Wednesday, May 14, 2025
Blog Page 263

The Black Sheep: On Princess Diana’s statement sweaters

Iustina Roman
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The Black Sheep: On Princess Diana’s statement sweaters

With the release of Larraín’s biopic Spencer at the end of last year, and season 4 of the Netflix-produced drama series The Crown in 2020, the life of Princess Diana has once again come under the spotlight. Known not just for a remarkable rise to fame and tragic death, Princess Diana is also well remembered for her iconic fashion sense which is appreciated even to this day.

Though she is often remembered for her most daring and glamorous looks, especially the infamous Revenge Dress, I find the Princess of Wales’ casual looks featuring statement sweaters even more iconic. Some have described them as ‘grandma sweaters’ or ‘campy’, but it is clear that they remain influential and appreciated in fashion.

Several influencers and models have come out with outfits that are very reminiscent of the athleisure wear Diana used to be spotted in while running errands off-duty. Her combinations of cool sweaters and luxury handbags with a pair of cycling shorts and sporty trainers are perfectly fitting for us nowadays, as we have become accustomed to combining looking good with feeling even better as a direct result of staying home during the worst of the pandemic.

Moreover, it has been observed that Princess Di may have used her garments to convey certain messages. For example, one of her most famous pieces is a red jumper by the ‘70s knitwear brand Warm & Wonderful which she first wore in 1981, and many more times after that. The top features a pattern of sheep which are all white — except for one. This black sheep could be a metaphor for the princess herself, since she was seen as an outside member of the royal family. Since then, the brand Rowing Blazers has brought back this design with the help of its original creators, so now you too can emulate Princess Diana’s iconic look—if you have £280 to spare, that is.

Another piece I am particularly fond of is a graphic sweater which was also recently reproduced by Rowing Blazers. This time, the message on the salmon-pink sweater she was pictured in while spending time with her sons is much more in-your-face. On the front, it reads “I’m a luxury…” and on the back, “few can afford”. The tongue-in-cheek design showcases the Princess of Wales’ sense of humour which she managed to express through fashion.

It is perhaps for these reasons that her statement sweaters have made a comeback, gaining huge popularity among a generation born after her death. As more people seek to find new ways of expressing themselves, who better to look up to than the queen (or princess, rather) of making a statement through clothing herself? Without saying a word, Diana gained the sympathy and admiration of many around the globe. Though some of this popularity may be exaggerated — blame your middle-aged mum for continuing to idolise her 25 years on — it is undeniable that her style has had a long-lasting impact. 

Fast fashion and high-end brands alike are now flocking to produce a plethora of cool sweater designs which Diana herself would have probably been proud of. Nowadays, you probably won’t have to search long for a statement knit featuring bright colours and cool images. Harry Styles himself was pictured in a sweater vest featuring Lanvin’s sheep design similar to, but maybe not as powerful as, the Warm & Wonderful one (since the sweater vest does not include a black sheep standing out). 

However, you don’t have to splurge out or consume fast fashion to find an iconic sweater of your own. Popping into a charity shop or even rummaging through your dad’s wardrobe will probably provide you with the perfect ‘ugly sweater’ to channel your inner Di. It’s no wonder that entire generations have fallen in love with her classic, timeless style in a world of trends which come and go before you’ve even had time to form an opinion on them.

Image Credits: Paisley Scotland/CC BY 2.0 on Flickr

‘A masterclass in laugh-a-minute sketches’ – Review: The People vs. The Oxford Revue

Abbie Nott
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‘A masterclass in laugh-a-minute sketches’ – Review: The People vs. The Oxford Revue

In the sold-out Old Fire Station, I knew the performance would be one to remember when it began with a keyboard on stage – you can’t go wrong with a song, can you? The charismatic host, Jack McMinn, kicked things off with a laugh-out-loud ode to Pret a Manger, channeling Tim Minchin in his brilliant proof that ‘manger’ can rhyme a multitude of surprising words, including ‘longer’. After the Oxford Revue’s pandemic-related hiatus from live performances, it was certainly back with a bang. 

