Monday, May 5, 2025
Blog Page 1057

Il faut souffrir pour être belle

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The saying ‘one must suffer to be beautiful’ is one that many girls learn growing up. Mothers strapping feet into precariously high heels, sisters squeezing into tight skirts, peering into mirrors as they do so. It is a statement given with the authority of a truth. It glamourises any kind of distortion of bodies, especially women’s’ bodies. Even the statement’s origins in French add an extra sparkle to what is, in reality, a barbaric concept. We are taught that there is some kind of correlation between beauty and pain. The reiteration of this statement – it is something repeated as girls learn the ‘secrets’ of conventional femininity – ingrains the idea that artificial distortions achieve a natural way of looking.

The idea of suffering for beauty has historical precedent, and is found in a multitude of cultures. Until the twentieth century, Chinese women achieved incredibly small feet through the process of foot binding. Young girls’ toes were folded under their feet and bound there. In Europe, women of all sizes were stitched into corsets to create an idealised hourglass figure. Higher class women wore lead paint to achieve pale complexions, and fervently avoided exposure to sunlight so as not to look as if they were outdoor labourers. These distortions were used to create the illusion of an ideal women – each of these manipulations would make women appear beautiful, in the way their specific culture expected them to be.

Today these practices are not so overt, yet they still exist, encouraged by the ideal beauty standards which are disseminate throughout society. Even measures which are seen as common often serve little purpose than creating cosmetic appeal. For instance, many teenagers endure metal contraptions being screwed into their mouths for several years – braces – just to straighten the off snaggletooth and create a uniform smile. Wearing high heels serves no purpose than to make an individual’s legs look help people through what is the painful progress of restricting how much energy you take in. Blisters are an almost anticipated result of wearing towering high heels, and most people can’t keep them on for an entire night out. But this suffering seems to make the final product of attractiveness somehow earnt, or justified.

Suffering to create physical perfection is not only limited to the fashion and beauty industries. Certain art forms prescribe a certain amount of suffering to create award-winning results. In ballet, female dancers wear pointe shoes. These are shoes with hard shanks inside them, designed to take the dancers’ entire body weight onto their toes. The final effect is that of a dancer appearing weightless, as if she is floating. Yet wearing pointe shoes can distort the shape of feet and increase a risk of osteoarthritis. When asked why they go through such pain, many dancers will simply answer that it looks beautiful.

Even concepts of attractivenessoutside of societal ideals correlate suffering and beauty. Tattoos and piercings, which have mixed reception in society – some find them attractive whilst others do not – are created through pain and physical manipulation. Injecting ink under a layer of skin or punching holes into various body parts as decoration does not sound beautiful, yet it creates a desirable effect for many.

Il faut souffrir pour être belle is found in all aspects of history, culture, and society. But that doesn’t explain why we are prepared to suffer to look a certain way.

Interview: Brendan O’Neill

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Editor of the online magazine, Spiked, and regular columnist with publications as varied as the Big Issue and The Spectator, Brendan O’Neill is no stranger to controversy. With a ‘telling-it-like-it-is’ attitude, he speaks his mind freely, and without pretense. Nothing is off-limits, nothing is sugarcoated and rather than “a right to offend”, in his latest appearance at the Oxford Union, O’Neill went a step farther – arguing for a “duty to offend”, and be offended. Freshly primed, always ready to pounce on the latest ‘student activist’ preaching in “posh cut-glass tones”, O’Neill was very forthcoming about his views. And, with Oriel’s recent decision concerning the statue of Cecil Rhodes, our exchange could neither have been livelier, nor could it have come at a more pivotal time.  

Commenting on the ‘safe space’ trend that has been sweeping across campuses up-and-down the country, O’Neill observes how it has been “growing for quite a while now; perhaps for twenty years or more.” The telltale signs were evident, but only now has it reached a fever pitch. The situation has “weirdly intensified over the last couple of years” he explains, “we seem to have a new intake of students on campus who arrogantly, narcissistically believe that they have the right to go through their three or four years of university life without ever hearing a word or an idea that challenges their belief system.

