Sunday 13th July 2025
Blog Page 215

Dating site for horny Oxford students slammed for privacy violations

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A new dating website, “OxShag,” aimed at offering University of Oxford students a “casual shag,” has sparked outrage among the student body. The site has raised data protection concerns for using student information without consent and has since been reported to University of Oxford IT Services.

Prior to a recent change, the dating site worked by asking users to input their Oxford email addresses, and then selecting up to 20 people they’d like to “shag” from a dropdown menu. Privacy concerns arose after the names and colleges of everyone who is on the University of Oxford internal email system appeared on the OxShag database. This included all students and tutors, as well as some mystifying names, including “MCR Bike,” or “Gardens.”  

The information on this database is available within the public domain on the “Searching University of Oxford” website. However, this use of the data is forbidden under section 8(h) of the Ownership, Liability and Use terms which states that it is forbidden to “store personal data derived from the website.” 

This format sparked anger among the student body, with one student telling Cherwell: “What’s so insidious about this situation is the layers of danger there are. This is a public site with the information of all students and staff, which includes freshers who are still minors, people belonging to the asexual or religious communities (I myself am Muslim), past victims of sexual assault now brought into the sphere of their abusers, and staff members (as if encouraging student-teacher relationships is ever a good idea). The thought of people having seen my name and imagined me in a sexually compromising position has left me feeling deeply violated and uncomfortable.”

OxShag told Cherwell: “I didn’t realise people would take issue with having their names and colleges listed, but this was my bad, and I apologise for the oversight. After I received complaints I immediately took the website down and reworked the structure of it so that people’s names aren’t publicly available.”

OxShag have changed to an “opt in” system, where participants first enter a “sign up” stage where they are encouraged to enter potential suitor’s Oxford’s email address. That person is then sent a “generic email” letting them know that someone has requested they sign up. Then, the participant can select up to 20 people from those who have signed up.

After the matching deadline, the site will then notify participants of how many matches they received. The site will only send out notifications of successful matches, so non-mutual matches will not be disclosed. Participants must then pay a fee of £1 (reduced from £3) to receive the names of mutual matches, which are set to be sent out on Valentine’s day. 

Some students have insisted that the change has not gone far enough. Another student told Cherwell: “Even though they’ve updated the website so you can only see names of people who have opted in, that information was still shared originally without our knowledge or consent and that could be leaked by the creator.”

Furthermore, the current system could still be a threat to data privacy. For example, a potential data breach could occur if the data was accessed by an unauthorised third party. This is a real concern for some students given that at present, the identity of the creator of OxShag is unknown. 

One distressed student told Cherwell: “OxShag is inherently a nightmare in multiple forms. Not only is it a GDPR nightmare, because one sole person has claimed to gather a digital empire, and then use it against its students, but it is also a welfare problem. None of the students gave their consent to this forum, and it is cruel to profit off of this in this way. It feels manipulative.”

Despite the GDPR concerns, the creator has outlined the ways in which data will be used on the OxShag website: “I (the creator) have access to all selections. I need this to match people together. However, the matching process is done with code and I will not individually look at who anyone selects. Your data is stored in a Google Drive and will not be shared with anyone. All information will be deleted once Oxshag has finished.”

Image Credit: oxshag.com

Christine McVie: Fleetwood Mac’s rock ‘n’ roll romantic

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I had just hit send on my English coursework (three cheers, finalists) when I got a text from my brother consisting solely of a screenshot of a news headline. Christine McVie, Fleetwood Mac’s vocalist, keyboard player and longest-serving female member, had died that day. 

As an unashamedly passionate Fleetwood Mac devotee (recently informed of this fact once again by Spotify Wrapped), and knowing far too much about the lives of its members as well as their music, this one hit home. As I write, I’m glancing up occasionally at a picture of Christine I’ve cut out from a newspaper and temporarily stuck on the wall. Striking eyeshadow, platinum-blonde 80s hair and a suave smile: there she stands in all her glory. 

