Wednesday, May 14, 2025
Blog Page 263

What’s happening in the chapel: An introduction to college chapels

When coming up with an idea for a column, I found myself thinking of my college chapel. I am a chapel warden at Lincoln College chapel which is very important to me, so I thought it might be nice to share some of the things we get up to and explain some of the more confusing things that go on in college chapels. Before we begin, it might be good to start with a little note about some of the language that can be used to describe what happens in chapels, as things can get a bit confusing. Denomination is a term used to describe which branch of Christianity a chapel is part of, and these different branches may influence the different services offered or styles of worship (Lincoln chapel is Church of England, for reference). Incidentally, you may also hear terms like ‘high church’ or ‘low church’ being used to describe churches- this sounds very odd, but it’s just a way of indicating how much ritual is involved in a church service. I would probably describe Lincoln as a mixture of ‘high’ and ‘low’, which will make slightly more sense when I begin to walk you through a mini calendar of the services in our chapel.

Morning Prayer

Seeing as this is the first service of the day, Morning Prayer seems like a good place to start. If you aren’t a morning person, I’m not sure this would be the service for you as you do need to be up a bit early. I find that combining it with a college breakfast in the company of the other wardens (much nicer than soggy cereal by yourself!), gives me the incentive to get up on time. Our Morning Prayers are fairly simple and last no longer than 20 minutes so you could describe this as our most ‘low church’ service. One thing that I think makes Lincoln slightly unique is that our Morning Prayers are sung, which in most circumstances is a lovely way to start the day. However, when you are full of freshers flu and mid essay crisis it might be a better idea to go back to sleep for a bit (take it from me, week 4 of Michaelmas was something I would rather not revisit). If you like simple and quick worship, then Morning Prayer is for you- just remember to wear a jumper, because chapels are very cold in the mornings!

Weekday Eucharist 

For those who haven’t encountered the term Eucharist before, please don’t run away; this column isn’t about to become a theology lesson! Eucharist is another term for Holy Communion, where worshippers are offered the blood and body of Jesus in the form of bread and wine. One of our jobs as chapel wardens is to assist the chaplain during Eucharist, which is mainly carrying things to and from the alter and ringing a little bell in the important bits of the Eucharistic prayer. I find this all slightly nerve wracking due to the fact that the water and wine are kept in very delicate (and I assume very expensive) glass bottles, and the chapel floor is marble which of course is a recipe for disaster if you arent paying attention to what you are doing. Weekday communion services usually take place at lunchtimes or in the evening, so they are a good option if you would like to take communion during the week. I would tend to go to an evening service because I can combine it with a formal dinner (also our chapel is gorgeous at night!). However, these tend to be quieter services, so if you prefer something slightly more social then a Sunday service or evensong might be nicer for you.

Sunday service

The stereotypical church service! This is nearly identical to the weekday Eucharist, but there  will probably be slightly more people (so you may not be picked on to do a reading!) The highlight for some is probably the ‘breakfast’ afterwards, which in Lincoln consists of various pastries and pieces of fruit with a lot of coffee and tea. If you have had a bit of a rough week I would recommend this, as its a good opportunity to have a nice chat with friends. However, you do have to be wary of ‘Serious Theological Discussion’ which can be slightly intense but please don’t be put off by it as we usually get back to just general chatting. 

Evensong

The big one. If you want to get the full Oxford Chapel Experience, go to an Evensong at least once. At Lincoln, this service consists of readings, organ recitals, the choir singing and often a visiting preacher to do the sermon. I would advise turning up slightly early to get a good seat and staying for drinks afterwards, which is a good way of either asking the visiting preacher any questions you may have or meeting up with friends before formal (my main bit of advice would be to get to the drinks before the choir do!) One of my more memorable evensongs (technically lessons and carols, please forgive me.) is when I got stuck in the anti-chapel with a small child, my tutor and a large bottle of red wine that had smashed all over the floor. It’s safe to say that it’s never dull in Lincoln chapel!

Whilst this isn’t an exhaustive list of all the things that go on in college chapels (I haven’t even mentioned the book clubs or other events run by the chaplains!), it will hopefully be useful if you are slightly confused about what goes on. As this column series continues, I will go through some of the people you may meet in a college chapel and take you on a little tour of some of the notable chapels in Oxford. I look forward to having you along with me and I hope we have fun!

Image Credit: Matthew Foster

A first date with anarchy?

0

If there ever was someone to understand the ins and outs of parliamentary figures, the man who pantomimically bellowed “Order!” across the House of Commons for over a decade would certainly be a strong candidate. Recently, John Bercow appeared on Good Morning Britain to acrimoniously denounce Boris Johnson as “the worst” prime minister he had seen during his political lifetime.

Boris Johnson and controversy have hardly been distant cousins. He has been personally accused of racism, condemned for Islamophobia, mired in a toxic mix of affairs and adultery, elicited dubious government contracts on the back of a pandemic, and sheltered for far too long a health minister famous for all the wrong reasons. The irony became clear when I recently asked my friend “Did you hear of the latest Tory scandal?” to which they responded, “which one?”. In recent months, the satin black walls of 10 Downing Street have been more akin to a celebrity Big Brother house than a political citadel. It might be fair to say that, under Johnson’s tenure, the Tory party’s vices seem to be strongly outweighing their virtues.

