Saturday, April 26, 2025
Blog Page 339

Dip your toe into Schitt’s Creek

Mikaela Choo
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Dip your toe into Schitt’s Creek

Schitt’s Creek is a show where the main character talks to her many, many wigs. It is a show which manages to make a storyline about bedwetting genuinely romantic. It is a show that’s set the record for most Emmy wins for a comedy in a single season. It is a show that you need to be watching right now.   

Co-created by Eugene Levy and Dan Levy, who are father and son both on and off screen, Schitt’s Creek begins with the formerly ultra-rich Rose family moving into a motel room in the titular small town, bought by Johnny Rose for his son David as a gag gift (as you do). It delivers on the crude comedy its title promises. The Roses are great at being socialites, but not so great at being good people, or at being a family. The process of them working on these things is really, really funny.

Catherine O’Hara as matriarch Moira Rose is a revelation. Exhibit A: her eccentric accent, which is both a source of laughter and a subject of actual linguistic analyses. Exhibit B: everything she says in that accent, like her nuggets of parental wisdom (“Gossip is the devil’s telephone. Best to just hang up.”) and advice about posting nudes online, (“Never! Never without good lighting!”) 

More than anything, Schitt’s Creek is kind. It’s kind to its characters. As easy it would be to reduce the Roses to caricatures, they are portrayed as human (or at least, as trying their best to be human). They’re relatable (even despite the fact that David, a grown man, thinks that the minimum wage is $45/hour). But the joy of the show doesn’t come from watching the Roses do crazy things and thinking to yourself, “What planet are they from?!” It comes from watching the Roses do crazy things and make mistakes and learn to be kind to eachother, all while staying true to their eccentric selves. Like when Alexis shows up to her brother’s wedding in a wedding dress (“This is not a wedding dress! It’s a white full-length gown!”) and walks him down the aisle, which is simultaneously sweet and also borderline incestuous – a brand of funny that only Schitt’s Creek could pull off.

And the show is, I think, one of those rare gems that is more than just a comedy and is really, actually a WAY OF LIFE. And not in the way that I tell myself The Office is to justify watching it for the millionth time. What Schitt’s Creek does better than any other show on television is make you look at the world with kinder eyes. It blesses us with David and Patrick, the couple at the heart of what is hands-down the best love story on television. And gives us a revolutionarily casual depiction of a community without homophobia. This depiction is meaningful because it doesn’t moralise – it shows us what life could be like. Dan Levy perfectly articulates the magic of this: “If you put something like that (homophobia) out of the equation, you’re saying that… shouldn’t exist.”

If you watch just one episode, it has to be Season 4, Episode 6: “Open Mic.” It starts with Moira finding her co-workers’ sonogram on her desk and responding as any mother/long-time benign neglecter of her children would, by asking, “Who put a picture of a ghost on my desk??” More funny stuff is said and then we get to Patrick, who suggests hosting an open mic night, much to David’s horror. But when Patrick serenades David with Tina Turner’s “The Best”, you can see the mortification on David’s face melting into tenderness, and then David is tearing up and his mother Moira is tearing up and so are you. Schitt’s Creek will win you over. It is, quite simply, the best.

Art by Emma Hewlett

Central Oxford to be closed while new Netflix show filmed

Jill Cushen
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Central Oxford to be closed while new Netflix show filmed

CW: mention of rape.

Areas of central Oxford will be closed later this month for the filming of the Netflix series Anatomy of a Scandal.

A notice was released by Oxfordshire County Council earlier this week which informed residents of the closures of streets in the city centre on March 25th and 26th. Catte Street and New College Lane road will be closed from 6pm to 2am on the 25th. On March 26th Brasenose Lane, Catte Street, St Mary’s Passage and Radcliffe Square will be closed from 2.30pm to 2am.

The six episode series will follow the storyline of the best-selling novel by Sarah Vaughan. The author, who read English at Brasenose College, is also the executive producer of the Netflix adaptation. The novel tells the story of a scandal shrouded in privilege and intrigue among the British elite and the women caught in its crossfires. The show, from the creator of Big Little Lies David E. Kelley, is directed by S.J. Clarkson, who has worked on Succession and Orange Is the New Black.

Netflix describe the show as “an insightful and suspenseful series about sexual consent and privilege set in London”. When James Whitehouse, a Westminster politician, is accused of raping his young reseacher and mistress his marriage and the lives of three women are changed immeasurably. His wife Sophie, who James met while at Oxford, is determined to clear her husband’s name. Meanwhile Kate, the prosecutor on the case, wants to make him pay for his crimes.

The charismatic politician is played by Rupert Friend, a native of Stonesfield, Oxfordshire and famed for his role as CIA operative Peter Quinn on Homeland. American-British actress Sienna Miller will star as society woman Sophie who is convinced of her husband’s innocence.  Kate, the ambitious and emotionally detached defence barrister, is played by Michelle Dockery who is best known for her role as Lady Mary Crawley on Downton Abbey.

The first season of the show will be self-contained but the show’s producers hope to create an anthology style series and devote subsequent seasons to different scandals.  It is expected that the show will premiere sometime in 2021 but a release date has not been announced.

Image: Ozeye. Licence: CC BY-SA 3.0.

Emma Chamberlain and the changing face of fashion

Beth Proctor
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Emma Chamberlain and the changing face of fashion

“She got the gold hoops, Prada fit, I’m in love with all of it” sings ROLE MODEL, over the punchy bass line of his latest single ‘Blind’. Fans have been quick to speculate that the song is written about nineteen-year-old YouTuber, Emma Chamberlain. The pair have hinted at their relationship on social media, and it seems the singer isn’t the only one who loves her look. Chamberlain’s signature gold hoop earrings and stylish wardrobe are part of a personal brand that has gained her millions of fans. She was recently listed as one of TIME magazine’s “25 Most Influential People On The Internet”, with The Atlantic dubbing her “the most talked-about teen influencer in the world”.

Chamberlain documents almost every aspect of her life online. She started her channel in 2017 and, in the summer of the same year, struck gold with a video entitled We All Owe The Dollar Store An Apology. In the spoof haul, she models various items for the camera, including a set of ninja-turtle wristbands and a pair of kid’s sunglasses. The video went viral, and she gained thousands of subscribers almost overnight. Today, she boasts more than 21 million followers across her social media.

Her style is colourful, eclectic, and constantly evolving. A scroll through her latest Instagram posts reveals a cross-section of bright fabrics and vintage nineties pieces. In one photo she wears a pair of pink velvet jogging bottoms straight out of Mean Girls, in another, she poses in a leather jacket that echoes Brad Pitt’s iconic Fight Club look. Her interest in fashion is marked by a series of thrift hauls, outfit lookbooks and makeover videos on her channel. Yet, unlike other fashion influencers, her brand isn’t the polished, high-octane product of a management agency or marketing team. In fact, it is the exact opposite.

Chamberlain frequently appears looking bedraggled and bleary-eyed in front of the camera. She films everything from glamorous photoshoots to Sunday’s spent in bed. In a recent vlog, she tries on a pair of lime green tights and poses awkwardly in front of the mirror: “Wait, that’s kinda fire actually … I feel like I could kind of make it work”; then, five minutes later, “Forget about the green tights, it didn’t happen”. She experiments with what she wears and doesn’t take herself too seriously. Her willingness to film the times when it doesn’t work out is a welcome dose of reality in an industry so often dominated by unrealistic images of perfection. By embracing the fun in fashion, she inspires her viewers to do the same.