Fleetwood Mac has a long history, its style ever-evolving and musicians coming in and out. By far their most well-known lineup, comprising Mick Fleetwood, John McVie, Christine McVie, Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks, recorded and performed periodically from 1975 until 2018. A union forged in musical heaven, the harmony of the members’ creative relationships simply could not carry across to their romantic ones. It was amidst breakups, bitterness and boozing that the iconic Rumours exploded onto the scene. Frequently hailed as the greatest breakup album of all time, its eleven tracks weigh heavy with grief, rage, triumph and yearning, bearing an emotional energy that has resonated with millions. Though many see the saga of Stevie and Lindsey’s broken relationship as the backbone of the album, the songs of Christine McVie shine just as brightly. Charged with hope and joy, aching with romantic wisdom, they are the songs of a woman who has lived and loved. 

Christine McVie held the band together. She often appeared the calmest and most aloof onstage and in interviews (and also, I hasten to mention, one of the best wearers of jeans out there). She wrote and performed an enormous variety of songs, from gut-stirring ballads that made John and Mick weep offstage (see Songbird below) to heart-soaring, earworm-worthy promises of a better tomorrow (Don’t Stop). Her low, lilting, silky contralto was the perfect complement to Stevie’s guttural rasp and Lindsey’s higher-pitched vocals, but also moved listeners as a solo voice, and continues to do so. 

Christine was surrounded by music from an early age. She was classically trained, discovered the blues through a Fats Domino song, and in 1967 joined the band Chicken Shack. Meanwhile, another blues band, signed to the same record label, was touring: this band was Fleetwood Mac. Christine met the bass player, John McVie, and they married in 1968. In 1970 she joined Fleetwood Mac as its first female member; five years later the band welcomed struggling LA-based musicians Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks after losing their guitarist, Bob Welch. This Anglo-American mix of male and female talent had rarely been seen in rock and roll. Fleetwood Mac was definitely on the way to stardom. 

However, being in the same band together meant that the McVies’ marriage had begun to fray. In a 2019 BBC Four documentary entitled Fleetwood Mac’s Songbird – Christine McVie, Christine confessed the difficulty of this period in her personal and professional life. ‘To write songs about each other and perform them. How it ever happened I’ll never know.’ 

While Lindsey and Stevie’s tempestuous relationship famously continued to fuel their music for decades after Rumours, Christine wrote and performed in a manner more subdued and restrained, but never short of masterful. Her elegance, poise and sense of fun resonate in every song. From her earliest work her individuality and vocal skill is evident, including her (sadly unsuccessful) solo album Christine Perfect (1970). Though I believe that every one of Christine’s songs are deeply worth their while, I’ve picked out just a few: an ensemble I think captures the range and depth of emotion and talent. 

I’d Rather Go Blind (Chicken Shack, 1969) A cover of Etta James’s ballad. At 1:28, turn it up: you’ll hear magic.

Keep on Going (Fleetwood Mac, Mystery to Me, 1973) Although this bassy number was composed by guitarist Bob Welch, Christine was the lead vocalist. Funky, bluesy, nonchalant, she’s gonna keep on the way she’s going. 

Over My Head (Fleetwood Mac, Fleetwood Mac, 1975) Fleetwood Mac’s first album with its new lineup reached No. 1 in America. Slow and smooth, accompanied by a gentle but complex guitar line.
Your mood is like a circus wheel
You’re changing all the time
Sometimes I can’t help but feel
That I’m wasting all of my time.

‘You Make Loving Fun’ (Fleetwood Mac, Rumours, 1977) Buoyant and zestful, Christine wrote this one about Fleetwood Mac’s lighting director, Curry Grant, whom she was seeing after her breakup with John. 

Songbird (Fleetwood Mac, Rumours, 1977) Hear the first few chords and your surroundings are guaranteed to melt away. The band usually saved ‘Songbird’ for the encore, leaving Christine alone onstage with a grand piano. She said that the song, words and all, came to her in the middle of the night, and in the absence of recording equipment she had to stay up playing it until morning so she wouldn’t forget it. 