It seems as if the doomsday clock is close to striking twelve for the conservative party. And the recent revelation of 10 Downing Street’s festive function may just be the final nail in the coffin. Bercow described this transgression as one symptomatic of Boris Johnson’s disposition as a man who “stinks in the nostrils of decent people”. Whilst countless people across the nation were forced to give the cold shoulder to their close family and friends, wind down the tinsel, and watch the New Year’s Eve fireworks from the cold comfort of their own homes, the cabinet rolled out the mulled wine and turkey to throw a boozy bonanza before the Queen’s speech. The nation retreated into the domestic sphere and fell silent; the government rejoiced in the streets whilst they were hollow and empty.

To many opposition voters and – it must be stressed – perhaps even more so conservative voters, the betrayal is palpable. Many of the government’s previous misdemeanours were reprimandable, no doubt, but seemed abstract, untouchable, and distant. Matt Hancock’s front-page flirtations induced more entertainment than outrage for many. The headlines became commonplace – banal, even. But what happened at 10 Downing Street was far more sinister than the Grinch cancelling Christmas: it was a sharpened spear thrown directly into the heart of the British psyche. Many voters – Labour, Conservative, and others alike – have pitched forward to express their indignance. Mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters had to miss their relatives’ last words in hospital beds. Others were deprived of their senses, only able to speak to their relatives through the pixels of an iPad screen, unable to hug, smell, or listen to their loved ones for the last time.

A profusion of political consequences now lies in wait for the government. With the Omicron variant now spreading through populations like a hot knife through butter the government has moved the national COVID alert level to Tier Four. Despite the dully repeated phrase “learning to live with COVID”, it is clear that the government is likely to rekindle used strategies of prevention, or enforce new ones. Masks are being re-mandated, and a fresh batch of vaccines are ready to be administered for a new booster programme.

However, as all things in life ebb and flow with time, so does the resolve of the public to adhere to government restrictions. The first national lockdown was draconian; citizens were scared to leave their homes for a small walk in the park. Borders between family members, friends, strangers, regions, and nations became welded with iron. Fast forward in time to the third lockdown, and we see mass anti-lockdown protests, and a waning enthusiasm to remain living in fear of the virus.

So, what will the public say if new measures are introduced? Will we listen, docile and obedient, to the advice relayed to us through our television screens in the knowledge that the government so bitterly betrayed us last time round? Will young people refrain from clinking their beer-swelled glasses at the pub? Will the Sunday shoppers take to their laptops instead of the highstreets? Where will the elderly go to play bowls and bingo? Will anarchy break loose? And, most importantly, will the government manage to abide by the rules which they themselves put into motion? Perhaps it is rather trite, but Starmer’s proclamation of “one rule for us, another for them” has never bore such heavy truth. Boris Johnson’s grip on sovereignty seems to be rapidly loosening.

The goalposts set by our government have been subtly shifting in plain sight for quite some time now. A shifting political baseline syndrome has infected our nation and become the norm. We now judge the present actions and behaviours of our government with respect to the recent past. What was previously unacceptable in the political realm thus begins to creep into acceptability. This time, however, the general public have taken notice. The irony has become clear, and the iron-fist of government-imposed law now seems to be limp and flaccid. Jacob Rees-Mogg’s comments that “this party is not going to be investigated by the police in a year’s time” clearly demonstrate a hubristic lack of prescience; it’s no skin off their nose.

Recent governance has somewhat resembled a game of Russian Roulette. This time, the gamble may not have paid off, and the cabinet might have finally shot themselves fatally in the foot. It seems rather appropriate to rehash one of David Cameron’s old comments; the public has now realised “you don’t need it to be Christmas to know when you are sitting next to a turkey”.

One theme which seems to have permeated through Tory drama in the last few months is that of flirtation. Affairs, accusations, adultery, and so on. Johnson and his Cabinet have long been flirting with the possibility of anarchy; perhaps, then, the time for a first date has arrived.

Image: UK Parliament/CC BY-NC 2.0 via flickr

Pythagoras’ Nightmare: Reincarnation, Coldplay and the Music of the Spheres

0
“The static’s nice. I could do without the screeching.”                                                                                                                
“Are you kidding? That’s the music of the spheres, commissar. It’s beautiful. Like old jazz.”                                                            
 (Peter Watts, Blindsight)  

In around 600 BC, the Ionian philosopher Pythagoras is said to have originated the idea of the music of the spheres. This was the geocentric belief that the earth is surrounded by eight crystalline, transparent ’spheres,’ concentrically carrying the sun, moon, planets and stars in their daily earthly orbit. The movement of each sphere was understood to produce a certain tone, which, when taken together, formed the octave of a celestial harmony where the stars (farthest away and so considered to orbit fastest) produced the highest pitch and the moon the lowest.

The association Pythagoras drew between mathematical and musical ratios remains enduringly influential, but his cosmic theory of consonance has long since been dismissed by astronomers as little more than a metaphoric expression for the harmony of the universe. A similar thing can be said for his concept of reincarnation, called ‘metempsychosis,’ in which the soul was believed to transmigrate to another body after death. Unfortunately this too hasn’t quite caught on with the modern masses as much as his other big hitters: calculating the sides of right-angle triangles in GCSE maths, and vegetarianism, to name some familiar favourites.

For the sake of argument though, let’s take Pythagoras’ slightly more wacky theories at face value. Let’s say that his soul’s still knocking about on earth listening out for the planetary orchestra’s interminable tune. This would mean that, over the course of the last two and a half millennia, he would have watched on as Copernicus, Galileo and Newton gradually dismantled his beloved musical concept. Perhaps by this point he would have been in and out of counselling, or metempsychotic’s anonymous, or taken to asphyxiating a stress ball every time he hears about Elon Musk. What with all the dying, being reincarnated, and the cynics, I’m sure he would have had his fair share of highs and lows. But I doubt anything could have prepared him for the 15th of October 2021. It was on this day that Coldplay released their ninth studio album, Music of the Spheres, and I fear it might well have proved his fatal blow.