Estimates suggest that she makes anywhere between $120,000 to $2 million from her videos, on top of earnings from sponsorship deals and other business ventures. Her weekly podcast, Anything Goes shot to No.1 on the podcast charts in fifty countries when it was launched last year. She has also started a successful clothing line and a coffee company with the tagline: “Zero bullshit. Just coffee”. Like her coffee, Chamberlain’s brand is simple; she is the cool, funny girl you wish you were friends with. Her videos are edited like a last-minute school project – the camera zooms in as text appears and dissolves in wiggling lines of Comic Sans. Sometimes, the shot pauses as her voice echoes to illustrate a particularly dramatic point. A New York Times article described “an entire subgenre of videos that mimic her style, and a host of YouTubers who talk, or edit, just like her.”

Unsurprisingly, Chamberlain’s status as a trendsetter has caught the attention of the fashion industry. In 2019 she made her fashion week debut with Louis Vuitton and has since collaborated with supermodel-turned-YouTuber Karlie Kloss in several videos. Last month she appeared in Vogue’s Beauty Secrets series on YouTube, where celebrities talk through their skincare and make-up routines. Previous episodes have featured the likes of Rihanna, Gigi Hadid and Kendall Jenner.

Chamberlain’s collaboration with Vogue signals that the fashion industry has begun to appreciate what internet stars have to offer. Recent findings published from a study on social media and consumer attitudes revealed that “Americans trust recommendations from actual people significantly more than they trust advertising and promotion from brands”. Influencers wield increasing power when it comes to promoting products, and deals like Chamberlain’s recent endorsement of Bad Habit Beauty are lucrative. Sponsored posts can receive millions of likes, generating huge sales without the production costs of a traditional advertising campaign.  

For image-conscious companies, however, working with influencers can be a double-edged sword. In July, Chamberlain was one of several LA influencers to attend a party in Hollywood Hills for TikToker Larri Merritt’s birthday. Videos from the event showed guests mixing freely without wearing masks, in a clear violation of Covid-19 guidelines. The Hollywood Fix suggested that there were at least 67 people at the party, whilst crowds of people queued to get in outside. Those involved faced major backlash from fans and other influencers. Fellow YouTuber Tyler Oakley took to Twitter to express his anger, writing: “if your favourite influencers are at huge house parties during a pandemic (& are dumb enough to post it on social media)… they are bad influences. unfollow them.” Chamberlain has yet to release a statement.

At the time of the incident, infection rates were rising rapidly in California. It was the first state to report more than half a million cases of Covid-19 and Los Angeles County was one of the worst-affected areas. In August, fellow influencer Bryce Hall was charged with violating the area’s safer-at-home order for hosting a series of parties like the one Chamberlain attended. He faces a fine of up to $2,000 (£1,500) and a year in jail if found guilty. The charge is a timely reminder that influencers can’t escape the consequences of their actions, no matter how many followers they have. 

Over the last five years, Emma Chamberlain has become one of the most popular creators on YouTube. Her style is instantly recognisable, and her content resonates with millions. She has also been involved in an incident that many won’t forget. As the fashion industry embraces a new generation of internet stars, brands face a dilemma. Influencer’s personal lives are out of their control but closely linked to their image. Going forward, they will have to strike a balance between revenue and reputation. In the chorus of his song ‘Blind’, ROLE MODEL sings, “I’ve never seen something quite like you”. His words are fitting. The changing face of the fashion industry is new and unfamiliar; the only certainty is that influencers like Chamberlain are here to stay.

A Return to the Roaring Twenties

Rochelle Moss
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A Return to the Roaring Twenties

The announcement of several vaccines approved by governments across the world and, more recently, their roll out has begun to turn peoples attention to life post pandemic.

Upon entering a New Year people are generally full of hope, excitement, and personal promises of what they want to make of the next 12 months. Yet this New Year was in stark contrast to previous firework-filled welcomes. Personally, I’m not the type of person to make New Year’s resolutions, however I do always feel some sense of a new beginning when the clock strikes midnight. This year, however, the Big Ben countdown did not create such feelings of change, rather, it felt pretty similar to every other day since March: unremarkable.

The events of the past year have been continuously defined by the pandemic, with almost every news article forced to mention the dreaded C-word. It has undoubtedly shaped every aspect of our lives: from personal relationships curtailed by household rules, to rising unemployment, to soaring levels of Netflix watching. It also looks likely to continue to shape life, at least for now. The Bank of England predicts unemployment will peak at 7.7% in April to June of this year, and with limited opportunities to spend inflation has decreased to 0.5%. However, despite the limited changes we may see over the coming months, news of vaccines has filled us all with hope and excitement for life post-pandemic.

A century ago young adults may have felt something slightly similar to what we feel now. As the world entered the 1920s it said goodbye to the Spanish flu, a disease which infected 500 million people and is believed to have killed between 20 to 50 million. They also said goodbye to a decade defined by war, inflation, and the austerity it brought. They entered a new decade, with no war, no disease, and a budding social revolution.

We’re no strangers to the stories of the roaring 20s. Flapper girls symbolised the culture of this decade, with jazz and dancehalls entertaining the youth who had been starved of such activities the decade before. Consumer spending skyrocketed with new cars, in particular the Ford Model T of 1924, providing young people with the freedom all young people desire. Of course there was also a sexual revolution, spurred on by all the freedom and fun the 1920’s had to offer. Perhaps, with the hope of the three vaccines which the British government have approved, and the millions who have already been vaccinated we can look forward to a 21st century version of the roaring 20s?

An economic boom does look to be possible considering the current climate. With governments purposefully suppressing the economy in order to in turn suppress the virus the current economic slump is quite unique. Many middle class families are fortunate enough to have acquired large unwanted household savings – having been unable to spend on holidays, dinners and activities. When life goes back to normal these savers will want to spend.

However, perhaps bigger than the economic boom could be the cultural one. Whether or not you have been economically impacted by the pandemic, almost everyone has been socially impacted. The young have been told not to party, the middle aged not to go to work, and the old not to see their family members. The end of the pandemic will throw us back into socialising just as quickly as we were pulled away from it, and with it may come a cultural explosion. The arts, nightlife and travel have all become distant dreams over the past year, with many pining for their return. The things we missed most this year might just come back the biggest. With a surge in demand for ‘fun’ these sectors are likely to deliver and come back to life almost as fast they disappeared. At the very least there will be a renewed appreciation for culture and the importance of it within our society.

Some modern writers however are predicting that the pandemic will have changed our attitudes towards intimacy forever. Some have even gone so far as to declare the death of the handshake and the hug. However the 1920s is not just renowned for a cultural revolution but also a sexual one. Just as a return to normalcy must have seemed impossible in 1918, with dating and partying denounced to a fond memory, 103 years later we appear to be in a very similar boat. Whilst it may take time to return to the party there is one thing the abundance of facetime calls, socially distanced walks, and Zoom quizzes have made clear over the past year: human beings are determined to socialise.

