Tuesday, May 6, 2025
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Wings and Words: why you should read Grief Is The Thing With Feathers

Tom Martland
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Wings and Words: why you should read Grief Is The Thing With Feathers

CW: Bereavement, Suicide

 I’m the kind of book-nerd who not only alphabetises the books by author’s surname, but also subdivides them by form and subject. I have my fiction, the literary criticism I never touch (a rite of passage for any English student), non-fiction, drama, and, of course, poetry. Generally, these classifications work rather well: it’s not difficult to find the place to put a new book in spite of the frequency with which my shelves grow. Don’t worry – I already know I have a problem. Every now and again, though, something will come along to defy my careful organisation. Max Porter’s Grief Is The Thing With Feathers (2015) so epitomises this conundrum that I’m at least partly convinced Porter – whose day job was as an editor – is deliberately aiming to frustrate bookshop staff into keeping his books in their store windows for fear of confronting the impossible question: where does it go? 

Defining Grief is a very difficult thing.  It was listed in the Sunday Times Top 100 Novels of the Twenty-First Century, but anyone who has actually opened the book will be aware how fully it situates itself in the liminal space between all forms of literature. The ‘novel’ classification may well be another publisher ploy: it’s not easy to sell a hybrid short story-poetry anthology partly narrated by grief personified as a talking anthropomorphic bird, ripped from Ted Hughes’ Crow (1970). This, perhaps, is the most promising chance we have of categorising the book: its history is rooted firmly in poetry. Dad, one of the book’s four speaking characters, is obsessed with Hughes. The implication seems to be that this is the reason his grief takes the form of Crow. Ted Hughes married American poet-novelist Sylvia Plath. By the estimations of the least critical, their relationship was tumultuous. In the analysis of the most condemnatory commentators, Hughes was the direct and most potent cause of Plath’s miscarriage and subsequent suicide. Both writers’ works were heavily influenced by the marriage, a tragedy Porter warps and reworks for his own purposes throughout Grief.

Porter is at pains to attack the roots of what we understand poetry to be. He weaponises his Crow to contemporarily transmute and, importantly, de-canonise our poetic tradition, satirising the reverence and ethereality with which we regard ‘poetry’. He uses a defaced and graffitied reproduction of Emily Dickinson’s ‘That Love is all there is’ as his epigram, in which each noun has been scribbled out – and replaced with “Crow”. In spite of his obvious adoration of  poets like Hughes (he calls him Ted), Porter refuses to bow to him. In fact, he seems somewhat to mock those that do; many of the characters allude to a book about Ted which makes “a point-blank refusal to be constructively critical either of Hughes or his poems”.

So too does he reject the opportunity to exalt his abstract subjects as conveniently distant, seraphic (and lazily undefined) forms that so often pervade work concerning love or loss. Porter’s most compelling talents rear their heads in his ability to find heartfelt truth and humour in virtually anything. Crow is crude, and yet, somehow, it’s an endearing trait. When Dad goes for the liquid escape from his grief and reaches for bottles, he finds a note left by the bird that reads “OH NO YOU DON’T COCK-CHEEK”. Crow’s frequent threats to stuff his feathers – in, suffice to say, ‘places no one wants feathers stuffed’ – make for a worrying image, yet they manage to communicate the lengths to which he will go for the family under his watch.

Porter never fails to remind us of the fecund, grisly detail of the human existence (think of the feathers again – and their relevant orifices), that which cannot be escaped: not by lovers or by grievers. Bodies, fluids, and feathers litter every page. But the details aren’t only crude; he seems to live most happily in the minutiae and so invests Grief with an extraordinary re-readability. The nature of these little moments is that discovering them for oneself is half the fun, however, as a small example: in the long list of thing Crow is not afraid of (the negative so heavily emphasised that one might begin to expect we’re not getting the whole truth) are itemised “Biographies of Sylvia” and “Motherless Children”, the latter of which you may want to read the book to understand. Perhaps this boundlessness, the boldness with which Porter is able to write through his character, is what so sets the work apart. Certainly, there are no literary limits: the bird speaks in playscripts and poetry, and once you’ll even be set comprehension questions. It seems there’s nothing he won’t try; you can decide for yourself whether that applies to the bird of the author.

This is all well and good: the metafiction, the interactivity, the humour and so on. But it’s nothing without the heart. At the centre of Grief Is The Thing With Feathers is poignancy and love. Again, it would be a crime to give too much away and deprive anyone of the opportunity to be hit first-hand with every emotional punch it throws. As such, this will be as brief as an English student can make it. Grief realises its feeling, once more, in the particularity. In every sense – it’s semiotics, it’s tone, and most importantly, it’s details – the piece is full of texture. Porter seems uniquely able to find universal emotion in individuated moments: scents and sounds that were once commonplace slowly fading away. Ultimately, this is his greatest strength; the specificity makes it all real, all material, all felt.

