Wednesday, May 14, 2025
Blog Page 117

Tom Hanks speaks at Oxford Union

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Speaking on Friday night before a full chamber at the Oxford Union, Tom Hanks discussed the importance of empathy in acting, his experience working with great directors like Steven Spielberg, and the rise of streaming services. 

Tom Hanks began his speech by conducting an impromptu acting exercise with the audience. He asked the members in the chamber to pronounce the words “is there something I can do for you?” as they would in three different contexts: To an elderly person who had tripped on the street, to someone asking for assistance at the bank, and to a customer they suspected of shoplifting in their store. After running through the three scenarios, Hanks instructed the audience to say “It’s all right, I’m okay,” imagining they were the second person in each of the interactions.

The purpose of the exercise, according to Hanks, was to bring out the different connotations the same line of dialogue can have depending on context and delivery. Hanks told the audience that this ability to tease out nuances in dialogue and to empathise with characters was crucial for good acting and storytelling.

Around this point in the speech, Emma Watson – who recently matriculated as a master’s student at the University – started to leave the chamber from her seat in the front row. Tom Hanks addressed her as she neared the door, telling the audience how much he had enjoyed working with her on their 2017 film “The Circle.” Before leaving, she complimented Hanks in return: “There are very few people you get to work with that are actually as kind as they seem, and Tom is one of them.”

Transitioning to the Q&A portion of the event, Union President Disha Hegde asked the Academy Award-winning actor what he thought of the aphorism “It’s not what you know, it’s who you know.” Hanks said he disagreed with the sentiment and that “no one who is a shitty actor ends up being in a movie just because they know someone who got them the job.” He continued, telling the audience: “If they’re not any good it’s as simple as that.” 

He qualified his position by stating that often a stellar reputation will help with landing roles, but he emphasised that to acquire this reputation, “you have to be great…and you have to have proven yourself.”

Hegde then asked Tom Hanks what it was like working with director Steven Spielberg. Hanks told the audience that sometimes “Steven does all your work for you.” But occasionally, “Steven says ‘guys, you have to be good tonight because I have no idea how I’m gonna shoot this scene.’” 

Hanks stressed that regardless of the filming circumstances, it was essential for actors to be prepared with their lines: “There is no substitute for showing up on time, knowing the task at hand, and having an idea that you yourself came up with.”

On the question of media streaming services and their effect on cinema, Hanks stated: “The only thing that matters and the only thing that ever will matter is the story.

“You just have to tell a story that is so good that people are going to hear about it and want to see it.”

According to Hanks, streaming services like Netflix and Hulu – with their vast array of options and low level of required commitment – introduced so much flexibility in film that they became “a test of how good the story [of a film] is.” 

Hanks then addressed the trope that “there are no good films like The Godfather being made nowadays,” insisting that “there are all kinds of great movies out there. There’s just so much.”

The audience portion of the Q&A began with a Tom Hanks fan asking about the process of writing his short story collection, “Uncommon Type.” Hanks touched on the liberating and challenging aspects of writing before sharing techniques he had begun to use to write more effectively. He told the audience that now whenever he wrote, he set a timer for twenty-five minute intervals to ensure he had sufficiently many breaks.

Another audience member asked Hanks which of his characters’ predicaments he would have least liked to have been in. Apparently unable to decipher the member’s Bristol accent, Hanks asked him to repeat the question several times. Eventually, he turned to the Union President for a translation before playfully mocking the student’s accent.

Hanks then told the audience about the trials and tribulations of Captain Sully, the US Airways pilot who in 2009 successfully landed an Airbus A320 on the Hudson River. He also touched on his meeting with Sully, where the two went over the script for the 2016 film in which Hanks played the eponymous pilot. He told the audience that “compared to [Sully], [he was] a pussy,” which elicited laughter in the chamber.

The final audience question came from a Union ex-president. She informed Hanks that her son worked in the film industry as a score producer before asking Hanks about the importance of music in film. Hanks said that a film’s score carried enormous weight and that “a bad score is the easiest way to ruin a film.” He called film one of the most intricate and complex art forms and emphasised the vast network of artists, actors, musicians, and prop specialists who all must be “at the top of their game” for a film to be successful. 

Hanks finished his address by echoing his remark on the importance of being prepared and working hard: “There is no substitute for showing up on time, knowing the task at hand, and having an idea.”

“Highly enjoyable”: An Enemy of the People Review

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Henrik Ibsen wrote to the publisher of his 1882 play ‘An Enemy of the People’ that ‘I am still uncertain whether I should call it a comedy or a straight drama’. The play’s balance between comic elements and serious themes has posed a perpetual challenge for directors in the 140 years since it was written. But co-directors Eliana Kwok and Valerina Tjandra’s recent production of Ibsen’s individualist outcry has come down decidedly on the side of comedy.

The comic choices are clear from the outset when Mrs Stockmann arrives to provide the characters with three oversized bottles of spirits, which they then pour generous glasses from. The bottles remained on stage and continued to be drunk from for the entirety of the production. This is followed by the ingenious decision to have both Dr Stockmann and his brother, the mayor, use a large presentation stand to reveal their ideas by dramatically flipping the paper. The culmination of this technique, perhaps, is the scene when Dr Stockmann walks in on the Mayor, Hovstad and Alaksen plotting. This provokes the Mayor to then scurry repeatedly round the floor of the room, making desperate attempts to seize a glass of spirits.

All this was very funny and only enhanced by the acting performance given. While there were no standout performances, the supporting characters of Hovstad, Billing and Alaksen delivered their lines with enough melodramatic energy to have the audience chuckling constantly. The pompous formal costumes added to the atmosphere of exaggerated silliness which carried us through a rolling first half. As long as it wasn’t taken too seriously, it was a lot of fun to watch.

However, this strategy began to run out of steam after the interval. It’s at this point in the play, when Dr Stockmann stands before a town meeting, that Ibsen tries to pull his philosophical punches, and the jubilant chaos of the first half had meant it now became very difficult to take anyone seriously. The lines of the various supporting characters were often confused, and the acting felt forced, as if these comic actors suddenly felt out of their element in more serious tones. Even Dr Stockmann’s performance, of central importance to the message of the play, was mumbled and uneven at times. Combine this with an unnecessary interactive voting gimmick where no one, least of all the actors, seemed to know what the plan was, and you had a town meeting where it was hard to tell which farces were deliberate and which were unintentional.