“There’s been a lot of [media] coverage over the last year in particular about the censoriousness of student leaders and the insanity of student unions who want to ban hats and newspapers and songs and everything else.” 

Picking up on this theme of “backwardness”, we quickly moved into a discussion about media presentation, and whether or not the press really had ‘the full scoop.’ In other words – to what extent were such depictions misunderstandings, or even willful misrepresentations.

“The media is now giving a skewed impression that all students are like this” says O’Neill, “Perhaps they’ve pushed the boat out too far because, to my mind, when I go to campuses – as I do quite a lot – I’m always struck that most students are still very normal. Most think that freedom of speech is still a pretty good idea. They either dislike their unions or just have nothing to do with them.” With a 14.2 per cent turnout in the most recent OUSU election back in November, some would argue that such claims are not too far wrong. Those other students, the four-fifths or more that chose not to cast a vote, are what O’Neill term “the silent majority”; the ones who “are not offered opinion pieces in the Guardian.”

Keen to disparage against “tarring all students with the same brush” O’Neill warned against two things: one, the media, who “always on the lookout for something scandalous and sexy” and two, “neo-colonialist” student activists; “shameless self-promoters” and spin-merchants in their own right. Neither of these groups do justice by students, argues O’Neill.

Likening student activists to Mary Whitehouse, “an old social conservative from the 60s and 70s who wanted to ban everything”, O’Neill writes off the ‘countercultural left’ as being “deeply conservative, deeply Victorian [and] deeply regressive.” To this end, he does not recognise any of these activities as “being left wing.” Rather, they stultifying and authoritarian.

Posing the question of an ‘educative’ intent behind these campaigns, of their self-professed desire to enlighten and raise awareness, O’Neill is broadly dismissive. “I think it’s about elitist campaigners cutting themselves off from the rest of society and distancing themselves from the average person”, he responds.

“And so, that’s why I think they’ve developed their own language, which makes absolutely no sense to the man or woman on the street. That’s why they’re constantly fretting about the impact of tabloid newspapers on peoples’ mushy minds; why they are suspicious of mainstream pop music – which they think is sexist – and why they hate big corporations and McDonalds, and all these other things. They’re constantly thinking: ‘how can I demonstrate my moral, ethical superiority to everyday society?’ It’s not about educating the public; it’s about expressing contempt for the public. They really fear and loathe ordinary people – and that’s normally the case with people who want to censor things.” 

Yet, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction; or at least, so the saying goes. To hang the ‘student left’ out to dry would not only be unfair, but underhand, too. The rise of the ‘safe space’ has been matched, if not in scale, then in character and scope, by contiguous ‘right-wing spaces.’ Of course, I am referring to the likes of Open Oxford, and what it has, as of late, devolved into – a suitable counterpoint to the excesses of ‘the Stepford Student.’ O’Neill expresses a worry that those who are against safe spaces, “which is a very reasonable position to hold, are effectively creating their own safe spaces where you can be as knowingly offensive, as knowingly disgusting and as knowingly misogynistic, as you want.” This is “an infantile response” scoffs O’Neill, “it brings to mind Frankie Boyle, and those ridiculous, offensive, unfunny jokes of his.” But it all comes back to the same motif: the need to try and “wriggle free of the politically correct straitjacket of modern times.” 

Unfortunately, there are now “two firmly entrenched camps; one which says we don’t like offensive material and we’re going to ban it, and the other which says, ‘because you’re banning offensive material, we are going to be as offensive as possible just for the hell of it.’ And, it’s just completely vacuous and empty and nonsensical.”  That is the negative side to all of this.

As a solution to the problem, O’Neill argues, “the whole of university just needs to be an open, free arena, where anything can be said and anything can be discussed. Creating special zones in which things can be debated is divisive and actually reproduces the idea that there are some ideas that are so dangerous that they need, and must, be kept in their own little space.” Newly founded organisations then, like the ‘LSE Speakeasy’ – a clever play on words of Prohibition-era liquor stores – has the right idea, but the wrong end of the stick in practice.

