Thursday, May 1, 2025
Blog Page 1046

Reassessing Mr Kubrick

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Good art follows one of two paths. It either celebrates genre or redefines it. It entertains, or transcends. It displays mastery, or innovates. Great art is that which traces its way along both routes.

Director Stanley Kubrick’s 1968 cinematographic tour de force 2001: A Space Odyssey walks a fine line between good and great. It soars to new heights, and then collapses back to the ordinary. It enchants, and bores. It encourages philosophical inquiry, but rarely does that inquiry lead to new answers.

Of course Kubrick was not looking to create a thriller. And if we look at 2001 from a different lens, a meditative one, its strengths come to bear. From the discovery by prehistoric hominids of their first tool to astronaut Dr. Dave Bowman’s trip beyond human understanding, we wonder – we ask ourselves about mankind’s place in the stars.

One of the most pivotal sequences in 2001 is its first, the transition by a clan of apes from victims to victors. With one of its members killed by a leopard, whose eyes glowed gold in the sun, and forced from their watering hole by a rival tribe, the clan’s straits seem dire. But simultaneous with the mysterious arrival of a black monolith, the clan learns to use the bones of dead animals to hunt and kill. Such marks the first development of man, from helpless prey to tool-bearing predator.

After we see our origins, Kubrick throws us forward millions of years in a single shot, to Dr. Heywood Floyd, who is preparing to embark on a voyage to the moon, and to the movie’s first dialogue, almost a half-hour in. The use of dialogue in 2001 is unique. With but a couple of exceptions, like humanizing the ship’s computer, HAL 9000, its use is nearly always to highlight the mundane: a faux-chicken sandwich, a game of chess, a character’s birthday. For Kubrick, actions speak louder than words, and the camera’s angle speaks louder than either. More is communicated in silence as we watch HAL read Bowman and fellow astronaut Dr. Frank Poole’s lips than in what either has to say.

Kubrick does make glorious use of the medium of sound through music, however. It is in no small part due to 2001’s soundtrack that the film itself has earned its place in the annals of filmmaking. Roger Ebert says it best when we writes, “The classical music,” like Johann Strauss’s The Blue Danube and Richard Strauss’s Also Sprach Zarathustra, “exists outside the action. It uplifts. It wants to be sublime; it brings a seriousness and transcendence to the visuals.”

The movie’s fourth and final act best encapsulates both its majesty and its flaws. Accentuated by composer György Ligeti’s oddly discordant Atmosphères, the sequence is profoundly strange: Dr. Bowman travels through a wormhole of bizarre scenes and phenomena, watches himself age in an exquisite house somewhere beyond Jupiter, and at last is transformed into a fetal creature, which gazes at Earth from afar. It is all beautifully shot, but it leaves most of the audience’s questions unanswered. The plot is abandoned for the sake of spectacle.

2001 is certainly among the great works of science fiction, and perhaps the best movie of the genre. In it, Kubrick accomplishes prodigious feats of showmanship and creates the awesome before our eyes. The film is also exceedingly ambitious, aiming for intellectual excellence and discovery on top of cinematic success. But in that pursuit, one gets the feeling that 2001 lost sight of real theater. It is a good work of art, surely. But a great one? I’m not so sure.

Identity is as fluid as silk

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Tom Hooper has downscaled. Les Miserables gave him a revolution and The King’s Speech gave him the adoring masses, but here, in this intimate portrait of a family of two stretching its love around a newly blossoming identity, there’s no crowd. At most, there’s a subset of European art buyers who flit in and out of the background, but Hooper has hinged his tale, necessarily, on a detailed portrait of the lives of two women – one of whom was born a man.

Lucinda Coxton’s screenplay follows the Wegeners’ marriage. To begin with, Gerda (Alicia Vikander) and Einar (Eddie Redmayne) are almost heteronormatively married – artists who play with the boundaries of gender subversion, she’s confident and he’s unthreatened by that, and there’s an indisputably erotic thrill when husband comes to bed in wife’s silk chemise. But what soon reveals itself is that Einar’s cross-dressing alter ego, Lili Elbe, is much more than a fantasy brought out to liven up social soirees. Einar, in fact, is not really Einar at all: Einar is simply the shell of the man who has trapped Lili in the wrong body.