Perhaps, we could also see a revolution in attitudes. The 1920’s did not just see a sexual revolution but also a political one. Women became more equal members of society, able to vote and with more free time following the creation of household gadgets, changes which resulted in a gradual shift in attitudes. Maybe our 20s will see something similar. The pandemic has made us alter our attitudes about lots of things,  from appreciating moments spent with friends and family, to having more time to self-reflect and pursue personal interests. Maybe this will see a change towards a more caring society, which is more accepting than it has been in the past.

One of the most significant changes in attitude is perhaps towards a renewed understanding of the need for the welfare state. As a society we have collectively faced a global crisis, creating a renewed empathy towards strangers. Just as World War 2 forced people to recognise the need to support all members of society, hopefully the welfare headlines of this pandemic will do the same. From the recent free school meals scandal to stories of an overwhelmed and overworked NHS the pandemic has highlighted some of the problems which have been present for years. Just as the welfare state blossomed after World War 2, maybe it will see a regrowth following this latest humanitarian crisis.

However, just as the original roaring twenties was brought back down to Earth by the depression, we must make sure we aren’t blinded by the 21st century version of Gatsby-esque glamour. Even when the pandemic is over its effects are likely to be lasting. Unemployment may remain high, and whilst many will have been growing their savings, others will have been eating into them as a result of lost jobs and economic uncertainty caused by the pandemic. The psychological effects of the pandemic will also be severe. Many will continue to struggle from grief or will suffer from the after-effects of such intense social isolation. And these are just what the developed world may face. Developing countries may continue to battle the virus with vaccine roll out dates a distant dream for many.

Predictions which envisage a far more bleak life post pandemic are just as prevalent as those which predict the opposite. Children and young adults are one demographic which have been hit particularly hard, with effects that could last a lifetime. School students have been thrown into a year of Zoom calls and Teams lessons with exams cancelled and grades changed. Such an experience has undoubtedly affected the most deprived students the most, with restricted access to study space and technology. What will be the effect on these children in 5 or 10 years? Whilst the British education system is certainly not perfect, education does have the power to act as an equaliser, however the pandemic has highlighted its gaping inequalities. Will we see a swing towards a more unequal society as the Covid-19 generation grow up and their educational disparities grow in importance?

The pandemic has not been easy on anyone, and we must not forget the awareness this collective experience has brought us when it’s all over. So, whilst the excitement of life post pandemic is certainly something to keep us going through the seemingly endless days of lockdown, we cannot forget those who won’t have such roaring 2020s.

Predictions of what life will be like in a couple years time will always be uncertain. No matter how advanced the economic models or historical comparison may be there will always be a hint of the unknown. However hopefully 2021 will get to see the glimmers of hope which the vaccines bring come to life. And, hopefully, roaring twenties Round 2 will be even more fun and inclusive than the original ever was.

Banglatown: why Brick Lane cannot fall victim to the gentrification of East London

Zara Arif
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Banglatown: why Brick Lane cannot fall victim to the gentrification of East London

‘Bangla noise on Brick Lane, that’s the sound of my home’.

The first line of British-Bangladeshi singer Joy Crookes’ song ‘London Mine’ perfectly captures the significance of Brick Lane as a pocket of Bangladeshi culture in London’s East End. With its numerous world-famous, Bangladeshi-owned curry houses, this iconic location in London attracts millions of tourists every year and is a symbol of the cultural richness that decades of Bangladeshi immigration have brought to the area.

In existence under its current name since the 1550s, Brick Lane has represented the diverse and multicultural nature of London for hundreds of years. It was first a safe haven for French Protestants fleeing religious persecution and later saw large amounts of Jewish immigration. It was in the 1950s and 60s that Bangladeshi men first came to the biggest cities in England in search of employment and this reached an all-time high in the 1970s due to ongoing conflict with West Pakistan. The majority of these immigrants came from the Sylhet region in the North-East of the country and many settled in the London Borough of Tower Hamlets, specifically the Spitalfields and Brick Lane area.

So, how did Brick Lane become so important for the Bangladeshi immigrant community? Many of the single, immigrant men that arrived in London and specifically the Tower Hamlets area found work in industry but due to austerity in England in the latter half of the 1970s and the privatisation of companies, many of these men were made powerless victims of mass redundancy. This rise in unemployment led many Bangladeshis to open their own restaurants and consequently one of the poorest areas of London, which had seen a sharp decline in business, saw a huge period of economic flourishing. These restaurants became known as ‘Indian’ curry houses and currently more than 80% of all Indian restaurants in the UK are Bangladeshi owned. Due to this phenomenon, many immigrants were able to bring their family members from Bangladesh to settle with them in the Brick Lane and Spitalfields area. This allowed a real tight-knit community to establish itself. Asian clothing shops and factories were opened and in 1976, the synagogue on the corner of Brick Lane became a mosque. This building is now a symbol of the migratory history of the area due to the fact that before the synagogue, it was also a Protestant chapel for the French refugees. This sense of community is perhaps where Brick Lane’s greatest importance lies. Many of these immigrants suffered from relentless racism whilst some found difficulty in communicating in English. A place such as Brick Lane would have therefore provided a safe space where they were free to actively participate in their culture and celebrate their identity with other people who were going through the same things.

For London’s current Bangladeshi community, Brick Lane is a representation of the vibrancy that their enterprise and culture brought to the area. It is, in effect, a living reminder of the history of immigration and the way in which it allowed the area to blossom. The Bangladeshi identity is so synonymous with this part of London that in 2001, the borough changed the name of the electoral ward of ‘Spitalfields’ to ‘Spitalfields and Banglatown’. Lamp posts have also been painted in the colours of the Bangladeshi flag in celebration.

Despite this, it seems that Brick Lane and its importance to the Bangladeshi community are being threatened by an endemic that has taken many victims in London in recent years. It is completely unsurprising that the area has changed immensely since the first Bangladeshi immigrants settled there. It has become a general hub for culture with cafés, clubs, bars and even street art by Banksy. Although all these things should be welcomed as they allow communities to live and thrive together through the celebration of art , what should not be allowed to destroy such culturally significant places is the process of gentrification.

In 2020, plans for the redevelopment of the iconic Truman Brewery on Brick Lane were announced. These plans would include the construction of multi-storey office spaces as well as shops, restaurants and a gym. Many believe that if allowed, this redevelopment would completely compromise the cultural authenticity of the area. It would also bring with it the usual negative impacts of gentrification. For a development like this to be financially feasible, investment from large commercial companies and brands is required. This commercialisation of the area and huge investments would lead to housing prices and the general cost of living to skyrocket, forcing residents to move out in favour of more affordable areas in the suburbs. As the Borough of Tower Hamlets is one of the most economically deprived (it had the highest unemployment rates in London in 2020) but also ethnically diverse areas of London, one consequence of this type of development and gentrification would be that the ethnic communities which make these areas what they are would be physically unable to continuing living in a place that represents their identity and culture as British immigrants.

For this very reason, the Truman development should not go ahead at any cost. Brick Lane is one of the many locations that make London such a diverse, vibrant and welcoming city. We cannot as a community or a country allow commercial profit and gain to take precedence over years of history that form part of a collective identity. Campaigns were initially launched to oppose the plans but with the increasing severity of the pandemic they were short-lived.  An exhibition was put on by the Spitalfield’s Trust to showcase Brick Lane’s rich history through black and white photos but again due to lockdown this was not open to the public for long enough to have had a widespread impact.