The ending of the play (famously inconclusive) attempted for a more serious tone, and to some extent achieved it. The ruined set, scattered with dropped household items and scraps of recent Cherwell editions which took the place of Dr Stockmann’s papers, provided a somewhat moving background to the emotional segments. In which, a stifled Dr Stockmann tries to assure his family of his affection by kissing the plastic doll which functioned as a newborn son, and asking for their support in return. But even this was broken up by elements of slapstick humour, like when Dr Stockmann chases Hovstad and Alaksen out of his house with his walking stick. After all of this chaos, the play’s final ending was abrupt and unexpected.

‘An Enemy of the People’ is a difficult play to produce. If even Ibsen was uncertain of what he wanted out of it, it’s no surprise that directors find it difficult to take a stance as well. Kwok and Tjandra’s comic angle was highly successful in a first half where the characters’ ridiculous personalities are hard not to make fun of. However, humour can only get you so far. This was by no means a masterpiece – but upon leaving the theatre, I could not deny that it had been a highly enjoyable watch.

Can you revive something that’s long dead?: the Oxford Majlis

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Majlis, مَجلِس: noun; an assembly, convivial meeting, congress, council; of Perso-Arabic origin, derived into Urdu.

The words ‘Oxford Majlis’ have re-entered the collective consciousness of Oxford. The 2023 iteration of the society has made headlines with a controversial invitation to the Russian Ambassador, and makes a tall order by claiming continuity from the original society. 

Majlis has had a myriad of functions over the years, growing from a small association of students from British India in the 19th Century to a political behemoth which fostered generations of anti-imperial activists from South Asia, to a drinking society which was loved for its ball and not much else. Even its name has been fluid, while the society was founded as ‘the Oxford Majlis’, over the years it was known as ‘the Oxford Indian Society’, ‘the Majlis Asian Society’, and, quite simply, ‘Majlis’.

Oxford’s Majlis began in 1896 as a society of students originating from what was then India, now the countries of India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh. The Majlis followed the model of the Cambridge Majlis – which was founded five years prior – as a social and political society and held debates which followed the format of the Union. Over its early history, the Majlis snowballed in importance, becoming a crucial intellectual engine of the independence movement. The society counted among its members Liaquat Ali Khan, Solomon Bandaranaike, and Indira Gandhi, who respectively went on to become prime ministers of Pakistan, Sri Lanka, and India.

The earliest iteration of Majlis was therefore radical and distinctly Subcontinental. The Majlis, as a broadly left-wing, anti-imperialist platform was inherently on the wrong side of British foreign policy and was often targeted by the apparatus of the British State. Nonetheless, the Majlis itself welcomed a diversity of speakers, from prominent Indian nationalists, including Gandhi and Tagore, to a former Viceroy of India, Lord Chelmsford. In the early ‘20s, Majlis members debated Lord Chelmsford over whether his own measures as Viceroy – which included the unpopular imposition of martial law in Punjab in a bid to quash violent protest against British rule, leading to the Jallianwala Bagh Massacre – had been “necessary and successful”.

After the independence and partition of India and Pakistan in 1947, the role of Majlis shifted. Kamal Hossain, who would go on to draft the constitution for Bangladesh after its independence, writes in his autobiography that the 50s marked a change in tack for Majlis: “Much of Asia and most of Africa were still fighting for independence. Liberation wars were still being fought in Indo-China and Algeria, and the cause of national independence concerned us all.”

The Majlis in this period expanded beyond its Subcontinental roots rather than looking inwards. In a way, this expansion of focus was crucial to the Oxford Majlis’ continued survival. By comparison, the Cambridge Majlis ceased to exist because of the tensions stoked among South Asian students at the time of the Bangladesh Liberation War of 1971.

By the time of the 80s, Oxford’s Majlis had lost its revolutionary political momentum: much of the global South had been ostensibly freed from the shackles of the imperialist hand, and Oxford itself was no longer the intellectual centre of a sprawling Empire. Majlis became again a particularly South Asian student society.

I spoke to Daljit Singh Makan, who was co-President of the Majlis in 1987, about the state of the society in the mid-80s. Daljit tells me that “by 1985, the society had dwindled to a membership of 20 to 30 people, who were mostly international students from the Subcontinent”. He speaks of a “huge revival” sparked in the years preceding and following his presidency, which saw Majlis’ membership jump to around 300, and established Majlis as a space which welcomed South Asians from across national and religious divides.

The archival records of this period paint much the same story. While information on the Majlis is hard to find from the other periods, the mid-80s offer a goldmine of material. Majlis’ term-card from 1988 is packed with debates, speaker events, cultural performances (Daljit tells me that among these was the first ever bhangra event at Oxford). The term-card also features advertisements from Oxford curry-houses, including one from the legendary Jamal’s. A one-off ‘Majlis Magazine’, published in 1986, records the history of the society as well as providing the transcripts of lectures which had been given at the Majlis in that year. There was clearly a deep interest in what Majlis once was alongside what it might become.

Daljit closes by mentioning that “our revival of Majlis didn’t alter its original raison d’être: we were a hub of inclusivity, welcoming members from all over the Subcontinent, and the world”. I ask him what he thinks of the Majlis as it is being revived this term, with its expanded purview and controversial leanings: his response is one of disappointment.

Crucial to the success of the revived Majlis in the 80s appears to be that it was the only South Asian student society in Oxford. As the years progressed, other South Asian-centric societies sprang up, and in turn encroached upon what had once been the sole remit of Majlis. By the late 00s Majlis had devolved into a mostly social society, which hosted an annual charity ball and little else.

Speaking to Dr. Priya Atwal, now a fellow of the Faculty of History, about her experience of the Majlis, she recalls “being very surprised to learn during [her] undergraduate course about the vibrant political role that the Majlis had once played as a debating society for South Asian students under the British Raj. It was a far cry from the much more muted and purely sociable activities that the society organised during my student years.”

As a result, by 2016, the Oxford Majlis had all but died. The society, without a sense of purpose, held events more infrequently, and the political forum which Majlis had once offered was no more.

