outfit because, “It’s the closest thing I could find to a hot water bottle.” And really, as the bitter November weather creeps in, who can think of a better source for style inspiration? Her cardigan from Dublin Vintage Factory manages to serve as both a colourful yet cosy injection to a grey day and a comforting duvet substitute. WORDS BY MEGAN BURNS PHOTOS BY SERGEY ALIFANOV

Mary Katrantzou x Adidas Originals: The cult designer adds her signature kaleidoscopic touch to a range of digitally-printed bomber jackets, sporty neoprene dresses, and trainers — ideal for Katrantzou fans hoping to pick up one of her unique pieces for a fraction of the price. On sale now at BT2.

#RIHunited: Rihanna knows how to make a comeback. After an agonising six month hiatus, BadGalRiRi made a glorious return to Instagram with photos of her absurd warrior turtle Halloween costume and her delightful impressions of Olivia Pope on a visit to the White House. In other excellent Rihrelated news, she told ELLE she wants a “big trimmed d***!” for Christmas. BadGal for President.

Wes Anderson’s theme park: Imagine the most whimsically melancholic, symmetrically-composed rollercoaster of your life. Anderson’s longtime musical collaborator launched speculation earlier this month that he and the director are planning to build a theme park together, promising that “the visitor will be amused and frightened, often simultaneously”. Drone Boning: “The plan was to take beautiful landscapes, and just put people fucking in them,” explains the filmmaker. The result, shot entirely using aerial drones, turned out to be eerily striking.

Too Many Cooks: Just watch it — and stay for the full eleven minutes. It’s worth it.

Lumbersexual: A new term for the rugged outdoorsman, complete with beard and flannel, formerly known as the Urban Woodsman or the Humble Hipster. In other words: not a thing. Landing strip-inspired hair: Robert Pattinson has gone and gotten himself an unusual bowl cut, jazzed up with a bikini-waxing pattern in the back. He’s come so far.

Kim K haters: Hey, did you hear about Kim Kardashian’s bum on the cover of Paper? The entirely predictable eye-rolling response raised questions about what kinds of naked bodies we celebrate and what kinds we dismiss as “tacky”, “fake” and “disempowered”. But the rarely-seen goofy expression in Kim’s nudes clearly shows the fun she’s having with her own image. That face! You’ve got me.

No todger in Fifty Shades: Let’s be real about why we want to see Fifty Shades of Grey. It’s not for the enduring romance, the reflections on love in a modern world, or the witticisms of the script. It’s for the sex. However, Jamie Dornan revealed in a recent Guardian interview that viewers won’t be seeing his “todger”. What is this movie? WORDS BY MEADHBH MCGRATH

“We all just sit in a room playing bad things until something good happens.” You’d be forgiven for assuming the worst from Dublin five-piece SPIES’ own description of their creative process, but the approach seems to be working for them. Their first EP, Liars Call Me King, came out in 2010, and the four years since have seen their fanbase and the buzz around them grow. Last year they were featured in NME’s Radar section as well as the Guardian’s New Band of the Day column. SPIES seem on the cusp of exciting things with the exquisitely realised, taut, dark guitar stylings showcased on their releases thus far, but singer Michael Broderick and bassist Hugh O’Dwyer are still feeling cautious about the prospect of releasing a full-length album anytime soon. “It’d be easy to just go in, record ten songs and say ‘there, that’s an album’,” says O’Dwyer, (the last member to join SPIES, having suffered from band envy when he first met Broderick in college), “But it’s such a massive statement for a band to make.” This must be particularly on the band’s minds considering the critical accolades surrounding what they’ve already released, and O’Dwyer concedes: “If we are gonna put out an album, it has to live up to all that’s come before it — it would have to be, like, perfect.”

HOM EGR OWN This is not to say that they believe suggestions that consumers are more interested in tracks than albums now. “Albums are definitely relevant,” protests an affronted Broderick, before adding with consideration, “I guess we are coming to an age where you can just make a Spotify playlist [...] but there’s something very special about how an album takes you on a certain journey — that’s what I wanna do. That’s what we’re all striving to create.” The determination to only release an album that is a statement of SPIES’ identity suggests a good deal of thought must constantly go into their sound, and the band are often compared with the likes of The National and The Smiths. They aren’t trying to emulate any of these bands in particular though, they insist, with each member bringing their own musical tastes to the table (Echo & the Bunnymen and Joanna Newsom are mentioned). That three of them met as children in a boys’ choir might too imply more varied musical influences than the staple list of indie bands. “[Guitarist] Neil comes from a very musical family,” explains Broderick, “Like he was born with a double bass bow in his hand, so I think he does

bring in that [classical] influence in terms of musicality and chord structure. Then I guess I had the choral training, Hugh was playing in Trinity Orchestra.” Trinity Orchestra has been an excellent hub for local musical talent, not least boasting Hozier in its alumni, and the pair discuss what it means to be a part of this incredible time for Dublin music. “It’s a really healthy scene here,” says O’Dwyer, “Everyone’s really helpful — there’s no hierarchy.” If there was a hierarchy, however, one suspects SPIES would rank amongst the top echelons of the current Dublin scene with their beautifully rhythmic rock and Broderick’s smooth, yearning vocals. “We’re all trying to give each other a leg-up,” agrees Broderick, before admitting jovially, “While also kind of hoping that we do better than everyone else.” “But you bury that deep inside,” laughs O’Dwyer. SPIES will release their next EP in early 2015, and their new single Moosehead is out now on Trout Records. WORDS BY TARA JOSHI PHOTOS BY CONOR MCDONALD

APPOINTMENT WITH CRIME Owen McDonnell, star of TG4’s drama An Bronntanas, talks to Emma Boylan about Celtic Noir and the future of Irish language television.

mean, I don’t know if you’ve spent a lot of time in Connemara, but there’s not a lot of murder and drug shipments coming in all the time,” says Owen McDonnell, star of TG4’s enticing new drama An Bronntanas. While it doesn’t quite hold a mirror up to contemporary reality in rural Ireland, McDonnell is confident that that is no stumbling block to the show’s appeal. “It’s just trying to show real people in a real situation — you know the situation is fictional but what’s important is that it’s believable, that people could exist within it.” The show, without a doubt, achieves this.

An Bronntanas follows the events that spiral out of control when JJ Magill (Dara Devaney) returns home to Connemara to take charge of the family business after his father’s death. After the discovery of a boat with a murdered woman and over €1 million worth of drugs on board during a coastguard rescue mission, Magill is unwittingly embroiled in escalating violence, and the show explores how good men can be led down murky paths by opportunity and circumstance. McDonnell portrays Fiachra Green, the inspector investigating the woman’s murder, and he doggedly tries to solve the case without regard for who among his acquaintances might be implicated.

However, Inspector Green has his own dark undertones too, and often seems to enjoy nettling other characters with his acerbic comments. McDonnell, who is best known for his role as Sergeant Jack Driscoll in RTÉ drama Single-Handed, admits that this type of television role was something of a departure for him. “I kind of tend to play the morally stand-up guy with the great moral compass, whereas this is more interesting — his moral compass is all over the place really […] Fiachra will only do the right thing if it serves his own agenda.” McDonnell explains that it was this character and his importance in the script that drew him to the project. “When you’re playing the good guy at the centre of the piece there’s a lot of story shown through your eyes […] whereas if you are the unsympathetic character, you are driving things along, it’s more fun.” The sequence of events unfolding in An Bronntanas decidedly fall within the burgeoning genre of Celtic Noir. But even beyond the label, from the style of the opening credits to the gritty nature of its contents, one is easily struck by the correlations to its sibling productions in Nordic Noir television. Was this a conscious influence? “Celtic Noir was never really mentioned when we were filming it,” McDonnell says, “but I think what shows like The Bridge and The Killing have shown is that you don’t have to shoot something in English for it to appeal to a broad audience; if the quality of the show is good enough, people will tune in. So I think in that respect they inspired the ambition of the project and they kind of showed the way.” McDonnell also points out that An Bronntanas still does stand apart from other shows. “I think it differs from them in that there’s a lot of humour in An Bronntanas as well — it could go down the line of being very stony-faced but yeah there’s a lot of humour.” It certainly has a more tongue-in-cheek approach than its Scandinavian counterparts — it’s hard to imagine The Killing showing a dismemberment scene with Rod Stewart’s cover of First Cut is the Deepest playing in the background. But whether or not An Bronntanas may appeal to a broader international audience as a result remains to be seen, as the show has also been edited into a film and submitted as Ireland’s entry in the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar category. McDonnell’s point about linguistic inspirations raises the question of the importance of language, particularly one that relatively few people are fluent in, in our enjoyment of television shows and whether a story can appeal to us regardless of what language carries it. More directly related to Irish, An Bronntanas perhaps is also important for showing the quality of drama that can be achieved as Gaeilge. The show is bilingual but with a dominant emphasis on Irish, and McDonnell feels that this lends it greater authenticity, and furthermore it makes the language accessible: “It’s not trying to force Irish down people’s throats. I like the idea that if you create a product, whether it’s a television series or a music programme, that is worth watching, that will attract people towards the language.” As the standard knowledge of Irish television may not extend much beyond Ros na Rún or Aifric, An Bronntanas is hopefully marking the upward trend of similar projects that reinforce Irish as a viable language for drama.