A lot of the opposition has now moved online with the launch of the #SaveBrickLane campaign which encourages letters and emails to be written to people of power such as local MPs and the Mayor of London. It is hoped that uniting with the Bangladeshi voices of Brick Lane will preserve a cultural jewel in the heart of London’s East End.

 Linked below are a few sites where you can find out more about how you can use your voice in solidarity with the Bangladeshi and wider East London community to save Brick Lane.

https://battleforbricklane.com/

Brick Lane’s historic Bangladeshi communities are under attack – here’s how to support their fight for survival

https://www.facebook.com/battleforbricklane

Bodleian Bangers: Tom Fletcher

Matthew Prudham
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Bodleian Bangers: Tom Fletcher

In the third instalment of Music’s section where we find out the soundtrack to the lives of Oxford dons, Matthew Prudham speaks to Tom Fletcher, Principal of Hertford College and former British Ambassador to Lebanon, about everything from bringing Keane to Beirut to running to Hamilton.

MP: Hi Tom! Let’s dive straight in. What is the one song you can’t stop listening to at the moment? 

TF: So, the song I can’t stop listening to at the moment is ‘My Shot’ from the Lin-Manuel Miranda musical Hamilton. This is partly just because it’s the kind of energising song that you need when you’re in a pandemic; we are locked down, we all feel a bit more lethargic. It’s so good to go run to something with the tempo of that song. 

MP: You need a bit high tempo to lift your spirits up.

TF: It’s just the right tempo – not that I could ever sing along to it. It will never be my karaoke song! The time of life it captures for Hamilton – looking ahead and that sense of hope and expectation and ambition and aspiration that he has in that song…when I talk to our students about how sad it is that they’re missing out on these experiences, the normal Hertford experiences, I say to them “Who’s to say this isn’t the Hertford experience… you know we own this, we’re gonna own this time”.  In a way, that’s why I wanted to be here. Back in Oxford, back at Hertford, to be connected to that sense of energy that “we can go and change the world.”

MP: That’s a really thoughtful answer. And I think that the high tempo music is so important right now. Of course, people are doing different conferences and different zoom calls and whatever. But especially, you know, if you’re at home and you’re in the same room, day in, day out, it can be really hard to get out of the monotony.

TF: You need to get your heart rate up a bit. I think we’re all learning every day how to cope with the way a lockdown changes, the nature of lockdown changes, the way that this lockdown is different to the last one. But I think music is a massive part of that for me. I try every day to learn something, to teach something, to slow down and experience a bit of nature, to eat better, to sleep better. You know there’s lots of things I hope that I will be doing better as a result of this lockdown.

The other thing by the way that’s helped get me through the lockdown is that I have a group of old Oxford friends who were students at the same time as me. We spend our lives doing WhatsApp Spotify playlists. If I just give you some examples. The last one we did, we did Sun versus Rain, so all the songs about Sun versus all the ones about Rain to see which one wins. It’s ridiculous the sort of things that we debate. “90s Gold”; “soaring strings”. We did the best Beatles covers just recently, and we’ve got a great playlist on all the songs that are better than the original. “The best duets”. “The best Beatle songs post Beatles”. This is quite a good one for a party or a Zoom quiz, it’s called “Hard Day’s Night” and it’s all the songs that you can get from the first chord within two seconds.

MP: It’s a great way to connect with your friends. 

TF: We can spend hours debating which songs make the cut, and which ones don’t. 

MP: So when you were studying at Oxford, what was the music that you listened to? 

TF: So I was here in the mid-90s. And so there was a lot of Britpop. A lot of amazing music coming out of Manchester, of course coming in Liverpool as well. Oasis were huge. The two big Oasis albums were playing pretty much constantly while I was at Hartford; you were crammed into a small room, 30 of you, blasting out… ‘Live Forever’, these huge Oasis anthems. Arguably, they weren’t amazing musical masterpieces… sorry that’s probably heresy. Yet, the first time I heard ‘Live Forever’, it was genuinely lifechanging, breath-taking.

“I just want to live, I don’t want to die…I can live forever.” When I was in Lebanon, I used to have a lot of assassination threats against me. I used to go running there – I had a track and the bodyguards would seal off the track. I would often run to ‘Live Forever’, partly because it’s that sense of you know, “They’re not going to kill me.” And partly because it connected me back to that feeling of being a student here and your life’s ahead of you. 

I listened to a lot of Pulp at the time, a lot of Blur. Yes. One of the one of the things about being a student here is you get that fusion of everyone else’s musical tastes. You get all the rubbish. But every day, people are showing up in your room with a new CD.

MP: Of course, you were in Oxford when Radiohead must have been absolutely exploding everywhere. 

TF: At that time, they were still living in Cowley. So, a friend of mine… actually I think he worked for Cherwell. I think he was actually maybe doing your job (laughs) as Music Editor  – he went down to Cowley and interviewed them. There was another band with Gaz Coombs with (sings) “if you want to go…”

MP: Supergrass?

TF: Yes, Supergrass. They were great as well. I mean Oxford wasn’t the centre of the musical universe. But it was still pretty amazing. By the way, before I came to Oxford. I was the lead singer in a band. I sang in a band called Freshly Squeezed. I would say we were probably ahead of their time, our time hasn’t yet come. We had a particular niche in Nirvana covers and Pearl Jam covers Yeah, yes. I used to kind of have to smoke a couple of cigarettes and basically try and sound like Kurt Cobain. And I was hopeless… a terrible, terrible lead singer.

MP: I would say that anyone can sing no matter their supposed musical quality; and half the thing about being a lead singer in the band is the is the presence. 

TF: The problem was I had no presence. In a way, as Liam Gallagher shows if you can’t actually sing in tune at least have the presence and the charisma. Or Mick Jagger…  But, you know, I had neither talent nor charisma. And thus…Freshly Squeezed. But I had the guts to stand up and do it. No one else was going to do that and that kept me singing for them. 

MP: So, say you were back in the diplomatic service, and you have to pick some tunes for a diplomatic service party, what’s going on the stereo? 

TF: I hosted a lot of parties in Lebanon. And one tune we played a lot there was by a guy called Khaled, and it’s called ‘C’est La Vie.’ And then the chorus goes “On va s’aimer, on va danser/Oui c’est la vie, la la la la la”. Basically, we’re going to dance we’re going to live we’re going to party… it’s disco-trash in many ways. It used to always get everyone moving. So that was always a great party tune. 

In Paris we threw a lot of parties and we had a big 30th birthday and so on. The tune in that era…so where are we then… 2007 or so… that used to always work was ‘Sexbomb’ by Tom Jones. You’re not going to get high quality from me today, nor a sophisticated taste. But I’m going to give you the honest truth.  ‘Sexbomb’ is a very good one for getting people dancing. Just before I met my wife, I was, let’s just say, performing that song in a bar in Cork, and I was asked very gently to leave the bar. As a result, I went into a cafe and bumped into my wife. And so, if it wasn’t for that song I wouldn’t have met my wife. 