It is worth mentioning that the saturation of South Asian societies (which had a large part in killing off Majlis) continues and is unlikely to ever go away. There are numerous societies made up of South Asians now, with national societies (namely, India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka societies) as well as the Punjab and Tamil societies. When we add to the mix the faith-based Islamic, Hindu, and Sikh Societies, and even the cultural South Asian Arts Society, OxBolly, and Bhangra Society, there is little room left to go. Given this saturation, it is no wonder that this year’s conception of the society has turned to an extremely broad interpretation of who Majlis is for.

That too, there is already a society which offers the political space that Majlis once did: the South Asian Society. Formed in 2018, the society hosts the panels, debates, and socials that were the hallmark of Majlis. Sameer Bhat, a DPhil candidate who has been part of the South Asian Society since its inception, tells me that it was founded as a policy forum among students at the Blavatnik School of Government, and has since grown into a platform for “meaningful, critical, and progressive engagement with the politics of South Asia”.

Bhat goes on to say that the role of the South Asian Society, in his view, is to “bring the national societies together”. I ask him if, in terms of this transnational and political focus, he sees the South Asian Society as continuing the work of Majlis: “factually yes, but without consciously trying to do so”, he tells me.

While Majlis was no longer active in the late 2010s, its legacy was (and continues to be) potent. An attempt in 2018 by the Oxford India Society to absorb the Majlis Society was rebuked by the re-foundation of Majlis as an independent society. Ali Arsalan Pasha, who was Treasurer of this Majlis, spoke to me about the vision and circumstances which accompanied this attempt at revival. Ali tells me that “Majlis, then, was still part of the popular consciousness of Oxford students, albeit peripherally.”

The revival began with a debate – the first Majlis debate to have taken place in twenty years by that time – with the motion: “This House Believes that India is becoming a Hindu Pakistan”. The focus, therefore, was political, and arose from a core desire which appears to define the Majlis: that the society aimed to be a place for people who cared about what was going on “back home”. I ask Ali what his thoughts are on the vision of this year’s revived Majlis, he replies: “it seems too broad, it’s trying to do too much. At some point it becomes an Oxford Union 2.0.”

After a couple of terms packed with debates, panels, and socials, the 2019 Majlis fell into inactivity once again. Plagued by the curse of ‘the student society’ – for one can only be an undergraduate for three years or so – there was a failure to pass on the baton after the academic year ended.

Coincidentally in 2019, Cambridge Majlis too was revived, the result being decidedly more permanent. The current president of Cambridge Majlis, Ananya Jain told me about how Majlis at the other place continues to run today. Ananya tells me that the Majlis was re-founded as an alternative to the national student societies: “the point of Majlis was to be explicitly political and informative, appealing to those who hail from what was ‘India’ [broadly South Asia] at Majlis’ original foundation”.

The Cambridge Majlis maintains free membership, charging no entry fee for its events, which include speaker events, panels, socials, and debates. As a result, Ananya tells me that it has spawned a “tight-knit community, which, as it continues to grow and find its place in the landscape of student societies, has gone from being less of a Union-style debate platform to a group of people motivated by grassroots politics.”

Finally, I ask Ananya what her thoughts are on the 2023 Oxford Majlis’ activities. Aside from confusion at the Russian Ambassador episode (a recurring theme among everyone I spoke to), Ananya expressed some relief at the Majlis’ decision to platform Husam Zomlot, Head of the Palestinian Mission to the UK: “that, if nothing else, is true to the tenets of what Majlis was.”

So, where does the Majlis of Michaelmas Term 2023 stand? 

Quite simply, there is no licence or badge or mantle which entitles anyone to describe their society as the Oxford Majlis (c. 1896). That the Majlis was hardly ever registered with the University’s Proctors throughout its hundred-year history makes it impossible to claim any sort of ‘official’ continuity. Although the 2023 Majlis does claim the original Majlis’ founding date as its own on its Instagram handle. Nonetheless, any ‘revival’ must be scrutinised within the frame of what Majlis was, and whether this aligns at all with what that revival is trying to be. Therefore, let us take what is before us: The Oxford Majlis (c. MT23) sets out an expansive, if convoluted vision, defining Majlis as “a hub of eastern culture, spirituality, and thought”, and envisaging the society’s objectives “to host eminent speakers, live performances, art exhibitions and political rallies”. 

It is to the expanded purview of the post-Independence era that the Majlis of 2023 attempts to stake its claim. I ask Ibrahim Chaudry, a founder of the 2023 Majlis, whether envisioning Majlis as “a hub of eastern[ness]” truly captures this, whether there is any merit in explicitly grouping together such diverse identities and realities under one ‘eastern’ banner. In response, he paints for me a vivid image of people from across the global South congregating under the banner of Majlis, conversing over matters of literature, politics, religion: “I imagine a Nigerian clad in an agbada, an Uzbek wearing a kaftan, and a Pakistani in salwaar-kameez, all sat together as equals.” A truly transnational aim, yet this fails to quell my reservations about romanticising a monolithic orient. 

As the on-campus activities of students become increasingly subject to the scrutiny of outsider and political figures, the new Oxford Majlis will find itself in a tight knot. The Higher Education (Freedom of Speech) Act of 2023 has made the practice of inviting (and disinviting) guest speakers a perilous one. This new Majlis will, inevitably, struggle with the reluctance of colleges to host guest speaker events in this climate. While this Majlis believes that it will become so much more than a stop on the speaker circuit, it is worth noting that the majority of its advertised events so far are just that.

I ask Ibrahim what his views on the speaker events are, whether inviting the Russian Ambassador and a former Editor of The Independent really align with the goals of the historic Majlis. He tells me that the way of the 2023 Majlis will not be a familiar one, putting forth that speakers will be invited not to parrot a pre-written script, but will instead be confronted by students armed with, for example, a verse of poetry. Ibrahim supposes that these discussions will spiral outwards into conversations about more pressing issues. Ibrahim is adamant that the event will be open to, and most certainly attended by fierce critics of Russian state policy, for whom the event will provide the platform to say their piece before the Ambassador. 