There’s an interplay here between what’s topical and what’s historical, and the movie is sensible enough to understand it must try to service both. Transgender equality, in the age of Transparent, may well be a burgeoning political motivation in arts and entertainment, and one could be forgiven for demanding something a little more incendiary from this film. The sequence in which Lili confronts the endlessly pathologising and ostracising diagnoses of various doctors seems to skirt slickly over the surface of what could only have been a harrowing experience. Instead, here is a sweetness and light – an anti-radicalism, if you will – which may well be Hooper’s film trying to find mainstream appeal by situating the movie’s aesthetic firmly in the realm of standardly-sumptuous period drama.

Hooper’s handling of his subject matter is sensitive to the point of saccharine in some places: certainly there are moments when Alexandre Desplat’s score, a soaring cacophony of sweeping violins, wrenches emotions out of the viewer when perhaps it would have been less condescending to let them feel for themselves. But it ought to be commended for its understanding of how to bring the most out of the complicated relationship between bodies, identities, and wardrobes. The Guardian found Hooper and designer Paco Delgado’s handling of costumes in this film to be verging precariously on the edge of pantomime, and yes, there is an unnerving focus on the tactility of fabrics. However, what such thinking supposes, rather inaccurately, is that costume is not the most integral way in which humans find self-expression. It’s not so much that the costumes in this movie conceal its heart, but that they provide a very real, very relatable access point for Lili’s identity.

In the end, The Danish Girl functions best as an excellent vehicle for two of the brightest acting talents of our current generation. Both Redmayne and Vikander are naturally luminous, and both have an acute knack for understanding the possibilities contained in the actor’s body. Redmayne’s performance here is less technically demanding than his Oscar-winning turn as Stephen Hawking, but in some ways it demands a different and more compelling brand of compassion from him. Vikander, meanwhile, continues her ascent. The actress has a kind of unique, almost brash physicality, something which is so refreshingly un-Hollywood. She isn’t afraid of filling a frame with gestures and energy, a technique, it seems, that movies have been ousting out of women since Katherine Hepburn. Together, she and Redmayne are something of a match made in cinematic heaven. Awards await. 

 

Recipe: Rajma

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Kidney beans are an underrated ingredient. Usually thrown into a chilli as an afterthought, they have a fantastic nutty fl avour and are very fi lling. This healthy and refreshing dish places them in the spotlight – a position this long-maligned legume has always deserved. It is by no means a claim to an authentic northern Indian recipe, but I do hope it might change your view on kidney beans.

Ingredients (serves 4)

2 tins of soaked red kidney beans

1 onion, sliced

3 cloves of garlic, finely crushed

1 thumb-sized piece of ginger, grated

3 tomatoes, roughly chopped

Bunch of coriander stalks, finely chopped

½ tsp turmeric powder Chilli powder  

2 tsp salt

2 tsp coriander power

2 tsp cumin powder

125ml natural or Greek yoghurt

1 tsp garam masala powder

Fresh coriander leaves

Method

In a large pot, heat some vegetable oil over a medium heat and add the sliced onions. Leave to brown for 10-15 minutes. After about 10 minutes, stir the garlic and ginger into the onions. After about 3 minutes, add the chopped tomatoes and coriander stalks, followed by the turmeric, chilli, salt, coriander power and cumin powder. Mix thoroughly and cook for a further two minutes. Stir in the yoghurt and drain the kidney beans, reserving some of the liquid. Add the kidney beans along with the liquid to the pot and mix thoroughly. Leave covered and cook for 15-20 minutes. You may want to add extra kidney bean liquid or water to make sure the mixture is covered. Using a spoon, mash some of the softened kidney beans to thicken the sauce. Once the beans are soft and tender, and the curry has started to turn an attractive burgundy, turn off the heat and stir in the garam masala powder. Garnish with the fresh coriander leaves and serve with basmati rice or chapatis. Since it makes a lot, put some in the freezer for a stressful day

Art Decadence

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Photographer: Ian Wallman

 

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Clunch Review: St. Anne’s

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St Anne’s reminds me of my secondary school. Concrete. Northern. Questionable amount of dark wood veneering for anything past 1970. But still quite welcoming. The Hall is a vast collection of panels which look like they could have been reclaimed from my nan’s lounge when she fi nally let 1982 give up the ghost.