Got a Hold on Me (solo, Christine McVie, 1984) 

I’ve been in love
And I’ve lost
I can count the tears
But I can’t count the cost.

Reminiscent of the positive, forward-thinking hits of Rumours, this solo venture is an absolute joy. 

Everywhere (Fleetwood Mac, Tango in the Night, 1987): Twinkly and sparkly, this is one everyone knows. I’d recommend listening to the version from the band’s live album, The Dance (1997), in which Christine works musical magic with her voice and three maracas. Bouncing to the beat is a given. I’ve put a link here for convenience. Go on… 

After The Dance concert, Christine left the band and moved to Kent. She performed onstage with Fleetwood Mac a few times afterwards, finding that the quiet life perhaps didn’t suit her after all, as she admits in the documentary. Fleetwood Mac was her band, and she was its beating heart. In a statement issued after her death, the band called her “the best musician anyone could have in their band and the best friend anyone could have in their life.”

For you, there’ll be no more crying 
For you, the sun will be shining.”
(Songbird

Christine McVie, 1943-2022

Image credit: Raph_PH/CC BY 2.0 via Flickr

“A thrilling look into disjunctive relationships”: Fêtid Review

Following their debut production last term, a gripping rendition of Jez Butterworth’s Mojo, Nocturne Productions have come back with as much flair as ever with their new dark comedy thriller Fêtid, written and directed by Max Morgan and performed at the Michael Pilch Studio in 6th week. Serving up a delicious concoction of dysfunctional families, dark humour and exquisite, home-grown courgettes, Fêtid takes us into a world where vegetables are perversely valued above human relationships as the residents of a village get ready for their annual fête.

The opening of the play, when the characters quietly tend to their respective allotments accompanied by a gentle guitar serenade from Faye James, affords an idyllic image of pastoral life in a countryside town. This is very much the calm before the storm; we quickly discover from the first few scenes of the play that this rural simplicity and the residents’ initially endearing concern for their allotments actually hides a more disturbing reality, wherein relationships are deteriorating, tensions run high, and most of the town is unhappily decaying like an uprooted vegetable.

Will Wilson’s set appropriately transformed the Pilch into an allotment, complete with a green turf laid across the floor, and a wooden shed at the back of the stage, with mellow lighting contributing to the ostensibly peaceful mood of the town. In the second part of the play, an aged scarecrow of sentimental value to the townsfolk is placed inside the shed, peering eerily out at the audience as though to say that the town’s golden days are long gone.

The 8-piece cast is stellar in their portrayal of their characters, and the interactions between them, rife with bubbling tension, are compelling to watch. Lily Carson as Sue and Juliette Imbert as Polly both aptly and energetically portray women who are not afraid of confrontation, stressed in equal measure by the organisation of the upcoming fête, and by the upheaval in their family lives.

Tom Pavey delivers a natural performance as Jim, Polly’s ex-husband, skilfully making the audience doubt his intentions towards his partner Yvette (Edie Critchley). Likewise, Critchley is apt in her depiction of the anxiety of the ‘other woman’, as her attempts to keep herself steady disintegrate into feverish doubt.

A highlight of the play was the warmer, more intimate conversation between Anna (Avania Costello) and Chris (Milly Deere) about Chris’ parents, Jim and Polly, and their youth, which provided a welcome exchange of real tenderness and understanding amidst the turmoil of the other relationships. Costello as Anna provides an element of maternal compassion towards Chris, soft-spoken in her delivery and gentle in her demeanour. Deere expertly handles the role of the angsty teen, playing by turns an insolent daughter and a girl who is genuinely affected by the continuous strife between her parents, managing to keep the audience sympathetic towards her.

Reverend Leaky, played by Samuel King, is particularly entertaining, functioning as a figure of comic relief throughout the play with his unhelpful mediatory interjections. Indeed, the smattering of jokes within the dialogue makes the play watchable and entirely engaging; it steers itself with ease away from the trap of becoming too bleak, maintaining a level of light-heartedness alongside the handling of more serious themes.

