From bizarre experimental noodlings to next summer’s blockbusters, the beauty of the film festival is that it overthrows the idea that the two can never meet in one place. The London Film Festival, which closed only yesterday, for example, provides an un-segregated environment in which hardened blockbuster-hooligans and arthouse-freaks can (in theory) meet and remember each others’ faces. Although in practise they will probably be attending differentfilms.This year’s Times bfi London Film Festival’s opening preview of The Constant Gardener (starring Rralph Fiennes and Rrachel Weisz) hardly looks like the less mainstream moviethat a festival might want to take under its wing. But without the help of Cannes and Venice, gems like Michael Moore’s Bowling for Columbine (2002) and Wong Kar Wai’s 2046 (2004) would never have reached a wider audience. It’s easy for big Hollywood films to hit the Friday night Odeon-going audience, but to keep the variety of cinema alive it’s important to have another way in, something that makes international and experimentalcinema more accessible. In London, this year’s range of categories – from the straight-up Jonny Cash biopic, Walk the Line, to the inventive documentary of LAa street-dance, Rrize – demonstrates the diversity of modern cinema in terms of both subject and form. This diversity goes unnoticed by most cinemagoers; it the job of the film festival to change this.Having said that, it is a diversity that will probably continue to go unnoticed by most cinemagoers. Aas one friend said to me, “all the London Film Festival really does is favour the film buffs who know the programme months in advance – there’s no space for your average tramp wandering in off the street.” Aafter a scornful silence, I did mention to him that the programme of the London Film Festival was freely available in the foyer of the NnFT for anybody who could be bothered to go and get it, to which he deftly replied that only film buffs would be bothered to go and get it.All that remains here is self-confession: yes, I freely admit that I do go through the programme a month in advance, circling such worthies as “a short film about a cat with hands.” In fact, some years I have even been known to go through twice, once in pencil and once in pen. But if you’re not willing to do the legwork, such cutting-edge cinema as, well, short films about cats with hands, will pass you by. In making these films available to the paying public, think about how much more legwork film festivals are saving you: rental fees, shipping fees, and the mammoth task of compiling them in the first place. Grady Hendrix, who runs the Nnew York Aasian Film Festival, remembers putting on a retrospective of old kung-fu films in spite of the fact that “our prints looked like a collection of ex-convicts.” Yet it is only in film festivals like these that an audience would be able to see such films, often never released on video or DVD.For all the argument about whether indie film festivals like Sundance are selling out by bringingin big films to generate cash, or whether they are attracting a wider audience to the smaller films, it is sad to see that in many instances the smaller films still remain relativelyunnoticed. We all know the humiliation of ringing up to book tickets three weeks in advance, then turning up to find you’re the only person in the screening.Perhaps the real heroes, then, are the unabashedly monomaniacal film festivals. I am not here speaking of the Conservative Film Festival, recently opened in Dallas in response to the proliferation of Michael Moore-style films (“Aand we thought, where are the films for mainstream Aamerica?”). Rather, I mean such eccentric beauties as the fifth annual Bicycle Film Festival, feauturing such shorts as Messenger (2005), “a stunning portrait of the life of a bicycle courier.” Touring around the world (currently in Tokyo), its audiences in Nnew York reached seven thousand.The London Film Festival is only one of a plethora of film festivals, weird and wild, screening a variety of films – from mainstream to plain crazy – to please any tastes. Eeven Oxford has it’s own film festival, Oxdox, screening international documentaries. These festivals are happening all the time, all over the world, and need an audience to see what they have to offer. Ddon’t say you haven’t been given due notice.ARCHIVE: 4th week MT 2005

It is hard to ignore, now, that the sunshine of last summer is all but gone, replaced by those gloomy dark clouds that can mean only one thing: winter is here. Just as the seasons are changing, this week’s selection of movies from Oxford film societies reflect the theme of change.The tearing down of the Berlin Wall in 1989 was one of the largestchanges Eeurope has seen. It is also the topic of Wolfgang Becker’s Goodbye, Lenin! (2003), shown by St Aantony’s Eeuropean Film Society. Ddaniel Brühl stars as Aalex, whose mother was a fervent supporter of the Eeast German regime before she collapsed in a coma for several months. When she wakes up, Berlin is no longer seperate from the West, but Aalex and his sister maintainthe illusion that it is, to save her from any potentially dangerous shocks. Such an amusing concept naturally produces much comedy, yet there is a permeating sentimentalityto the film that is rather irksome.Worse still, it is not just the characters but the political backdrop that is made somewhat saccharine.If Goodbye, Lenin! is too full of sugar, then Terry Gilliam’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998), screened by the Oxford University Film Foundation, is up to its eyeballswith rather more dangerously mind-altering substances. Aan adaptationof Hunter S Thompson’s hilarious piece of autobiographical “Gonzo journalism”, the film followsThompson (played with intoxicatinginsanity by