But is such a conception appropriate when one is dealing with a figure such as Andrey Kelin, who has spread disinformation about the Russian massacre of Ukrainian civilians in Bucha, and who, in any case, treads the Russian policy line carefully? A plan to have the event filmed by Russian state television, which has now been scrapped, only added to this scrutiny as students from Russia and of Russian origin would, doubtlessly, have been dissuaded from attending an event monitored by state channels. 

I get the impression that the founders of the 2023 Majlis have thought a lot about its legacy; it is difficult to trace that legacy through many of its present actions. Most of the people I spoke to while writing this article at first expressed their delight to hear of another attempt at Majlis’ revival, although this delight often fell tepid when they realised this new Majlis’ penchant for controversy. To that effect, the question must be posed: is it better to let Majlis die off completely than to have an iteration which risks tarnishing its legacy in years to come?

This article would not have been possible without the generous contributions of Prof Sudhir Anand, Dr Priya Atwal, Sameer Bhat, Prof Amit Chaudhuri, Ananya Jain, Daljit Singh Makan, and Ali Arsalan Pasha.

A Goodbye to Australia’s Golden Generation

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Near the start of the Ashes in England, ESPNCricinfo published a graphic asking viewers to compare the 2023 team to the legendary 2005 team, the original ‘golden generation’, the greatest Australian team there ever was. Of course, most people chose the 2005 team. But that the comparison can be suggested at all speaks volumes about the quality, experience, and grit of the 2023 team. It is a testament to the strength of today’s team that Pat Cummins and Steve Smith can stand toe-to-toe with all-time greats like Glenn McGrath and Ricky Ponting. For this second golden generation, with their long and storied careers that now draw to an end together, 2023 has been a year that they can look back fondly upon as a satisfying capstone achievement.

Australia have made three major achievements in 2023. First, they won the World Test Championship, beating India in the final at Lord’s. Second, they retained the Ashes, playing against a revamped, Bazballing England in England. Third, and the greatest achievement, they defeated India- in India- to win the World Cup. But within this larger, team story, are so many smaller stories of the individual players. This is truly a second golden generation, and the stories of much of this generation are drawing to a close. In their stories, 2023 will be remembered as their swan song.

The truest, sweetest swan song will be for Usman Khawaja. Khawaja is the runt of the litter, having spent over half a decade shuffling in and out of the Test team, never truly having found his feet. He spent two years out after the 2019 Ashes, and admits he gave up on ever coming back. But return he did, and remade himself into the best opening batsman in the world in his career’s dying moments. At 36, he has made himself a legacy he can be unqualifiedly proud of. In the Ashes, he ended up with a match-winning century in the first Test, and ended the series as the highest run-scorer. 

The very first to retire has already announced his plans, leaving at the end of this Aussie summer. David Warner’s departure will probably be welcomed by many, given his poor performances in recent years. But the 37-year-old’s contribution to Australia’s batting over the years is incalculable. For well over a decade, he has been the best red-ball batsman after Steve Smith, and the best white-ball batsman too. He showed his white-ball talent in this World Cup too, slamming two magnificent hundreds and becoming Australia’s top scorer. His retirement heralds the rest of his generation.

And probably closest to following him will be Steve Smith. Smith is, in my opinion, the true heir to the title of the ‘best since Bradman’. It is a testament to his quality that I consider his Test summer in England pretty average despite having scored two centuries in six Tests. He is 34 and his unremarkable 2023 hides the fact that he has been Australia’s premier batsman for over a decade, and when he retires, he will be universally acknowledged as the greatest Test batsman of the last 80 years.

Rounding out this set of batters is Glenn Maxwell. The 35-year-old made a name for himself by playing aggressively and recklessly, and this World Cup was most clearly Maxwell’s World Cup. In a group stage match against the Netherlands, he smoked the fastest 100 in a World Cup, off just 40 balls. In another match against Afghanistan, he produced a scarcely believable innings, dragging his team single handedly from near-collapse at 91/7 to victory at 292/7. His innings of 201* is, in my opinion, the greatest ODI innings ever played. It is the only double hundred to be ever scored in a chase. In the middle of his innings, he began cramping and spasming from the heat and humidity, and fell to the ground, twitching in pain. He could barely walk, yet he told the physio he would battle on. And in doing so, he produced an innings of sheer will, forcing himself to hit sixes and fours on one leg, hobbling for runs where he could get them, and beating his body into submission. His 2023 is the year that has put him firmly in the history books as Australia’s greatest ever finisher. 

Although Australia are famed for their fearful fast bowling, Nathan Lyon has been tiring away at bowling spin for the last thirteen years. For any Test spinner from Australia, comparisons with the great Shane Warne are inevitable, and everyone is expected to perform at his unattainable standard. Lyon is not like Warne. Lyon doesn’t turn the ball as much, he doesn’t produce the same pressure from an end, he doesn’t conjure up the magic of Warne. But he’s been consistent and dependable, amassing nearly 500 wickets over 100 consecutive Tests. He’s done the dirty work, and bowled the hard overs as spinners are expected, making the needed breakthroughs. Lyon is now 36, and he can look back at his 2023 Ashes as the finality of a great career, ably holding his own in the vacuum that Warne left behind.

Mitchell Starc is fast bowling personified. He saunters in his run-up, loads up like a shotgun, and releases the ball in one smooth, elegant motion, sending a ball that careens into the stumps with all the pace and grace that only the truest fast bowlers can summon. Starc’s consistent performances in the Ashes earnt him Man of the Series for his 23 wickets, and although he didn’t replicate his legendary 2015 or 2019 performances at the World Cup, he performed well enough. Starc is now 33, and given the shorter shelf-life of fast bowlers, doesn’t have long left. He will be missed by all, who will remember him as Australia’s greatest ever white-ball bowler. 

Of Australia’s fast bowling trio, Josh Hazlewood stands out as the truest all-format talent. He is the archetypal metronomic bowler, banging in the ball on the same spot ball after ball, over after over. His contributions are not flashy, and he will never have the highlight reel of a Starc. But he bowls the hard yards, breaks the back of the opposing batsmen, and provides the crucial groundwork that makes this trio work. He was in and out of injury recovery since 2021, but made himself available just in time for the 2023 season. Without this final effort from the 32-year-old, Australia may not have made it to where they are now.