On this occasion, however, I was surprised. Honestly, there is quite a good selection. I’ve been for clunch here before. The spring rolls were stodgy, the noodles claggy. I was left full of carbs, but disappointed. I’m not quite sure how anything works. There’s no signs indicating cost, so I pile everything onto my tray and just hope. The selection is better than average. I question my friend’s choice of getting a salad comprising only of iceberg lettuce, but the salad bar is reasonably stocked.

Despite two meat mains of an indiscriminate nature, I decide to plonk for the veggie option. I’m not a huge fan of pasta. But the pesto linguine with pine nuts is actually pretty decent. I mean, its pretty hard to get pasta wrong, as hard as some college kitchens may try. The accompanying rosemary focaccia is slightly over-toasted, but still greasy enough to feel like you’re really greasing those joints up with olive oil.I may be round when I complete my degree, but at least my joints will be in tip-top condition.

But the dessert was something else. Personally, I’m a bit of a freak when it comes to baked goods. The less cooked, the better. There’s something incredibly pleasing, indeed almost sensual, about an underdone loaf. It brings back fond memories of my days as a fi ve-year old who’d eat nothing but -underdone pastry. St Anne’s banana bread is claggy, under baked and in some parts questionably not baked at all. For a culinary weirdo like myself, it’s perfect. They’ve got it so wrong, it’s right. For people with more refi ned palates, it is, however, a nightmare. Smushing some of the under-done dough into her fork, my friend pulls away and leaves me to feast on my undercooked goodness. St Anne’s food is hardly glamorous, but I’d definitely go back for thirds. 

Shia LaBoeuf is in a lift

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In case you haven’t heard, Shia LaBeouf is in a lift. I am staring at a pair of lift doors, which occasionally open to see a glimpse of gawky conversers. Even as I write this, I’m still listening. And I’m not really sure why. So far people have spoken about odds on (and chortled painfully through my speakers), others have tried to discern exactly what meta-modernism is. LaBeouf patiently conducts his way through, encouraging speech out of some, backing off in others. He looks tired, in the small snatches where we see him. The door opens, and he takes his jumper off, and I wonder whether anytime soon someone will step in and say “hey, let’s sit on the floor, let’s be silent”. But as he notes himself, apparently English people don’t like silence.

At one point they all descend into existentialism. For who are the lab rats? Who is performing? Maybe they’re all scientists? They’re all waiting, whether in a queue, or in the lift. But what about me? I’m not waiting. I’m choosing to listen. There is no delay. Well. I’m waiting to stop listening, so I can start working. And I nearly do. But then I hear Stuart Webber’s tones, asking them to get on to the next person. Suddenly LaBeouf is telling Webber he ain’t being fair. “Man I’m sorry but you can’t do that, that’s not fair you’re making it weird, they can make their own decisions c’mon I know you’re the president of the Oxford Union but you can’t dictate us”. Webber presumably dissipates, and LaBeouf carries on. Fame, after all, controls the Union. This is some performance art.

Everyone wants to be remembered. And LaBeouf seeks someone who stumbles in, and gets their vibe. Or maybe he wishes he never begun. Although, against myself, I sort of trust LaBeouf, and I trust what he’s doing. And although he stands in a small square, in airless air, meeting people who have queued for hours or paid someone in the queue £50 for their spot, he takes it in. When the third person asks him how the three of them (LaBeouf, Rönkkö & Turner) met each other, purely within the time I have been watching, he doesn’t sound exhausted. And neither am I, listening to the answer. He finds ways of paraphrasing himself, of rephrasing. I begin to respect him as I listen. Even if it’s just for not being sardonic in the face of inanity, and weirdly broad questions. But is it art? The fatal question. I’m inclined to say no. But. It’s interesting. It’s something. And I’m still listening.

Restaurant Review: Pierre Victoire

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Whenever I think of the archetypal family-visit restaurant, Pierre Victoire comes straight to mind. It was not on such an occasion that I went back to Pierre Victoire last week, but on the return visit of a friend from their year abroad. At roughly £10 for a lunchtime menu, the price was ok, but a little on the expensive side. Since it was a relatively special occasion, this did not perturb me.