Don’t get me wrong. The album is upbeat, cheerful, maddeningly optimistic and, at least intermittently, catchy for most of us mortals. But something tells me it’s not quite the empyreal sound Pythagoras would have had in mind. From the soul destroying synth repetitions of the opening song, ‘Higher Power,’ to the screechy serenade of ‘Biutyful,’ (where the lead singer duets with something stuck in an air vent), the album seems to somewhat miss the celestial mark.

Chris Martin, the frontman has spoken of Music of the Spheres as first being influenced by watching the Cantina Band from the original Star Wars and wondering what other musicians in the cosmos would sound like. This produced the concept of it being set in a fictional planetary system, entitled The Spheres, which contains nine planets, three natural satellites, a star and a nebula. The essential Pythagorean parallel lies in the fact that each of these cosmic entities corresponds to a particular song on the album. But while the concept is artistically ambitious, its application feels more orientated towards commercial success.

This might have something to do with Music of the Spheres being Coldplay’s first project produced by the middle-aged Swedish hit-machine, Max Martin. Having collaborated with everyone from Britney Spears and the Beastie Boys in the 90s, to Taylor Swift and the Weeknd today, Martin has just earned the twenty-second No. 1 Billboard hit of his career with the album’s second single, ‘My Universe,’ featuring BTS. Max Martin is known in the music industry as an advocate of what he calls “melodic math,” a songwriting style which aims at fitting the syllables of each line to the sounds of the track, without much regard for whether the lines themselves make sense.

In the past Chris Martin has admitted to his own relaxed approach to the semantics of songwriting. He’s cited a tendency to prioritise emotions over lyrical coherence. The result is that, together, Martin² have produced an album with a formidably marketable recipe for upbeat unintelligibility. To top it all off, they’ve even managed to cut down the word count of the tracklist, choosing to name certain songs using emojis instead. In all, Martin actually describes the entire album pretty neatly in just its second verse, singing “I’m like a broken record, I’m like a broken record and I’m not playing right.”

Music of the Spheres joins a long list of musical endeavours influenced by Pythagoras’ concept. Holst is a major name which comes to mind. There’s also the experimental technicality of Rued Langgaard’s orchestral score of the same name, written in 1916-18. More recent honourable mentions include the minimalist rock approach of Ian Brown’s third solo studio album, released in 2001, and Bjork’s swirling, philosophical The Crystalline Series (2011). Of all these variations on the music of the spheres, though, I honestly think that Pythagoras would have preferred Coldplay’s to remain inaudible.

I can picture him, unconsolable, on the 15th of October last year, reincarnated as a pet gerbil, or a spoon, or a slightly chubby toddler from Amsterdam called Lars, crying into his cornflakes with Chris Martin and BTS echoing in his ears…“you (you), you are (you are) my universe”. His idea for a grand, mathematical approach to music reduced to the “melodic math” of efficiently turning a song into a commercial success. Either way, if he is still with us, I have no doubt he’s wishing he hadn’t been right all along. That he’d binned all this metempsychosis business, and his soul had kicked it along with his body in pastoral Ionian peacefulness, millennia before Musk and the two Martins changed his tune.

Ingmar Bergman And The Self-Aware Blockbuster

0

Don’t worry, this isn’t one of those articles about how superhero blockbusters are awful compared to classic movies. No, I’m here to explore the weird commonality between Ingmar Bergman’s The Magic Flute and modern blockbusters—a process which will involve some spoilers for Spider-Man: No Way Home and The Matrix Resurrections, so consider yourself warned. Linking these different approaches to film will be a strange journey, but at its end lies an intriguing idea: that reality and fiction may be one and the same.

Let’s start with a simple question: when we watch movies, who do we see? You see the characters in the story, but also the actors portraying them—for example, when Spider-Man’s on screen in No Way Home, you’re simultaneously immersed in the movie’s portrayal of a fictional character, but also aware that there’s a real person playing that role. It’s what philosopher Richard Wollheim calls “twofoldness”—when we perceive a work of fiction, he argues, we’re also aware of how that fiction is delivered to us in reality. Whether that’s recognizing that actors are portraying characters, or knowing that novels are made up of written words, fiction is always tied to how we perceive it in the real world.

This may seem obvious, but it’s a useful tool for filmmakers. Consider how movies might match a role to a star with a similar real-life persona, such as Robert Downey Jr. being cast as Iron Man because his real struggles with addiction resembled the character’s persona of a troubled playboy. But this is, again, a rather obvious application of this phenomenon. For a more interesting one, let’s look at Ingmar Bergman’s 1975 film version of Mozart’s opera The Magic Flute.

Bergman’s adaptation is a deliberately stylized, theatrical one. The movie is set and filmed in a replica of a Baroque opera house, with the camera showing set changes and audience reactions. This fourth-wall-breaking extends to how the actors are presented, as we see them waiting in the wings, with their behaviour humorously paralleling the characters they play. The actors playing villains are shown smoking under a “No Smoking” sign; the chaste love interests play chess during the intermission; their serious mentor studies his script.

In typical examples of how actors are cast, casting directors rely on existing preconceptions about actors. Bergman, however, creates fictitious personalities for his stars. These scenes turn what are ostensibly glimpses of real actors into yet another layer of fiction, with the story’s theatrical framing reminding us how everything on screen (even these behind-the-scenes vignettes) is all quite literally staged. But this isn’t just a one-off joke—it also serves as a comment on celebrity culture. Consider how our knowledge of celebrities range from real statements to carefully crafted, meticulously Photoshopped stories. In Hollywood, behind-the-scenes reality is as much a well-crafted tale as what’s on screen, a phenomenon that Bergman lightheartedly parodies here.