Cormac Diamond’s performance as Mark is a paradigm of this balance. He convincingly moves between enthralled fascination with his vegetable patch to inebriated clumsiness and rage; the audience is both amused and repulsed as he drunkenly utters sweet nothings to his “hand-cultivated” courgettes. Mark’s fondness for his vegetables is uncomfortably sensual, whilst he is noticeably less attentive towards his wife Sue, who laments that Mark’s “entire world orbits around the f*cking cucumbers.”

Whilst the play’s most violent moment, Polly’s attack on Jim, is effectively climactic, it felt slightly rushed; a longer build-up to this act of violence would have been more fitting, to better develop Polly’s motivations and thought process in the seconds before she strikes. Nonetheless, the repercussions of Polly’s act are palpable and poignant, causing Jim’s memory loss and serving as the catalyst for Chris’ permanent departure from the town. 

With Yvette having left as well, it appears that relationships, between partners, parents and children, have disintegrated beyond repair – except for Jim and Polly, who, in a twisted way, seem to have grown closer, with Jim blissfully unaware of Polly’s attack on him. The explosion of the shed – scarecrow and all – in a haze of simmering red light is an effective symbol of the destructive instability of the townsfolk’s relationships with one another.

The play’s ending leaves us wanting to know what is to become of the residents of this town. One thing is for sure – their vegetables will continue to be well-tended, no matter how neglected their personal lives may be. The play’s final line, Jim’s suggestion to Polly that “we could replant this [onion], I reckon” brings home the idea of the villagers’ misplaced priorities; in the face of their unravelling lives, they can only hope to desperately keep control over the one thing they can – their vegetables. Morgan’s multi-faceted script offers a combination of dark comedy and depth which keeps the audience consistently intrigued. The interactions between characters are handled sensitively and perceptively, and the actors bring this script the nuance and energy it deserves, making Fêtid a thrilling look into disjunctive relationships and the impact they have on those affected.

Image credit: Coco Cottam

100 days on: I’ll give you a choice.

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December 26th marks 100 days since the beginning of protests in Iran, sparked by the murder of Mahsa Jina Amini, because of a loosely fitted hijab. December 26th also marks 100 days since I took a flight back home from Tehran to Stansted Airport.

Let me take you along on a taxi ride with me. The destination is Tehran’s Imam Khomeini Airport. The taxi driver is a man, maybe approaching his 40s. Mahsa Amini was murdered a few days ago and protests are ramping up in the capital. The driver is trying to avoid routes which will lead to a run-in with protestors. I’m not scared, but I am relieved to be going home before things get worse.

The relief quickly turns into guilt. The driver begins talking about his faith in Iranian women to put an end to this regime. He says that if anyone can do it, Iranian women can. He says he is optimistic about the future. My heart sinks when I realise that, inevitably, I am going to leave this taxi and retreat to the safety of the UK. Meanwhile he will have to turn right back around and continue living under a heinous, repressive regime.

I sat there quietly and listened. I said nothing, mainly because my mum tells me not to speak in taxis, otherwise they’ll realise that I’m foreign and charge about tenfold. But also, I wanted to hear everything he had to say, because he was filling me with hope.

Out of nowhere, he seemed in shock by something he’d seen. As it turned out, he hadn’t avoided the protests as successfully as he thought. In the distance, we could see a crowd of people, huddled over something. It was a dead body. He told us that someone had died; that they had killed someone else. My heart sinks, again.

And that was that. The end of our conversation. There was nothing left to say, really.

I came home, spent a few days packing too much stuff, then came to Oxford in time for freshers’ week. I thought the feeling of guilt would subside to be honest with you. I thought if I needed a distraction, well then, Oxford’s the place to go. I was wrong. I left a country where women were being handed the death sentence for a loosely fitted hijab and returned to a country that afforded me so many opportunities that I felt undeserving of. The guilt didn’t go away, it got even worse.

I’ve always been proud of my culture, of my bilingualism, of my dual nationality. But for a moment, I wished it all away. All I wanted, was to be rid of the burden that came along with all of that.