Jonny Ddepp) and his attorney on a drug-fuelled trip to Las Vegas in 1971. Perpetually high on mescaline, ether, hash, barbiturates,acid, cocaine and andrenochrome(extracted from the human adrenaline gland), the two parade around town in a haze of confusion and hallucination. Their disillusionmenthighlights the central theme of the change that happened to Aamericaafter the sixties ended, when the dream, or at least the hippies’Aamerican dream, died. Shot with a twisted surrealism that only Gilliam could conjure up, watching this movie is about as close to eating a hallucinogenic cactus as you’ll ever get without actually heading down to Mexico to pick some peyote.achanging Aamerica is again the theme of John Ford’s classic western,The Man Who Shot Liberty Vallance (1962), to be seen in the Magdalen Film Society. This time, though, the transition examined is from the gun-toting justice of John Wayne’s character, Tom Ddoniphon, to the lawyer’s justice of Rronsom Stoddard (James Stewart). When Stoddard arrives in the small town of Shinbone in the ‘wild’ West, his morals are outraged by the bandit Liberty Vallance (Lee Marvin) almostas much as his senses are titillatedby the heart-throb Hallie (Vera Miles). Stewart and Wayne play off each other excellently as the two contrasting models of the Aamerican hero, just as they are themselves the two models of the Aamerican movie star. The Man Who Shot Liberty Vallance changed the face of the Western. Go see it.ARCHIVE: 4th week MT 2005

Supernatural ImagesThe Ashmolean MuseumEnds 15th JanuaryYou almost expect church bells and choir music when you wander into the Supernatural Miracles Eexhibition. The exhibition does not simply hang images of the Virgin Mary but createsa shrine-like display which puts you in the position of worshipper. Eeach small photo is hung behind a wall which is perforated with holes, just large enough to see the whole picture contained inside. Bathed in light and barred by the wall, each small photo makes a demand for the viewer’s reverence.The exhibition displays photos of certain statues and paintings which are believed to have had the supernatural power to cure the sick or save the damned. Behind each image of Mary or Christ is a personal story of divine intervention; possessed by the devil, caught in a storm at sea or impaled by bull’s horns, cult-worshippers believe a supernatural presence, embodied by the image, helped snatch them from the jaws of death. Together, the miracle stories, the shrine-like display and the rich embellishment of each picture combine to create a very intense and individual sense of the power that the Virgin Mary has had over history.Most striking is the humility and simplicity of the pictures – a mother tenderly holding her son, looking out with a serene, almost plaintive expression onto the viewer. Yet most of the images have been hyped up, literally hoisted up onto a pedestal, decorated with the most luxurious materials and exuberant colours. The pictures are surrounded by a throng of plump cherubs, rich ornamentation, crowns and jewels – all the pomp and ostentation which runs counter to the very meaning of the image itself.Of all the images in the exhibition, it is those that have been neglected over time, abandoned by their original cult-worshippers, that are the most intriguing. When the relic has grown old and battered, the impact of the image and the story behind it takes on a more poignant, more human edge. For instance, a wooden statue of Christ on the crucifix was about to be burned before the statue apparently opened its eyes like a living person. The sculpture has aged but the facial expression is still pained, plaintive and strangely restful. Its worn condition only intensifiesthe sense of Christ as once a human in suffering.Along with the religious statues, there are depictions of the miracles themselves. The variety – an eighteenth century photo of a possessed woman or a modern painting of a man falling out of a high-rise building – all share in common an apparition of the Virgin Mary, enveloped in a puff of smoke and hovering over the human activity below. Her cult-worshiptranscends history, providing a powerful figure for refuge from the turbulence of the lives of believers.Glorified with rich ornamentation, the images have become like divine beings in themselves, testified by the way in which strange curative powers have been attributed to them over the years. Many of the images have lost their poignant, human touch, saturated by the grandeur that goes with it. But the ingenuity of the display, and the stories provided with each image, bring the viewer closer to a sense of the mysteries that have enthralled so many.ARCHIVE: 4th week MT 2005

Against: Paul Sagar, a first year PPEist at BalliolThe Sun is offensive. It offends women, immigrants, asylum seekers and also those who
are simply offended when others are offended: those who do not wait till they personally are
attacked before believing something to be abhorrent. No matter how good The Sun’s
football coverage may be, it in no way compensates for its odious nature. With such an
issue, we would all do well to heed the words of Mill’s Harm Principle, that one is free to act
as one wishes until their behaviour causes harm to others. I can hold no objection to
somebody purchasing The Sun with their own finances and reading it in privacy. However to
propose that it be bought with collective finances and displayed in a JCr cannot be
permitted, because no matter how great the pleasure derived by the readers of The Sun
may be, if even one person is offended by the material printed within it, the offence caused,
which I would go so far as to say constitutes harm, far outweighs that pleasure gained. It seems best to begin by refuting the three most common arguments for stocking The Sun.