Somehow, all of this fits into just over 100 pages. If we could call it a novel – or even a novella – it’s extraordinarily short. Recalling the first time I read Grief, on a thankfully empty train, I’m very glad no one was present to witness what must have been a harrowing and confusing parade of expressions as I progressed. It’s a few hours I will never regret. To anyone considering reading, I have three pieces of advice: first, find yourself somewhere secluded; second, allocate your heart and your head some good time to recover; third and finally, situate yourself near a bookshop so that you can satisfy the inevitable craving to read Porter’s full novel, Lanny, and probably pre-order his new collection, The Death of Francis Bacon, immediately after finishing.

Artwork Credits: Amir Pachhadze

I’ll Bark if I Want To: On Letting Women Be Angry

Alice Garnett
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I’ll Bark if I Want To: On Letting Women Be Angry

Within our current (deeply patriarchal) state of affairs, femininity and anger is not allowed to coexist. Raised voices, holes in walls, and sporadic fits of passion all belong to the masculine domain. We’ve grown up believing men have a biological predisposition to anger, so when they spiral into a rage it’s dismissed: ‘boys will be (testosterone-fuelled) boys’ — but when a woman raises her voice, she’s a “bitch” or “psycho.” Women’s anger can never be “passionate”: it’s petty, silly, irrational, hysterical. It’s infuriating that our anger is confined to this binary: petty-office-bitch or blood-thirsty-psycho. Women cannot be angry without being either depreciated or vilified. 

Most women have confronted someone only for them to flippantly dismiss their legitimate anger with an, “is it that time of the month?” or, worse, an, “I’m sorry you feel that way.” It’s a travesty that our predecessors have created an environment so toxic that many men can’t swallow their pride in a real apology without feeling emasculated, and most women can’t be angry without feeling hugely guilty about it. Women’s anger is constantly made into our own responsibility as we’re constantly reminded that our emotions risk affecting others – more so than they might affect ourselves. We are entrapped within roles as emotionally responsible peacemakers and maternal caregivers.

Personally, I struggle not to shrink away from my own anger – particularly in cases where the only affected party is myself. Girls are taught from an early age to be altruistic, to care for others far more than they do for themselves. This is why it is always our friends who are enraged when a partner fucks up, or when a colleague fails you. We are not taught to defend ourselves. If a man catcalls us in the street, we’re urged to ‘just take it as a compliment’ and move on. If a boy violates us (in any way), we’re told that ‘boys will be boys’. We tend to accept that there’s almost no point in ‘making a scene’ because both perpetrator and society will inevitably gaslight us into silence. To this day I can’t feel anger without somehow feeling that it’s my fault. 

It is under this pressure to not be angry or assertive that passive aggression is born. The passive aggressive woman is perhaps one of the scariest tropes to walk our cultural space. They won’t directly tell you to do something, they’ll merely gesture vaguely – but nonetheless obviously – at the thing that needs doing. They will never raise their voices at you, or tell it to you straight, but there will be an angry subtext lurking beneath the surface of their eyes, under raised eyebrows and pursed lips. The ‘Karen’ is the champion of passive aggression; she seethes, emanating a bitter pettiness wherever she goes. But Karens might cease to exist in a world where women are allowed to be angry. 

I’m not defending the Karens of the world, given that they perpetuate racism as well as passive aggression. It would be wrong to assume that all female anger comes from a just place. This is particularly relevant when we scrutinise some women’s treatment of other women, depending on factors such as race, class, and gender-identity. Because it is the Karens of the world who have contributed to the development of another misogynist and racist trope: the angry black woman. Far more than white women, black women are denigrated for speaking out against the numerous injustices that exist to oppress them within our society. The stigma surrounding black female anger runs far deeper than that of white female anger. The toxic tropes play out in different, more insidious ways for black women. Working class and trans women also face their own unique pressures to not fully express their own anger. My experiences as a white, middle-class, cisgendered woman will differ from those of black, working-class, and trans women – if other women of my demographic could acknowledge this fact, there would be far fewer Karens in the world and more space for productive conversations on how to handle our anger without tearing other women down.

No one wants to be reduced to a toxic trope, so most women simply won’t express aggression of any kind. Instead, we nod politely, smile awkwardly, and walk away from conversations – often defeated – probably wondering if it really was us in the wrong all along. So, we never get angry, we put up with emotional neglect, and we never make demands. This all brings to mind the Gone Girl cool girl monologue – something I was recently shown and found harrowingly relatable. I was appalled by my own resonance with this image of the beer-drinking, head-giving, all-appeasing cool girl that I cannot help but aspire to be. It is my own internalised misogyny which checks me every time I ask someone to do something. I can’t ask a simple favour without immediately feeling like a ‘nag’ or a ‘bore’. I want to be the cool girl, but being the cool girl means not reminding my housemates to do the dishes, not bringing up my feelings to a sexual partner, and – most importantly – not allowing myself to ‘get my knickers in a twist’ over anything.