I tell you this story because I want to show you how events on the other side of the world can have a very real and personal impact on the people around you. If you are a non-Iranian, it can be difficult knowing when and how to bring up what is going on in Iran to your Iranian friends. Maybe they would rather not talk about it. Maybe you do not know where to start, what to say, or how you could possibly help.

It is easy to be pulled to extremes. One extreme is to say nothing, to not bring it up at all. The other extreme is to call up your Iranian friends every time you hear about something that has happened in Iran. Of course, the extreme that most people settle into is the former. The point I’m trying to make is that both extremes, to me at least, are as bad as each other. The former makes me feel isolated. It makes me think you are apathetic about what is happening. The latter is simply overwhelming.

So, I ask that you fall between those extremes. How often you discuss these issues with your Iranian friends will be shaped entirely by the way they react and how open they are to talking about it. You can adjust your approach accordingly. But please don’t be too afraid to say something. I promise it means more than you think it does.

A great deal of thought went into whether to write this anonymously or not. I’m not sure if these words hold more weight when you can see a name behind the article. I recently contributed to a piece by Sonya Ribner in Cherwell, and I asked to stay anonymous. That was because I feared having my name be associated with a piece critical of a regime that has proven, time and time again, to be vengeful. A regime willing to execute.

I came very close to publishing this with my name on the by-line. I was going to ask that you repost it, and with that, I was asking you to help seal my death sentence when I return to Iran one day. That was the choice I was going to give you.

But I realised that I couldn’t put that choice in your hands. The reason for that is simple. I couldn’t rob my future children of the opportunity to visit Iran, that’s not a decision I’m willing to make for them.

Maybe that’s just a cover up. Maybe I am not brave enough to die for this. To die for a Cherwell article. But the fact I came so close, must surely tell you something.

Show me that I was right not to take that risk.

Show me that my words can have the same impact on you, even if you do not know who I am.

The choice I am giving you is much easier than condemning a stranger to execution. All I am asking you to do is show me that you care, so that I do not have to write another article, so that I do not have to put my name on it.

Image credit: W. S. Luk

NHS in crisis – Oxford braced for student return

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There is no doubt – the NHS is now in a more dire state than at any point in its history.  As the population begins to numb to the anecdotes of “war-like” conditions in our hospitals there is no longer a guarantee that people will get seen in an emergency.  And now, with the Oxford population set to surge with returning students, its healthcare systems are braced for things to get worse than ever before.  Understandably, people are scared.

It is worth reminding ourselves just how bad things are.  The stories of wait times and abhorrent conditions from nurses and patients are countless and well-documented but it is easy to normalise them – this is not normal.  Doctors “examining testicles in cleaning cupboards” is not normal.  Sheets being hung around beds in corridors for intimate examinations is not normal.  Staff returning for their next shifts 12 hours later and seeing the same patients waiting on the same floor is not normal.  Speaking to ‘The News Agents’, one brain surgeon laid out just how dire the situation is: “I’ve worked in India, I’ve worked in the US, I’ve worked all around the world – this is the worst health service I’ve ever seen.”  We need to stop thinking that ‘Our NHS’ is special or unique.  In the last week with published data, more than 16 300 people waited longer than an hour to be handed over from an ambulance to hospitals (up 31% on the week before).  Seven million people are on waiting lists, three million have been waiting more than 18 weeks for treatment and another 400 000 have waited a year or longer.  Perhaps most shockingly, 44 000 people in A and E waited more than 12 hours to be seen – that is an increase of more than 11 000% on three years ago.  The only thing that makes our health system stand out at the moment is that it is in a worst state than any other in the developed world.  

24% of Oxford’s population is made up of full-time students and those 30 000 people are returning to a health service already under strain.  Quite understandably, people are scared about whether the city can cope.

In a survey conducted by Cherwell, 78% of people said they were worried about the health service in Oxford ahead of returning.  71% of students said that the university should be doing more to offer reassurance about the systems in place and, on average, people said they would be ‘concerned’ about calling an ambulance on a night out next term.