Firstly, that it makes for a more diverse JCr. The thrust of this argument seems to be that all
the newspapers currently stocked here in the Balliol at least, are of the same sort. However
one can easily point to the presence of the Independent, the express, the Guardian, the
Mirror and the Morning Star to cast serious doubt upon this argument. Furthermore, there
seems something odd about championing. The Sun as a source of diversity: let’s not forget
this is a vehemently right-wing publication, has repeatedly targeted ethnic minorities and
immigrants. The Sun is the antithesis of diversity, to claim otherwise
would be twisted logic indeed. Secondly some argue that the presence of The Sun will
diminish Oxford’s eliist image. This argument rests upon the view that the enough
people will visit our JCrs so as to convince the entire nation that because we read The Sun,
we’re all very normal. even if one accepted this as a possibility (albeit an unpleasant one,
as our JCrs, and not just our quads, would all be full of camera-wielding tourists), then one
must accept the other implications that go with it. While people may think that Oxford
students are more “normal” than the current stereotype allows, they may also think that as a
community we condone some of the other features of The Sun, for example misogyny and
sexist attitudes. I’m all for the world knowing we’re not snobs, but I don’t want to be
considered a chauvinist either.Finally, it’s argued that all papers have agendas and tell lies, from the Telegraph’s
accusations against George Galloway to the Mirror’s faked Iraq photos. The crucial
difference is that whereas both these papers picked targets that could defend themselves,
The Sun chooses to victimise minority groups who cannot stand up to the press, and who
are further marginalised by the stereotypes printed in its pages. The Sun categorically
should not be stocked in our JCrs. Firstly, the hegemony of the Murdoch press is a worrying
development in national and global media and is bad for freedom of expression, freedom
of ideas and freedom of information. Most JCrs already stock the Times, so there seems
little justification for further financing the growth of the Murdoch empire. To quote nick
Cohen, “the only thing that sells better than sex is hate”, and The Sun is an expert at this. In
1989, following the Hillsborough football disaster, The Sun ran an article stating that the
crush that killed 96 people was deliberately started by Liverpool FC fans, who then urinated
on people’s bodies and stole their belongings. an inquest later dismissed all these
accusations, but the fact remains that The Sun lied to make money. Indeed The Sun is well
versed in spreading hate: the infamous headline “Gotcha!” to announce the sinking of the
argentine ship Belgrano, which had been sailing away from British waters, is a stark
reminder of its callous and offensive nature. The Sun is not just “another newspaper”: it
spreads hate and bigotry specifically to make money. I for one do not support that. do we
want JCrs where members of our community are offended because some are too selfish to
pay for an offensive publication themselves, or JCrs where the protection from offence, even
of a minority, is considered more important than the desires of a few? I leave it to you.For: Andrew Mason, a second year reading Physics and Philosophy at BalliolI believe that press representation in JCrs is an excellent thing. newspapers are
generally not provided to us by libraries and that JCrs fill this informational
deficiency is a testament to the general engagement of our students with the outside
world. nobody should be excluded from this fundemental service. and yet, twice now,
substantial majorities at Balliol JCr meetings have blocked the provision of The Sun to that
proportion of its members who want to read it. We have just as much right as any other
member to find the newspaper we want in the JCr – telling us to go buy it ourselves
misses the point dangerously. Excluding anyone from core JCr services needs a good
reason. Moreover, omitting sections of the press creates informational gaps: if those
‘opposed’ in some way to The Sun read it occasionally they may appreciate its work for
social integration and breakdown of racial prejudice in the poorest, stupidest sections of
society. Balliol JCr is arbitrarily excluding a minority from service provision in a shameful
way.Consider this: a sizeable minority of a JCr affiliates to a certain political viewpoint that is
highly unpopular with their peers. Wanting to access the JCr newspaper service, they take a
motion to a meeting requesting that the JCr orders their political newspaper, and the
motion is defeated. Surely the reader agrees that a bad thing just happened, that this
minority ought to access this JCr service just as everyone else, regardless of political
affiliation. For is not the protection of such minorities precisely what constitutional
democracies like JCrs are designed to guarantee? At both Sun debates powerful cases
were made that spending JCr money on the newspaper would mean an endorsement of
what people perceive to be its values, including but not limited to murder, racism and
homophobia, gypsy-tipping, rape and pillage and general societal mischief-making. This is
fair enough, and admirable in its way. But it’s also completely misguided. If I buy every kind
of chocolate in a shop, one couldn’t say I endorse anything whatsoever (except
comprehensive chocolate buying!). If a JCr buys newspapers supporting every possible