To the point of discrimination and inequality, again O’Neill proposes a clear and simple programme: free speech. No censorship. No privileging of voices. No advocacy work. Only individuals, treated equally. Let those who wish to speak, speak. And for those who do not speak, that is their decision – one cannot, and should not, assume their voices. “There should just be an open sphere… there’s nothing stopping you from speaking, that’s the whole idea of free speech.”

There exists “this horribly paternalistic approach of putting a soapbox in front of ‘the poor little people’ and helping them stand on it and speak to the world,” adds O’Neill. “I mean, get over yourselves. I think it’s a horrible argument. The aim for radical politics in the past was for those sorts of people – particularly women and working-class people – to force their own way into public life; that’s what Second Wave Feminism was about in the 60s and 70s. It was about saying, ‘Actually! Women are perfectly capable of negotiating independent, public lives without needing chaperons or without needing police guarding them from wolf whistles and everything else, so we’re going to do it.’” Now, what we have instead contends O’Neill, is “a complete flip-reversal…a new type of radical feminist, who say that women aren’t really cut out for public life because it’s scary and society is full of lads who listen to Robin Thicke and want to touch your ass.”

The final part of our interview dealt with Rhodes Must Fall. When asked about what progress has or has not been made with a view to BME movements, O’Neill brushed off this terminology – “Aw man, I hate the term BME.” It’s too contrived, too unnatural – and actually inverts the original intent. O’Neill coins it “an inhumane turn of phrase to describe someone.” Rather, “the people that are doing the most damage to black students” are of that aforementioned ‘altruistic’ variety – the white middle-class, well-to-do and educated, who “infantilise” black students, ascribing to them “a lesser form of moral agency than white students.” With specific regard to Rhodes Must Fall, O’Neill commented on how “they are essentially saying that [black students] are psychically vulnerable that they cannot walk past a statue without feeling harmed by it.”

Such activities sooner hinder the cause of anti-racism, than help it, urges O’Neill. These activists are the ones promoting racial division, by “arguing that because of their culture or their heritage, [black students] are less prepared for robust public debate than others. I find that a repulsive idea, and the problem that I have with Rhodes Must Fall is not that I think Cecil Rhodes was a great guy; of course he wasn’t – it’s because it is so paternalistic to minority students, and it gives this impression that they are simply objects shaped by the forces of history, harmed by statues, whose everyday lives are impacted upon by historical events. It’s all very deterministic. And, in the past, old racists argued that black people were weak or stupid or fickle on the basis of their biological heritage.

“I don’t think it’s much of a step forward from that for campus activists to say that black students are fickle and weak and easily harmed, on the basis of their cultural heritage,” points out O’Neill. “It’s the same argument, it’s just been given a bit more spit and polish to make it politically correct to a contemporary audience.”

Hypothesising, putting himself “in the position of a black student” O’Neill decries “so-called anti-racist activists who are basically patronising, paternalistic white kids who’ve read too much Noam Chomsky and should be given a slap.” 

Review: The Fusion Project

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★★★★★

As the audience quieted and nine young men and women got on to the traditionally (Indian) decorated stage, trying to fix a minor technical glitch with the complex setup of myriad instruments, the St Johns auditorium had already become the scene of anticipation. Would the 150 people strong audience have their Saturday evening made worth? Would The Fusion Project, an interesting new Indo-Classical cum Western fusion initiative simply remain ‘interesting’ or would it show the promise of a potential hit?

I must confess my slight embarrassment in even raising this slim doubt about them after their first performance- a mix of the classic Indian bhajan (prayer) “Ishwar allah tero naam” and “I see fire” (by Ed Sheeran). The wildly talented Dhruv Sarma and Krishnaprasad K.V. could vocalize extremely complex swaras (notes) whilst simultaneously striking a chord in the audience’s heart. Rushil Ranjan, the (informal) leader of this Project did equal justice to ‘I see fire’ with his deep, mesmerizing voice and insane guitar skills, accompanied by talented bassist Joshua Rigal. Another very notable combination was between a Carnatic song and Imagine (by Lennon, who I suspect would have been greatly pleased after hearing this). Rushil dedicated this song to his mother (also present) without whom he wouldn’t have become a musician. Special mention to Amanda Coleman, the first female vocalist that evening, for the harmony with Dhruv whilst playing the Keyboard and with the Veena providing background music; it was a treat. The team then announced they would like to perform the next one, a song written by Dhruv, just as if they were “jamming in their bedroom”. Few things can make one truly happy especially at the brink of 4th week in Oxford and I must admit that the infectious smiles on each member’s face whilst performing this one was surely one of those. Flutist Praveen Prathapan, Ben Patel on the clarinet and Janan Sathiendran on the tabla get all the credit for their flawless performance for this one. The credits of course aren’t complete without acknowledging Chris Howland on the Cello and Vivekka Nagendran with the keyboard. Among several others, Hello (Adele) and Halleluiah were super hits with the audience.