These concerns are built largely off scarring experiences over the winter break and stretching back far further than that in many cases.  An astounding 67% of people said they experienced the crisis first-hand over Christmas with some respondents sharing harrowing stories that have become all too commonplace.  One student said that their GP made a mistake on their prescription that it was too overwhelmed to resolve – as a result she had to go without her medication for three months.  Another person’s grandmother waited over 30 hours for an ambulance after a fall.  The reality is that these kinds of experiences are not quickly forgotten.  Trips to hospitals are life-defining events that most people will remember in detail long into the future, the total lack of dignity that patients are suffering right now will live long in the memory.

For their part, a spokesperson for the Oxford University Trust responded to Cherwell saying: “Students form a large and important part of our local demographic.  We are familiar with the patterns of term times and know what to expect.

“Health services are under a lot of pressure at the moment.  We are asking the public, including students, to help us to help them by keeping Emergency Departments (A&E) for genuine emergencies.  If people need urgent, but not life-saving, care, then the teams at NHS 111 can give advice and signpost them to local facilities such as Minor Injury Units, pharmacies, and their GP.”

Elsewhere on their website the trust warns that patients should “Expect long waits at Emergency Departments (A&E) at all hospitals in the Buckinghamshire, Oxfordshire and Berkshire West area”.

As clear as the problems are for all to see, the solutions are of course extremely complex.  In the short term, urgent efforts are being made in Oxford to discharge patients “wherever possible”.  The reality of course is that the crisis in the NHS is exasperated yet further by a social care sector that has been left in tatters by years of underinvestment.  In mid-December over 14 000 people were in wards unnecessarily, largely due to congestion in the social care system.  Now, individual trusts are being forced to consider discharging patients into hotels rather than care homes at an average cost of £1000 a bed compared to the normal £525.  The problems are everywhere and the solutions hard to come by.

The opinion of students is clear with almost all respondents saying that the answer was increased funding and a change of government.  Examples included calls for “funding, attracting foreign workers, improving work conditions”, and “funding, funding, funding!!!!”.  Some even took a harder line with three people saying that privatisation is the answer.

Clearly though, money and staffing alone aren’t the answers.   Although much of it has been eaten up by inflation, there genuinely is more funding and there are more nurses in the NHS than ever before.  What is really needed is complete restructuring and reform.  Problems from outdated IT systems (one trust says it can’t even tell how many free beds it has) to antiquated red tape and management structures need complete and total re-evaluation. 

What worries me is that it seems incredibly unlikely that any politician is brave enough to go far enough.  Whispers from Wes Streeting showed some positive signs but the government itself still refuses to acknowledge that there is a crisis at all.  Neither Starmer nor Sunak had anything substantial to offer in their New Year speeches either.

None of this though helps in the short term.  For now, pupils are returning to Oxford and other parts of the country worried about the care they are going to receive.  Only time will tell as to whether hospitals are ready for the surge.

Image: CC2:0//Ron Adams via Flickr.

Surrealist Film Review: Fellini’s 8½

To describe Fellini’s as a confusing piece of surrealism would perhaps undermine its reputation as a masterpiece of Italian cinema. However, the array of violently incohesive images in the opening sequence of the film had me puzzled as to what the plot would entail. The premise of is not inherently strange, yet there is something to be said of how Fellini reflects the psyche of a stagnant, middle aged film director through an obscure and multi-faceted plot.

The film opens without sound. The protagonist, Guido (Marcello Mastroianni), is stuck in a claustrophobic traffic jam. The black and white cinematography seems to heighten the sensory appeal of the scene, and yet it appears as if nothing moves and nothing will happen. As the camera pans across rows and rows of identical cars, it pauses on individual faces. A man sits grumpily in the backseat of his car, a woman in the front. A row of hands dangle absently from the windows of a bus. Guido bangs hysterically on the windows of his car, desperately trying to escape. The car fills with smoke. Blank faces stare at him helplessly. Guido clambers out of the car roof; white light overwhelms the screen. Guido hovers and flies into the distance, drifting through the clouds before being, quite literally, tethered back to earth. Fellini was forty-three when he made , and intended for it to be an honest reflection on his stagnated creativity as an ageing film director. His baroque, earthy style is confusing for the unknowing audience. Yet this is the sensation Fellini sought to project, one of uncertainty and inaction. The mind of an aimless film director experiencing a creative hiatus is portrayed through Guido as well as the muted cinematography and surrealism of the story. An air of foggy perplexity prevails, extending Guido’s own psychological condition to the mind of the viewer themselves. 