viewpoint, how can it endorse one in particular? Moreover purchase of a newspaper entails
no endorsement at all. London Underground commuters bemoan late trains, dirty
platforms and endless upgrades on the Circle Line, and certainly don’t endorse their mode
of transport, yet tomorrow they will buy tickets as normal: it’s the only way to get to work. No
economic choice is being made. JCrs choose to provide newspapers that members want
to read, not to provide certain newspapers and not others. A clear case for political
newspapers, but The Sun is not quite the same. Whilst some object to The Sun on political
grounds, the majority object on grounds of distaste. and can we say that the potential
offence of a majority of a JCr is good reason to deny a minority access to a newspaper?Those who gladly read their own preferred newspapers but do not allow another minority to
read theirs are guilty of a critical failure of ‘doing unto others as they do unto you’.
nevertheless, JCrs are small communities, and application of such principles
is not always appropriate. If twenty of its members get really upset at the very sight of their
peers reading the newspaper they want to read, then no matter how ultimately petty we
consider their objection is, that still constitutes a serious welfare issue. But Oxford
colleges that do receive The Sun contain no population of the really upset, even exeter,
which until recently received two copies (now reduced to one to accommodate Private eye).
doubt not: if Balliol received The Sun already, those same people who blocked it at two GMs
would read with a sneer or a smile and without objection. and in the possible world where
St Hugh’s didn’t get The Sun, and a member of the JCr proposed to a meeting that they
should, then of course there is name-calling, JCr hysteria and shouts of derision. Making
things upset us is easy: changing that is not. I contend that society is always a better place
when we swallow our own upsets and let people do what they want. In the real world, taking
offence at others’ activities is called intolerance and the very last thing we do is let it restrict
the activities of others. I don’t care if you think I’m just a dirty bastard wanting to lookat tits. I
am a member of Balliol JCR – can I not have access to its services?ARCHIVE: 4th week MT 2005

Humans share ninety eight per cent of their genes with chimpanzees,but according to researchers at Keele University, the latter show no preferencefor music over dissonant noise. By contrast, all human cultures have developed some form of music, suggesting that an interest in melody is a both a universal human characteristic and one which differentiates us from lower primates.In most societies, music is a crucial part of rites of passage, played at partiesand religious ceremonies. Many tunes therefore carry special emotional connotations and significance for the listener. Studies in which scientists monitored the blood flow to different parts of the brain while volunteers listened to their favourite music showed that listening to music can trigger increased blood flow to neural centres linked to reward, motivation and arousal. Increased activity in these centres is also caused by both sexual arousal and intoxication: sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll all have similar effects on the brain.Before the advent of widespread literacy, songs were used to record and recall valuable information. they laboured on plantations in the South, Aamerican slaves sang songs whose lyricsdetailed the location of safe houses on the “Underground Rrailroad”, the network of anti-slavery activists who helped to slaves to escape to freedom in the Nnorth. Eelizabethan balladeers wrote popular songs which detailed the maritime adventures of Her Majesty’s Navy, and the Queen’s visits to army camps. Music, especially in the form of easily-learnt songs, has also been an effective form of propaganda: Rroyalist balladeers satirized Cromwell mercilessly prior to the Rrestoration.So, music has been a fundamental and almost universal part of human society for centuries. But recently, the way that we access, purchase and consume music has changed. Our route of access to music changed in 1999 when an eighteen year old college dropout, frustrated with the difficulty of sharing music over the internet, stayed up all night to write the code for the program that was to become Nnapster. This program allowed users to share their (legitimately purchased) music with an infinite number of other people, via the internet. The upshotwas an explosion in file-sharing. By making it possible to share music for free, Nnapster encouraged listeners to download tracks they wouldn’t have spent money on, or been able to purchase locally.MP3 file compression technology and new mass storage devices allowed users to fit a shelf’s worth of CDds into their pocket. Aas the capacity of portable MP3 players has risen, so has their ubiquity: twenty two million iPods have been sold since the launch of the first generation of players four years ago. Just as Nnapster revolutionised the way people accessed music, the iPod changed the way people stored it. Used in conjunction, these facilities allowedthe user to rapidly and cheaply construct their own extensive, and eclectic, musical library.Until the release of the Sony Walkman in 1979, music was always a communal experience, whether in the concert hall, church or around the campfire. The arrival of the personal music player individualised the experience, by