That bang continued in the first sketch, with a meta-theatrical musing on the subtleties of Chekhov’s gun… I eagerly anticipated its return. I was not disappointed when towards the end of Act 1 a Teletubbies dystopia culminated in the assassination of Tinky Winky. Never has ‘time for tubby bye bye’ been so disturbing, and the idea of the baby in the sun as the evil overlord was perfect.

Alfred Dry’s sexy salesperson was a hilarious returning feature of the show, marketing everything from Steve Jobs’ jobs to Bill Gates’ gates. The People vs The Oxford Revue was a masterclass in laugh-a-minute sketches that also managed to include jabs at capitalism and the government without seeming forced. There was even a cheese and wine joke in Act 2 – very topical! The most eminent and most noble Annalise Dodson led a sketch about the bumbling House of Lords. Other subjects that didn’t escape ridicule in the first half included the  noises made by tennis players and the ludicrous names of posh cocktails.

The second half was perhaps the stronger, with Jack McMinn declaring that it would get a bit more risqué before launching into a song condemning sex on the beach. Highlights from this half included Jake Dann’s mob boss holding hustings for a new mafia welfare officer, as well as a take on the last supper, featuring Deborah Acheampong’s charismatic Jesus, with a panto-villain Judas. However, the stand-out sketch featured Alison Hall and Alec Watson as a struggling married couple, only to find that they were living in The Sims. Hilarious to both those familiar with the computer game or not, they showed exactly why live comedy is needed, as not much is better than being in a room with so many people trying to contain their hysterics at the same thing.

Overall, the evening achieved a tone of hilarity mixed in with just enough social commentary. The final song was one that made me already nostalgic to have reached the end of the show; I definitely wasn’t ready to say goodbye to all of the wonderful characters who had graced the stage that evening. It is an amazing skill to have such a carousel of worlds and people played by the same few actors, and yet the show never felt disjointed; it was almost as if the tennis players, the teletubbies and the young Conservatives were all interconnected.

The students were all outstanding, and the effort that was put into the showcase was certainly rewarded by the laughs they were given in return by the audience – I can’t wait to watch what they do next!

A tour of foreign literature

Cherwell Books
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A tour of foreign literature

CW: mentions of Nazism, sexual coercion, and violence

The world of foreign fiction is diverse and rich but often underrepresented, which is exactly what we are hoping to change! Our contributors have put forward a collection of some of their favourite books by authors from across the globe. So, enjoy a ‘tour’ through some great recommendations of world literature and maybe you’ll find your next read!

Norway: Hedda Gabler by Henrik Ibsen – recommended by Rowena Sears

Henrik Ibsen’s 1891 tragedy feels more relevant with every reading. The eponymous protagonist, an aristocrat in a loveless marriage to a mundane academic, could not be further from the angelic heroine we have come to expect of women in nineteenth-century literature. Frustrated with her lack of autonomy over her own life, Hedda seeks to dominate and destroy those around her, depriving them of their fragile happiness. However, Ibsen makes it difficult for us as readers to completely dislike her; Hedda is a victim of a society which refuses to allow women any control over their own lives, and her unwanted pregnancy, her fear of scandal, and her experiences of sexual coercion are issues which, unfortunately, we can understand and relate to over a century after the play’s first performance.

Italy: My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante – recommended by Antara Singh

My Brilliant Friend is the first of Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan Novels; it traces the story of two best friends, Elena and Lila, growing up during the 1950s, in a poor yet lively neighbourhood in the outskirts of Naples, Italy. On the surface, it’s a coming-of-age novel, but what made it such an incredible read was how Ferrante managed to weave in a litany of other themes. It’s a story about male violence, the results of the patriarchy on women’s creativity, social class, adolescent love, left-wing politics, power, and shoes. Ferrante uses Italy’s turbulent historical and political background in the first half of the twentieth century to explore the girls’ livelihoods and uses them in turn to deepen our understanding of the social fabric of Italy itself. My Brilliant Friend is not only the story of these two girls and their transition to womanhood, but the story of a neighbourhood, a city, and a nation.