Fellini’s writing exudes a sense of Freudian psyche, filling with an unrestrained subconscious which leaves the audience to piece together the significance of the dream-like images themselves. Played with a deep sensitivity by Mastroianni, Guido’s recurring vision of his ideal woman causes him to spiral into a series of bad relationships. He is estranged from his wife, he is distant from his mistress, and he fools himself into thinking that he has found salvation in an actress, Claudia. All these women seem to fall under the shadow of a potent yet somewhat displaced figure, Saraghina. In flashbacks to his youth, Guido remembers a group of children running to the beach to visit Saraghina. Uncertain as to who exactly Saraghina is, I watched as a large buxom woman with wild black hair and a tight black dress emerged out of a hut. The children all chant in unison “Saraghina! Saraghina! La rumba!” as Saraghina prowls towards them, bares her shoulders, and begins to prance across the sand. An unsettling unfamiliarity comes over both the audience and perhaps the character of young Guido himself, as if this strange figure skews the narrative off its predicted trajectory. Saraghina is a fabrication of Guido’s sexuality and imagination, as her dwelling place is on the cusp between fluid imagination and concrete reality. 

Guido’s flashbacks to childhood provide moments of clarity; they are digressions which help to elucidate the central plot. When magicians read Guido’s mind and reveal the words “asa nisi masa”, this nonsensical phrase is explained by the shadowy, baroque image of Guido as a child, being put to bed by a crowd of women. The scene grows dark, and another child repeats “asa nisi masa” to make the eyes of a portrait move. This memory, which connects Guido’s past and present, demonstrates his profound desire to be cared for by a woman. Later in the film, when Guido envisions himself surrounded by women in a harem, he again regresses to a child-like state, doted on and cared for by women. Yet it is his wife, Luisa, who is the only constant, realistic female figure in Guido’s life. Despite being cold and distant, she is the figure of reality that grounds Guido as he deceives himself with idealisations. 

It is the aesthetic appeal of the shadowy, muted cinematography that best portrays the dulled creativity of Guido’s mind, and scenes such as the rows of empty, square cinema chairs when Guido’s film is previewed that evoke the loneliness and lack of support he feels as an artist. Add to this the concrete brutalist set, revealing the unforgiving and unglamourous side of filmmaking. The ending, in which all the characters of the film dance around in a circle to the tune of Nino Rota’s carnival-like La Passarella di Otto e Mezzo, plays on the farcical element of Guido’s artistic choice; to write an honest film about his experience as a troubled director. While 8½ might at first appear irregular, imperfect, and slightly exaggerated, it is where Fellini blurs the lines between fantasy and reality that he has produced an authentic filter of a man’s consciousness. 

Image: Marcello Mastroianni as Guido Anselmi in 8½ by Federico Fellini. This image is in the public domain.

St Stephen’s gives up PPH status to exclusively train priests

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After a review by the University, St Stephen’s House will lose its status as a Permanent Private Hall (PPH) in September 2023. This move follows the closure of St Benet’s Hall in September 2022, which failed to renew its PPH license for the current academic year due to financial hardship.

Unlike St Benet’s, St Stephen’s is losing its PPH status because Oxford will no longer allow a PPH to deliver another university’s qualifications. Since 2014, St Stephen’s has offered the Church of England’s Common Awards programmes, which are validated by Durham University.

According to the Archbishops’ Council of the Church of England, the decision to forsake PPH status “represents a loyalty and commitment to the Common Awards system to which the majority of [Theological Education Institutions] subscribe,” and “this shift is by no means understood as a negative move by the House Council, nor by the Principal and Staff, nor by the University of Oxford.”