Even taking away the language element and considering Irish television productions more generally, is An Bronntanas another step towards more ambitious projects? There has arguably been a stagnation in Irish television for a long time, where the only consistently watchable shows have been the likes of The Late Late Toy Show. Of course, one can’t discount funding as being a factor behind why we haven’t kept up with our British and American competitors. But with the advent of shows like An Bronntanas and Love/ Hate, which has just finished its fifth season, one wonders whether the so-called Golden Age of Television may at last be finding its way here. McDonnell doesn’t think we should hold ourselves back. “There’s no reason why we can’t make television to rival television from around the world. I just finished another project called Klondike about the gold rush in Yukon in the 1890s […] we tried to make a quite gritty dirty western, and why not? You know, we shouldn’t feel in any way inferior to anybody else.” The finale of An Bronntanas will air on November 20 at 9.30pm on TG4.

WORDS BY EMMA BOYLAN

FEAR ROLLING Games Editor Eoin Moore infiltrates the niche worlds of Gaelcon: the realm of the analogue gamer.

n Friday, October 24 I stepped with some trepidation into the nearly empty Ballsbridge Hotel ballroom on the first evening of Gaelcon 2014. As I was later informed, the convention was expected to pick up properly on the following day, when from 11am to 2am the gathered gamers would be trading cards, rolling dice, and donning costumes in preparation for the festivities to come. At this moment, however, there were just a couple of stalls, a handful of people playing board games, and the general bustle of volunteers rushing about in preparation for the proper kick off on Saturday morning. More than 500 people were expected to arrive for a long weekend of traditional gaming. “Traditional Games” are defined as RPGs, LARPs, board games and card games. Role Playing Games, or RPGs, focus less on intricate rules and objectives and more on the inhabiting of a character. Players sit around a table and are guided through a story by a Gamemaster. Live Action Role Playing games, or LARPs, follow the same idea but take it one step further: players move around and interact with each other to complete objectives as though they are their assigned characters. What all of these games hold in common is an emphasis on direct interaction between players, zero use of computers or other electronics, and, usually, quite a large number of dice. Inside the Gaelcon walls, epic fantasies, ferocious battles, and unique stories were to play out using simple tools: plastic pieces,

collectible cards, and pen and paper. It all initially appeared quite underwhelming; I couldn’t see the appeal that was to drive half a thousand people from across the country to this hotel. It required a level of commitment to the fantasy that I didn’t have, or at least had never experienced. I signed up to a series of games over the course of the next three days; if I had the capacity to understand, experience, and enjoy what all these people had come here to celebrate, I would do my utmost to find it. Saturday began with my first ever LARP. Costumes were not mandatory, but encouraged. As things got started, I was handed an extensive background sheet on my character and the history and lore of the world. I was also given a stat sheet, a list of objectives, and a handful of multi-coloured gems which I was told would be vital later on. I was immediately and undeniably out of my depth. Wandering around the LARP area, I tried my best to get into character, talk to other characters, and complete some of my objectives. It was a bizarre social situation; any basic fear I had of making a fool of myself became somewhat irrelevant — we had all passed a point of no return in that regard — but I was still worried that I’d embarrass myself as a total noob. I had no idea what a faux pas was in this situation, when it was and wasn’t cool to break character, and I still didn’t really get what the gems were about. Around me, grand battles took place, two characters

were controversially killed off, and another was resurrected from a previous LARP, all of which seemed very important based on the reactions of those around me. This particular LARP, in its 13th episode, mightn’t have been the best choice. I couldn’t be expected to care or enjoy myself as much as the people who had spent two years following its development, but I was still disheartened by how impenetrable the whole thing seemed. Whatever the great attraction to these games was, I hadn’t caught the bug. The convention had filled up since the “setting up” day. People were mingling, checking out the stalls, and, most of all, gaming. “Games conventions are by their very nature about participation in the activity,” said Oisin, Gaelcon’s convention director. “Games only work when you’re playing them, and that pretty much demands having a bunch of people sitting around a table with you, some of whom you might know well

I was heavily advised to attend the following day’s charity auction. “The Gaelcon Charity Auction has something of an international reputation as a madhouse,” Oisin explained. “It’s raised, over the last 20 years or so, somewhere in the region of €300,000. It’s an institution; it’s a big part of the gaming calendar.” There was an unmistakable buzz in the air. Things started slow, with a couple of bids in the 100-300 category, but over the course of the auction’s four plus hours things steadily escalated. People started battling in huge amounts over the smallest items. Several bids broke the four-figure mark, including one bid over what style two of the volunteers would shave their beards in. All the while, as these ludicrously rising figures were being thrown around, people were laughing hysterically. “The bids that are thrown around are people essentially making

“

I WAS IMMEDIATELY AND UNDENIABLY OUT OF MY DEPTH.

almost exclusively college students, but now there are a lot more families with their kids, as people have grown up.”

and some of whom you might not. It is a highly sociable activity. It’s not like computer gaming, where the multiplayer is distant, separated. In this case you have to be interacting with people, back and forth.” It was encouraging to see so many people, many of whom were complete strangers, interacting, playing, and inventing stories with one another. I wondered how often people with this niche interest were able to share experiences like this. “A big part about the gaming community is that there is a community,” Oisin told me. “A lot of the same people are involved in multiple conventions. Most are run by a college society, but there are a couple of independent ones, Gaelcon being the biggest. We occasionally have good-humoured arguments with the guys from UCC over which is bigger, Gaelcon or Warpcon. Gaelcon tends to be more about gaming, whereas Warpcon is more of a social occasion for people; every con has its specialty.” I was surprised by the large range in ages, from small children to middle aged adults. “I’ve only been here since 2003 and it’s been going since 1989, but even in the 12 Gaelcons I’ve been to it’s evolved over time,” said Oisin. “When I started it was

donations to charity,” Oisin explained. “They tend to be quite high because spirits tend to get a little excited over the cons and people get really into it.” It was strange witnessing it all unfold as an outsider. This was just one part of an event that some attendees had been waiting all year for, that they were donating massive amounts of money because of. I spent my final day just gaming. As the wargame room was getting cleared out, and the merchandise stalls were shutting up, I tried one last time to embrace the convention atmosphere that all these attendees were so enamoured with. Sitting down in a room of complete strangers, I took on a new name, read up on my backstory, picked up my dice, and rolled. WORDS AND PHOTOS BY EOIN MOORE ILLUSTRATION BY CLARA MURRAY

C L UR C DED

NEIL HARBISSON is the world’s first officially recognised cyborg. Born monochromatic, Harbisson sees exclusively in grayscale and has never perceived colour visually. Since March 2004 he has worn various iterations of the “eyeborg” device, allowing him to perceive colour as hundreds of microtones of sound within just one octave. Since then, he has fused the device with the occipital bone in his skull; he spoke to tn2 about his activism, art and life with a sixth sense. 12

Tell me about your early experiences with colour and sound. When I was growing up I didn’t like doing visual things. I hated art because I couldn’t sense it. I focused on music because I could fully experience the required sense. All other subjects have colour; literature is full of colour on almost every page. Even in geography and sports there are a lot of colours offered as code so music was an escape. My relationship with colour was always very love-hate. There was always music at home, so I grew up with it. When did you decide that you wanted to do something about not being able to see colour, but still wanted to experience it? I never wanted to change my sight. To me, seeing in black and white is a positive. I find seeing in greyscale an advantage and a lot of people have problems understanding that. Completely colour blind people see better at night, see through camouflage and recall shapes better. When I was growing up I didn’t think my sight was a problem, the problem was everyone else being able to see colour! I always hated the idea of interfering with my existing senses. I didn’t want glasses or headphones, so I started exploding bone conduction to experience the sound inside my skull. I was studying at Dartington College of Arts in England, at the time and there was a lecture on cybernetics in my second year. I went to speak to Adam Montandon (who gave the lecture) and suggested a project to extend my senses. How did the project progress? Developing software was easy, but at the time a computer chip was impossible. It wasn’t until 22 March 2004 that I wore anything. At the beginning, the project was just to create software that I would use with a camera and headphones. I wore them all the time so it was a permanent experience that my brain would get used to it. I wasn’t able to hear other people well, just the colour, and for the first three weeks I was very isolated, absorbing sound. The computer I had to carry was the worst, it weighed 5 kg. What was the first colour you heard, what was it like? Red. Well the first thing was the Windows logo, the four colours: red, green, blue and yellow. Then the first I memorised was red. I heard the wall and asked if it was red and everyone said yes. It wasn’t nice. The sounds I hear are electronic so it wasn’t, “Oh, so beautiful!”. The first five weeks were a bit too much. I got strong headaches; I was blocking a sense, and my body didn’t like that. Slowly, my brain accepted the input but it was utterly exhausting. At first it was just information, but then over months and years it became a feeling and then a perception, so it was a long journey. If I had decided to not wear it permanently, I’m sure the chain would have been broken and I would have had to start from the beginning again. The intuition was that I should wear it permanently. Did you always intend to use the “Eye-Borg” to create art? I always saw this as an art project, never a medical thing. Adding a new sense was itself a new art process or statement. Even if I didn’t create works of art, having a new sense was art.