Czech Republic: The Trial by Franz Kafka – recommended by Elena Buccisano

The Trial, for me, was a charity shop impulse buy after recognising the name of its author, Franz Kafka. As the writer of the famous Metamorphosis, I had heard tales of Kafka as an elusive and mystifying writer – and The Trial certainly solidified that impression. Fundamentally, this novel relates the perplexing experiences of a man arrested on a charge which is never specified to the reader, but within this narrative Kafka is clearly trying to elucidate some of the fundamental dilemmas of human life. The novel is psychologically intense, often frustrating, but fantastic. Ultimately, you realise that what the protagonist is charged with is not really important – what is more frustrating is the mechanics of justice and the absurdity of life itself. It is almost unlike any book I have read before.

France: Bonjour Tristesse by Françoise Sagan – recommended by Eliza Browning

I’ve been on a French literature binge recently, so impulse buying Francoise Sagan’s Bonjour Tristesse for fifty percent off in Heathrow in December turned out to be an unexpectedly perfect decision. First published in 1954, when the author was only 18, the novel caused an instant sensation in the French media for its portrayal of sensual, amoral bourgeois intellectuals. The novella-length book is short enough that you can devour it in an entire afternoon, and is the ideal stylish beach or plane read, full of suspenseful descriptions of languid summer days and the shimmering French Riviera. Perfect for fans of F. Scott Fitzgerald or Elena Ferrante.

Russia: The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov – recommended by Anna Stephen

When our tyre burst on the M11 a few years back, I found myself stuck in a garage accompanied only by my family and a packet of McVitie’s Gold Bars. However, as luck would have it, I happened to be carrying a copy of Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita in my luggage. This is a story that interweaves a plot about the devil appearing as a magician in 1930s atheist Moscow, wreaking havoc upon the city, with an account of Pontius Pilate’s officiation of the trial of Jesus. The casual, happy-go-lucky attitude of the characters, the ludicrousness of events, and the totally flippant manner of narration (interpreted and conveyed wonderfully by translators Burgin and O’Connor) come together to create a healthy dose of escapism and satire that could make up for a puncture any day. I can’t remember enjoying many novels as much as I enjoyed this one.

Algeria: The Plague by Albert Camus – recommended by Matthew Holland

Going into reading The Plague by Albert Camus I was acutely aware of two things about the book: first, that this book was laced with an extended metaphor of the tyranny of the Nazi Regime as being akin to a plague-like existence, and second, that Camus is renowned principally as a philosopher as opposed to a novelist. Despite the obvious parallels that can be made between the Plague and the Nazi Regime, this book also seems scarily prophetic in our plague-stricken world, with the imposition of harsh measures to control the Plague and the separation caused by quarantining being realities which we have ourselves experienced. Ultimately, its greatest messages lie in its teaching of the selfless public servant, acting to save lives and grant humanity and dignity to a depersonalised world. The Plague should certainly be considered recommended reading for all of us who have experienced the world of this novel become reality.

India: Ecstatic Poems by Mirabai (Versions by Robert Bly and Jane Hirshfield) – recommended by Shayon Mukherjee

There are few poets with works so venerated that the poets themselves enjoy a deification of sorts. However, one Rajasthani princess from the 16th century, the ‘poet-saint’ Mirabai, has managed to achieve this feat. In artfully rendered English, Bly and Hirshfield choose poems from Mira’s works that, when read in the presented order, tell a secret story of a divine love lost and rediscovered. Casting aside the obligations of her caste and family, she surrenders herself physically, spiritually and sexually to The Dark One, an enigmatic figuration of Lord Krishna as a divine lover. Mira has attained a legendary status among Indians the world over. Her biographers tell us few facts about her life and tend to prefer recounting a patchwork of folkloric tales about her associates, marriage and politics, all of which draw heavily from her passionate, enigmatic poetry – poetry of love, despair, surrender and ultimately, divine reconciliation.