Despite the loss of its PPH status, St Stephen’s will continue to operate as an Anglican theological college and will continue to offer Oxford’s graduate qualifications in Theology and Religion. However, the House will no longer offer other graduate qualifications and will only consider candidates who are “ministers of religion, genuine candidates for the ministry, or exercising lay ministry.”

Robin Ward, Principal of St Stephen’s, reflected in this year’s edition of the House’s newsletter that “one of the more challenging aspects of the decision” was that “the focus moving forward [will] be solely on ordinands and those already ordained.” However, this change has “secured a future for the College” and allows St Stephen’s to “maintain relationships with both Durham and Oxford Universities and in turn offer the widest range of courses to ordinands.”

Founded in 1876, St Stephen’s is the oldest unamalgamated training institution in the Church of England. It has delivered Oxford qualifications since 1970 and became a PPH in 2003. Currently, the House comprises around 80 mature students: about a quarter are training for priesthood while the rest are pursuing a variety of graduate qualifications.

Robin Ward says that St Stephen’s new relationship with the University marks the beginning of an “exciting new chapter”: “I believe it is the trajectory which stays truest to the College’s founding – and still core – mission: to train priests in the Anglo-Catholic tradition.”

2022 – A Year in Review

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It feels like every year in December we are told about just how momentous a period we have gone through.  Whether it be in arts, sports, or politics every 12 months seems to be ‘more influential’ and ‘more shocking’ than the last.  This year though, that might just be true.  It has been an extraordinary time to be the Comment Editor and after a year of events in the UK and around the world that have undoubtedly changed the path of history, I thought there was no better time to take a look back.  So, here is our selection of 2022’s drama, disaster, and craziness and what I, the Cherwell team, and the University community had to say about them. (Suffice to say that some takes were substantially hotter and more accurate than others!)

Each page brings you a different month of predictions and coverage.

Knee Deep

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the night to

hear the sky to

let the world run

through the veins

to let it all of it

run through

the veins

Image Credit: Debby Hudson via Unsplash.

His Dark Materials exhibition in Oxford museums brings Lyra’s world to life

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Props from the BBC’s adaptation of Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy have gone on display this week in Oxford museums. 

Together, exhibits at Pitt Rivers Museum, the History of Science Museum, and The Story Museum create a fan’s paradise, with props from the show including the alethiometer, Lyra’s scuffed-on-an-Oxford-rooftop pinafore and the ethereal subtle knife. Free entry to the Pitt Rivers Museum and History of Science Museum encourages fans to immerse themselves into “Lyra’s World”, the title of the display. 

The exhibition opens as the BBC’s third series comes to viewers’ screens. For fans, there seems no better way to celebrate than to see the amber spyglass, seed pods from the Mulefa World, and Mary Malone’s Ching Sticks at the Pitt Rivers. Indeed, the museum itself appears in The Subtle Knife and was used as a filming location in the programme. 

Props shown at The Story Museum include the subtle knife, the dress worn by the witch Serafina Pekkala, and airmail letters written by John Parry to his wife, which are displayed beside Pullman’s specially commissioned and permanently exhibited alethiometer. 

Meanwhile, The History of Science Museum offers a “What’s your dæmon?” experience to bring the much-loved stories alive. The experience ends by matching your given dæmon to particular “Women in Science”. Dr Silke Ackermann, director of the History of Science Museum has said how much of a delight it has been to finally celebrate the stories alongside “the stunning instruments in our collection that inspired Philip Pullman for many years”. Iconic costumes and Lyra’s alethiometer stand in line with astrolabes, astronomical compendia, and sundials. 

As well as the exhibition, the Oxford Botanic Garden marks the tree of Lyra’s and Will’s midday rendezvous with a sculpture. His Dark Materials naturally encourages tourism for a global fanbase, through these collaborative displays across Oxford. 

The displays will run until April 2023. 

Image Credit: Ian Wallman