Creating your own senses and body parts are art forms. If this is a work of art, I am constantly showing it to other people, using my own body as a sculpture where the antenna is a unique work of art. Your sound portraits are some of your most famous work. Tell me a little about those. Prince Charles came to Dartington College not long after the two concerts. He asked me about my antenna and I asked to listen to his face, so he was the first. From then on, I became interested in comparing the sounds of the human faces and listening to faces I had seen all my life: friends, family and famous faces. I listen to five notes: skin, hair, both eyes and lips to form a unique chord. I’ve never come across two the same, not even twins. It’s almost impossible to get exactly the same microtone and volume. Are there similarities between people who are related? Yes. But the really great thing is that you relate people you never would have thought of before. Prince Charles and Nicole Kidman have very similar eyes, for example. That’s the great thing about scanning cities too; everyone thinks they are grey, but grey is the absence of hue, so is almost never there in cities. Monaco is salmon and azure, for example. Do these things change your perception of beauty? Absolutely. If I had a face that looked nice and one that sounded nice, I don’t know which I’d chose. Obviously its very subjective what sounds nice, but a harmonious face doesn’t make a harmonious chord so the canon of beauty is certainly changed for me. Tell me a little about your activism, and the Cyborg Foundation. Since 2004 the project has received media coverage, from the university paper to national news and then international. Suddenly the project was everywhere, and I started receiving emails. There was a lot of interest from others who also wanted to extend their senses but I didn’t know how to help. Moon Ribas [choreographer and fellow cyborg activist] and I decided to create an international organisation to help people to become cyborgs, to use technology to extend their senses. Also to defend the right to do this, to defend the ethics of this as a process. Then to defend this as an art movement. The last thing is the future. Where do you see this technology going? You can live 80 or 90 years with the same senses that will degenerate over time. Or you can have cybernetic senses that you know will get better, and allow you to perceive reality better. That will change how we think completely. You’ll look forward to getting old because every time you sense something new, you rediscover the planet. There are so many things we cannot experience, sounds, smells, even what’s behind us! We have the opportunity to create totally new experiences, and that all starts with something as simple as exploring musical notes. WORDS BY LIAM HUNT ILLUSTRATION BY ERIC STYNES

the

hidden woman Rosamund Pike discusses her career-changing role in David Fincher’s Gone Girl, and the importance of art’s cultural relevancy.

ou might not have recognised Rosamund Pike before October of this year. Perhaps as the older sister in Pride and Prejudice, or from supporting roles in An Education and The World’s End. Her reserved beauty and lack of widespread recognition outside of England means she’s enjoyed a degree of anonymity. Until now, that is: with the highly anticipated release of David Fincher’s Gone Girl, Pike’s career has taken an exciting turn.

Unlike her cinematic counterpart, Pike is genuinely charming when she calls from her London home. At times over the interview, sounds of domesticity filter down the line: her young son’s chatter, queries about bathroom tiling — she’s taking a well earned break after the whirlwind of this year. So, how did she go about preparing for this career-defining role? Fincher pointed her in the direction of Carolyn BessetteKennedy, the wife of John F. Kennedy Junior, “which was interesting because he basically gave me a cipher to look at. There really is nothing written about her, nothing in her own voice.” She also mentions a documentary called The Woman Who Wasn’t There (2012), and Sociopath World (an online blog for sociopaths) as sources in creating “somebody with a very fragile sense of self ” who performs “some sort of false version of herself ”. When she was flying back from meeting Fincher for the first time, there was, rather auspiciously, a Life magazine cover feature on John F. Kennedy Jr. and Carolyn in the airport. Inside, “there were all these excruciating images; in Central Park; two tight heads at a dinner party, looking very hunted and haunted, and I thought, listen, he’s given me someone very hard to know.” Pike’s description of Carolyn Bassett-Kennedy merges undeniably into her interpretation of Amy Dunne in Gone Girl: “I thought, well, I don’t know how likeable she was, nor whether that was important — she had allure and she captivated people. She had a kind of huntress look in her eyes and liked testing people.” One of the reasons Gone Girl has been gaining so much attention over the last couple of years, spanning the release of Gillian Flynn’s novel of the same name in 2012 to the release of the film last month, is its exploration of a media-driven society, and the ensuing implications for its inhabitants, whose experience is mediated by the screen. A society, in Pike’s words, lacking “any real intimacy”, above all for Amy. So how did Pike go about playing a character who, in her own words, never really existed? “It’s not like you can suddenly relax and think, ‘Oh I’ve got this character now, I know who she is’, because you’re constantly changing.” Performing a performer was a challenging, but enjoyable, role: “The kind of stuff that was very anxiety-making at the beginning— not knowing how you’re going to do it — becomes the most fun.” There is a scene where Amy is watching herself on TV, trapped by her own image, an instance

of self-inflicted voyeurism: “She is the ultimate narcissist, and the narcissist is the person who is deeply insecure.” Pike thinks what is so sinister about Amy is that under this myriad of projected selves, there is no essence, no centre: “When other people try on roles usually you know who the real person is, but with Amy you never know who [that] is.” Pike expands on the insecurity perpetrated by such a voyeuristic, spectacle-driven society, illustrating her point with the all-toofamiliar case of a celebrity meltdown: “It’s a sort of unearned fame that gives someone a very insecure sense of self, because they’ve got recognition but they haven’t earned it [...] it’s sort of fame outweighing respect, or something like that.” Her own skyrocketing fame with Gone Girl is neither unearned nor preemptive. Acting professionally since her college days, Pike landed the role of Bond girl Miranda Frost alongside Pierce Brosnan at the tender age of 21, thereafter consistently earning parts on the screen and stage. At the age of 35, with an impressive body of work behind her (unaccompanied by any major scandals for the media to latch onto), it’s arguably the ideal moment in a career to have landed such a seminal role.

“In the past there have been other films with ‘female psychos’, where the woman’s a sort of hysteric, and Amy is not that. There is something very, very modern about that: she’s able to manipulate, she’s powerful, she’s clever.”

In fact it was Pike’s own relative lack of celebrity that led Fincher to cast her. She recalls how Fincher told her he’d always been drawn to her performances, and her undefinability as an actor: “I think he said, ‘I’ve always been drawn to your performances [...] every actor has their skill set and also their limits, but I couldn’t really pin down what yours were.’” An interesting parallel here is between Pike’s liminality as an actor and the inscrutability of the character she plays, and how (rather like the film) Fincher’s casting choice subverts expectations. She laughs, “I am probably just the sort of level where people could think, ah yes, I can see why she got to play that role, but I can also see why she was content to play the dead girl!” Well, not any more. The Oscars are looming, and there is talk of both Best Picture and Best Actress nominations for Gone Girl. Fincher’s directorial approach is notoriously tough on his actors, and Pike expands on her experience of the dynamic on set: “You’re constantly sort of getting to know each other and exploring one another […] your job as an actor is to service the director’s vision, and after six months I think you have a much clearer idea of what you’re working

for.” Pike describes this process as “a dance really — you’re constantly dancing around one another”. A rigorous process, but with scope for improvisation too: “Some things are meticulously planned, and some things just burst out of the scenario, they’re kind of unhinged and exciting for that reason.” There has been a degree of ambivalence in the reception of Pike’s character as a potentially sexist construct. Does she think that Amy rehashes narratives of the woman as the liar and manipulator of the unwitting man, and of female jealousy and revenge? She points out, “In the past there have been other films with ‘female psychos’, where the woman’s a sort of hysteric, and Amy is not that. There is something very, very modern about that: she’s able to manipulate, she’s powerful, she’s clever.” A contemporary twist, perhaps, on de Beauvoir’s wellworn phrase, “One is not born, but rather becomes, a woman”, whereby Amy is in control of her constructed self. Pike explains: “Yes, she uses sexuality at times, but she’s not powerful because she uses sexuality like a lot of other strong women that we see in movies do — they’re either strong because they exhibit the qualities of a man, or they use sex. Amy’s neither of those. I don’t think Amy could have been a man.” Is it possible then that an exploration of femininity, in its various forms, is the perfect metaphor to portray a society that uses images and personas to manipulate its audience? Pike isn’t so sure. She agrees that many women might identify with the notion of playing roles to seduce the person they want to be esteemed by — something not inherently troubling, and something that men do too, but she reckons women are probably better at it. Perhaps the point being made is that society is sociopathic in its lack of any real empathy. Its presiding obsession with spectacle and voyeurism means its concern is ultimately gratuitous, rather than moral. Indeed the film, which starts off as a more subtle social satire and psychological drama, descends almost into farce, which Pike says was a lot of fun to shoot: “Towards the latter scenes of the movie when the audience are enlightened, they can then enjoy the lies, the insanity of it. It was pure Fincher.” Pike thinks that the success of the film signals an important fact about the mainstream consumption of cinema: “If Gone Girl proves one thing, it’s that

“It’s not like you can suddenly relax and think, ‘Oh I’ve got this character, now I know who she is’, because you’re constantly changing.”