For a contemporary example of how reality and fiction collide, just look at the two recent Spider-Man and Matrix movies. No Way Home relies on a web (pun intended) of other movies and shows, with many of its big emotional payoffs, such as Andrew Garfield’s Spider-Man saving MJ, being rooted in moments from other films. Perhaps more so than even the rest of the MCU, the movie draws from the communities fans have built, seeking to deliver on fan theories, desires for resolutions to previous movie storylines, and in-jokes and memes.

Similarly, The Matrix Resurrections literally has characters debating what people want from a Matrix sequel, whether audiences value originality or just want nostalgia and bullet-time stunts. It’s a movie which questions whether the themes it tries to explore have any significance, or if those ideas will just be commercialized reductively. While it might seem like the cynical twin to No Way Home’s approach to fan-service, the fact that the movie exists at all suggests that the director Lana Wachowski believes that there’s still room in the world for a challenging, strange blockbuster. While the film’s currently divided reception might question this, it’s a thesis that I’d like to believe in.

If Bergman creates his own fictitious version of reality in The Magic Flute, these two recent blockbusters turn real audiences into the subjects of films. Whether it’s No Way Home’s engagement with fan desires, or The Matrix Resurrections’ exploration of how viewers and studios approach movies, going to see films suddenly becomes like looking in the mirror. We end up watching ourselves watching movies, exploring our own impact on Hollywood. Far be it for me to challenge Wollheim’s philosophy, but maybe twofoldness isn’t quite the word to use in the age of self-aware blockbusters—because, just like Bergman’s fictionalization of his actors, offscreen reality and onscreen fiction are starting to look like the same thing.

Artwork by Wang Sum Luk. Image Credit: pikisuperstar via www.freepik.com

Dean of Christ Church indicates support for resignation deal as protests rage

The Very Rev Martyn Percy, the embattled Dean of Christ Church college, has indicated that he is willing to step down as part of a deal in which he will gain a £1.5mn payoff and see the settlement of a sexual harassment claim against him, the Financial Times reported.

Although the woman who brought the harassment claim against Percy said that she wanted the investigation to proceed, the deal – which was proposed by three powerful alumni, Lord Charles Cecil, a former banker who was the High Sheriff of Hertfordshire, Robin Priest, a former partner at Deloitte, and Sir John Aird, a one-time Page of Honour to the Queen – will see the end of investigations into the Dean, the Very Rev Martyn Percy. 

The termination agreement will include a payment to the Very Rev Percy of £1.5mn “net of all tax and national insurance deductions”. In return, he will drop his tribunal claim against Christ Church and leave his post at the college.

Christ Church would also pay “financial recompense” to the female complainant.

According to the Financial Times, the college and the dean will be entering into mediation unrelated to the proposed deal this month. Percy, who has been on sick leave for much of the dispute, will also be subjected to a college-appointed panel which will advise on his medical fitness. 

To discuss the ongoing dispute between Christ Church and the Dean, the Chancellor of Oxford University, Lord Chris Patten, and Vice-Chancellor, Dame Louise Richardson, met with senior figures at the College in the Thatched Barn in Christ Church Meadow on Friday 21st. 

In response to the proposed deal, as well as the potential for the investigation to come to a close, a protest outside the Thatched Barn was organised by students. As the attendees arrived, they were met with dozens of students armed with cardboard placards urging them to continue the tribunal against the Dean.

In a Facebook post circulated around the University, the protestors emphasised the need to show solidarity for the victim and take a stand against the “powerful members of the university [who] have tried to discredit this claim and pressurise the governing body into silencing the victim”.

Once the attendees of the meeting had filed into the Thatched Barn, the protestors processed to its back entrance and lined the pathway with signs, including one reading: “never try to silence the victim”, and another stating: “the tribunal MUST go ahead”. 

A member of the Christ Church JCR told Cherwell that they were eager for the tribunal to go ahead. They said that any attempt to cancel the investigations would reflect a systematic disregard for protecting students from the university at a wider level.

Members of the Christ Church student body were said to be outraged. The JCR had previously spoken out about its discomfort with the Dean’s comments in an article, where he likened his experiences of the sexual harrassment tribunal to that of a Holocaust victim. 

The JCR member commented on what they saw as the absurdity of paying the Dean £1.5mn to retire from the college. In light of recent university-wide cases of sexual misconduct, they highlighted the systematic issue of disregarding victims’ voices and advocated systemic change in the university to ensure the protection of students in future.

Christ Church, the Very Rev Martyn Percy, and the University of Oxford were unavailable for comment.

Image Credit: Diliff / CC BY-SA 3.0

Exclusive report! The fashion trends to rock 2022

0

When Madi, Iustina and I introduced ourselves on the now-rebooted Cherwell fashion Instagram (@cherwellfashion – give us a cheeky follow), we each answered the question of what we would like to see left in 2021. All three of us reached the same conclusion: death to y2k fashion. Cheap pink rhinestones, Juicy Couture, low rises and high hems, and plastic beaded jewellery – don’t get me wrong, I lived for this for a while but I am more than done now. I no longer feel like a hot character in Mean Girls when my pants stick out of my trousers and though I still love my belly button piercing, it doesn’t crave the attention it once did. Vogue may disagree with us (I heard Cherwell’s the new Vogue, no?) but we’re agreed that Y2K and its Urban Outfitters manifestations are going out the door, what will we replace them with? What has fashion got in store for us in 2022? Don’t take my word for it but these are my trend predictions for 2022.