Japan: The Makioka Sisters by Jun’ichirō Tanizaki – recommended by Serena Kerrigan

Tanizaki’s novel, The Makioka Sisters, was serialized between 1943 and 1948, charting the conflict between a traditional Edo period Japan, and a modern world emerging with the advent of the Second World War. The novel resembles Austen’s Pride and Prejudice in its concern with the vicissitudes, foibles, and joys of a group of four sisters from an aristocratic family in Osaka. Each sister is constrained by the societal injunction to succeed in the marriage market and to sustain the family name, but they are equally free spirits in their own ways. The novel’s Japanese title, Sasameyuki (細雪), meaning lightly falling snow, is given visual representation in the poetic descriptions of the falling cherry blossoms which the four sisters routinely visit in early spring. It is passages like this in the novel which capture the beauty of the Japanese landscape, and the passing of a way of life.

Colombia: One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez – recommended by Thomas Bristow

One Hundred Years of Solitude is perhaps the most famous work of the magical realism genre, and possibly of Latin American literature. The narrative is set in the fictional town of Macondo, and our characters are its inhabitants and the many successive generations of the Buendía family. The story is grand and mythic, involving the larger themes of time and fate. But what I loved most about it was the complete uniqueness of Marquez’s imagination. Owing to its style, this is a quite unconventional book. Bizarre and intriguing characters and witness to bizarre and intriguing events. The increasingly confusing Buendía family are timeless in their eccentricity, and the narrative tumbles until it reaches a poignant end. This is a story of one family’s presence in a rapidly changing world. With the greatest opening line of any book, One Hundred Years of Solitude is fascinating, and quite simply brilliant.

Brazil: The Passion According to G.H. by Clarice Lispector – recommended by Ned Summers

There is no other author that makes as convincing a case for the novel as a unique medium for storytelling as Clarice Lispector. In The Passion According to G.H. (A paixão segundo G.H.) G.H., the narrator, attempts to give a report of a short experience she had the previous day. The account is also an attempt to understand the shift that this experience has forced upon her and the world that she suddenly finds herself living in. It is a tortured read. Lispector writes in the introduction “I would be happy if it were only read by people whose souls are already formed. Those who know that the approach, of whatever it may be, happens gradually and painstakingly.” If you can give yourself over to the book, you will discover that Lispector, even in translation, distills into perfect text the disturbing moment in which someone’s world changes irrevocably. A masterpiece of Brazilian, and world, literature.

Contributors: Rowena Sears, Anna Stephen, Matthew Holland, Antara Singh, Shayon Mukherjee, Thomas Bristow, Serena Kerrigan, Ned Summers, Elena Buccisano, Eliza Browning.

Running out of time

Katie Kirkpatrick
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Running out of time

CW: Death, AIDS, cancer, terminal illness

“Lately, I’ve been hearing this…sound. Everywhere I go. Like a…tick. Tick. Tick.”

Thus opens the recent Netflix film adaptation of tick, tick… BOOM!, the autobiographical musical by writer and composer Jonathan Larson. The show documents Larson’s life in New York in the early 1990s as he struggled to get his musical theatre writing produced. Larson is now better known for RENT, the smash-hit show about a queer frienship group during the AIDS crisis. What primarily connects the two shows is their tragic real life context: Larson, so obsessed with running out of time that he wrote a whole musical about it, died of an undiagnosed aortic dissection the night before RENT opened Off-Broadway. His time really did run out, and he never got to see the success he had spent his life striving for: it’s a tragedy that’s been on my mind a lot lately. 