adults will flock to see something that is stimulating, not in any way patronising to the audience’s intelligence, and that makes everybody think.” Pike has also played some pretty challenging theatre roles in the past, including the title character in Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler (2010, considered the equivalent of Hamlet for female actors), and starring in Hitchcock Blonde (2003) by contemporary playwright Terry Johnson. The latter ran at The Royal Court, which was “the pioneer of some of the most exciting plays of the 20th century — to feel a part of that is really exhilarating”. Hedda Gabler, she muses, seductive, brilliant, and slightly unhinged, was a forerunner to Amy: “I think probably Hedda is in there in me somewhere, because she’s someone who’s different but she’s certainly able to seduce people.” Gone Girl is the high point in a career that has sought roles that challenge both the viewing public, and Pike as an actor. For her, such roles (whether in avant garde theatre or blockbuster cinema) are really about hitting “that cultural pulse”. It’s been “a very exciting moment” for Pike, to be part of something that’s generated critical debate as well as box office success, “I mean that’s the goal isn’t it? The ultimate goal.” In the future, Pike is interested in continuing to work with “the popular, I have a huge respect for the audience — without them I have no job”. Nonetheless the theatre still holds sway for her — classic stage roles such as Hedda Gabler she thinks are enduring “because they’re wonderful constructs” — and if she returns, it will be in something that has the same feeling of cultural relevancy as Gone Girl. Though Pike has shown her fluidity as an actor, the limitlessness that drew Fincher to her, there is definitely a trend in the characters she has played, that embodies a complex rendering of male fantasies and female selfhood. Such as Hedda, who, 120 years before Gone Girl, posed a challenge to notions of the feminine and its role in society: “She’s sort of restless and impatient, and burns too brightly, but also doesn’t have the authenticity of self to really be a great person.” It’s fair to say this evaluation does not apply to Pike who, although she burns brightly, doesn’t seem like she’ll be going anywhere anytime soon. WORDS BY SORCHA GANNON PHOTO BY NADAV KANDER

leash With the release of new EP Gay Dog Food, Mykki Blanco talks to tn2 about drag, punk influences and taking political ownership of your art.

ykki Blanco is constantly evolving as an artist. After enduring a stint of press interest as part of the so-called “gay hip-hop” movement that has emerged in recent years, the gender fucking stage persona of New York performing artist Michael Quattlebaum Jr. stands with a foot in two different worlds. Blanco has had success with clubby songs which have her spitting tough-as-shit rap verses against sexy beats, while touring a live show that features mosh-pits and a hardcore element. Faced with that situation, any artist would feel under pressure about what to do next, and Blanco decided to draw inspiration from her more animated live shows. “It had been nine months since I had released my last EP which was Betty Rumble: The Initiation and I was like ‘I really need to put some new music out there’,” says Blanco. “I wanted to make music that was more reflective of my live shows, way more punk. I needed to do something from my heart and really substantial.”

With the assistance of friend and producer Gobby, they set about creating Gay Dog Food, an EP which has massive riot grrrl and queercore influences all over it, exemplified perfectly by the track A Moment With Kathleen, on which Blanco duets with Bikini Kill, Julie Ruin, and Le Tigre frontwoman Kathleen Hanna. “The day with Kathleen was so serendipitous,” gushes Blanco. “I had never met her before and all of a sudden I get a text message that says ‘Kathleen Hanna knows that you’re going to be in the studio today, she knows you’re going to be there all day and all night and I think she might come by and pay you a visit’. I had read in interviews that she was a big fan of what I was doing and that she kind of had this artistic respect for me, so when she came into the studio I was just like I gotta make this work even if I just get her recording a monologue or talking or something.” The song has a tearfully happy Blanco recount to Gobby the chance meeting, before a heavy guitar line kicks in and Hanna wails about setting boyfriends’ clothes on fire and reminisces on punk music. Musically it’s incredibly faithful to its influences and fully reflects Hanna’s place in punk history. “I was kind of thinking of the kind of thing of where I’d rap and she’d sing the hook, that that would be so cheesy and it would not work, but Gobby was able to honestly capture exactly the right mood. When I first heard [the song] I was like ‘oh my god, you fucking genius’ this is so in sync with exactly what a true 2014 Kathleen song should sound like.” One wonders whether Blanco might have anything else in common with Hanna, who would famously demand that “girls [move] to the front!” at her Bikini Kill concerts. “I kind of have gotten into my ‘a straight man’s perspective don’t mean shit to me’ chant at shows”, Blanco admits. “It’s kind of a really nice, powerful unifying statement to have that I feel a lot of people in the audience can relate to and I definitely feel [Hanna’s] influence in that kind of political showmanship.” Blanco’s live shows are sweaty, high energy affairs featuring queer kids of all sorts dressed up in mesh, glitter and homemade outfits. There’s an empowering frankness about a queer performer refuting criticism by straight artists in such a way, a defiance of the kind of politeness that is expected when you’re an upstart bringing something new to the scene. “I just feel like if someone has something to say in this day and age where everything is whitewashed...I’m 28 this year and I kind of had to make the decision that I could keep making these club songs and kind of just roll through culture but that’d take away my depth, that’d take away the artistic ideals that I try my hardest to filter through Mykki Blanco.” One of Blanco’s latest performances took place in the Museum of Modern Art in New York at an evening organised by streetwear collective Hood By Air. The party was a cross between Halloween celebration and fashion show, and seemingly is one of the most uninhibited events MoMA has ever put on. Appearing in a ripped mesh full body piece and a pair of white briefs (“I got to wear that for the whole weekend!”), Blanco commanded the audience to make a circle and then unleashed a ferociousness which has

been the hallmark pher live performances. “I think I started maybe the first mosh pit that’s ever been in MoMA! That’s the kind of live show that I want to go with.” Blanco’s use of costume has also changed since her early days of appearing in full feminine drag. Frequently appearing bare chested and without a wig, Blanco has a specific reasoning for doing so, and maintains that drag is still an important aspect of the performance. “I haven’t really moved away from drag, I just wanted people to become comfortable with seeing either or. I want people to understand that it’s not like RuPaul’s Drag Race, you’re not coming to see me be pretty in some over the top costume, that’s not what this is about.” This exploration of new frontiers for drag and playing with identity is something that goes hand in hand with Blanco’s use of female pronouns, which stemmed from frustration with media discussions of homosexuality. “People were in the media literally just picking apart homosexuality every single day with a gay marriage debate. That’s why I started to do the kind of gender fuck stuff like refer to Mykki Blanco ONLY as ‘she’ in all my interviews, even though sometimes there’d be a photo of me definitely as a male. And honestly it’d piss people off because they would never be able to wrap around the idea that by saying ‘she’ I’m obviously trying to subvert whatever belittling qualities they’re trying to give to females or the homosexual community.” Ultimately, Mykki Blanco is carving out a very specific place in music, and laying the groundwork of a new direction to come. “I knew that I didn’t want to just be a party rapper and I don’t want that to be my legacy,” she confidently admits. “People call me a queer icon or some kind of burgeoning gay icon or something like that, I want people to know that I’m a strong performer, that my legacy will be this body of creative work.” With GDF and a European tour underway, Blanco is well on her way to cementing a bold legacy based on determination and genuine artistry.

WORDS BY MATTHEW MULLIGAN

HOME BIRD

As one of the youngest playwrights to be produced by the Abbey, Shaun Dunne speaks to Deputy Theatre Editor Matthew Malone about his precocious, socially-minded theatre.

haun Dunne started writing and producing work from a young age, quickly gaining critical acclaim and support for productions such as I am a Home Bird (It’s Very Hard) and Death of the Tradesman with his company Talking Shop Ensemble. More recent work includes a collaboration produced in last year’s Dublin Theatre Festival, I’ve To Mind Her, and a favourite from this year’s Fringe, Advocacy. Dunne’s most recent play, marks a key moment in the writer’s career: his Abbey debut as the first playwright to be produced by their New Playwrights Program. The Waste Ground Party, currently playing at the Peacock, concerns a Dublin estate in which its occupants are troubled with restlessness within their surroundings. The play asks difficult questions about the condition of Dublin as a city and the constraints of home, among many other skillfully depicted issues. This is no new

achievement for Dunne, however, who, at eighteen, wrote his first play titled Killed By Curriculum, a work he admits to being “really bad — it was about the Leaving Cert, and Sylvia Plath”. That said, Dunne was already interrogating pointed subject matter. “It was about [how] I thought it was strange that we were studying somebody who had a severe mental health problem and we were studying it in a points system. D’you know what I mean? So, ‘How well do you understand Sylvia Plath?’ ‘Ok: a hundred points, you can go to college.’ What was that about?” Since Dunne’s adolescent effort at exploring the socially problematic, his subsequent work as a professional writer has grown more sophisticated, such as Home Bird which addressed the crisis of Irish immigration, while Dunne’s autobiographical Death of the Tradesman investigated the personal difficulties of unemployment and parenthood. When asked about this tangible theme in his work, Dunne describes the way he felt when Home Bird was first produced: “I remember thinking then that I could do something useful with plays.” At the time, this purposeful aspect to Dunne’s play was a by-product of its context within immigration, but looking back on the experience it is clear that this writer understands the palpable engagement that new writing can foster: “Now generally I suppose my approach to theatre is that it should be useful, but I kind of feel that way about all [forms of] entertainment.” This angle in Dunne’s work has emerged from a period of mentorship and development, and in many ways The Waste Ground Party represents the culmination of these experiences, perhaps because of the expectations of an Abbey debut that frame it.