MP: You touched briefly on your time in Lebanon and the country itself has a really fantastic musical culture. Is there any music that particularly stuck with you from the local music scene, whilst you were ambassador in Lebanon? 

TF: Lebanon has an extraordinary tradition of very emotional moving songs about the place, about Beirut. If you think about British songs about a place that there’s often kind of irony to them… so a ‘dirty old town,’ you know that sort of feel; but in Lebanon, there’s a real sincerity when they sing about Beirut So anyone who wants to listen to Lebanese music should start with Fairuz, the sort of Queen of Lebanese music, but if you want something a bit more contemporary I’d really recommend a band called Mashrou’ Leila – an absolutely superb fusion of traditional Arabic rhythms, and in some cases instruments, with somewhat more modern funk. Have a look at the collaboration they did recently with Mika – the half-Lebanese pop singer, who had one big album around 2010. They did really good collaboration with him, just after the after the warehouse explosion in Beirut in August. That gives you a good sense of the vibe. When I was there and things were going quite bad, I organised a huge concert, where we got together all of Lebanon’s top stars basically from across the political divide, and we host this massive concert called One Lebanon: United for Tomorrow. There’s a great song that the musicians wrote for that. It was like on Live Aid, where all the artists were coming together to basically say we’re stronger together than apart. And it was you know it was a very successful event. 

MP: So, just following on from that, would you say that’s the best concert you’ve ever attended in terms of what it meant to you?

TF: It was very emotional, having spent a lot of time putting it all together. But we’ve been to some fantastic concerts, I mean, last New Year’s Eve I was at Bruno Mars. The New Year’s Eve before that, I was at Coldplay, two extraordinary New Year’s Eve. music. The last concert before lockdown was Stormzy. I mean I wouldn’t put it up there the top, top category of the concerts that I’ve been to – because, to be honest, my kids knew his music better than I do. But we saw Stormzy, we saw Machine Gun Kelly as well around about that time. You can probably guess from my fairly more middle of the road, let’s say, musical tastes. Over my life, if any one band has been sort of the soundtrack to my life, it’s U2. I’ve probably seen U2 five or six times on different tours and those have been brilliant concepts 

First concert I ever went to first proper concert was James. ‘Sit down’ where you all sit down and ‘Come Home’, there’s some big live anthems I went to a lot of concerts when I was at Oxford, I went to see Suede. What a mixture! I think probably the one where I was most blown away was actually when U2 the Joshua Tree again.

I went to see them in Amsterdam. The first four songs of Joshua Tree, I would say, I don’t think there’s ever been a better first four songs to any album. I would challenge you and your readers to prove me wrong! To see U2 perform those songs back to back at the beginning of that concert was just extraordinary.

MP: And have you had any with your plan to attend cancelled or postponed, thanks to the pandemic? 

TF: We were going to go and see Post Malone, and that was cancelled. More recently…no I don’t think so. I would have gone to see Hamilton, but no, no cancelled concerts since then. 

Let me tell you one story about a concert I helped organise in Lebanon. I helped bring Keane to Beirut. And at the time the security situation was a bit dodgy. So, I did a conference call with them; they were asking, “Is it safe to come?”; I’m like “Come on, you’ve got to come, it’ll get people’s morale going. I was and still am a big Keane fan. They asked, “isn’t it bit dangerous” and I said, “no, no, no, it’s not dangerous… look at our travel advice”. “But your travel advice is to avoid big groups. Now, when we do a concert, we tend to attract a fairly big group.” So, I say “Ah, ok, obviously that’s a bit different.” But in the end, they did come and, you know, we worked really hard to get a lot of fantastic musicians to Beirut: David Gray came.  Always we’d have to really twist their arms and say “look, Pet Shop Boys, you’ll really enjoy performing here because the Lebanese will just bounce around”. They’re a fantastic audience.

MP: So, what artists do you think that this year’s freshers are listening to right now? 

TF: I’d have to see what my sons are listening to and that would be probably more of a clue…

MP: Probably! 

TF: I was talking to one fresher the other day and he actually had a quote from Hamilton on the wall behind him: “The Room where it happens”. There’s a song called ‘I want to be in the room where it happens’. So maybe some of them are listening to Hamilton! 

MP: I think there’s still the Hamilton craze at the moment; I don’t think it’s ever gone away.

TF: So maybe there’s a bit of that, but I suspect that their musical tastes are much more sophisticated than mine. But I guess they’re not getting to karaoke… you know when we were we, there was a lot of karaoke. My karaoke song when I was at Oxford was ‘Mustang Sally’. It was the year, just after the Commitments. And so, I used to do a lot of ‘Mustang Sally’ in the college bar.

MP: So, you would have to pick three artists who would have been the most important in throughout your life, which artists would those be?

TF: Just because they’ve always been there in the backgrounds me, I’d have to say U2. Partly too because they formed when I was an impressionable age. They helped me form a worldview as well. The fact that they were singing about Martin Luther King, and Nelson Mandela, about apartheid, about poverty. I think a lot of people are quite cynical about that. They get a lot of flak for that.  But when I was growing up, that was my first exposure to many of those things and so, if I’m honest, they did influence a lot of the work that I’ve done since. They gave me a sense of purpose around many of those campaigns like Make Poverty History, Band aid and Live Aid. I was working on the G8, and the G20, in government, on many of those things around climate and development, poverty – and I suppose they gave me that first inspiration to care about world issues. 

More recently Spotify in the last two years tells me that I’m listening to Bruce Springsteen more than anything else. I’m finding particularly late Springsteen recent Springsteen the last couple of albums. Springsteen on Broadway, the show he did – basically his autobiography but told through music, just him with a piano and a guitar. I found those very powerful I’ve listened to those so much over the last two years, Springsteen, for me, is a great guide to growing older, as well.

MP: He just seems to get better as well…he’s just very timeless in what he does.

TF: I’ve always loved unplugged versions of songs. The song I would run into the waves to save on Desert Island Discs is Willie Nelson’s cover of ‘Always on My Mind.’ I think Springsteen stuff paired back is just so raw and powerful. When you hear him do the Springfield on Broadway stuff with just a guitar. When you hear him do ‘This Land is Your Land’, the Woody Guthrie song, that takes me right back to Obama being elected and that sense of hope. 

So, U2 and Springsteen are the first two, which is very middle of the road, isn’t it, I’m basically centrist dad. Which other artist? I think it’s Bowie. In 2016, so many of these extraordinary artists, who shaped my generation’s musical horizons, died. But Bowie’s death was the one that really hit me hardest that year. I almost always fall back on Bowie. 

MP: What era of Bowie, would you say, is your favourite?

TF: I do love the Ziggy Stardust era, such as ‘Rock and Roll Suicide’; there is a poignancy, there is a rawness in that era. In fact, I think I’m probably the only head of college who has Bowie on the wall. Mainly because you’ve got the quote here “I don’t know where I’m coming from here but I promise it won’t be boring,” which is basically my motto for the running of Hertford.

MP: Finally, if you could sum up Oxford in a song, what would you choose? 

TF: Wow. For me, Oxford is all about its potential and opportunity and that energy of use. I’d go for ‘Come Together’ by Primal Scream. 

MP: Absolutely fantastic choice, one of my favourite songs from one of my favourite albums.