Balaclavas

Less of a prediction and more of a comment about recent developments but I am loving the current balaclava reboot. I can’t go on Instagram anymore without having someone teach me how to knit or crochet one. I took the lazy/cheapskate approach and sewed one out of leftover fleece from other sewing projects and I have to say they are very practical – my neck is always warm and I am never in danger of losing my hat because it’s basically attached to me.

Asymmetry

One-shoulder garments are here to stay, no question, but I also want to see more asymmetry in other aspects. On the average night out I lose about 3.4 earrings so my vast collection is almost entirely pair-less. I love matching different dangly earrings (I have a big shell one that I tend to wear with almost anything).

Eighties round 2

We’ve already had an eighties reboot in the past couple years but it’s time for it to come back around in a new guise. I’m talking big bulky-shouldered blazers, skin-tight leggings, sheer dresses, sequins, and, instead of the belt-length minis Vogue’s been raving about, PUFFBALL SKIRTS! I want geeky, over-dressed, over-patterned and gaudy colours. I do not want eighties tamed down – acid wash jeans and baggy cropped sweatshirts. I want foiled metallics and original punk scene grunge. I want my frizzy mop to be fashionable and so desirable people get perms to achieve the look. I’ll even take big chunky pearls as a replacement of childhood plastic.

Layering

The aforementioned eighties style is perfectly enacted with lots of layering (not the mini skirt over jeans early 2000s kind). If a blazer feels to informal for every day, try wearing it in place of a fleece or jacket. I like wearing a hoodie under my blazers to tone it down a bit for my trips to Common Ground (aka the daily fashion show). Sheer items can be made more accessible with tops under or over them.

Uggs?

I wasn’t aware of this resurgence until I got three reels on Instagram in a row of people styling Uggs (I promise Instagram isn’t my only source of trend wisdom) but I am personally ambivalent. Comfort is a big pro with this one but they feel quite Y2K to me and I’ve made my opinions on that matter quite clear. I just hope that if they come back with a bang it comes with sustainability and ethical production.

Very Peri

Pantone’s colour of the year for 2022 is Very Peri, a beautiful purpley-periwinkle shade which I am all for. I also want to see emerald greens, sunshine yellows, and I’m disappointed by the insistence of every recent trend report that head-to-toe white looks will be all the rage. I want colour clashes and chaos.

Make-up – all things bright and beautiful

I recently purchased a wet liner palette from Glisten Cosmetics after, you guessed it, discovering them on Instagram and I am in love. I am no make-up guru but I have been loving waking up in the morning, picking a colour and scribbling all over my eyes like (not so) grown-up face paint. I also bought some luminous green and turquoise mascaras to top it all off. I’m bored of the sophisticated black smudgy liners – bring back colour!

My housemates’ predictions

I was sat in my room with my housemates while writing this article so I thought I’d share their non-fashion-editor wisdom with you all. Ben got an Oodie covered in sloths for Christmas and is sure they’ll be all the rage soon; I’m all for it, comfort and sophistication in one, and thoroughly encourage his decision to wear it on his evening walks around Oxford (see if you can spot him). I personally have been wearing my fleece lined Christmas Crocs everywhere without shame. Nick enquires when we will be returning to office wear. I mentioned that most offices nowadays don’t require a suit and tie. He wants to work somewhere that does. Luke anticipates technical wear making a big come back and I couldn’t agree more. Though his desire for hazmat suits to become a daily look might be a stretch, I wouldn’t complain if the boiler suit revival kept growing from strength to strength. If I were to buy one item right now? A Lucy and Yak boiler suit – in the brightest colour they have.

Image Credit: Sharon McCutcheon via Unsplash

The rise, fall, and ambiguous resurgence of Lin-Manuel Miranda

Even if you’ve never heard of Lin-Manuel Miranda, you’ve likely heard of at least one of his works: In the Heights, Bring it On: The Musical, Hamilton, or the soundtracks to Moana and Encanto.

Miranda is undoubtedly a talented creative force, juggling the roles of actor, singer, songwriter, and playwright all at once for certain productions. He was the recipient of several major awards, including a Pulitzer Prize, two Laurence Olivier Awards, three Tony Awards, three Grammy Awards, and two Primetime Emmy Awards, just to name a few.

Until somewhat recently—Miranda’s name seemed to carry a magnetic aura. He was even credited with reviving the interest of the historical Alexander Hamilton himself, saving the US founding father from being removed from the $10 bill. The musical quickly became a pop culture phenomenon that was nominated for a record 16 Tony Awards thanks to its energetic spirit and catchy music. One of the other reasons it became so popular was because it had a diverse cast that, in Miranda’s words, “looks like America now,” and allowed the audience to get drawn into the story and “leave whatever cultural baggage you have about the Founding Fathers at the door.”

In the summer of 2020, after the murder of George Floyd and the resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement, the American public began to become more critical of racial issues and representation in the media. Books by Black authors or ones about racial injustice soon became bestsellers and appeared on “must-read” lists.  

Hamilton, using a mostly POC cast (with the exception of King George III)soon received some very valid criticism. Fans of Miranda questioned why a Black, Jewish man (Daveed Diggs) was playing Thomas Jefferson, a lifelong slave owner. Similar questions can be asked about the other BIPOC cast members playing—and aggrandizing—morally reprehensible, problematic historical figures who upheld systemic racism in the United States. Miranda probably had good intentions; to create a colour-conscious cast and try to diversify Broadway by employing some of the best, upcoming BIPOC actors in theatre. However, his intentions fall short because it honestly glosses over the fact many of these characters bursting into rap and song were actually slave-owners. 