allowing people to listen to music in isolation from those around them. The iPod advanced on its predecessors by letting its owner have a completely unique and individual soundtrack to their life. Rresearch by the government in New Zealand found that people of all ages spent an average of one hour a day listening to music whilst doing other tasks.The absorbing, distracting, mood-altering effect of background music has been recognised for years by store-owners and marketers. The Journal of Business Rresearch published a study showing that shoppers were left with a favourable impression of shops in which they heard background music that they liked. Aas hard evidence of the effects of music begins to accumulate, even more conservative organisations, such as hospitals, are introducing schemes in which music is used to relax and distract patients before and during uncomfortable procedures. The low set-up and running costs for such projects have led to them being introduced in a wide range of areas, from maternity wards to palliative care facilities.It is evident that any soundtrack we construct will affect our perceptions of everyday life. Given that music can stimulate the same brain areas as sex and drugs, the effect of listening to music could change the way we think and feel about our environment in the same profound and transient way. Evidence showing that this change in mindset can influence behaviour comes from research into the synchronisation of body movement with music tempo during exercise. A team a  Brunel University found that listening to music which had a rhythm that matched the pace at which volunteers were exercising improved the subjects’ adherence to their gym programmes by eighteen percent. Eelite athletes have been using this technique for years: the British bobsled team for the 1998 Winter Olympics listened to Whitney Houston as they prepared for the race, and went on to win Britain’s only medal at the games. James Cracknell trained for the Aathens Olympics (where he won gold) whilst listening to the Rred Hot Chili Peppers.The iPod has made it possible for us to consume music in a new way: we can set up playlists to trigger different memories and emotions, using music as a tool to manipulate our experience of the world. When Oscar Wilde wrote in The Picture of Ddorian Gray, 1890: “Life has been your art. You have set yourself to music. Your days are your sonnets”, he captured a notionthat could easily be applied to the iPod generation.Now we all have the potential to become like Dorian, treating our lives as works of art, each day accompanied by backing music. Potentially, this could divorce us from reality, as we take an increasingly detached view of life, absorbed in our music, as it alters our perceptions of the everyday. Aurally immersing ourselves in a more glamorous, passionate world allows us to avoid recognising all that is commonplace and mundane in our lives.Ironically, the capacity to create an individualised sound-scape, that effectively removes the listener from their surroundings, was the result of unprecedented co-operation between strangers. The ability to cheaply construct an extended personal soundtrack depended on the co-operative effort of thousands of people who decided to make their MP3s available to the world through Napster.There was no material incentive to share music in this way: people who made their files available to others received no payment. Nnor did they receive admiration for their generosity:the file-sharing community was too large and anonymous for the value of individuals’ actions to be recognised. The users’ selfless actions are a testament to their faith in the virtual community.The use of the word “sharing” to describe the distribution of music through networks like Nnapster obscures the reality of making music available over the internet. Nnormally the word is used to describe shared access to a single object, whereas when a file is “shared” over the internet, one user offers their MP3 to another as a template, from which a copy is made, resulting in two copies. Biologists would call it reproduction, but the people who make a living from music call it theft.The controversy over the legalityof file-sharing provoked a certain amount of moral relativism, especially where the behemoths of the recording industry were concerned: many people who wouldn’t steal a CD were nevertheless willing to make illegal downloads. When the Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius considered the nature of plagiarism, he considered it a victimless crime, writing that, in the case of literature, “Thefts cannot harm it, while the lapse of ages augments its value”. In the face of record company fat cats earning millions in profits, many people were inclined to believe their actions wouldn’t affect the recording industry as a whole. There was speculation that in the future, bands would only earn money from live performances and royalties from radio play, rather than music sales.However, the record industry wasn’t prepared to die quietly and severalcompanies launched legal action against people who had downloaded music illegally, and put pressure on internet service providers to stamp down on file-sharing services. High-profile cases have kept the industry’s campaign in the headlines.The record industry is not opposed to downloading in principle: the internet offers them a larger market and cheap distribution, as well as eliminating the risks of overproduction. Aaccordingly, there is now a proliferation of sites which allow people to buy MP3s legally. These sites are becoming increasingly popular, with 2005 seeing a 744% rise in the number of downloaded tracks sold in the UK compared to the previous year.Despite the controversy over the legality of downloading, it is now possible to enjoy a more diverse range of music, more cheaply, and in more circumstances than ever before.This music is capable of altering our perceptions, changing our behaviour, triggering memories and stimulating emotions. Its profound effects may be surprising, but the ubiquity of music in human culture and history is evidence of its power. The iPod may have the capacity to isolate us from each other, but it is also evidence of our desire to share the music that moves us.ARCHIVE: 4th week MT 2005