Starc’s Test counterpart is captain Pat Cummins. Cummins is the pace prodigy, the perfect bowler, the red-ball equal to the great Glenn McGrath. Where Starc is a shotgun, Cummins is a sniper. Cummins is also the youngest of this golden generation, at just 30. Unlike the rest of this generation, he still has some career ahead of him. His story hasn’t yet ended; he’s the bridge between the golden generation and the younger boys. Yet Cummins can still be proud of this year, a year where he’s led his team to winning a World Test Championship, retaining the Ashes, and winning a World Cup. Cummins has proven himself to be an all-time great for Australia, not just as a bowler, but also as a captain. 

This golden generation, four batsmen and four bowlers, represents the highest heights that Australia cricket has seen since the 2007 World Cup. 2023 is the year that they have all chosen to put themselves in the history books, and cement themselves as Aussie greats. Their heroic efforts and never-say-die attitude are what have produced a memorable 2023 for Australia, and a year where they will be remembered as champions of the world.

Unveiling the Suburban Secrets of Desperate Housewives 

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If I were to select only one show on repeat for the rest of my life, there’s no doubt it would be Desperate Housewives. Those who know me understand my absolute obsession with this series. This choice isn’t merely hypothetical; my reality is shaped by a perpetual rewatch of its eight seasons. However, when I express my fervour for the show to others, confusion often ensues. “But isn’t that a reality show?” They ask with raised eyebrows. People frequently mistake Desperate Housewives for the Real Housewives reality TV shows. While the confusion is somewhat understandable, given that the Real Housewives franchise drew inspiration from the former’s success, it’s a complete misrepresentation of the captivating drama that unfolds in the hit early 2000’s mystery show, a series I’ll continue to rave about indefinitely.

Created by Marc Cherry in 2004 and spanning eight seasons until 2012, Desperate Housewives is a comedy-drama that delves into the lives of four suburban housewives residing on the fictional Wisteria Lane after the suicide of Mary-Alice Young. Each harbouring their own secrets, the housewives discover the myriad of deceptive secrets that Mary-Alice left leading up to her death. Every season introduces a new family to the lane, bringing with them a mysterious secret that slowly unravels, ensuring a continuous supply of drama with an expansive cast. No one on Wisteria Lane is immune to the harsh realities that shatter the illusion of the perfect suburban family. 

The ensemble includes the “perfect” domestic housewife Bree Van De Kamp (Marcia Cross), desperate to salvage her marriage with a cheating husband; the ambitious businesswoman Lynette Scavo (Felicity Huffman), eager to re-enter the workforce after years as a stay-at-home mum of four; the former supermodel Gabrielle Solis (Eva Longoria), struggling to adapt to a quiet suburban life; and single, klutzy Susan Mayer (Teri Hatcher), yearning for love. “Desperate” perfectly describes these women, who employ any means necessary to achieve their desires, often leading to conflicts, deception, and fractured relationships (although the show definitely puts every character through the wringer at some point). Packed with scandals, murder, and sex, each episode offers a binge-worthy experience.

Beyond its surface entertainment, Desperate Housewives courageously tackles weighty topics, including alcoholism, suicide, and cancer, approaching them with a maturity that fosters honest conversations about the challenges women face. The show, with its predominantly female cast, places the voices of wives and mothers at the forefront, making it a pivotal force in representing this demographic. Noteworthy performances by Felicity Huffman and Marcia Cross have earned accolades, including nominations and wins at the SAG-Awards and the Golden Globes. The show is also progressive regarding gay relationships, as Marc Cherry cites his own family as inspiration for the Van De Kamps, who eventually come to terms with their son’s sexuality.

Despite its juicy drama and heart-wrenching moments, Desperate Housewives is undeniably a product of its time, with positive and negative aspects. The show, a reflection of the early 2000’s, insensitively engages in harmful societal issues such as pervasive fat-shaming, problematic storylines involving human trafficking, police brutality, and a demonising stance on abortion (allegedly due to restrictions enforced by the ABC channel). On the (somewhat) bright side, though, Felicity Huffman’s infamous 2019 college admissions scandal certainly would have fit within the world of Desperate Housewives.

While some storylines haven’t aged well, the series continues to captivate audiences, boasting a dedicated fanbase that remains active on platforms like Reddit, where controversies are often debated. Streaming services such as Disney+ have also introduced new audiences to the shocking mysteries of Wisteria Lane. 

Although the show has its share of bizarre and poorly aged moments, Desperate Housewives has left an indelible mark on many hearts, both during its original run and now, in the era of streaming. The series’ enduring popularity is evident in the number of fans who still share their favourite moments and characters. If you’re in search of scandalous yet lighthearted comedy interwoven with frantic melodrama, akin to shows like Pretty Little Liars or Grey’s Anatomy, then Desperate Housewives is the perfect choice for you. 

Katie Hopkins speaks at Oxford Union in veganism debate

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On Thursday night, the Oxford Union voted in favour of the motion “This House Would Go Vegan.” The final count had 112 members voting for the motion and 84 members voting against. Katie Hopkins, whose invitation to the Union has been quite controversial, spoke against the motion, stating “every vegan I know hates themselves.”

Speaking in favour of the motion were Joey Carbstrong, an animal rights activist with over 300 million total Youtube views; Dr. Chidi Ngwaba, a physician specialising in lifestyle medicine and wellness; and Dr. Sailesh Rao, the founder and executive director of Climate Healers. The Oxford Union President Disha Hegde also spoke for the motion.

Opposing the motion were media personality Katie Hopkins and Dr. David Rose, the head of the “Change in Agriculture” research group.  Lincoln college student Manon Hammond and Union President-Elect Hannah Edwards also spoke against the motion.

Katie Hopkins’ invitation to the Union has proved to be the source of much controversy, eliciting condemnations earlier this week from the Oxford SU. A statement released on various SU social media justified the condemnation by stating that Katie Hopkins has propagated divisive rhetoric by “denigrating Islam, blaming crime on multiculturalism, and expressing discriminatory views against various ethnic and social groups.”

Union President Disha Hegde began the case for the proposition by informing the audience that she has been vegan for four years and vegetarian for eight. She argued from personal experience that becoming fully vegan was not “an overnight process” and that voting for the motion did not require already being vegan or being willing to go vegan immediately after the debate. Rather, it simply required a commitment to embarking on the “journey” of veganism.