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As an engineer, I often hear about incredibly potent startups/spin-offs from Oxford but rarely about initiatives like The Fusion Project which combine creativity, talent and courage to create something amazing. In a brief chat with Rushil Ranjan, I learnt that The Fusion Project will hopefully soon begin gigs in London. Already with a 10,000 plus following on the internet this incredibly talented group has pointed its trajectory towards the stars. For those aspiring to learn Indian classical music during term time, consider joining The Oxford Indian Classical Arts Society and those who wish to be a part of The Fusion Project story, good news-they are looking for fresh talent. Attending their gig also means you can download some of their music with a code you will be given. The Fusion Project is going to be big-watch out for them.

Noam Chomsky expresses support for RMFO

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Rhodes Must Fall in Oxford (RMFO) posted a message of support from linguist and philosopher Noam Chomsky Monday morning.

Chomsky rose to public prominence through displays of public activism, has previously expressed critiques of imperialism.

His statement concerning RMFO said, “In his history of the early stages of Britain’s empire, Richard Gott writes that some day ‘the rulers of the British Empire will … be perceived to rank with the dictators of the twentieth century as the authors of crimes against humanity on an infamous scale.’ Reviewing his work, historian of Empire Bernard Porter concludes that ‘With the evidence piled up like this – and Gott stops in 1858, so missing the chance of much more – it looks almost plausible.’

“And there is much more, including the hideous Victorian famines in India and the shocking World War II famine, the atrocities in Kenya in the 1950s, and much more. The beneficiaries and admirers of empire were hardly unaware of the facts. Winston Churchill, for example, instructed his cabinet colleagues that ‘We are not a young people with an innocent record and a scanty inheritance. We have engrossed to ourselves…an altogether disproportionate share of the wealth and traffic of the world. We have got all we want in territory, and our claim to be left in the unmolested enjoyment of vast and splendid possessions, mainly acquired by violence, largely maintained by force, often seems less reasonable to others than to us’ – the italicized phrases expunged when he allowed the passage to reach print.

“It is long past time for the actual record to be unearthed and faced honestly, not overlooking the consequences to the present day.”

RMFO told Cherwell, “We think Prof. Chomsky’s support is testament to the importance of the conversation we have started at Oxford. It is sad that Prof. Chomsky has spoken up before many Oxford academics. Our work has only just begun, and we won’t rest until Rhodes, in all his manifestations, falls.”

Interview: Amadeus

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First things first, what’s this play about?

 Amadeus is effectively the story of Mozart’s life. A highly fictionalised account of his life. I say fictionalised, as over the past couple of weeks when I’ve been chatting to other music students about it, you get a lot of:

 “oooooo, Amadeus.”

People, especially those who know a lot about music, can be quite snobby about it because of historical inaccuracies. For example, I recently asked someone to help Chris, who is playing Mozart himself, learn how to conduct. They then responded:

“But you know Mozart probably never conducted?” 

 The story is told via an account given by Antonio Salieri of his encounters with Mozart and how he plots to murder him. Salieri was a composer and one of Mozart’s contemporaries, and there are historical rumours surrounding his alleged plot to kill Mozart. 

Why does Salieri want to kill Mozart?

He does it out of envy, as he was never as successful as Mozart, nor did he possess Mozart’s incredible gift for composing classical music. It is primarily a play about jealousy, so I thought it was very interesting to do in an Oxford setting, as it’s just an extreme version of what we see in tutorials. 

Why is the play called Amadeus as opposed to Wolfgang, or even, Mozart?