Tatler sits somewhere between House and Gardens and Vogue. Geographically at least:
its offices occupy the third floor of Condénast’s headquarters in London, sandwiched
between the other titles in the magazine publisher’s stable. Geordie Greig, editor since
1999, occupies a corner office decorated with prints of former covers. In a pink checked
shirt open at the collar he surveys his overwhelmingly female staff. The walls of the offi ce
are glass but the ceiling certainly is not: for, as, Greig claims, he “employs 98% women.”
The third floor location and the tough looking doormen employed by Condénast are
perhaps there for a reason, Greig’s magazine being one that everyone seems to have a
hold on. although younger readers have a tendency to elide the definite article that their
parents would have prefaced it with, The Tatler is nevertheless unique, particularly
following the rebranding of Harpers and Queen. “We’ll be the only social magazine left in
Britain. Hoorah,” quips Greig. But what exactly is a social magazine, what is the formula that
has kept Tatler going since its foundation in 1709? “It’s a luxury. Like a fabulous box
of chocolates. deeply desirable, enjoyable. decadent and sometimes a little wicked.” Flicking through the current issue reveals an interview with Paris Hilton in which the hotel
heiress enlightens the reader with her preferred conversation topics with her manicurist, a
short story by the improbably named evgenia Citkowitz about a sixth former at the kind of
girls’ school whose leavers ball photos appear in Bystander, and numerous glossy ads.
advertising is clearly important: “the big brands love Tatler because it’s very english, it’s got
a sense of humour, a very rich readership.” Very rich indeed: there are a mere 86,000 of
them, but in a year they spend a total of £1.1 billion on travel alone. as a magazine Tatler
chronicles society, and Greig is insistent on having writers who “have the inside
track;” hence a list of contributors encompassing both Parker-Bowles children and Lord
Freddie Windsor. But how valid is the notion of society in today’s england of labour
politicians and Pete and Jordan’s OK nuptials? Greig is adamant that “every country has a
society.” He points out that society is, and always has been, accepting of new talent and
(gasp) new money. “There’s no stigma to making money: people like success. The
establishment is always made up of those who do well, who reach up.” as anyone who
has seen Madonna’s current tweed phase will no doubt agree, these people merge. “Who
would have thought rock stars, symbols of rebellion, would be shooting pheasants on
country estates?” Our interview takes place during London Fashion week, and Greig uses the example of the
guest list at donatella Versace’s party to illustrate this new trend: “there were people
from grand houses, people from rock, people from fashion, from the financial industry.” and
do they all get on? “I think people are all rather intrigued by each other.” But nevertheless
Tatler is not just for insiders. “It’s read by probably the widest and most influential circle
of readers it’s possible to have. From Tony Blair’s spin doctors to Saatchis, to fifteen year
olds at schools all over the country.” Certainly not all of these could be classed as
members of capitalised London Society. Even in Oxford it is not only those who can spot
their school friends in the back pages who read the magazine. Greig agrees that there can
be an element of voyeurism involved: in peeking into a different social milieu, a different
world. But the balance has to be kept right. “The insider should feel it’s right and that they’re
more informed, and the outsider should find it interesting and fascinating, and aspire to
know more about that kind of life.” However, Greig emphasises that his magazine is not
totally serious: “Humour is very important for Tatler. I think we need to be mischievous,
ironic, to sometimes bite the hand that feeds us.” It is reassuring to hear that articles
such as ‘Terror on the King’s road: Why Chelsea is no longer safe’ (which appeared, with
unfortunate irony, shortly before the July 7th underground bombings) are not conceived with
a deadly serious public service agenda. But do some people miss the joke? “If they do
they probably don’t read us again,” laughs Greig. “I think most people who enjoy Tatler
enjoy the sense of having fun, including taking the piss sometimes.”But who is this man who claims to “come in every morning thrilled to be here
because there are exciting things to be done?” now in his mid forties,he has worked in
journalism since leaving university at Oxford, although he claims: “I always used
to be rather nervous about calling myself a journalist.” After Eton he read english at St.