She stated that the three prongs of the proposition’s case would be “environmentalism, health, and ethics.” 

Throughout her introduction, Hegde referenced previous comments made by opposition speaker Katie Hopkins. She cited Hopkins’ declaration from her past Union appearance: “Short people and vegans. Two things I can’t stand. They must never run this Oxford Union.” Union President Hegde then told the audience that this had been “the perfect sound bite” for her campaign last Hilary Term.

She also addressed Hopkins while rebutting arguments against veganism that invoke animal “unintelligence,” stating: “There are lots of unintelligent humans. But you wouldn’t want to go around eating Piers Morgan or Katie Hopkins.”

President-Elect Hannah Edwards opened the case for the opposition on a light-hearted note, declaring: “There is a spectre haunting Europe. Oat milk lattés.” She continued, telling the audience that people generally do not like vegans and that the House should accordingly vote in opposition. After all: “Being a social pariah is not something this House should subject itself to.”

On the question of ecological damage, she said that she had no environmental expertise but that she nevertheless believed the environmental case for veganism to be overly simplistic. 

The President-Elect closed her speech by urging the audience to think carefully about how it would vote, given the binding effect it might have on future Union policy. If the motion passed, President-Elect Edwards said she “may have to ban Prêt coffees from the building.” 

Continuing the case for the proposition, Dr. Sailesh Rao defined veganism as the philosophy that “seeks to exclude as far as is possible all exploitation of animals.” He echoed the threefold case mentioned in President Hegde’s introduction but stated that his focus would be the environmental case for veganism.

Dr. Rao spoke of the “imminent danger of runaway climate change” and said that meat consumption was a leading cause of ecological destruction. He discussed the inefficiency of meat agriculture, which he said leads farmers to destroy forests only to replace them with grass, drastically decreasing biodiversity. He also claimed that some animals “must eat 39 pounds of plants to produce one pound of meat for humans.”

Dr. David Rose began his speech for the opposition by stating that he “want[ed] to interrogate a little bit more some of the climate points that are made on the vegan side of the debate.” He cited research which purportedly demonstrated that “we don’t actually need to lower meat consumption to stabilise global temperatures.” Throughout his speech, Rose called for more nuance on the environmental side of the debate.

At one point during the debate—when Rose was discussing nutritional discrepancies between cow’s milk and its substitutes—an audience member raised a point of information about alternative sources of nutrition. Before the audience member could finish formulating his question, however, Katie Hopkins interrupted to say: “The point was made by a short person so you don’t need to listen to him.”

The third proposition speaker, Dr. Chidi Ngwaba, focused on the second prong of the “environmentalism, health, ethics” triad. He cited a large survey conducted in China that showed meat and dairy consumption was positively correlated with risk of developing cancer. He told the audience that eating meat was unhealthy and that our bodies instead appear “perfectly designed” to consume fresh fruits and vegetables.

Lincoln third-year Manon Hammond emphasised the impracticality of going vegan, stressing the serious demands a restricted diet makes on people who might not have time to plan their meals. She also spoke of the ostracism she might face if she opted for a vegan diet. Manon told the audience that if she became vegan, it was not impossible that she would be “kicked out of her house.”

She addressed the moral question, dividing it into sub-questions concerning animals, humans, and the environment. According to Manon, on all three counts veganism was not the correct dietary choice.

She was forthright about her dislike of vegan options, claiming that they simply taste bad. Monon declared that eating meat was a “pleasure in [her] life [she was] not willing to give up.”

The final speaker for the proposition, Joey Carbstrong, focused exclusively on moral questions, arguing that “animals pay the ultimate price” when humans choose to eat meat. Throughout his speech, he compared our treatment of animals to atrocities and repeatedly used the phrase “the animal holocaust.”

He claimed that “speciesism” has pernicious consequences and cited Theodor Adorno’s remark that “Auschwitz begins wherever someone looks at a slaughterhouse and thinks: they’re only animals.” Carbstrong concluded his speech by telling that audience that it would eventually look back on crimes against animals the way we look back on “slavery, apartheid, and the holocaust.”

Katie Hopkins spoke last in the debate. She began by attacking the final proposition speaker – whom she called “Mr. Holocaust” – for his reporting on animal slaughterhouses: “That’s what vegan people call a hobby… That’s the way he chooses to spend his time, watching animals suffer.”

Her speech was replete with personal attacks against vegans. She claimed that: “Every vegan I know hates themselves” and “death is what happens to you when you’re vegan.” She addressed the vegans at the event, saying “I love you and encourage you to sit together with your miserable little friends who are all short.” 

This was not the only time she mentioned the issue of stature. After claiming that veganism was “a biological deadend” and that men who didn’t eat meat had lower testosterone levels, she declared: “what I need is a massive meat-eating man… with a massive cock.”

There were multiple back-and-forth spats with members of the audience throughout Hopkins’ address, which often elicited a great deal of laughter in the chamber.

Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me: The kiss in art

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I think I have always wondered how the first kiss came about. A quick Google search produces a very provisional 2500BC as an answer but there’s something terribly factual and unsatisfying about that – I want to understand what happened just moments before. The first kiss must’ve been so confusing and exciting. It’s no wonder the action has been repeated billions of times since, in moments of tenderness, passion, anger, and frenzy. Kisses convey emotion and attachment in a way that transcends the spoken language, and appeals rather to an innate human understanding of love and relationships.

Art has met this in many ways. Marina Abramović and Ulay’s 1977 performance piece Breathing In / Breathing Out involved the two artists blocking their noises with cigarette filters and pressing their mouths together until they both passed out nineteen minutes later. Neither could inhale anything but what the other had already exhaled. Abramović’s performance art is known for testing the limits of the human body, but this work with Ulay particularly highlights the convergence of bodies – the co-ordination of positioning, movement, and something so singular and ritual as breathing. During the performance there were microphones taped to their bodies, and the unified frenzied fight for breath shows the merging of physical function and identity that takes place during a kiss. It is a moment in which individuals are quite literally inseparable – their desires, vulnerabilities, and affections briefly intersect and become one. It leaves one wondering what sort of passion and blind confusion could lead to such an irrational action.