TF: It’s because of the song’s sense of pulling together and being a community. A college was an idea before it was a building. You may think of a college as bricks and mortar but it’s actually the idea of a community. At the moment when we’re not here physically, songs like that I think capture even more sort of sense of the spirit of the place and that sense of a community. So yeah, ‘Come Together’ by Primal Scream. I used to be a boxer, and I’d go out there into the room to Primal Scream, to ‘Movin’ On Up’. That was the song I would enter the ring in there, doing a bit of this, a bit of that. (laughs) And it would always get my adrenaline going. I had one opponent who had T-shirts made saying “Fletcher goes home on a stretcher.” Hopefully, that’s not a motto for my time in Oxford!

MP: Thanks so much for taking the time to speak to us – it’s been an absolute pleasure! 

TF: My mates all think my musical tastes mostly frozen by the year 2000, probably, I think I’ve proved today that they’re probably right (laughs). 

MP: You got some Post Malone, Machine Gun Kelly got stuff going on in there! 

TF: That’s true. In a way, my musical tastes slightly froze in the era when I was last in Oxford – so there’s an association with Oxford through all of that music, which is very powerful for me. 

Listen to the Spotify playlist @cherwellmusic.

Image credit: Hertford College.

Album Review: Black Country, New Road: For the first time

Fred Waine
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Album Review: Black Country, New Road: For the first time

TW: mention of sexual coersion

It must be near impossible to listen to Black Country, New Road’s debut album For the first time without being instantly struck by the sheer volume of references from the band’s singer and lyricist Isaac Wood. Over the course of the record’s 40-minute runtime, he mentions or alludes to no less than 30 culturally relevant institutions or individuals (yes, I counted them), ranging from Nutribullets, the UE BOOM, and the Cirque Du Soleil, to micro-influencers and roadmen. There’s clearly an odd mix of objects, brands, and influences floating round in Isaac’s consciousness, the breeding grounds for his idiosyncratic lyrical subjects; at one point he even breaks out into the ironic refrain “references, references, references,” offering a glimpse into the hyperactive mind of the 21st-century songwriter.

Musical touchstones are there, too, as present in For the first time’s lyrical content as its sonic makeup: on ‘Track X’, Isaac makes a romantic gesture “in front of black midi” and dances to Jerskin Fendrix; on ‘Science Fair’, he characterises his own band as “the world’s second-best Slint tribute act”; ‘Sunglasses’ namechecks Richard Hell, Scott Walker, and Kanye West. 

As is evident from this never-ending stream of reference points, Black Country, New Road are an intensely self-aware band, who, unlike many of their contemporaries, avoid taking themselves too seriously. The group formed in 2018, following the dissolution of previous iteration Nervous Conditions, after a series of sexual assault allegations were made against their original frontman. Ever since, BC, NR have (alongside the aforementioned black midi, their pals from South London) been heralded time and time again by music critics as the ‘ones to watch’, the best new thing on the British ‘post-punk’ scene.

Yet the band have never shown signs of believing their own hype – perhaps wary from experience of how quickly everything can fall to pieces. Instead, BC, NR weaponize and satirise the UK music press’ attempts to put them on a pedestal, managing simultaneously to play jokingly into journalistic tropes (such as the Slint comparison) and represent down to a tee the confused identity of the modern-day music-loving adolescent.

Black Country: industry; the Brothers Grimm; finding the flaw in someone you liked; technological dystopia; the Zoltar machine; getting lost; Scandanavian crime drama; bad lager; social isolation; unimaginative writing; being let down; the year 2018; wasted potential.

Besides the esotericism of Isaac’s lyrics, the feature that most defines For the first time is its musical diversity. Black Country, New Road’s members (of which there are seven) tend to be part of at least one other band – violinist Georgia Ellery is one half of the experimental electronic duo Jockstrap, saxophonist Lewis Evans creates lo-fi pop under the moniker Good With Parents, Charlie Wayne also drums with indie outfit Ugly – and these diverse experiences manifest themselves on the album. ‘Instrumental’ and ‘Opus’, the two tracks on the record which have until now only been heard live, favour non-Western instrumentalization, drawing on West African polyrhythms and Jewish klezmer music; yet the band recontextualise these influences, so that the songs retain an underlying grit and are allowed eventually to crescendo into classic post-rock climaxes, led by Luke Mark’s chilling lead guitar.

The folkish hook on ‘Track X’, the LP’s most melancholic number, sounds like the riff from ‘Sunglasses’ if it had been passed through a phase-shifting device found in Steve Reich’s basement; the psychedelic backing vocals, provided by Georgia and bassist Tyler Hyde, seem like something that you might glimpse in the background of a Super Furry Animals record.

Certain moments on the album, such as the ominous synth arpeggio with which May Kershaw underpins ‘Science Fair’, or the descending string/sax motif that haunts ‘Opus’, recall film scores or Broadway –  BC, NR are akin to bands like Sonic Youth and The Flaming Lips in the breadth and ambition of their sound. That said, the sparser sections are played with expert restraint, as is best exemplified on the gentle math-rock coda appended to the album version of ‘Athens, France’. In short, For the first time never dwells for too long on a single timbre, dynamic, or motif.

New Road: breaking a bad habit; upcycling; a new jacket; Maya Angelou and Déwé Gorodé; quitting a shit job; minimal water damage; GCSE summer; second chances; Jurby, Isle of Man; half-time oranges; being invincible in these sunglasses; making it through a tute; hope.

Much has been made on the various online BC, NR fan pages of Isaac’s decision to alter his lyrics on the album versions of ‘Athens, France’ and ‘Sunglasses’, initially released in 2019 as hugely popular singles. The changed lines have apparently provided a stumbling block for some loyal fans’ enjoyment of For the first time. But these alterations haven’t been made on a whim or as part of some bid to ‘keep things fresh’ on the album – this is Black Country, New Road at their self-referential best. Where before, Isaac sang openly about a particularly uncomfortable sexual experience he endured, he now laments “[writing] the words I’ll one day wish that I had never said/Now all that I became must die before the forum thread”; where he previously adopted his lover’s voice and urged himself to “fuck me like you mean it”, he now makes reference to a far more unsettling, Dangerous Liaisons-esque scenario, in which he is being blackmailed to “burn what’s left of all the cards you kept”.

Similarly, no references are superficial (no matter how the Independent’s music reporter, who frames ‘Sunglasses’ as some sort of manifesto ‘in praise of’ Kanye and malt whisky, would have it) – Black Country, New Road’s universe is far more interesting, far less black-and-white than that (no matter what the monochrome album art might lead you to believe). Isaac’s nods to mediocre theatre and the Fonz, his choice of persona, are deliberate and meaningful. When he repurposes a lyric from Phoebe Bridgers’ ‘Motion Sickness’ on ‘Athens, France’ (a truly brilliant bit of intertextual alt-rock songwriting that the same Independent hack had the audacity to describe as “off”), it is not done for the sheer thrill, but because Phoebe’s description of her own toxic relationship with Ryan Adams resonates with Isaac’s grimly similar experience. 