 It is called Amadeus, as it means lover of God in Latin. In the play, Salieri is presented as a very pious and good man, although that is debatable, he gives to charity and is celibate. However, despite all of these supposed virtues, he can’t compose. Well, in comparison to the child prodigy, Mozart. Salieri sees Mozart as a vile and vulgar man, ruled by base desires and physical pleasures, yet he has this genius musical skill. He sees this skill as God speaking through him. This causes Salieri to turn against God and try to kill Mozart.

What attracted you to this play as an aspiring director?

 In first year a tutor described Amadeus, in particular the film version, as an initiation into the world of classical music, despite the historical inaccuracies.

At the time I wanted to get involved in drama either acting or directing and was trying to think of something to do, so two years ago I was going to direct this play but it turned out the rights weren’t available at the time. So it’s gone from being what would have been the first, to what is going to be my final production in Oxford. 

Do you agree that this play is a good initiation into the world of music?

 It is about music and the experiences it’s possible to have so the historical inaccuracies don’t matter very much. For example, we see the way Salieri responds to music; it’s such an emotional response. He is able to talk about the feelings of heavenliness and the deep longing that music stirs in him. 

Have you adapted the original play or added any personal touches of your own? 

 Well since me and the producer are both music students, we felt that some of the pieces used in play were rather obvious examples, and we have changed quite a lot. In some cases we thought: ‘we don’t want to use this piece, we’d rather use this piece’ and in this way we can pick on we really like and one that’s far more emotional than the original.

Is the actor playing Mozart also a genius musician, if not, did he have to learn the piano?

As it happened, we managed to get round this issue actually quite well. The actor who plays Salieri, Stan, is a music student and a very talented pianist. Chris, the actor playing Mozart, learnt basic conducting and a basic sequence of the notes of the piano for a scene where he hears a certain piece of music then instantly plays it back. However, in one scene, where Salieri and Mozart first meet, one of my favourite scenes in fact, Salieri plays a march and when Mozart hears it, he is very obnoxious about it and wants to change things. Rather than sit at the piano and play how he thinks it should go, he grabs the manuscripts and re-writes it, which is something we know Mozart actually did. He then puts the score in front of Stan, so it’s actually Stan who plays it. This actually works very well, as Salieri finds himself playing a piece of music that he believes to have been influenced by God, who is speaking through Mozart.

How did you find working in the BT studio?

Since the play was originally performed on the enormous Olivier stage at the National Theatre, our production has to be done very differently due to the very small venue. If anyone has seen the film or play, then they’ll be expecting a big spectacle, but our performance is far more intimate. Stan, the actor playing Salieri was also in a play called Not About Heroes, about the war poets Owen and Sasson, which I also directed, and he is very good at narrating a story and communicating with the audience. Something that is very good about our version is that the audience will get very involved in the action, in the BT studio, it will get to the point where Stan can recognise the face of every audience member. We want to bring out the extreme darkness that Salieri’s character reaches in the play, which gets to the point of discomfort.

Finally, give me the best reason why people should come and see this play?

People should come to see our fantastic cast perform. They’re all brilliant and have been such a fun group to work with, despite being difficult to control at times during rehearsals, as they’re so giggly and playful. They often end up doing improv and they’re all hilarious people. But this energy comes out on stage and it’s a small cast doing everything, so you should come and see it for them.

Amadeus is on at the BT studio Tuesday 9th – Saturday 13th February.

Space Odyssey

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Photography: Jasmine Blanshard-Whitton

Hair and Makeup: Brothers Oxford

Creatives: Kim Darrah – Ella Harding – Harry Sampson

Models: Natasha Chick – Sam Joyce – Angelina Eddington

 

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Why you should watch the Super Bowl

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As British people go, I’m a huge American Football fan. I watch a whole hour of the sport per year (and no, I didn’t just Google how long a game was) plus the bits where they all hang out on the pitch and talk for a long, and the adverts, of course.

I’m also a Seahawks fan. I’d like to say it’s because when I visited Seattle a couple of summers back I fell in love with the bracing Washington air and was awestruck by the EMP and the first ever Starbuck’s, but the dark truth is that I’m a glory supporter. My passion for Seattle’s finest stems from the same event that gave me the bug for the sport as a whole: 2014’s Super Bowl aka Super Bowl XLVIII.