Jefferson is the only character that is really criticized for owning slaves. This happens in the second song of Act II, in “Cabinet Battle #1.” The “battle” begins when George Washington explains the following issue before the cabinet: Hamilton proposed to establish a national bank. Jefferson is not a fan of this idea, to say the least, and rails off about how it’s a bad idea. Hamilton responds, in rap battle fashion, “A civics lesson from a slaver… / Your debts are paid cuz you don’t pay for labor / “We plant seeds in the South. We create.”…/ We know who’s really doing the planting.” 

Just by reading these lyrics, it does feel like a real criticism of Jefferson, but the music and performance of the actors say otherwise. As Hamilton raps them out, the other members of the cabinet respond by putting their hands over their mouths, letting out audible gasps. Hamilton’s deride ends with him telling Jefferson to “bend over” so he can show him “where his shoe fits,” then he does a little bunny hop dance. It feels more like Jefferson has been humiliated rather than criticized. Ultimately, the song is tone-deaf. 

In one of the last songs of the first act, “Yorktown,” Washington has just promoted Hamilton to a command position in the Continental Army. Hamilton meets with Lafayette, and they discuss the ongoing Battle of Yorktown, which took place in 1781. As the battle begins, Hamilton muses on the locations of his friends. He notes that John Laurens is in South Carolina, leading a company of Black troops to battle. Hamilton and Laurens suddenly interject, “We’ll never be free until we end slavery!” This along with the other reoccurring standalone quotes throughout the musical, like “immigrants, we get the job done,” fulfills a romanticized version of America—an America that overcomes systemic prejudice and promises the American Dream to all.  

Most of the historical figures in the musical owned slaves, even Hamilton himself. Near the beginning of the musical Hamilton attends the Winter Ball, where he meets the Schuyler sisters–Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy. Hamilton almost immediately falls in love with Eliza and somehow, with his miraculous charisma, Hamilton manages to marry her. Hamilton is considered “out of Eliza’s league” because she comes from an incredibly wealthy family. How did her family get so wealthy? Well, her father, Philip Schuyler, owned a large estate in Saratoga, New York, which was comprised of tens of thousands of acres. As his incredible wealth and property suggest, he did indeed own many slaves.

Historian and Pulitzer Prize-winning author Annette Gordon-Reed wrote that Hamilton was neither an abolitionist nor was he pro-immigration. She praised the diversity of the cast, but at the same time felt Miranda may have unintentionally “submerged” a serious discussion on slavery by doing so. She considers herself a fan of the show but criticized its glimmering portrayals of the Founding Fathers.

The criticism of Hamilton was far-reaching. In 2019, American writer Ishmael Reed released a play that critiqued Hamilton through a fictionalized version of Miranda. In a Christmas Carol fashion, the ghosts of marginalized people and historical figures visit Miranda to communicate the whitewashing of Hamilton. At the end of the play, Miranda is commissioned to write a play about Christopher Columbus, which he ultimately refuses to write. Reed is the recipient of the 1998 MacArthur Fellowship – often called the “genius grant” – as well as the 1975 Guggenheim Fellowship for Creative Arts, a two-time National Book Award nominee, and a Pulitzer Prize nominee. His works are best known for challenging literary tradition and American political culture.

Hamilton isn’t the only one of Miranda’s works to fall short. In the summer of 2021, he produced a film adaption of his musical In the Heights. For context, In the Heights is about the predominantly Dominican Washington Heights neighborhood of Upper Manhattan in New York City. A sympathetic bodega owner named Usnavi saves up to live a better life, while the supporting cast members try to nurture their own dreams. 

The musical and its subsequent film adaption tackle tough topics such as American immigration policy, the rights of undocumented immigrants, microaggressions, and the gentrification of Manhattan. While the film had a slight underperformance at the box office, it holds a generally high rating from critics. 

However, the film did receive some backlash, especially from the Afro-Latino community due to its lack of dark-skinned characters. Concepción de León, a travel writer for the New York Times, said in an interview that “at least 90 percent of Dominicans are of African descent, according to a recent population survey.” She felt that Miranda and the directors of the film should have hired more Black Latino actors to “reflect the truth of the neighborhood.”

For a movie that tries to portray this demographic, an unknowing audience member may leave the theatre thinking that the community is mostly light-skinned, even though that is not the case. The New York Times wrote that the neighbourhood is “predominantly Afro-Dominican.”

Miranda did respond to this backlash, recognizing he made a mistake. He tweeted, shortly after the film’s release, that he could “hear the hurt and frustration over colorism…In trying to paint a mosaic of this community, we fell short.” He apologized and promised to improve on this in his future projects.

Some responses accepted his apology, arguing that it was impossible to represent a whole group in a film in the first place. However, many responses to Miranda’s apology tweet were still critical, for good reason. One Twitter user commented in response: “I hope you are moving beyond listening into some soul searching.  You have literally gone to the bank profiting from Black hip-hop culture, portraying a white man who claimed abolition but bought and sold enslaved Africans on the side. This was not an accident or unfortunate omission.”

As a result of these criticisms, many have concluded the film was a product of colourism, which de León noted was a major issue within the Latino community. As a Black Latina herself, she recalled that her complexion has always been a topic of conversation, even within her own family. She concluded that it was perfectly still acceptable to enjoy the film, despite these issues, but the audience should be aware that many of the film’s cultural elements could not be “divorced” from Black Latinos.