Dunne reflects on his time in the Abbey New Playwrights Program, where he worked on the script over the last two years, saying: “They’re there to talk to you about your writing, [and] to offer you an insight into how the Abbey produces and how the Abbey constructs its conversation with writers.” That conversation has lately been a hotbutton issue as the national theatre’s second stage, the Peacock, remains dark for the majority of the year, most often hosting independent productions rather than debuting Irish writers like Dunne. This criticism magnified in early 2014 when independent Arts Council reports of the Abbey (largely negative) were made available by the Irish Times along with the barrage of critics’ opinions that came along with it. Given this context of critical spotlight, did Dunne feel pressure when his new play began to enter production? “What’s been really, really great about working at the Abbey is that there’s so much support here that I haven’t gotten elsewhere. Not only do I have the director, stage manager […] I’ve also got the literary department and Fiach, the artistic director [...] I can chat about every element with somebody. And that’s really really useful. It’s not as lonely as producing your own work, even though I’ve worked with a great company for years. But it’s not in this big gaff, like.” There’s no doubt that the resources of a national producing house like the Abbey greatly enhance the process and horizon of opportunity for young writers like Dunne, but is this production simply an exception to rule, given the Peacock’s recent track record? “I don’t think there is a rule in place. The venue is curated. They’re not going to put on plays for the sake of putting on plays. And that makes sense, and it’s the same in Project [Arts Centre].” Regarding the current criticism of the Peacock, however, Dunne sympathises: “I understand the frustration but ultimately, until you’ve run a national theatre in this climate, you won’t understand why it’s dark. But I believe that the Abbey is doing its utmost to stage new work and the fact that they did

my play is a testament to that.” Regardless of the politics surrounding new writing in Ireland, Dunne’s work taps into accessible themes wherever it’s produced.

“

ULTIMATELY, UNTIL YOU’VE RUN A NATIONAL THEATRE IN THIS CLIMATE, YOU WON’T UNDERSTAND WHY IT’S DARK.

“A lot of the work has an international appeal in the sense that the themes will resonate in different ways in specific countries, however, the work is inherently Irish.” For Dunne, accessing an Irish audience is paramount, and establishing local conversation given the charged contexts of his plays. “I think if The Waste Ground Party were to go on in the UK, people would understand it because there are housing schemes like ours all over the world […] But my focus is the audience here, that’s why I live here.” At twenty-five, Dunne displays a refreshingly honest outlook when discussing his work, always wary to toot his own horn, but also entirely confident to seize every opportunity should it come along. Having established himself now as both a playwright and an actor, where does Dunne see himself heading next? “I’d like to start doing some TV. Like I really love soaps. Everyone always laughs at me when I say that. [But] Eastenders does amazing work socially. The issues that it brings into people’s houses… Eight million people watch it every night. There can be certain snobbery to certain TV that is unjust. And we’re also looking to tour Advocacy (from this year’s Dublin Fringe).” Beyond trying new forms of work, and hoping to revive some past projects, more than anything one gets the sense that this writer/ actor/maker will not be resting on his laurels any time soon: “I’d also like to find new and sustainable ways to collaborate with new artists and other institutions.” It’s hard not to predict that after Dunne’s success more innovative collaborations and productions must be in the works. Ultimately Dunne displays a clear appetite for making work “that’s useful”, and while an Abbey debut may mark a new chapter in this artist’s career, it seems to only be the start of many conversations with audiences to come.

Check out our review of The Waste Ground Party on page 30.

WORDS BY MATTHEW MALONE ILLUSTRATION BY ALICE WILSON PHOTO BY AIFRIC NI CHRIODAIN

The secrets of her femininity lay bare in front of him, the sweet scent of her arousal filled his headâ&#x20AC;Ś Elizabeth Mohen cups the silky buttocks of romance fiction and explores its quivering appeal with a lustful determination that leaves no room for resistance.

D N O Y BE ING V A HE OMS S O B

ex sells. It sells in airport kiosks and the aisles of supermarkets. It sells to your wrinkled fifth-class teacher and to your fourteen year-old sister. With the rise of e-books and online publishing, it sells in your bedroom, your kitchen, across Starbucks WiFi. The world of romance novels represents a €1.1 billion industry, hoisting up more than 50% of the commercial market, dropkicking literary fiction and leaving crime in the dust. In an age when people are throwing tearful wakes for the book industry, the unrelenting success of the romance novel is worth a soulful, lusty look. Traditional publishers, who initially cowered at some of the more risqué fantasies explored in erotic fiction, are perking their ears. Authors are proving that their readers are ready for writing filthy enough to merit bleach baths by independently establishing loyal fan bases online, a platform which affords both readers and writers the opportunity to explore their interests in an environment that is titillating, interactive, and most importantly discreet. Alessandra Torre self-published her erotic thriller Blindfolded Innocence and within weeks was selling 2,000 copies a day online. Within months, she was fielding calls from agents with foaming mouths. While much has been said about the middle-class suburbanites who sneak into the world of bondage through the written word, TCD’s Dr. Jarlath Killeen links the phenomena to the idea that we are “living in a postmodern age of dislocation from the body”. As a result, “many seek to reconnect to the body in powerfully (possibly cathartic) ways [...] This is a complex issue, and a controversial one, but the attempt to reconnect with physicality, with fundamental bodily experiences, probably has a great deal to do with it, so much so that in many ways these experiences could be said to function as religious substitutes.”

in Literature, who lecture in universities and run Fortune 500 companies — seek out romance novels and the cushy world they create, an alternative universe in which women are free to express and fulfil their sexual desire, reaping rewards rather than punishment. In romance novels, underwear is lacy and figure-flattering, and everyone comes at the same time. This world and the relationships which blossom within it are unlikely but aspirational, dubious but hopeful. This formulaic aspect is perhaps one of the biggest criticisms the genre faces. However, it is absolutely crucial to its success. As the unlikely detective solves the crime, so too does our heroine find everlasting love. Readers will even tend to cocoon themselves within the canon of a single author, with writers such as Danielle Steele raking in multi-millions per year from the books she cranks out like a machine. As publishing revenues fall off a cliff, this predictability is more important than ever to traditional publishers. An allegiance to formula guarantees an established romance novelist a print run of 30,000 copies, whereas a writer of literary fiction might squeak out 5, maybe 9K. However, the chorus yet again rings out that e-books are changing the game, for this genre perhaps more positively than any other. The rise of e-books has wed romance and erotica in beautiful matrimony. Gone is the sniggering teenaged shop clerk ringing up your purchase at the till. Banished are the pesky logistics of traditional publishing. A genre characterised by writers who produce books at a frenzied pace to meet the demands of readers who snap them up just as quickly finds itself jacked-up gleefully on steroids when thrown into the ring with online publishing. Through online writing communities such as Wattpad, writers can post their inprogress stories for immediate gratification from readers who encourage updates as frequently as once a day. It also affords romance writers the opportunity to smash the stereotypes with little at stake. Despite the fact that strong associations still exist with the nubile young virgin with a bosom so violently heaving that it tears the buttons of her dress, contemporary romance is more obviously becoming feminist literature. Through the freedom of online publishing there is increasing room for a break from the norm. As the genre evolves to satisfy its readership, there has been a shift away from heroines in need of a brawny hero (and their rollicking deflowering on beds of roses) towards heroines of all types, as well as more racy erotic literature. Online erotic romances have proven almost unfathomably popular, racking up millions of page hits and, in the case of books instantly selfpublished on completion, cold, hard sales. While still only a small fragment of the wider industry, lines are becoming increasingly blurred between erotica and the wider romance genre. “In many ways,” says Killeen, “erotic fiction would differ from many contemporary romance novels simply by having more (and a bit more graphic) sex, but the focus on relationships would be the same — the sex serves a relationship (which it doesn’t tend to do in more straightforward pornography) [...] As far as the romance community is concerned, the love story remains the most important element even in ‘erotic romance’.”

“IN ROMANCE

NOVELS, UNDERWEAR IS LACY AND Despite the variety evident within the genre and its EVERYONE overwhelming popularity, the phrase “romance novel” is still treated in the literary world with snobbish COMES AT THE derision, more often than not prefaced by “trashy” and tailed with “guilty pleasure”. Writers of romance SAME TIME.” are famous for veiling their personas in pen names, and readers stuff tell-tale covers deep within their bags. Naomi Rea, a student in her final year of English Literature, enjoys sneaking a good romance novel in between theory-dense course reading, yet describes them as “cringe-worthy if you were ever to share what you were reading with anyone”. While erotica has recently cannonballed into the mainstream, it has been received with the breathy, giggling spirit of twelve-year-olds at a sleepover.