The décor makes a pretence of transporting you to some small rustic village in the Landes, with its extensive wood interior and over-used chalkboards with fl owers draped across them dotted around its three floors of prime Jericho real estate.

The lunch menu is good. There is plenty to choose from, with all the meals, from the onion soup to the cheeseboard sticking to the Gallic theme; they even off er a basket of baguette as standard with that classic French mistake: unsalted butter. Of course, this minor inconvenience is easily remedied by adding salt, so no marks lost for staying close to their French bistr(-insp)o. Having worked all morning on my dissertation, I certainly deserved the duck and calamari that I devoured there. My companion chose the duck as well, opting for chicken liver pâté to start.

The service was, as it should have been were we in France, relatively brusque, with waiters pretending not to listen as we gave our order. In any case, the meals came quickly, which always makes up for any air of arrogance on the part of the staff . My calamari, unlike the last time I had it at a takeaway in Brighton where it had all the texture and taste of rubber bands, melted in my mouth like butter; that it was covered in greasy batter was of no concern to me.

The pâté, that archetypal and paradigmatic French starter, was necessarily incredible; I certainly recommend that in future, even though the calamari was excellent. The duck confit was an improvement on an already grand lunch (being my favourite meal.) It was perfectly cooked, such that the duck fell apart with the slightest touch of the knife, with the outside remaining crispy. The potato rosti was also an interesting addition to the dish, given the scarcity of English restaurants which serve the Swiss’ claim-to-culinary-fame.

The jus was also perfectly cooked and did not split on its way from kitchen to table: the surest sign of culinary success. Since a sauce really makes the difference between a good French meal and an excellent one, I can only commend Pierre Victoire on their success. In and out in 55 minutes, only £7.50 lighter (and probably 7.50lb heavier), I was a satisfied customer. 

Prayers for Dawkins defended

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The Church of England has defended a tweet it posted offering “prayers for Prof Dawkins and his family” after Dawkins suffered a stroke. The post was retweeted, as thousands of Christians adopted the hashtag #PrayForDawkins.

Others, however, argued that the Church of England showed a lack of respect by offering prayers to Dawkins, who has spent his life campaigning against religion.

The Communication Director of the Church of England issued a statement responding to allegations from former politician Nikki Sinclaire that its comments were “ignorant and sarcastic” and that the tweet was a form of “trolling”.

Rev Arun Arora responded that “many recognized the tweet for what it was, a genuine tweet offering a prayer for a public person who was unwell”. Arguing that critics had misunderstood the purpose of the prayer, he wrote, “Some of the Twitter reaction assumed that

Christians only pray for other Christians. In fact Christians pray for all kinds of people. They pray for their friends and families. They pray for their community,” he wrote. “Poets write poetry, musicians play music, Christians pray. And they love,” Arora added.

Many Christians defended their use of the hashtag. “It’s a strange world where the Church of England has to ‘defend’ praying for someone,” one church member tweeted.

The Oxford Humanist society told Cherwell, “In the absence of any concrete evidence to the contrary, we assume that the call for prayers for Richard Dawkins is made out of genuine concern and for no other reason. Naturally we do not expect such prayers to have any effect on Professor Dawkins, but understand them as, ‘Best wishes for a speedy recovery’. We seek to make a better world for everybody based on the principles of reason and compassion, and believe that dialogue and co-operation with religious groups can further this aim. We do not represent Professor Dawkins, whose personal opinion regarding prayers for him may differ from ours.”

Dawkins has claimed that his stroke was brought on from the stress of his embroilment in a Twitter controversy, after he retweeted a video likening feminists to Islamists.

Ex Vice-Chancellor was highest paid in UK

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The previous Vice-Chancellor of Oxford University, Andrew Hamilton, was the highest single earner of university chiefs, according to a report issued earlier this month by the University and College Union (UCU.) The report, which investigated 159 institutions, found Hamilton received a salary of £462,000 in 2014-5.

This meant that Hamilton had the third-highest annual salary of university chiefs, but the two universities who paid higher wages had two heads each. University bosses received an average salary of £272,432, an increase of three per cent on the previous year and 6.7 times the average pay of their staff. The report shows that while Vice-Chancellors’ pay has risen 14 per cent over the last five years, staff pay has only risen by five per cent.