The songs that have now been crystallised on For the first time have always existed, and will always exist, in a state of perpetual evolution – they talk to each other, to their own predecessors, and to the rest of the cultural sphere in which they exist. As long as BC, NR still play ‘Sunglasses’ and ‘Athens, France’ live, Isaac will continue to reformulate his lyrics, or Luke will decide to add in a new guitar introduction that sounds like My Bloody Valentine’s ‘Sometimes’, or May will introduce a new, barely perceptible layer of synth to the mix. Black Country, New Road, with their seven, multi-talented members, and their position at the heart of the Brixton Windmill scene, challenge notions of what songs are supposed to be, of what a band is supposed to be. They’re exactly what the musical canon of 21st-Century Britain needs.

For the first time: sexual naivety; Back To The Point; public speaking; Parkrun; teeth clashing; The Rijksmuseum; the touching of bow to string; cultural relativism; Freshers’ week; non-Latin alphabets; showing your insecurities; Proust; a child babbling; pressing play on your new favourite record.

Image credit: Photo by Asaf R on Unsplash.

Making “Magic”: A Revival of an Edwardian Fantasy-Genre Play

Jill Cushen
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Making “Magic”: A Revival of an Edwardian Fantasy-Genre Play

In the mood for a little magic? Oxford’s Pentaquark Productions is about to provide some with our production of G.K. Chesterton’s Magic: A Fantastic Comedy. This early twentieth-century play was a great success at the time of its original staging, and continues to intrigue and surprise with its depiction of an eruption of magic into a conventional Edwardian country house.

The play centres on the arrival of a conjurer at a duchess’ manor; a conjurer who performs magic only too well. A debate over science and faith ensues, with the action driven by conflicts between a visiting doctor and a country parson, and between the conjurer, with his seeming supernatural powers, and the duchess’s nephew, who is a brash skeptic. The duchess’ niece, Patricia, finds herself caught in the middle. She wants to believe in magic, but discovers that it’s not quite like what she imagined from the fairy tales she read as a child. The play’s audience, like the play’s characters, is left with the ambiguity of whether what has taken place is actually magic or only clever trickery. Either way, we are encouraged to look beyond the surface, and to consider how reality may be much more complex and mysterious than it appears.

Producing a play during the pandemic has presented particular challenges. One of these was to ensure that although all the members of the production were apart, everyone came together as a team. Our rehearsals virtually connected a cast and crew from places across the UK and the world. Rehearsing over Zoom is not the same as meeting in person but it has still been rewarding to collaborate on bringing this play to life.

There are, however,  advantages to an online format, such as not having to worry about budgetary constraints or finding rehearsal or performance spaces. We didn’t have to rush through the streets of Oxford on a blustery February evening to make rehearsal in time or pull an all-nighter with a sewing machine to make costumes! We also learnt to be more attentive to the “soundscape”. While recording we sometimes had the jarring experience of hearing a wailing siren or beeping computer intruding into our Edwardian country house scenario! We also frequently broke into laughter during our rehearsals, when an actor, completely in character, brimming with energy and in full flow, realised that their microphone was muted!

Magic lends itself well to the online format. It is a play of voices, of witty exchanges and mystifying, unseen events. The audience is called on to construct the setting from their imagination, inspired by the actors and the sound effects, resulting in a final product which is a collaboration between players and listeners.

As the format of Pentaquark’s Magic is that of an audio play, the actors have had to deal with the challenge of conveying the entirety of their roles through their voices – with no facial expressions or gestures to provide extra context. To prepare themselves for this task, the actors undertook a variety of theatre exercises over Zoom at the start of each rehearsal, which enabled them to connect with each other and gain an understanding of their characters’ physicality. They experimented with their vocal ranges, tested each other’s ability to roll R’s and strolled around the room talking to themselves, all while navigating Zoom lagging and unreliable internet connections. These exercises not only connected the cast but helped to bring an added dimension of realism to the vocal performances.

Pentaquark Productions has been fortunate to have a very talented and dedicated cast who have been up to numerous challenges which our current situation presents, and who have worked hard on mastering the vocal nuances of their roles. Despite the drawback of not performing in person, there is something almost magical about being able to produce a show “out of thin air”. Our cast is now ready to convince you that they are that diverse group of characters gathered together in an old country manor on a very magical day.  Are you ready to believe?

“Magic” will be broadcast over Zoom at the end of 7th week. Follow Pentaquark Production’s Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/pentaquarkproductions for more information.

Image credit: Pentaquark Productions.

Literary Loves: What fictional romance has taught me about real-life relationships

Sofie Jones
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Literary Loves: What fictional romance has taught me about real-life relationships

For the first 17 years of my life, I felt like everything I knew about love I learned from books. Sure, as a self-conscious 13-year-old I discussed schoolyard crushes with my friends. But this never amounted to anything but a few minutes of gossip, a mere attempt to understand the un-understandable minefield of pre-teen flirtation. Like any good American high schooler, I’d spent my fair share of hours consoling friends after unforeseen break-ups or pepping them up to talk to a new potential suitor. None of this, however, seemed as compelling a conception of love as I encountered in novels. While I could listen to friends regale a first date or even go on one myself, but, at least in my younger years, that didn’t seem to compare to the excitement, adrenaline, or depth of feeling that I associated with real love. You know, the kind of love that drove Mr. Darcy out in the rain, or that impels the protagonists of dystopian Young Adult books to overcome world-ending disasters. Those romances seemed sweeping, all-consuming. Real-life attempts didn’t seem half as compelling.

When I started encountering romantic relationships in novel form, the very idea of dating was abstract to me. In Jeffrey Eugenides’ book The Marriage Plot, he describes the appeal that books hold to a character, writing, “She wanted a book to take her places she couldn’t get to herself.” This gets at why many of us first dive into fictional love stories years before we are ready to actually enter a relationship. I know this was true for me at least. Fictional couples can serve as models in teaching us about love, just as fictional conundrums teach us about morals.

Of course, the usefulness of models is limited. While real-life relationships take on diverse forms, the ones we are fed in mainstream books look incredibly homogenous. They are mostly white, usually heterosexual, and almost always involve two cisgender, conventionally attractive individuals. This constraining image of love arguably does us more damage than good. It makes relationships that deviate from these social norms seem ‘less than’ or illegitimate. Still, they remain pervasive enough to seep into our consciousnesses more and more with every turn of the page.

In recent years, my understanding of love (and the many forms it takes) has moved past the purely abstract. I no longer think of ‘loving’ as a hypothetical act that must look, or feel, any specific, predestined way.  Now, love is no longer something relegated to late-night reading or romantic comedies. The highs and lows are my own to experience, not the creation of an author that I can sit back and experience second-hand.

 In her book How to be a Heroine, Or What I Learned from Reading Too Much, Samantha Ellis writes, “I’m beginning to think all readings are provisional, and that maybe we read heroines for what we need from them at the time.” This is especially true when it comes to love stories. These days, I find myself returning to the books that shaped my view of romance in moments when I need perspective or, perhaps, simply to know that someone else has experienced this too. Fictional love stories serve as analogies of sorts for me, a means through which I can articulate what feels so personal that my own words cannot possibly describe it.