Near the end of 2021, Disney released a 3D animated musical film called Encanto. The story is about the Madrigal family, led by a matriarch whose immediate relatives receive magical gifts and powers from “the miracle” that enable them to provide for their rural Colombian community. Mirabel Madrigal, the protagonist, is the only child who does not receive a gift. This was foretold by Bruno, the “black sheep” of the family who is practically outcasted as a result of his powers of precognition. 

The soundtrack, composed by Miranda, has received wide acclaim, to the point where it’s almost inescapable. TikTok trends have helped the soundtrack get to this place, as the social media platform is overrun by trends accompanying the music and characters. The most popular track, “We Don’t Talk About Bruno,” has set a record for becoming Billboard’s highest-charting Disney song in 26 years, surpassing Frozen’s “Let It Go,” and currently tying with “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” from The Lion King, and Vanessa Williams’ “Colors of the Wind” from Pocahontas

The film has been praised for the way it handled toxic family relationships, the inclusion of a multi-generational household, and its diverse cast of characters. As far as I know, Miranda’s only contribution to the musical was its soundtrack, and he did not have any influence on its characters or plot. Unlike Miranda’s previous works, though, Encanto features Latino characters of all different skin colours.

Miranda did note in an interview with Moviefone TV that he was involved in the movie from its conception, and that allowed him to “contribute more through the musical storytelling.” Even though Miranda probably did not have a direct influence on the choices that made the animated movie as diverse as it was, his songs did help communicate the theme of generational trauma.

The release of Encanto also seems to have slowed down the previous criticisms of Miranda’s other works. Miranda typically plays the leading roles in his plays, as he played Usnavi in stage version of In the Heights and Alexander Hamilton in Hamilton. Some see this as a form of conceit. This is the case especially in Hamilton, where every female character is attracted by Hamilton. I would argue the case is a little less weird in In the Heights, but it is important to note that Usnavi is greatly admired and loved by everyone in the Washington Heights community. 

To the surprise of many, Miranda does not play a role in Encanto. It has kind of become a bona fide meme that Miranda secretly wanted to cast himself as Bruno because he’s the only older male character who raps in the film. People have humourously imagined Miranda being held back by Disney members while the cast of Encanto records their songs. One TikTok user has even recorded several covers of Encanto songs, playing every character in his uncannily accurate Miranda impression.

The case of Lin-Manuel Miranda is a strange one. He seems to have fulfilled one of the themes in Hamilton, which is that of legacy. What exactly is Miranda’s legacy now?

Image Credit: Gage Skidmore, CC BY-SA 2.0

Fifty shades of ‘meh’: Our night at Kinks and Liberty

Becoming student journalists has landed us on the blacklist for every secret rave in town and we’ve been desperate for a good night out under the radar. So when we received a message from the President of Oxford’s Hayek Society, a libertarian political club, telling us about an upcoming secret party titled ‘Kinks and Liberty’, we can’t say we weren’t genuinely excited. A few days later, however, we discovered a public Facebook event describing the night as a black tie charity fundraiser event but maintaining there would be an “afterparty at a secret location”. Not quite so secret anymore, but good enough, we thought. We decided to fork out a tenner, and put on our best formal wear for an evening of libertinism with the libertarians. All in the name of investigative journalism. 

In the queue to the event, we discover just how vague the ‘sexy black tie’ dress code really was: some are playing it safe with a shirtless tuxedo, others are spicing up their outfits with Anne Summers handcuffs that are somehow so clearly identifiable as a last-minute buy. One guy turns up in full hunting uniform and face paint. Jill shakes hands with an American gentleman who will introduce himself to her with his firm grip just about as many times as we turn to each other and utter the phrase “what the fuck”. Standing there, eyeing up our new ‘friends’ for the evening, we realise that we, in fact, have formed this so-called “queue” and that our fellow attendees might just be as clueless as us. 

The venue itself sets a somewhat sterile atmosphere that we find hard to put into words. That’s until we overhear someone telling their friend it looks “like a hospital waiting room”. That’s it – the white LED ceiling lights, the linoleum floor, the generic flower paintings on the walls – it really feels more like you’re about to be told grandpa isn’t going to make it than descend into the depths of sexual debauchery (that’s enough – Ed). The display is no less bizarre: two extra large boxes of Ferrero Rocher, plastic flutes, Prosecco and an arbitrary assortment of spirits ranging from branded vodka to some unidentifiable brown liquid that would remain unopened for the entire night.

The crowd includes some familiar faces – B-list Union hacks, at least two former OUCA presidents and the all-male committee of the Oxford Hayek Society – but we also find a large group of Worcester freshers and some rather discombobulated looking Balliol second-years. We mingle, attempting at first to conceal our motives for being there and branding ourselves as equally curious commoners, but Jill is soon outed as “someone who does something at Cherwell”. 

A common conversation starter is “so, what brought you here?”. At least half of the attendees we ask were personally invited by the President of the Society. The other half found the event through Facebook. We discover that the organisers have run paid-for Facebook ads in the week leading up to the event, which raises another question: who is paying for this? The event description mentioned a £10 entrance fee, but nobody is charged. The night was pitched to College as a charity fundraiser for the Institute of Economic Affairs, a right-wing think tank which advocates positions including anti-climate regulation, and the abolition of the NHS. Thankfully, they receive funding from British American Tobacco, so the lack of funds raised tonight is unlikely to make a big dent in their accounts. 

The event description also made a big deal out of cell phones being banned from the event. Failure to comply would “result in immediate ejection from the event”. This is neither checked nor enforced. 

David walks up to a Union hack he recognises from a video shoot last week. “I think we’ve met?” “I meet a lot of people.” Fair enough. Another hack introduces himself indifferently to Jill. “She’s the Cherwell editor”, someone pipes in. “What did you say your name was?” A second handshake is offered. 