The first song in tick, tick…BOOM!, ‘30/90’, deals with Larson’s panic about turning 30: about not having achieved as much as he would have liked, or as much as some of his perceived peers and rivals. It’s a song that I found myself listening to on the morning of my twentieth birthday a week ago. Granted, 20 and 30 are very different ages, but lyrics like “Stop the clock, take time out” and “Feel like you’re treading water” rang true for me. Tick, tick…BOOM! is a show that’s meant a lot to me ever since I stumbled across it on YouTube a few years ago. I see a lot of myself in Larson – at least the fictionalised version of him presented in this musical and film. Larson was a writer, a creative, a massive musical theatre nerd; an ambitious person, a stressed person, a chaotic person. But more than this, what makes tick, tick… BOOM! so important to me is its central idea of running out of time. Jonathan Larson had a deep-set panic that he only had so long to achieve his goals, to reach his markers of success.

I think I have a similar feeling: there’s a constant anxiety, always there, under the surface, that I need to be doing more, and quicker. I’m someone who has always been very good at convincing myself I’m terminally ill, and someone who grew up with a lot of cancer in my family. I find it hard to trust my body, to relax and believe that I have as much time as I’d like to do all the things I’d like to do. For these reasons, tick, tick… BOOM! Is both immensely reassuring, and completely the opposite. Larson’s tragic death, confirming his worst fear, is something that’s difficult to conceptualise. At the same time, it’s comforting to see that these feelings are common, and the fact that RENT was met with such global success shows that all Larson’s years of hard work did in fact pay off… even if he wasn’t there to see it. 

I imagine these feelings of pressure are something familiar to a lot of Oxford students: being surrounded by intensely ambitious people all the time, some of whom have achieved incredible things at a very young age, can make it very hard to put things in perspective. This is especially true in the arts, where the likes of music prodigies and child actors can make it feel like you’re behind before you’ve even really started. Of course, this time is often out of our control: in the arts, so much is reliant on family connections and educational background, as well as other factors like race, sexuality, and gender. According to statistics published by the Sutton Trust in 2016, 67% of British winners of the Oscars for Best Actor, Actress or Director attended a private school. It’s difficult to reckon with the idea that no matter how much time you spend working, other people will always be further forward. How do we best use the time we have when others already have such a head start?

Not only is time running out, but the goalposts for success are always moving. At the start of tick, tick… BOOM!, Larson measures his own perceived lack of success with several examples of what people had achieved by the age of 30: Stephen Sondheim had had his first Broadway show, and Larson’s parents already had two children, a mortgage, and steady careers. The Sondheim example, in particular, illustrates how difficult it is to ever be satisfied with one’s achievements; it’s so easy to feel like someone is always one step ahead. The mention of Larson’s parents, on a different path, also strikes me as interesting: our generation are navigating a new kind of twenties, where settling down is less of a priority. The percentage of people having children before the age of thirty is constantly decreasing. There are so many different conceptions of success now that it adds a pressure to choose a definition; to choose a path. Success is undeniably subjective, and the number of different versions of it only makes it feel all the more unobtainable.

Needless to say, the pandemic has only worsened my feelings of running out of time: I’ve gone from being 18 to turning 20, without the usual life experiences one would expect at such an important, tumultuous period. Time has felt difficult to pin down, slowing down and speeding up across long winter lockdowns and busy summers. What this has gone some way to teach me, however, is that we are fundamentally not in control. Much like Jonathan Larson, we have no way of knowing how much time we have, or what might happen during it. It seems to me, then, that we may as well seek out what makes us feel most in our element – feel most alive – while we’re here. And hope the ticking quietens down. 

Image Credit: Netflix

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

Alice Main
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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?

Ezra Sharpe
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A first date with anarchy?

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

Flynn Hallman
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Pythagoras’ Nightmare: Reincarnation, Coldplay and the Music of the Spheres 
“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.

Heidi Fang on a cold January

Heidi Fang
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Heidi Fang on a cold January

Ingmar Bergman And The Self-Aware Blockbuster

Wang Sum Luk
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Ingmar Bergman And The Self-Aware Blockbuster

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

Pieter Garicano and Meg Lintern
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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

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