As I try to navigate love’s unpredictable landscape, these books serve as points of reference, reminding me that I am not as adrift and lost as I think. At its most satisfying, love feels like the moment when Lizzy and Mr. Darcy finally profess their feelings for each other at the end of Pride and Prejudice. At its most melancholy, love resembles the relationships shown in Jhumpa Lahiri’s Interpreter of Maladies, as ordinary people who have fallen out of love find their way back together. At its lightest, it feels a John Green meet-cute read under the covers as a pre-teen. At its most devastating, love feels like it does for Cathy and Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights: desperate, disembodying, and world-ending.

Last year when I went through my first break-up, I turned to these fictional romances with a new perspective. Endings that once seemed so cynical seemed fitting now. Heartbreak was not some tragedy, but simply a sometimes necessary part of life. I noticed this change most clearly in regard to one of my old favorites, Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women. Alcott’s protagonist, Jo March, famously rejects the proposal of childhood best friend and kindred spirit, Laurie, in a heart-shattering scene. Instead of settling for a life with Laurie, Jo pursues her own career as a writer and, eventually, marries an unexciting but intellectually engaging older professor years down the line.

When I first read the novel at 10 or 11 years old, I remember being distraught that Laurie and Jo go their separate ways. They seemed so alike, so destined to be together. It took me time (and yes, some heartache) to learn that even the things that appear to be perfect can be deeply flawed or just plain wrong. Now, it is crystal clear to me why Jo can’t – and shouldn’t – bring herself to marry Laurie. They are too alike and, while my younger self may have insisted otherwise, they are not meant to be together. She simply can’t love him like he asks her to. She can’t reign in her ambitions to settle down, even if it means losing the one person who understands her best. How could I, as a reader, fault her for that? How could I want that life for her, when she so clearly desires something else, something bigger?

Love, in both books and real-life, is as messy and complicated as life gets. At its best, it feels simple and straight-forward not because it is, but because the pure goodness of it obscures some of the complexities. The love I have felt personally isn’t that of Lizzy Bennett or Heathcliff. It is more nerve-wrecking, vulnerable, and the stakes feel higher. Still, it is better, more personal, and more intoxicating. The greatest books that deal with the subject celebrate the contradictions and surprises of romantic relationships, instead of flattening them for the sake of consumable perfection.

Image Credit: Louisa May Alcott, Houghton Library

License: Wikimedia Commons (Public Domain)

Fun Home?

James Newbery
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Fun Home?

CW: sexual assault, child abuse, suicide, homophobia.

2015 was a great year in the history of musical theatre, possibly the greatest year of this century for the genre. Why, you ask? Because that was the year that Fun Home first opened on Broadway. (Oh, and a little thing called Hamilton opened that year too).

As much as I love Hamilton, there is a part of me that feels that Fun Home achieves something that Lin Manuel Miranda’s magnum opus never quite can. Every time I listen to it, the musical connects with me on the rawest and most visceral level, leaving me both uplifted and emotionally devastated by the end. The musical won five Tony Awards, including ‘best new musical’, so is hardly bereft of critical acclaim. But I want to ask the question of what makes it so great. Does it resonate with me personally because of my own journey with my sexuality, or are its explorations of queer desire and coming out in fact more universal?

The musical, written by Lisa Kron and Jeanine Tesori, is adapted from Alison Bechdel’s 2006 graphic memoir. Indeed, it is the first Broadway musical with a lesbian protagonist. It tells a true story in a non-linear and comic-book-style fashion about Bechdel’s closeted father killing himself due to his sexuality at roughly the same time Bechdel herself came out as gay.

It doesn’t sound like a barrel of laughs, yet the musical’s greatest strength is how it is always able to see the light in the darkness. Songs like ‘Come to the Fun Home’, performed by the child actors in the production, is a comic tour-de-force that cannot help but put a smile on your face. The title itself encapsulates the tonal complexity of the production. ‘Fun Home’ is a euphemism for a funeral parlour, but the show’s creators Jeanine Tesori and List Krone’s never lost sight of the ‘fun’. 

In fact, it does something which happens so infrequently in terms of media representation of gay characters— it portrays coming-out as ultimately a rewarding and positive experience. Shows like Angels in America or the new BBC drama It’s a Sin are brilliant depictions of the AIDS crisis and should be essential viewing for everyone to understand the struggles that the LGBT community went through, don’t get me wrong. On the other end of the spectrum, films like Love, Simon (although a major milestone in terms of major motion pictures including gay characters as protagonists) exploit the coming-out narrative in attempt to artificially add melodrama to an almost non-existent plot. But people who identify as LGBTQIA+ need narratives that show us it does get better. We don’t need to live forever in shame like Bruce (Alison’s father); we will find love and acceptance, and it is often at the points in our lives that we are least expecting to find it. 

The show’s masterpiece of a song, ‘Changing My Major’, best illustrates the point. At this point in the show, Alison has just had her first sexual encounter at college with a woman called Joan; the song begins with witty lyrics such as ‘We don’t need any food / We’ll live on sex alone / Sex with Joan!’ before shifting into a different region altogether: ‘Am I falling into nothingness or flying into something so sublime?’. Indeed, the line is repeated later on in the show in Bruce’s song ‘Edges of the World’, just moments before he steps in front of the truck. While he cannot save himself from ‘falling into nothingness’, it is the imagery of flying that dominates the musical. The show opens with a child Alison flying her toy airplanes around the house and being lifted into the sky balancing on her father’s legs, singing ‘I want to fly airplane’. Alison’s queer identity for her, and indeed the audience, becomes ‘sublime’. She doesn’t sink; she soars.

Fun Home therefore contrasts her dad’s inability to accept himself and his resulting suicide, with Alsion’s coming out experience as something exciting that ultimately gives her a sense of meaning in life. If Bruce hadn’t been so ashamed of himself, life could have got much better for him, just as it does for Alison. Yet Bruce’s shame is not only to do with the fact that he is gay — and it is here where the nuance lies. There is an implication throughout the show that he has sex with underage males. His ‘fall into nothingness’ is a mixture of his guilt about his sexual abuse of minors and his marital infidelity as well as his inability to accept his sexuality. The show doesn’t try to simplify the moral complexities of the issues it deals with. Alison achieves a sense of catharsis through her plunge into her memories. She both learns to forgive her father and sympathise with him, despite all the problematic aspects of his character, and his tendency to bully his daughter— and we, as an audience, are encouraged to do the same. 

The most upsetting part of the show in many ways is the scene in which Bruce forces his daughter (at this point still a child) to wear a dress rather than the trousers she wants to wear to a children’s party. Bruce inflicts all his pent-up years of shame and internalised homophobia onto his daughter. By trying to save her from being teased by other children, he actually damages her emotionally in ways that will take years for Alison to truly realise and process. Internalised homophobia begins far earlier than most realise, at an age where many children don’t even know what being ‘gay’ actually is— all the more reason why LGBT-inclusive curriculums in primary schools are especially important. 

I first listened to the musical at a low point in my own life. Rewind back to May last year, we were all still learning how to cope with the demands of self-isolation. But what was weighing on my mind more was that I was still not out to my family. And I was very lucky: they’ve all been very accepting and supportive of me. Fun Home shows us that all families inevitably have secrets— both parents keeping secrets from their children and children keeping secrets from their parents and, arguably, this is why Fun Home is a universal story. Everyone can see something in Alison’s story, even if they personally don’t have to go through the process of coming out in their lifetime.

Image Credit: Marc Brenner.

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