Sally Hunt, the UCU general secretary, stated, “The time has finally come for a frank and open discussion about pay and transparency in higher education. The huge disparities in the levels of pay and pay rises at the top expose the arbitrary nature of senior pay in our universities.”

When asked if the Vice-Chancellor pay at Oxford seemed justified, an Oxford spokesperson told Cherwell, “[Oxford] is consistently ranked among the handful of best universities in the world. The Vice-Chancellor’s salary reflects that.”

The spokesperson also highlighted an inconsistency, saying, “The UCU are saying that Professor Hamilton’s total package (including pensions) went up from £442k to £462k. They are not comparing like with like. The comparable figures are £454,000 for 2014 and £462,000 for 2015 – a total rise of 1.7 per cent.”

Oxford’s current Vice-Chancellor Richardson has stated, “The argument for the salaries Vice Chancellors are paid is that universities… have to compete globally if we are to attract the best university leaders. Compared to many university staff, Vice Chancellors are indeed very highly paid, but [not] compared to bankers and footballers.”

JCRs fund coaches to Yarl’s Wood

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On Sunday evening, the Magdalen and Wadham JCRs each voted in favour of motions to donate £250 to Movement for Justice (MFJ) to support the organisation’s protest next month at the Yarl’s Wood Immigration Removal Centre. A similar motion was proposed at New College’s JCR meeting, although it was not passed.

The detention centre holds over 350 detainees, overwhelmingly women, who are awaiting either the approval of their asylum applications or deportation.

The centre has faced controversy since opening in 2001, including allegations of human rights abuses. Yarl’s Wood was burnt down during protests by detainees in 2002. In a report last summer, Nick Hardwick, chief inspector of prisons, described the centre as “a place of national concern”. According to the report, 15 of the detainees had been held without charge for over six months.

According to the Surround #YarlsWood demonstration’s Facebook event, Movement for Justice ‘‘Will be returning to Yarl’s Wood in force to demand that ALL the women are freed, Yarl’s Wood is SHUT DOWN and ALL detention Centres are closed once and for all!’’

MFJ goes on to describe the protest as ‘‘fighting to win the most basic of demands as human beings.’’ The JCRs’ donations are to be spent by the Movement for Justice on “coaches to the demonstration and advertising for the demonstration’’.

Ella Sackville Adjei, who proposed the Wadham JCR motion, described Yarl’s Wood as ‘‘A truly horrific institution, where people who have committed no crime are forced to endure prison-like conditions’’ and ‘a source of national shame’. Ms Sackville Adjei went on to tell Cherwell, “The money raised will go towards subsidising the Oxford coach, and paying for coaches from elsewhere in the country so that people who otherwise could not afford travel to the demo in Bedfordshire will be able to attend – it is vital that activist spaces are open to all, regardless of financial status, and I think it is really important that institutions with as much spare money as Oxford colleges help to facilitate this.”

Movement for Justice described the JCRs’ decisions as “so exciting”, telling Cherwell, “The donation from Magdalen means so much to us because it means we can continue to make getting ex-detainees and asylum seekers to the demonstrations seats – we want no one to feel they cannot come because of lack of money, these donations help make that happen.”

John Stephens of Magdalen, told Cherwell that at a talk earlier this month by Movement for Justice, students were “shocked by accounts of the conditions in Yarl’s Wood,” which included allegations of “withholding of vital medication and sexual assault by guards”.

In its motion, Magdalen JCR notes, “The demonstration aims to bring together activists, organisers and asylum seekers from across the country to help build a network of campaigners and create links between movements.

“It is also an opportunity for detainees (many of whom are not native English speakers) to contact campaigners and access legal counsel.”

In response to Cherwell‘s request for comment, A Home Office spokesman said, “Detention and removal are essential parts of effective immigration controls, helping to ensure that those with no right to remain in the UK are returned to their home country if they will not leave voluntarily. 

“We take the welfare of our detainees extremely seriously, which is why the Home Secretary commissioned the Stephen Shaw review which was published last month. We are now working on significant reforms in relation to mental health, how those “at risk” are considered and ensuring there is a stronger focus on removal so that people spend the minimum amount of time in detention before they leave the country.” 

Serco, the firm responsible for operating Yarl’s Wood, did not respond to Cherwell’s request for comment.