Sculpture captures this in a most interesting way. Most evident is Rodin’s The Kiss / Le Basier. Sculpture at its best possesses an innate ability to capture physical situations like theatre. The Kiss feels so universal in its scope – bodies contorted in want litter our past and Rodin’s work embodies all of this. The couple depicted are Paolo Malatesta and Francesca da Rimini, who are featured in Dante’s Inferno. Their kiss is the product of their passion when reading the story of Lancelot and Guinevere together. Rodin produced three full scale versions in his lifetime. All of this creates an idea that the marble Kiss feels almost as if it exists out of time and space. It feels as if it could exist anywhere – the marble is Grecian in character, the pose. The pose is reminiscent of Breathing In / Breathing Out, but the fusion of the marble mouths gives the piece a static quality, and a sort of poetic permanence. Also notable is Rodin’s approach to sculpting women – rather than portraying them as passive recipients of passion, he depicts them as active participants, ‘full partners in ardour’.

In the realm of painting, Klimt’s The Kiss is the most obvious point of discussion. Toulouse-Lautrec’s work The Bed, The Kiss / Au Lit, Le Basier, however, is more subtle and casual in its portrayal of intimacy – the women in the painting are wrapped in a soft embrace and kissing gently. The tight composition stresses the privacy of the setting, as well as the centrality of the figures to the heart of the painting. Softs reds and yellows flesh out the figures, giving them life and warmth. The brushstrokes are loose and tender, practically kissing the canvas and making the moment all the more intimate. Toulouse-Lautrec could’ve quite easily sensationalised it and been celebrated, but instead focuses on depicting it as-is – an act of everyday, mundane intimacy.

A window to the soul

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“A window to the soul”
I would fix my gaze upon its shutters
Pale, dusty blue-green
Tarnished edges
An irritating creak
They’re faulty,
Letting unwanted light stream in
Blinding me,
Or they snap close, abruptly
Bathing me in silky darkness
A frantic tug at their strings
A frenzy of grasping fists
Looking for a way in
Beyond invitation
Pressing their faces to the glass panes
Contorted expressions,
Of pain, of pleasure,
Disgust, hope, longing, lust, wanting…
Waiting impatiently
Tapping to crack the fragile glass
Closed eyes
Away from the pain
Pressing fingers into my skull
I’ll curl up in the darkness
Let the shutters open again once more
Later,
Leave me here for now
Just don’t let it consume me yet.

Are We Running Out Of Heroes?

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It’s hard to know exactly when the concept of the action-cum-superhero movie started spinning out of control. I’m not sure if I’d place it in 2015 with the release of Ant-Man, or perhaps the release of Ant-Man and the Wasp in 2018, but it certainly seems to have happened before the premiere of Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania in 2023. I’d say it was probably sometime between the release of the first and the eleventh of the Fast and Furious films, but definitely not recently enough to warrant consideration of the hair-brained Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem

Maybe it’s a me-problem. Maybe I just don’t care for big-budget action films, about things that don’t exist and powers which defy the laws of physics. I realise that for many, growing up watching Disney films (other franchises are available) was a right of passage, but for me, it was primarily Top Gear (the May-Clarkson-Hammond era, obviously) and secondly, like most PPE students, The Thick of It. I always enjoy a sense of realism. There’s something wondrous about seeing three relatively normal blokes – antiheroes perhaps – messing about and achieving amazing goals, seeing some incredible places along the way. But often, that sense of realism leads one to ask the inevitable question: ‘I can imagine there’s some truth to this, I wonder how much?’ I suppose that many great ideas have escapist elements to them. But some seem too over-the-top, unrealistic and formulaic to the point where we come to the end having learned nothing. 

It could be cynicism, but it feels like a running trend. How do you churn out so many films based around the same premises? It’s easy to understand why. If it makes a net profit then it’s a win. Perhaps the first one was popular, and the time has come to ride that wave of success into a sequel, and then a prequel, all the way into Fishman 14: Playing Cod – A Battering from Trouter Space. 

So, why can’t people come up with an idea, see it through, and then know when to stop? The ending of the original Italian Job in 1969 was so brilliant, a classic, to a large extent because: that was it! No more. Finished. Done. (Spoiler alert:) The literal cliffhanger invites viewers to speculate, to ask to no avail ‘But what happened next?!’. Making a follow-up to that, a true follow-on sequel would have fundamentally changed it. To know exactly when to stop and to leave the story as it is – I think that’s part of what makes a great work. 

Often sequels, particularly those which are made to fit post-production of the first or ‘added on’ to the existing work, can leave people asking the question: ‘Why?’. If it was never part of the plan to make one, and it wasn’t necessary for any reason to do with the value of the work, then it begins to look like the purpose is solely to generate revenue, and the knowledge of this surely has to count against the creative value of the project. When people other than those who originally generated the idea add to a work, I regard the project as fan fiction. There is something valuable about the intentions of the original creator even if they don’t absolutely and solely define the work. 

In 1926, Buster Keaton’s The General was released. He later said of it in 1963: “I was more proud of that picture than any I ever made.” He believed that he’d put so much effort into it, taking pride in telling the story in detail with a rich historical understanding that brought it into, perhaps, the same domain of realism I spoke of earlier. The protagonist is certainly another unconventional, imperfect hero. The story wasn’t so simple or straightforward. The film wasn’t successful, either monetarily or in terms of its acclaim, but is now widely regarded as a classic, and it’s still famous for containing the most expensive single scene in silent film history: a train wreck over a wooden bridge above the Row River, Cottage Grove which, at the time, set the production back $42,000, or today around $600,000. In a way, this demonstrates two points. Firstly, money won’t necessarily bring immediate success with it, but more importantly, when risks are taken, looking back in the long run we might eventually find ourselves appreciating them all the more. In this case, the risk was to a large extent financial, but it doesn’t have to be, it could rather be woven into the narrative. 

History, I think, rewards those who choose to throw everything at their creative endeavours, to do it their way rather than to replicate what is popular from a sort of metaphorical ‘formula-book’. It fascinates me when people create, not for the acclaim or the gain now, but to know that what has been achieved is exactly what it was intended to be, regardless of whether it becomes popular or not. 