Why has romance spent its decades-long reign on top of the literary world cloaked in embarrassment? Well, the books themselves are stereotyped as being formulaic and unrealistic. Critics argue that they sacrifice writing quality for steamy sex scenes, which often border on uncomfortable hilarity. And it is a genre strongly associated with women, written by and primarily for “the fairer sex”. Killeen explains that, “The hard-core pornography which dominates the market appeals (still) mostly to a male market, both straight and gay — though the volume of women consuming pornography (or admitting to consuming pornography) is growing. Erotica is marketed towards women.” It is unsurprising that a genre favoured by women is dominating the book market in light of the fact that statistically, women read more than men. Yet the implicit assumption that what women write and what women read is of less value than genres dominated by their male counterparts is nestled beneath many of the scoffing remarks that so often greet romance novels. Nonetheless women read, and they read widely, and many women — well-read women with PhDs

Out of the thousands published each year, some romance novels are beautifully written, and some are shamefully terrible. Some are chaste enough for a Mormon audience and dirty enough to make an experienced porn actress blush. They are feisty and progressive, and occasionally problematic. But readers are consuming them with a voracious appetite. In a world in which sexuality is both stigmatised and placed on a pedestal, it is not difficult to see why romances have lasting appeal. WORDS BY ELIZABETH MOHEN

name: sergey alifanov camera: nikon D7100 the computer history museum, CA 24

EVIEWS

BLAS CAFE

King’s Inns Street Something of a hidden gem, Blas Café is inconspicuously situated within the Chocolate Factory on Kings Inn Street. No longer an actual chocolate factory (disappointingly), rather a home for a range of creative pop up ventures, from art and design to dance and horticulture. The café itself is a fantastic space, the large open room is bright and airy, with mismatched armchairs scattered throughout, and unusual pieces of art sparsely decorating the walls. The lunch menu is limited yet appealing, with three meat sandwich options (€6.95), a couple of vegetarian versions (ranging from €4.95.to €5.95), as

well as salad and soup of the day (€3.50). Resisting the tempting chipotle chicken, I opt for the ham and cheese; thick slices of ham layered with creamy mature cheddar and sharp mustard on the softest brown bread imaginable, accompanied by a deliciously zingy homemade coleslaw. My partner went for the toasted three-cheese sandwich, an incredibly moreish blend of melted cheeses between crispy white bread. My cappuccino (using Roasted Brown coffee) was a work of art, but a rather tiny one at that — a few sips and it was gone, while my partner’s exotically named Moroccan Dusk Wall and Keogh tea had a

divine scent and pleasing taste. A selection of baked goods from the Wildflour Bakery line the counter, our blackberry, sage and walnut cake (€3.50) was wonderfully sweet, dense and moist, however no sage could be detected by either of us, and the petite portion was a tad disappointing. Blas will nonetheless become a firm favourite with its carefully crafted food and artsy atmosphere encouraging a return visit.

WORDS BY KATHLEEN GIRVAN PHOTOS BY AIFRIC NI CHRIODAIN

MY MEAT WAGON Smithfield Square Tucked in a corner beside the Lighthouse Cinema in Smithfield is My Meat Wagon. Arriving there for lunch, we were greeted by friendly staff and shared tables, which were topped with tins of mismatched cutlery and spools of kitchen roll, beside benches I feared splinters from. We were the youngest people there by about ten years. The vague lunch menu consists of three choices: meat on bread, meat in a box and meat on a board. Depending on the price, ranging from €12.95 to €14.95, you can have one or two sides — corn on the cob, red cabbage coleslaw, beans and chips for example. I went for the first option, a beef burger in a bun, with a side of chips, while my partner chose the meat on a board, with chips and coleslaw. The chips on both were too hard and crunchy and, for some reason, served in a tiny shopping trolley. The burger — mashed together plain mince beef — is pink inside though they did not ask my preference, and is served in a small plain

bun, with the usual trimmings of mustard, gherkins and relish. The meat on a board, however, consists of well-cooked slices of beef, a half of very moist chicken and sweet pulled pork. They make no bones about it: they are a meat restaurant that will serve some good meat, and only meat. But with

loud music, dim lighting, quirky (albeit superfluous) finishing touches, the price tag just does not match the vibe.

WORDS BY KERRY BRENNAN PHOTO BY AIFRIC NI CHRIODAIN

JANE THE VIRGIN The CW

Motivated both by her hyper-Catholic grandmother and the teenage pregnancy of her mother, Jane Gloriana Villanueva decides to save the “flor” of her virginity until marriage. A medical mishap sees Jane artificially inseminated with (cue soap opera music) the sperm of her boss/ one time crush, reformed playboy Rafael. Throw in Jane’s beleaguered boyfriend, the machinations of Rafael’s scheming wife, a murder investigation, revelations of paternity and the search for a drug kingpin — and that’s just the first four episodes. The telenovela, repent with ostentatious sets, impossibly beautiful actors and storylines that strain credibility, stands in direct opposition to the tortured and gritty nature of contemporary prestige television. Jane the Virgin’s strength lies in its ability to be faithful to the tone and aesthetic of its South American inspiration while knowingly utilizing the genre’s conventions

to enact a subtle exploration of the nature of relationships, both romantic and familial. It also makes the Latino community the centre of its fictional environ rather than an island of the Other in a white world — characters are actually allowed to converse in Spanish. Relying heavily on scandalous twists, it

remains to be seen whether the series can preserve its initial momentum across a full season. With its unabashed cheesiness and sympathetic heroine, it has the potential to bring a fresh perspective to the dramedy.

Last season, Spector’s double life kept the tension on high, as we witnessed him manipulating his family and co-workers, shifting from loving father one moment to stalker and murderer the next. However, with this pretense all but shattered, it will be interesting to see how the show moves forward with Spector on his own. Although the series follows a well-worn tale of the psychopathic serial killer who “feels he has the right to decide who lives and

who dies”, masterful performances from both Anderson and Dornan, along with thrillingly claustrophobic camera work, give new life to a tired narrative, and make for truly gripping television. A fantastic return.

WORDS BY SARAH LENNON GALAVAN

THE FALL RTE 1 The “most repulsive drama ever broadcast on British TV” returned last week for what looks to be another hugely compelling season. Despite the Daily Mail’s condemnation, The Fall was beloved by both viewers and critics, becoming BBC2’s most popular drama of the past 20 years. The series follows Detective Superintendent Stella Gibson (Gillian Anderson) as she tries to track down estranged family man and horrifying serial killer Paul Spector (Jamie Dornan). Season two opens ten days after the finale, as Spector contemplates his next move and Gibson attempts to comfort the traumatised victim of his last attack. In a possible riposte to criticisms of the show’s eroticisation of violence against women, Gibson advises her fellow officers, “In order to do the terrible things that he does, the killer dehumanises his victims. Let’s do the opposite.” Gibson is under pressure as time and money for the investigation are running out, and revelations about her private life are making sensational headlines. Spector remains largely silent in the episode’s slow-burning first half, until a chillingly drawn-out encounter on a train, where he practically identifies himself as the killer to a potential target, jumpstarts the action.

WORDS BY MEADHBH MCGRATH

THE IMITATION GAME Morten Tyldum Benedict Cumberbatch takes on the role of enigmatic cryptographic genius Alan Turing with aplomb in The Imitation Game. Turing is a tragic figure, a pioneering and hugely influential computer scientist credited with ending WWII years early by breaking Nazi codes for the Allies, but whose later life was marred by the horrific punishment of chemical castration for engaging in homosexual acts. The narrative mostly focuses on his war years, and costars Keira Knightley and Matthew Goode as his fellow codebreakers. The Imitation Game attempts an exploration of human behaviour but fails to do so with the exception of a couple of emotional scenes set during Turing’s schoolboy past where we see him developing a deep crush on classmate Christopher. These scenes ultimately amount to little, especially alongside shallow explorations of his adult homosexuality. The internal

conflict, psychological distress and potentially devastating consequences of being homosexual in the 1940s are never fully examined, and the film instead tries and fails to draw suspense from a war seen countless times before on screen. There is no consideration of the government’s hand in his downfall, a huge betrayal given his tireless WWII work, nor

are the unjust laws or the full extent of his punishment really addressed. The film benefits from being beautifully shot with a bouncy score and an incredibly deep and potentially award-winning performance from Cumberbatch who manages to navigate the subtle intricacies and true genius of Turing so well that it’s a shame the plot is full of wasted opportunities. WORDS BY MATTHEW MULLIGAN

STATIONS OF THE CROSS Dietrich Brüggemann

From the moment of your confirmation, “You become a warrior for Christ.” Sober start to a sombre film. With a mise en scène that echoes The Last Supper, Stations of the Cross opens with a priest exposing his mentees — amid which sits the protagonist, Maria — to the requirements dictated by the faith, and the dangers of modern life. This scene lays the theoretical and theological foundations for those to come, wherein Maria questions and adheres to the exigencies of the Church. The film is composed of fourteen tableaux, each shot in one take, and introduced by an intertitle derived from a stage in Jesus’ life. The camera remains motionless for the duration of the scene, capturing a grey, sterile image — the pictorial equivalent of the characters’ purported asceticism. In fact, it is not until the ninth tableau that the camera moves at all, jarring the viewer and auguring ill. Stations of the Cross is at all times subtle, while still effectively conveying its

cautionary message. The film never permits itself to judge the presented material, inviting the viewers to do so at their own discretion. Cheap didacticism is carefully avoided thanks to multifarious characters, none of which are intrinsically “bad”. Not

suited to those in search of facile narrative intrigue, Stations of the Cross remains above all conceptual to the highest degree. WORDS BY LOIC MONKS

Sunset Overdrive, from acclaimed studio Insomniac Games, presents itself as a fast-paced shooter which masks its hyper violence with a cartoony style and overblown humour. Insomniac puts a lot of effort into establishing and exploring the game’s universe. While it’s all usually fun, the constant high-octane action means it stops being special after half an hour and becomes just how the game plays. Grinding around, firing rockets at groups of zombies becomes almost a chore. While the game does its best to break it up with mini-games and an almost tower defence-like mode, it still doesn’t do enough to stave off the mundanity that encloses the majority of the gameplay.