The Super Bowl is the height of Western civilisation, if you accept that Western civilisation isn’t really about freedom and tolerance but decadence and conspicuous consumption (of cheese-covered snacks). It’s telling that to my great shame, I nearly chose to support the Denver Broncos because their team came out led by a guy riding a huge white stallion named Thunder onto the pitch (or is it called a field?) whereas the Seahawks just had a stupid flag. They were clearly Winners, to borrow from Donald Trump’s phrasebook. Luckily, as a defensively-minded Chelsea fan I went for the latter of a match-up billed as an unstoppable force facing an immovable object, and wasn’t disappointed as the underdog Seahawks came out on top 43-8.

The only real one-off sporting event to rival the Super Bowl may be the World Cup Final (the Olympics are spread out so they don’t count), but that’s almost so ubiquitous it loses all character that is not specifically sporting. It is truly incredible, but it’s not, well, as weird as the Super Bowl. At the end of the day, if you took the match away, there would be very little left to enjoy at the World Cup. Europe’s closest equivalent, the Champion’s League Final, might offer marginally more to neutrals, because club teams tend to have more distinct characters than national teams. You can watch it and say “I hate Real Madrid because they are the club of the Spanish establishment” or “I like Dortmund because they are the underdogs and play exciting football”. This still requires you to know about football to enjoy it, though. The fact is, if you don’t really like watching sport, then you should watch the Super Bowl.

Black Hawks, Chinooks and Apache helicopters all flew over in time with the last note of the marching band in 2014. Even the man who did the coin toss wore a huge fur coat and looked like Phil Spector. The sight is pure spectacle to us in the old continent of Europe, with our quaint sports like cricket and rugby, our half-time entertainment of pies and sausages, and our tribes of violent young men who fight each other and throw flares. We watched from 5,000 miles away last year as the beautiful, airbrushed Katy Perry danced with giant shark-people and Lenny Kravitz rocked out blistering guitar solos before our disbelieving eyes in between two halves of huge, sculpted giants smashing into each other and pristine young women performing dance routines. We gaped as tens of millions of dollars’ worth of advertising was beamed into our brains, and we shivered slightly as 82,000 people stood in silence for the American national anthem, interspersed with shots of men in uniform watching almost 8,000 miles away in Afghanistan. We ate – consumed – nachos and some of us pretended not to be impressed. And none of us even knew the rules.

High Fives all round for Oxford

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When I tell people I’m off to rugby fives training, the most common reaction is confusion. “Aren’t you quite, like, small to be a rugby player?” No, I explain to them, it’s not named after the sport with an egg-shaped ball, but after Rugby School, where the game was developed in the middle of the nineteenth century, and it’s more like playing squash with your hands. You wear padded gloves on both hands, and aim to hit a hard, bouncy ball around a court roughly the same size and shape as a squash court such that your opponent can’t return it before it bounces twice. It is a sport with a fairly small following, but those who play love it for the fast, intense rallies. It is also unusual among court sports in that it forces you to develop a degree of ambidexterity – players who are much weaker with one hand than the other often struggle to play at a high level. Oxford University Rugby Fives Club is one of the bigger clubs at university level, and with the Varsity match against a strong Cambridge team approaching at the end of Fifth Week, we are training hard in an attempt to avenge last year’s heavy loss.

The rugby fives season runs from September to about March, stopping before the courts get too hot during the summer months. Consequently, OURFvC will start training as soon as the academic year begins, with returning players often organising casual games amongst themselves. Throughout Michaelmas and Hilary, the team trains on court three times a week, and goes for a run as a team on Wednesday mornings. One of the best things about training with the fives team is that the atmosphere is very relaxed. Many players learn to play at school or in local clubs, but coaching is much more informal at adult levels. Instead, first-team players will often supervise matches between less experienced members of the squad, and so the process of improvement is very much peer-driven. We often find ourselves training to the thumping techno that accompanies the rowers’ erg sessions, or emerge from the building to find the Athletics Club in the midst of a brutal sprint session.