Women’s relationship with anger is a similar paradigm to ‘boys can’t cry’. If men can’t cry then their sadness is going to be dealt with in unhealthy ways; this translates into a crisis in men’s mental health and higher suicide rates. Thanks to an increased understanding of this phenomena, we have a whole term for it: toxic masculinity. The same can’t be said for women and their relationship with anger – even though there is something similar going on here. In fact, there are studies[1] which show that if women disown their aggression and project it onto others, they inadvertently posit themselves as helpless victims, whereas if they internalise their anger, they become vulnerable to depression. Within psychoanalytic studies, the Kleinian therapeutic approach has been cited as a useful means to make sense of human destructiveness – and so has been used to help women manage their anger in ways that aren’t self-defeating. If we’re finally addressing the crises in men’s mental health, and the importance of their self-expression, is now not also the time to address women’s need for holistic self-expression? While anger has more negative connotations than sadness, it is nevertheless a universally felt emotion that requires management across all genders – just like every other aspect of the human condition.

So I say: let women be angry. Let us bark at men in the streets who catcall us, let us foam at the mouths when men tell us to smile more, let us hiss at those who deem our clothes ‘too revealing.’ Let us reclaim being a bitch. 

[1] Gyler, Louise, The Gendered Unconscious: Can Gender Discourse Subvert the Psychoanalysis (Taylor & Francis Group, 2010)

Best Reads of 2020

Cherwell Books
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Best Reads of 2020

Hamnet — Maggie O’Farrell

The subtle majesty of Hamnet, Maggie O’Farrell’s eighth novel,would have been welcome in any year, but it was a particular blessing in March 2020. A story about grief and art and living in close proximity to people you don’t get along with all the time – and also about the plague, of course. It’s distant enough in its setting (the late sixteenth century) to count as escapism, and yet still close enough to be felt, in the first plague year that most of us in the West can remember.
The focus is the death of William Shakespeare’s son, Hamnet, in 1596, and the subsequent writing of Hamlet. That’s not a spoiler; we’re told of Hamnet’s demise on the first page of the book. O’Farrell breathes new life into the connection trotted out in countless first-year English essays, building her story around Hamnet’s mother Agnes and her otherworldly powers of prophecy and herbalism. Shakespeare is never even named – instead he is “the tutor”, “Agnes’s husband”, “Judith’s father”. In this, O’Farrell makes the familiar strange again: nothing is certain, not Shakespeare’s legacy, not Hamnet’s death, and least of all the creation of the most famous tragedy in history.
Death was a constant companion in sixteenth-century England, and it hovers behind Hamnet’slines, as it does in O’Farrell’s previous work, “a life told through near-death experiences”. This, again, makes the novel both easier and harder to read in 2020: up until this year, our cultural consciousness had been moving away from death. The bodies stacked in streets and the ever-present threat of a danger we cannot see has brought it thundering back. But Hamnet isn’t mournful or fearful. Its quiet, powerful climax instead affirms the courage and beauty of carrying on, even when it feels like you can’t.

— Laura de Lisle

Night — Elie Wiesel

It is impossible to find more thorough, detailed and emotive accounts of atrocities than first-hand experiences, and Elie Wiesel’s Night is perhaps one of the most essential. In the Spring of 1944, Elie and his family are evacuated from their Jewish ghetto in Hungary, and loaded onto cattle trucks bound for Auschwitz. What follows is an account of unimaginable horror, illustrating what we can only hope to be the limits of human cruelty. The narrative flows almost as a stream of consciousness, interwoven with visceral poetic language and images of utter hell. At times we are even witness to Wiesel believing that he is about to die; ‘Deep down, I was saying goodbye to my father, to the whole universe’. The head of Block 17 at Auschwitz announces with tragic accuracy that, ‘Ahead of you lies a long road paved with suffering’, and it is this concept of suffering to which Night lends itself as an eye-opening book. It is absolutely relentless from beginning to end, and provides a harrowing account of the dehumanisation of the Jewish people during the Holocaust. Wiesel himself remembers that ‘I became A-7713. From then on, I had no other name’, and that on the brink of complete exhaustion, ‘I moved like a sleepwalker’. I could easily recommend Night for its educational and historical value alone, but for me it is much more; a deeply powerful meditation on the human condition and the resilience of spirit in a time when, ‘One died because one had to’. Wiesel’s account is a triumph of mind and body over the greatest adversity, and despite the unforgiving bleakness of the events described, it leaves me with a sense of hope; the hope that, as a species, we can overcome the worst times and build rewarding relations with each other long into the future. In a year which has tested humanity more than any other in my lifetime, I believe this book has the ability to ground us with the idea that we are indeed stronger than we may think. Night will always remain relevant, but especially so in 2021 as the number of Holocaust survivors decreases by the year, and the responsibility of keeping their memory alive only deepens. Furthermore, forced labour camps still exist around the world today, and it is accounts like Wiesel’s which remind us that we cannot just be spectators to injustice.