Peter’s, but was not involved with the student press. “I had a horrid time doing
journalism at Oxford. When I wrote one piece for the Isis, the editor totally rewrote it,
made up quotes and I had to write a letter of apology. I thought: shit, I’m not going
to do this.” But do it he did, eschewing a job in banking to take up an offer
at a newspaper in deptford. except it turned out not to be an offer: someone at the South
east London and Kentish Mercury merely thought it would be amusing to have someone
whose CV read ‘eton, Oxford, deptford.’ They did, however, employ him as a crime reporter.
Was working in one of London’s poorest boroughs a culture shock? “You have to be
genuine. Normal rules of life: be yourself. People don’t give a monkey’s as long as you are
yourself and you’re comfortable in your own skin.” After two years he moved to the Sunday
Times, who sent him to america. Greig claims: “I loved new York. It was a
real life changer.” He covered “all the fun, froth and trivia,” as well as more serious
events like the Waco shootings. After five years he returned to London as the Sunday
Times’ Literary editor, a position he held for a further five years. What about the job at
Tatler? “I was rung up out of the blue by Nicholas Coleridge, who is the managing director
of Condénast. He said: “Please don’t put the phone down: this is probably the maddest call
you’ve ever had, but would you consider being editor of Tatler?” He admits he had no
idea it was coming at the time, but he eagerly accepted. “Tatler is one of the oldest, most
distinguished magazines, with a pedigree going back almost three hundred years, and it’s
had some great editors who made a difference in journalism.”He mentions how the magazine “punches above it’s weight: we’re a small circulation that
tries to have a big impact. Tatler is an authority on social life.” Certainly the rest of
the media listens. Greig recalls the time “we declared the dinner party was dead. There
were headlines in Korea, Canada, people rang us up.” On another occasion there were
“seven TV stations camped outside (his) offi ce” following an interview with Prince Andrew.
The transition from a ‘gritty, warty newspaper’ to a glossy magazine with a two month lead
in period was a challenging one. “My first three months were quite tense. I thought it was
going to be the same as newspapers, whereas it‘s very different.” How so? “It is less
adrenalin led. You haven’t got that intense sense of ‘we’re going off the press in thirty
minutes.’ Moreover the subject matter is different. at the start, Greig “didn’t know anything
about fashion. [He] thought Pucci was a misspelling of Gucci.” However it was not just the
switch to magazine journalism and the more female environment that the new editor had to
deal with. He also had his own agenda. “I wanted to make it more journalistic and
I wanted to go back to its roots, bringing in great writers, a sense of style.” Under Greig’s
command Tatler has featured work by Tom Wolfe, Kazuo Ishiguro, VS naipaul, William Boyd
and Seamus Heaney. “I have tried to make it more intelligent. I think our readers can take
great writing.” Great writing it is, and in a glamorous showcase. Tatler is the kind of place
where the staff can borrow clothes from the heaps of couture in the fashion department if
they need something smarter for the evening. Aspiration shows on its shiny pages, but does it shine brightly enough in today’s
increasingly homogenized world, where everyone is middle class? I ask Greig if it is still
cool to be posh. He considers for a minute and replies: “It’s never cool simply to be posh,
but it’s fine to be yourself. Whether you’re posh or Polish or from Pittsburgh doesn’t really
matter.”ARCHIVE: 4th week MT 2005