SUNSET OVERDRIVE Xbox One

joke that plays on traditional game tropes. For the most part, the humour ranges from decent to being horrifically awkward and poorly written, the protagonist loses appeal very quickly and the rest of the side characters are some variation of completely insane, rich and spoiled, or the butt of every surrounding joke. The premise of Sunset Overdrive left Insomniac Games with a game in which anything could be considered acceptable. No matter how wild or nonsensical a mechanic is, it would fit into the universe of Sunset Overdrive. Instead of using that opportunity to have a game that is constantly throwing new mechanics at you to improve the experience, they found one and stuck to it, eventually resulting in the dilution of a fun experience with forced humour and fun gameplay that eventually grows stale.

One of the main draws of this game is the humour. Sunset Overdrive tries its absolute hardest to joke about everything it can, whether it be some sarcastic remark made by the protagonist or some tongue in cheek meta

WORDS BY EOIN LIVINGSTON

The Inevitable End

For every glimmer of hope, such as on the marvellous

Unfortunately, as a group capable, I believe, of writing a fine swansong, all there is to see here are two artists that quit painting landscapes to doodle dicks on a napkin. It is barely worth streaming. Please, do not pay for this, unless you run out of barbiturates, because it probably works as a substitute for sleeping pills. And guess what? You couldn’t develop an addiction to it, even if you tried.

1989

To say that this is a bad record is to give it an emotion, but The Inevitable End is merely a tedious regurgitation of anything that was hip last year. Röyksopp are those friends who believe they are the only people on the planet to have heard Brian Eno or the Drive soundtrack. That last part is probably being generous. This is the complete collection of songs rejected by Zane Lowe for Drive: Rescored, or the meandering album of Air covers done by Owl City that nobody wanted.

Running to the Sea, there are five counter-productive romps across the impotent fields of irrelevance, which suggest that these “mavericks” of electronica only discovered arpeggios, and vocoders two weeks into their last recording session.

Taylor Swift

Röyksopp

There is a moment on the bus route from Kilkenny to Dublin when you reach Athy and die of terminal boredom. The same you might say about Röyksopp’s final album, The Inevitable End, or the musical version of counting down the kilometres on a long journey.

Gone are the jaunty guitardriven ballads, the homely references to football helmets and freckles — Taylor Swift’s 1989 marks a departure from a much beloved signature sound. Opener Welcome to New York is a declaration of musical intent, with a clapping snare and jingly synth melody that signpost her move into 80s territory. It sets the tone for the album but is not one of the strongest tracks, suffering lyrically from a bland universalism. If Swift is going for a more grown-up sound on 1989, that means harder and more aloof. Even her voice sounds distant, gliding and repeating over the electro-pop sounds. There is a distinct note of Lana del Rey’s 80s-inspired sultry fatalism throughout, especially on Wildest Dreams. The album is impressively consistent and the songs are incredibly catchy. Blank Space is the song on which

the new elements of her sound come together most successfully, with Swift crooning “love’s a game, want to play?” over sparse percussion. How You Get the Girl and All You Had to Do Was Stay have irresistible choruses and stand out for not succumbing to the rather insipid structure of songs that try too hard to be sophisticated, such as I Know Places. In trading small-town for big-city, Swift has been unable or unwilling to transfer the relatability and vulnerability that set her apart from pop divas such as Katy Perry and Kesha who spout a mixture of club glamour and shallow empowerment anthems. Old Taylor was twee, but it was undeniably enjoyable to listen to a superstar whose songs sounded like the most embarrassing pages of your diary. WORDS BY RACHEL GRAHAM

It’s been twelve years since Michel Faber’s The Crimson Petal and the White was met with universal acclaim, and with his latest novel, it quickly becomes clear to the reader that he has struck metaphorical gold once again. The Book of Strange New Things is a mass of contradictions, but in the best possible way.

THE BOOK OF STRANGE NEW THINGS Michel Faber

It’s a dystopian novel where the protagonist dwells within a utopia for the vast majority of the text, a tale of aliens which questions what it means to be human, and a science fiction work that explores faith. The premise is simple but ingenious, as we spend the entirety of the novel in the company of Peter, a Christian minister sent on a mission to a faraway planet called Oasis, with the sole purpose of bringing the word of God to the indigenous population.

his wife Beatrice, who has been left behind on earth. Their correspondence shows a growing anger on her side as the world itself begins to break down around her, and a kind of restless evasiveness on Peter’s as he tries to find her life as interesting as his own, with consequences that test the strength of their faith and love for one another. In juxtaposing the human with the alien, Faber repeats the trick he performed in Under the Skin. He asks big questions about the nature of human existence, faith and belief, and also questions the malleable nature of morality. In an almost-Beckettian style, he leaves us waiting for answers that never come. “We need a certain proportion of things to be OK,” Bea tells Peter, “In order to be able to cope with other things going wrong.” Perhaps that’s all we can ever hope for.

The main conflict presents itself through the messages Peter exchanges with

WORDS BY NICHOLAS KENNY

THE WASTE GROUND PARTY The Abbey Theatre

“What are you doing back around here, Gary?” asks Denise — a young mother and one of Gary’s neighbours on the estate of Shaun Dunne’s The Waste Ground Party — as she tries to fathom why the twenty-two-year old has dropped out of college to return to a life that everyone so vehemently tries to escape from. Dunne’s one-act drama is very much a play about mothers and sons — specifically matriarchs stuck in a stagnant community with ostensibly over-dependent offspring. The thrust of the play’s action resides in the tension surrounding the illegal dumping of bin bags on the estate and the transformation of the waste ground into a playground, which coincides with a long-held rivalry between Bernie and Tina — the warring mothers of Gary and his best friend, Martin. Dunne seamlessly weaves these seemingly chaotic elements of the drama into a piece of theatre that engages with contemporary Dublin in an unapologetic light.

Niamh Lunny’s set approaches the naturalistic and as you sit waiting for the action to begin, the washing machine in Bernie’s kitchen spins full throttle, lending perfectly to the impressive sense of reality Dunne creates within the world of the play. Gerard Stembridge directs a drama that is both dark and humorous and Ger Ryan particularly shines in the role of Bernie – Gary’s long-suffering, yet devoted mother.

As much as The Waste Ground Party is a play about family, it is also one full of binary oppositions — most notably the taut division between entrapment and freedom, using the question of Gary’s future as a vehicle for harder questions about Dublin and the pressures of community.

WORDS BYJAMIE TUOHY

CASTLE & DRURY Castlemarket

An authority on fashion would no doubt be able to explain what exactly “contemporary menswear” means, but anybody else’s half-hearted scramble must surely arrive at a definition that at least winks at the commercial and mythopoeic connotations of the term. With regards to price point, clothing from contemporary menswear brands locate themselves between those from luxury designer labels and from the High Street (with socks for €13, hats €30 and shirts around €140). They also, however, perpetuate an aspirational archetype that serves as their primary allure: the hero figure of the Former Teen Skater/Surfer Turned Sophisticated Urban Male Creative. To that end, the concerns of these brands and the shops that sell them often extend beyond the clothes that such a man might wear and into fabricating an idealised lifestyle for him. Take as an example Castle & Drury, a contemporary menswear shop and newcomer to Castlemarket, in the middle of what is often called the “Creative

Quarter” of Dublin. One finds there not only clothing labels from London (YMC), Japan (CREEP) and Scandinavia (Wood Wood and Soulland) but print publications (Kinfolk and VICE), accessories (Irish-designed Push watches) and toiletries (men’s grooming products by Fulton & Roark). But to list the various brands that are stocked by the shop is not to suggest that it is a collection of motley things for sale. It is well curated by its owner, Conor Rhatigan, who seems knowledgeable, friendly and who doesn’t blink when a wax-based, solid cologne is mistaken for lip balm. The shop is not large but the space is used wisely, sundry plants soften the effect of white concrete display plinths and other pseudo-industrial hardware, and the fitting room is not unwelcoming. And although the paradigm of contemporary menswear need go nowhere else to furnish his world, the everyman can browse the shop just as comfortably. WORDS BY OLEN BAJARIAS PHOTO BY MATTHEW MULLIGAN

PHOENIX RISING The Hugh Lane

Phoenix Rising references Dublin’s Civic Exhibition of 1914 which sought to reimagine the city at a time of economic, social and political crisis. Today, at a time of similar flux and struggle, ideals of civicism and urbanity are examined via contemporary art, with the hope of representing and deepening understandings of our relationship with the city. Stephen Brandes’ graphic posters and collages (pictured) confront the visitor upon entry. Slum Clearance suggests unrelenting schemes of urban gentrification which “cleanse” localities, disappearing both personal and communal histories. Paradise of Exiles hints at the transitory nature of cities and how they can confer identity and meaning upon their inhabitants. Monolithic sculpture Le Fantôme de Réalisme by Mark Clare is standout. Sitting in quiet repose in a partially spot-lit room, its form sporadically comes in and out of focus as one circulates around it. Wrapped in glossy film, it catches the light. This is the city manifest — modulating between clarity and obscurity it is at once imposing and intimidating, mysterious and not fully explained or revealed; there is always something else to be uncovered. Stéphanie Nava’s Rear Window offers a vignette of city life in graphite on paper. Despite its rich detail, depicted in a linear, orthogonal and monochromatic style, there is a suggestion of sterility, of one dimensionality and convergence — a lack of dynamism to the city.