Suddenly, the lights go out. Is this where the real party starts? Is the Pontigny Room about to turn into a darkroom for everyone to live out their wildest sexual fantasies? Some attendees (admittedly, ourselves included) are hopeful – until, after a few seconds, the room is illuminated with disco lights. Some people form a circle and play limbo with a leash attached to a guy’s collar. This feels quite symbolic in relation to our impression about the night so far. Then someone starts turning the lights on for fear of the Junior Dean, and writes the name of the so-called ‘charity’ on the whiteboard in the hopes it might deflect from the fact that nobody paid anything.

We decide to mingle some more. One guy acts surprised when Jill tells him she’s Irish. A group of people tries to convince us they are committee members of the infamous Piers Gaveston (‘Piers Gav’) Society: “Yeah, I was at the last Piers Gav event and it was a chill time, just good vibes, you know.” Somehow, that’s the only thing anyone at this event could’ve done to convince us they’re not a member. 

We go outside to eavesdrop on the conversations in the smoking area. Using cigarettes as friendship bracelets, Jill is let in on the recent sexual antics of a certain fresher who “just might show up tonight” and create a “right scene”. There, a Hayek Society committee member tells us that “these drinks are just the warm up”. Of course, how could we have forgotten about the secret afterparty! The committee member boasts that the President has paid for taxis for everyone to the location of the party. We’re intrigued. Soon after, more people are led outside, but there are no taxis to be seen anywhere. So we start walking – nothing makes you feel like you’re in Oxford more than a group of mildly inebriated black tie dressed students dashing across High Street, narrowly escaping being struck down by the Brookes bus. 

We stop at the Sainsbury’s outside the train station: “no alcohol, no entry”, we’re told by the President. What happened to the Hayek Society’s earlier generosity? We buy a bottle of Gordon’s Gin, hoping that OSPL might reimburse us (they didn’t). Suddenly, the taxis arrive. But we’re told that we’re only four minutes away from the secret location, so we decide to walk it. The secret location turns out to be… the Student Castle Common Room. Was the plan to sit here, stylish and modern that this fine piece of real estate is, and just drink? There are people around us having dinner and watching a football match. It seems like it. Other attendees, whose confusion has turned into frustration, are leaving. We sit down on some bean bags and debrief one of our fellow editors, who had high hopes of plugging Cherwell’s financial holes by selling this story to the Daily Mail (I said that’s enough – Ed).

We decide that the benefits of leaving and continuing our respective nights in Plush and Bully outweigh the costs of sitting awkwardly in black tie next to a group of grad students who were even more confused by our arrival than we are by their presence.

Did the night live up to our expectations? To be honest, we don’t even know what our expectations were. Did we get a night of (mostly) free booze on the Hayek Society’s dime? For sure. Is the Institute of Economic Affairs really funded by British American Tobacco? They are. Look it up. And if you are a Piers Gav committee member, please take us off the blacklist.

Correction 23/01/2022: The journalists have very poor taste in alcoholic beverages and failed to identify the white bubbles not as Prosecco but Lanson champagne costing £38.50 per bottle.

Image Credit: DANNY G via unsplash

SU stages demonstration against Nationality and Borders Bill

0

The Oxford SU organised a protest against the proposed Nationality and Borders Bill this past Sunday.

The group gathered around the steps of the Clarendon building that afternoon. A mix of student and outside organisations attended the event, including representatives from various local unions, student societies and Oxford chapters of Amnesty International and Solidaritee. 

There were around sixty protestors in attendance, with many passers-by stopping to listen as well. 

Some groups came to the protest with broader aims than just the bill in question, calling for a united, working-class response to all of the current government’s potentially harmful policies, but the core grievance remained the immigration bill in question. According to the SU’s website, this act, if passed, could endanger asylum seekers, revoke British citizenship without notifying the affected parties and, through the creation of a temporary protection status, “restrict the refugee students’ access to higher education”. 

Anvee Bhutani, president of the SU, highlights this last consequence as one of the catalysts for starting the demonstration. She underscores that education is key to integrating and advancing in society and students’ rights are often overlooked.

Multiple speakers spoke about their personal experiences moving to the country or as children of immigrants. One student who had become a naturalised British citizen said that he has always been wary of his status in the UK, but now genuinely fears that his citizenship may be revoked. 

There was a heavy focus on hearing from such students and emphasising that countless more cannot speak in public out of fear of this very bill. 

Even so, Kemi Agunbiade, VP Women, insists that “it shouldn’t have to be about us for us to care”. Students and groups with no immediate connection to immigration and refugee rights insisted on the negative outcomes of this bill and how it affects society at large. 

Philip Hutchinson, a member of the Oxford Climate Justice Campaign, spoke of an impending mass migration due to climate catastrophe and stressed the United Kingdom’s obligation to welcome and support refugees during this time of particularly high need for refugees. He urged students to resist the bill, which contradicts international law and the 1951 Refugee Convention, and to “not let the government tarnish the reputation of our nation”.

With the Nationality and Borders Bill at a late stage in the legislative process, there were mixed emotions present at the demonstration. Some believed it to be a done deal, with little resistance possible besides disregarding the law once in place and future action against the Tory government. Others, especially the SU organisers, kept up a general display of optimism, urging everyone to “keep fighting” and reiterating their support for immigrants, refugees and all people of colour in Britain.

Moving forward, the SU encourages students with concerns about the bill to come forward in order to allow the organisation to better represent their issues. In the meantime, they have compiled a list of online resources that will be available on their website, including letter-writing templates to send to their representatives in the House of Lords.

Image: Meghana Geetha