All this being said, there is a marked upward shift in intensity at the beginning of Hilary term. Training becomes more of a priority, and players start to push their own cases for the top spots in the Varsity line-up. The most brutal element of training is the Wednesday morning run, which many players opt out of in Michaelmas but drag themselves through in Hilary: sprints up Headington Hill on bitterly cold mornings in January are nobody’s idea of fun.

Matches against clubs and wider tournaments come thick and fast around this time of year, and the season rolls forward to the rhythm of various key fixtures: the National Under-25s Championship, the OURFvC Past v Present fixture (a dress rehearsal for Varsity in all but name, albeit with the benefit of old OURFvC players subsidising a fantastic dinner after the fixture) and then our finale: the Varsity fixture in London, played on the penultimate Saturday in February. Cambridge have been a formidable outfit in recent years, and this year looks like it will be no different – we are trying to stave off a defeat against a squad with at least six players in the world’s top 50. The odds are not in our favour, but we hope that a combination of our hard work in training and a large pinch of luck might give us a shot at a surprise win. Watch this space 

Riding the road to Rio

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When Lizzie Armitstead sees herself described as a world champion, she can’t help but have “a little moment”. Virginia, the scene of her greatest sporting triumph, was a world apart from the roads she grew up cycling on in Otley, her West Yorkshire home. To the British road cyclist, the whole ex- perience still seems “quite surreal”. Yet, whilst she admits that she is hugely “proud of [herself]”, it is the confidence that she is taking into 2016 that is most important. In fact, you would be forgiven for forgetting just how special her year was, such is her focus on the “biggest goal of [her] career,” success in Rio.

Armitstead’s story is an impressive one, with road and track success at virtually every turn. She started cycling at 16, when British Cycling’s Olympic Talent Team visited her school. A year later, she won silver at the Junior World Track Championships. By 2008, she was a two-time Under-23 European Scratch Race Champion and, in 2009, she had her first gold.

It was after her move from track to road that Armitstead really began to excel. She was the first Briton to win a medal at the London Olympics, which she followed up a year later with a British Road Race victory, despite battling a hiatus hernia throughout the season.

Then, in 2014, Armitstead secured her first major gold medal, with victory in the women’s road race at the Commonwealth Games. If that was a significant statement on the road to Rio, her performance last season lay down an even greater gauntlet. A World Cup title, another British National Road Race win and, of course, her World Championship gold medal were the highlights of her most successful year on the bike.

As the cycling world enters its new season, Armitstead is riding as well as ever; she is undoubtedly one of the most dominant forces her sport has ever seen.

For Armitstead, 2016 is the year in which she pursues the gold in Rio that she admits she “thinks about all of the time”. In fact, a place atop the Olympic podium has dominated her thinking from the moment she crossed the line on Pall Mall in second place back in 2012.

Yet, speaking to the Yorkshire-born cyclist, you would never guess the magnitude of the prize she covets. She is calm and focused, refusing to rest on last year’s accolades or cast her mind to the roads of Brazil’s capital prematurely. Her “race programme [in the run-up to Rio] will stay very similar” to the one that brought her so much success in 2015, but they will not follow each other exactly. She will “include some hillier races and take the start of the season a little slower”.

Armitstead is pragmatic, and having been “lucky enough to ride, rather than race” the Olympic course last August, she will be “concentrating on climbing”, aware of just how “brutal” the course will be. The route undoubt- edly favours climbers, with an eight kilometre, eight per cent final climb. Her willingness to adjust her preparations and push her limits shows just how determined Armitstead is, and just how much the end goal means.

However, if Armitstead does win gold this summer, it will not just be her career that has gone from strength to strength. Her sport continues to do well around her. Currently, the world champion road cyclist rides for Boels-Dolmans, an “entirely professional team of full-time riders and support staff”. This set-up is testament to how far her sport has come. In her opinion, “every year it seems to be getting better”, more races are added, the “peloton gets stronger” and, as a result, the racing gets harder. Increasingly, “the depth in talent is more widely spread amongst a tier of top level teams.” In Armitstead’s opinion, “the impact of the Women’s World Tour will be [especially] interesting to see”; the event looks set to heighten the commercial and media interest surrounding women’s cycling, which will only help to fuel an increasingly competitive, increasingly well-supported sport.