Why aren’t there more people who are willing to create something that they genuinely care about for the sake of their enjoyment? I suspect it’s a combination of factors. Money, for one. Why take risks when you can copy something else, but make it slightly different, such that it draws a crowd and gives people what they appear to want? Secondly, a lot of people already invested in the industry depend on it for their livelihoods, so it’s perhaps understandable that those involved would want to follow a risk-averse strategy. But finally, and here’s the big one, I blame the cult of celebrity. 

There are two obvious ways to send a message via the medium of film, subtly and overtly. We’re forgetting the benefits of bringing ideas to people, not by lecturing them, but by creating the grounds by which an intellectual journey may start. It’s the difference between telling people what to think and giving them some ideas to ponder over. I got this latter sense, for instance, when I watched Ingmar Bergman’s Wild Strawberries, which tells the story of a doctor who, during a journey by car on his way to an honours ceremony being held in recognition of his services to medicine, finds himself having immersive dreams about his past. 

There’s nothing subtle about ‘celebrity’. From court cases devouring public attention through the medium of newspapers and clickbait, to insider interviews and gossip about A-listers, celebrity pays, big time, and because of that, the media coverage doesn’t have to be about anything positive, in fact, negative stories seem to arise all of the time precisely because they grab public attention. So getting good coverage doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re doing anything right, it just means you’re pulling the ropes to redirect the spotlight onto your own career. As long as celebrities fit a certain sort of expectation, as long as they say the right things and pay the right lip service to the press, they can often afford to cultivate a certain sort of narcissism which makes them liable to believe that they can transcend, in some cases, even the law. 

While big names proclaim that the public must educate themselves about their privileges, while sitting back on white velvet sofas sipping red wine and furiously flicking through social media, they’re also the same people with a huge amount of influence when it comes to television, culture and entertainment. It’s no wonder then that modern film and media seem to perpetuate the same sorts of messages, in similar sorts of ways. It usually requires a massive budget to make a film, and that seriously serves to limit a diverse array of people from entering the market and having an influence on our culture, not to mention that sometimes prevailing narratives can engender a conservatism which might serve to limit diversity of thought and a more truly inclusive forum, an inward looking habit perhaps occasionally punctuated by events such as the speech Ricky Gervais gave at the Golden Globes in 2020 which subsequently went viral. 

So I’ll return to where I began, to think about what a proper hero might look like. Readers might have noticed that I listed a variety of different superheroes at the start, so how can we be running out of heroes? Indeed it seems like the creation of a hero may be as easy as pulling different words out of various hats. “The…Pangolin…Man…Eureka!” That isn’t what I meant by the title. A hero or heroine requires some bravery, and to do what he or she thinks is right. I think that we have a tendency to admire that. Where then are the antiheroes of cinema? Why don’t we admire the small-budget student movie? Why don’t we afford more respect to the film born of an independent writer’s passion? Why not give some time to those who create something original or at least to those who know when the time has come to move on, to do something new? I think we can learn from one another through the medium of film, and it’s definitely a concern that at the moment it seems, we’re only learning about a limited part of a collective story. Our heroes aren’t always wearing a cape.

Driving Towards a Sustainable Future

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Formula 1 is the pinnacle of motorsport, captivating fans across the globe. The 2022 season saw an average of 1.7 million UK viewers tuning in for each race; whether it be for the speed, the skill, or just the Dutch national anthem. However, as climate concerns continue to grow, the sport is faced with a challenge. As we move into an era defined by environmental consciousness and global responsibility, Formula 1 must turn its focus towards a more sustainable future.

‘Sustainable’ would probably be one of the last words you would think of when considering Formula 1, which produced 256,551 tonnes of CO2 in the 2018 season. Following this, F1 announced its sustainability strategy and vowed to reach net zero carbon by 2030. Although this sounds a tough task, some important modifications have already been implemented which are having a positive impact.

Recently, the sport has introduced a ban on single-use plastics at events, with over 80% of promoters in the 2022 season helping out via the installation of water refill stations, increased recycling facilities and the provision of refillable cups. Certain parts of cars are now being made of biodegradable materials, and a shift towards renewable energy has been seen in offices and factories, with a transition to 100% renewable energy underway. Changes such as these are having a positive impact, but the major issue lies with the incredibly inefficient and inefficient Formula 1 calendar. The logistics contribute around 45% to the overall CO2 emissions, with 10 racing teams and all of their equipment being required to travel to 23 races held in 20 different countries across 5 continents this season.

The key idea in tackling this issue is by regionalising the calendar to reduce the distances between each race. The current schedule is incredibly illogical, with a 2023 race order which, for example, requires teams to travel from Spain to Canada, only to go straight back to Europe for the Austrian Grand Prix. It has been reported that a new schedule is being planned, consisting of competition in four regions (Middle East, Europe, the Americas and east Asia/Australia), each hosting its own ‘season’. However, there is currently no real timeline for its implementation due to complications arising from existing contracts and the demands of host countries. One of the changes which has already been made for the 2024 season concerns the Japanese Grand Prix – it adopts an April date rather than its traditional autumn slot, so that it can take place in between races in Melbourne and Shanghai.

Meanwhile, teams have been busy redesigning freight containers so that more efficient aircraft can be used to transport equipment, leading to a reduction in emissions of 19.12%. For European races, biofuel trucks were used for transportation, with Mercedes reporting a cut in emissions by around 90% in 2022. Travel of personnel also has a large impact on emissions, so fans are currently being encouraged to travel using public transport, and broadcasting operations are beginning to be carried out remotely.

Perhaps surprisingly, the racing cars only generate 0.7% of emissions, but developments made in this area may be able to have an effect on the global transportation sector as a whole. Having created the most efficient hybrid engine in the world, F1 and the FIA are now working on developing a sustainable fuel which they hope can then be implemented in all cars. It is being designed with a ‘drop-in’ feature to reduce installation costs for use in existing cars. Its impact on the sustainability of F1 would be comparatively small, but if successful, this fuel has the potential to revolutionise the entire car industry and have a huge impact beyond the paddock.

Important changes have already been made, signalling the sport’s determination to drive change. It is of vital importance that F1 continues to prioritise sustainability and reimagine its practices to work towards a better future. The steps which have already been made are encouraging, but the net zero plan is highly ambitious and much more must be done to ensure a green future for the sport.