Unfortunately, such staidness moves beyond Nava’s intricate page and into the space as a whole. Aside from the above, and one or two other pieces including Mary Ruth Walsh’s charming Hidden Presence, the show as a whole falls flat and feels derivative, the installation lacklustre and tired. A theme with far more potential, one imagines 1914’s attendees left feeling far more inspired than those of 2014. Phoenix Rising: Art and Civic Imagination runs until 29 March 2015 at Dublin City Gallery Hugh Lane. WORDS BY STEPHEN MOLONEY

WORDS BY TARA JOSHI

Tickets for individual ICC10 concerts start at €5, two-day passes from €25. MCDE tickets €15 from Resident Advisor.

ICC10 marks the ten year anniversary of the Irish Composers Collective. The Project Arts Centre will play host to a twoday festival comprising of eight concerts, with performers including the likes of Kirkos Ensemble and Dublin Laptop Orchestra. This is sure to be a fantastic insight into Ireland’s contemporary classical scene. If house music is more to your taste then there’s also Motor City Drum Ensemble, the most acclaimed moniker of Danilo Plessow — a producer whose love of music started with playing the drums in his school big band at the age of six. It is perhaps this early proclivity towards jazz that makes his a particularly soulful, creative brand of house. Promising diverse sounds, his show at Twisted Pepper looks set to be an especially fun one.

ICC10

WORDS BY MATTHEW MULLIGAN

Twisted Pepper, Tuesday November 25, 6.30pm sharp. Free tickets at thisisbanter.com.

Normally a new season of Irish television ends up being a bit of a snore but Connected has been a big hit for RTE this Autumn. The show follows six ordinary women who have been given video cameras to document their daily interactions, empowering them in the process by letting them decide what and what not to record. The Banter series plays host to a panel on the show which will examine the unique viewpoint at the heart of the programme, the success it has been met with and the experiences of those involved. Chaired by Anna Nolan, the panel will feature Kate McGrew and Venetia Quick from Connected, as well as Bill Malone, the channel controller of RTÉ2. The evening is a must for anyone interested in the changing landscape of Irish television.

BANTER ON CONNECTED

NOVEMBER NOVEMBER 19-20 25

32 WORDS BY SARAH LENNON GALAVAN

Tickets are €9 (€7.50 concession) per film. A day pass is €19.50 and is available for purchase at the Lighthouse Box Office or through phoning 01 872 8006.

With the release of The Hobbit: The Battle of Five Armies next month, the Lighthouse Cinema are giving Tolkeinites the chance to relive Peter Jackson’s original (and far superior) epic trilogy on Sunday November 30. Starting at 12pm, they’ll be showing The Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers (3.40pm) and The Return of the King (7.40pm). They are also offering a Hobbitthemed meal to keep you fuelled for nine hours of fantasy.

LORD OF THE RINGS TRILOGY

WORDS BY HEATHER KEANE

Tickets €15 (€12 concession).

Project Arts Centre welcomes Dan Bergin’s FUSED this December, back in production after its successful run in the 2013 Dublin Fringe Festival, and Bergin’s play of a similar genre, Blast, which recently appeared as part of last month’s Prototype Festival. FUSED is lauded for pulling off an improv foundation with ease — it’s almost entirely dependent on audience engagement and participation, but manages to be utterly unintimidating even to the theatrical n00b. This might have something to do with its unconventional set-up: audience members share the controls, working together to guide our on-stage hero through a variety of mind-bending puzzles in order to beat the boss, save the world, and maybe even get the girl. Game on.

FUSED

NOVEMBER DECEMBER 30 1-13

WORDS BY DAN SCOTT

Organised by the same brains behind the Bernard Shaw and Twisted Pepper, Tipple Town offers a celebration of all things spirits, with a week-long cocktail festival around the city. The festival’s HQ is MVP, the latest Bodytonic installment on Clanbrassil Street, where there will be a mix of events, workshops and popup bars (including the London Cocktail Club). A competition will take place on the final night of the festival at the Twisted Pepper, where mixologists will be challenged to create a showstopping sip with one mandatory ingredient: whiskey. Other bars such as Drury Buildings, Lillies, the Exchequer, and Ukiyo will be participating via the “Tipple-Trail”. More information can be gathered on the event website, www.tipple-town.com or Twitter @tipple_town. Free-entry to some events, with one day workshops at €20 and weekend tickets at €50.

TIPPLE TOWN FESTIVAL

WORDS BY STEHPHEN MOLONEY

Tickets are €15, getting you entry and three free bottles of Blue Moon, including their seasonal brews to help shake off that winter chill. For more information, visit rhagallery.ie.

The RHA’s airy spaces play host to the second outing of Blue Moon Lost Wednesdays, which sees the coming together of visual art, music, food and booze under one roof. This interdisciplinary event aims to bring together some of Ireland’s leading emergent creatives across all artistic mediums and shine a light on their revolutionary practice. Theatre, dance, film, poetry, installation and live sets by DJs and bands all take place against the backdrop of the gallery’s own current exhibitions, promising a colourful and inspiring evening.

BLUE MOON LOST WEDNESDAYS

NOVEMBER NOVEMBER 24-30 26

WORDS BY HEATHER KEANE

Tickets priced €22 (€18 concession).

From the bubbling metropolis of Ballinrobe, Co. Mayo, to the bright lights of Brendan O’Connor’s The Saturday Night Show, Panti has amassed an impressively varied bunch of anecdotes on Irish life. Quickly becoming one of the most relevant social (and soon, historical) icons of our time, she’ll take a break from bettering our worlds to invite you into hers for an evening with her stand-up show, High Heels in Low Places. A formidable combination of the queer theatre expertise of THISISPOPBABY and Panti’s wily and wicked sense of humour, this show promises an avenue for laughs amidst the often emotionally challenging nature of her activism work.

HIGH HEELS IN LOW PLACES

DECEMBER 1-6

WORDS BY MICHAEL KEMP

“When I am in trouble, eating is the only thing that consoles me.” Wilde’s pithy words from The Importance of Being Earnest should ring out for those with yuletide blues hoping to attend this indulgent feast. On Friday and Saturday, cocktails will be served as a preamble to a seven course meal provided by Gruel Guerilla. Throughout the evening PETTYCASH will present recitals, poetry readings, acoustic music and romantic performances all inspired by the great wit himself. Sunday offers a merry brunch, while all days will have a Teelings Whiskey Reception. While we usually hope for a white Christmas, there’s nothing stopping you from being a little (Dorian) Gray this holiday season. 12 Henrietta Street, Dublin 1, Friday/ Saturday: €50, Sunday: €40.

A WILDE CHRISTMAS DINNER

DECEMBER 5-7

BOTTOMS s that in?” he asks, sounding hopeful, as I turn my head abruptly. Silence briefly follows, as though we’re listening out for the arrival of some sort of celestial, affirmative signal. “I think it is,” I reply. A crack in my voice signals excitement and apprehension. As is typical, nerves immediately ensue and fucking doesn’t go much further that night, despite being quite pleased with this inch by inch progress. I’ve (somewhat reluctantly) had a dick in my ass a grand total of two times. If you’re one to qualify gay sex strictly in penetrative terms that’s practically virginal for a gay man in his mid 20s. But luckily, I don’t. As a contributor to this column once wrote, to blanket define gay sex within these narrow, heteronormative parameters, thereby excluding so many other experiences, is to undermine their value.

virtue of my homosexuality. Dick in ass is not as big a deal as your favourite porn site might have you believe, regardless of how they dress it up or down. It’s tough to deny that a misguided inference of inferiority exists if you’re the the guy who gets fucked. This idea that the man forfeits his masculinity on account of being the bottom is hardly a new phenomenon. Bottom shaming like this has been around since the Greeks and the sentiment persists. Casual joking around about gay penetrative sex is, more often than not, at the expense of the bottom. How often has that explicitly mascverbal-dom-no-femmes type seen on Grindr taken it? In porn, a “weak” bottom to be pushed around and teased often forms a predictable part of the trite narrative, whilst the “power bottom” comes with his own set of “sluttier” connotations as if to suggest — wrongly — that being the top is somehow “cleaner” and more excusable.

It sounds so basic, but because gay sex doesn’t necessarily mean penetration, there’s an opportunity for gay men to imagine sex as they wish. I’ve come with so much more intensity after some hand jobs and blow jobs than I have in most encounters with penetrative sex. If it’s the right person, I can derive just as much meaning and feel just as strong a bond out of what might commonly just be considered “foreplay” in a heterosexual context. When sex only centres around either or both of these, it’s a chance to get really into them and figure out new ways of making them more interesting, seeing them as more than just stops on the road to fucking which might in itself be a complete let down.

Based on my own relationships, both casual and more committed, I’ve been with guys who have been miffed by my lack of enthusiasm in getting fucked, or returning the favour. Reactions have ranged from indifference and bafflement to a visibly annoyed insistence on just “finishing up” by whatever means — a difficult task when someone is irritated to the point of flaccidity at you and your completely reasonable unconsenting ways. If it turns out that penetrative sex is the be-all and end-all of a relationship for one guy more than the other — which, after asking around, doesn’t seem to be the case — then frank conversation about boundaries and comfort is vital. Just because you’re a bottom shouldn’t mean you should be made an ass of.

In spite of all of this, I can’t help but feel that I’m missing out — not that I’ve ever felt particularly pressured by partners or peers or felt an obligation by

WORDS BY ANONYMOUS

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