When it comes to the future for women’s cycling, she accepts “there is still a long way to go” but, as far as Armitstead is concerned, “there are steps forward” and “the growth in women’s cycling has been [incredibly] impres- sive over the last couple of years.”

Armitstead’s Sports Personality of the Year nomination, which she describes as “a complete shock”, was a mark of just how far she and her sport have come. She was “proud that there were two other cyclists on the list and, obviously, having women’s cycling represented can only be a good thing”.

The much-decorated cyclist may have been overlooked on the night, along with Chris Froome and Sir Dave Brailsford, but it was with pride rather than disappointment that she left Dublin. Yet, whilst December’s SPOTY celebrations were a glamorous culmination to an exceptional year, there was no question of any prolonged festive indulgence.

Last year’s success required an incredible amount of physical and emotional exertion. Gold in the year ahead will require more of the same, but having come so close to the ultimate prize once, Armitstead is in no mood to stop fighting now.

There will be a great deal of pain before she crosses the line in Brazil this summer, but victory in Rio would be the finishing flourish to a glittering roll of honour. 

Review: Constellations

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★★★★☆

Constellations’ complex and compelling narrative transports the audience into the in-the-round of the O’Reilly – where everything and anything is a possibility. Spectacularly structured in its layering and character development, Sammy Glover’s intricate adaptation of this highly acclaimed experimental piece successfully encapsulates the Kundera-esque futility of love whilst simultaneously conserving the audience’s faith. Shanon Hayes’ and Calam Lynch’s performances illuminate what could have easily become a plotline of vacuum darkness, not losing but enchanting the audience in the multiplicity of Payne’s script. Propelled by the faultless design and lighting of Chris Burr, the complexity of acting and the simplicity of the set work in perfect unison to leave an extraordinary impression. The light, sound and design reflect the main dichotomies of the plot yet also serve to tie them together in the concept of the multiverse theory. This theory underpins the play, as different possibilities of each scene are played and replayed. Tying in the personality of both characters as well as the fluidity of time and place, the poignancy and effectiveness of the staging plays a key role in unlocking the meaning of the play. The technical artists of this production are players themselves in refining and elucidating this performance. Most transfixing of all, Hayes’ and Lynch’s constant dynamism is at the core of this piece’s construction. Their performance does not fail to move and inspire, to shock in moments of visceral revelation, to explore the plurality of human nature on several relatable levels. The movement of the actors was particularly effective, commanding the stage with the control and purpose, yet spontaneity, of two sub-atomic particles dancing in the cosmos. The actors incorporate intensity and variety in their depictions of stark humanity. Spanning several cosmic realities, delivered consecutively within minutes of each other, the audience receives a spectrum of emotion presented with depth to rouse the spectator. However, although the recurrence of the theatrical fragments was key to developing the powerful impact of ‘Constellations’, it ­­­was less forgiving of any glimmer of inconsistent acting. The repetition of the script may offer several thought-provoking alternatives to existence, but it also highlights moments where there is a variance in the quality of delivery. When performing a singular line three times, a particular delivery would be more successful than the others in capturing our attention and displaying nuanced expressions of subtle emotion. Unavoidably leading to the distant reminder that these were actors acting. This sometimes jarred the audience’s absorption in the drama of the play, throwing into sharp relief the definition between reality and fiction that was otherwise artistically erased for the most part of the performance. Yet, this criticism can hardly be identified to have largely drawn from the overall excellence of the night. On the contrary, the inconsistency attributed to the establishment of a single certainty amongst the many possible parallels of the multi-verse. Perhaps suggesting that there is only one instant in which the constellations align flawlessly, one perfect reality amongst infinite possibilities, as the divergence of delivery provokes the emotional attachment of the spectator to a specific depiction of events. Oxford’s own ‘Constellations’ completely delivers on all of its promises, being both accessible and profoundly moving. All of this is compounded by the fact that Jeremy Irons gave it a standing ovation, so you can’t really argue with that.