— Thomas Bristow

The force of non-violence: An Ethico-Political bind — Judith Butler

Is it necessary to resort to violence in order to influence social and economic change, or could and should change happen through non-violent tactics? Judith Butler recently addressed such questions in her book The force of non-violence; An Ethico-Political bind.
Butler analyzed violence and non-violence from different perspectives and identified different forms of nonviolent tactics of resistance, such as demonstrations, marches, boycotts and vigils. She claimed that, ideally, society should employ non-violent rather than violent options. Doing so is seen as a ‘global obligation’ for all of us.
Butler presents an ethical justification for pursuing non-violence as a form of resistance. Her arguments are based on different assumptions and assertions. For example, it is suggested that people are interconnected and therefore violence against another may end up also affecting one’s own self or some other interconnected person(s). The justification of violence as a form of self-defense is thus placed into question. Moreover, as she points out, everyone is ‘grievable’ by someone thus people share a moral obligation to not cause harm to others.
To these ethical considerations, we would like to emphasise as well the legal incentives to non-violence. Of course, different forms of violence may be prohibited by law, so there is an incentive to avoid being an aggressor. Moreover, there is also a legal incentive to maintaining a reputation and record of non-violence in case one becomes a victim of harm. For example, in the criminal case R v Dejong (1998), evidence of the victim’s prior history of non-violence was in question for the purposes of assessing who was the real aggressor in a charge of second degree murder. More recently, it was explained by the courts that while, in general, the character of a victim of a crime is irrelevant and neither the accused nor the prosecutor may lead such evidence, “evidence of the disposition of the deceased may be relevant to a charge of murder where the accused relies on self-defence.” (R v Ziegler, 2016).
Butler’s analysis has attracted both praise and criticism. We recommend Butler’s book and encourage readers to critically question the merits of her claims. 

— Amir Pichhadze and Marietta Kosma

Pretending — Holly Bourne

If we’re talking best of 2020, Pretending is definitely it. Holly Bourne’s second book for adults is a masterpiece. Released this spring, I picked it up mid-lockdown and devoured it. Since then, a further four (!) friends have read it and loved it, so I now feel well-justified in giving it a glowing recommendation.
The story follows April, a woman in her early thirties; sick of men on dating apps, she decides to reinvent herself as ‘Gretel’. Gretel is cool, aloof, and, as April states, the embodiment of the “Regular Everyday Manic Pixie Dream Girl Next Door with No Problems”. In essence, she is the girl many of us have asked ourselves if we need to be more like. April herself is unlike many other female protagonists I’ve read. She is angry, she is funny, she is tired. Above all though, what I loved about her is that she felt complex and real.
Under her new persona, April meets Joshua, and we get to watch their relationship develop, but Pretending is about much more than just that. Throughout the book there are prominent themes of sexual assault and rape which can make for difficult reading at times. However, the way Bourne writes about these events, along with the PTSD that can follow them, is both sensitive and powerful. I had to regularly pause to really digest what I’d read. A few other reviews have said this book is too bleak, and, yes, it certainly won’t be for everyone. However, I’d encourage you to read it if you want something that will take you through every emotion under the sun in 400 pages and leave you with much to think about and discuss once you’re done.

— Charlotte Rose

Image Credits: Amir Pichhadze

Four Panels and a Pen

Neil Frank
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Four Panels and a Pen

Find us together:

tiptoeing across the fanning pages

of a calendar.


The solstice didn’t differ from Sunday,

or Tuesday. A set chime reminds us,

but the day bleeds its metronomic

hours like all others, lathered

in the moon’s empty white.


And when the circle completes and shrinks upon itself,

like rings inside a tree, it can hide like the others,

each cradled

in the next,

And we:

Enveloping a weathered year,

Thicken.

Image credit: Jackson Palmer.

A Story That Begins With Rain

Neil Frank
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A Story That Begins With Rain

Under the bent-thumb streetlight,

umbrella domes burst forth, splashing

rich nightfall 

onto their neighbours.

Like clustered fungi, the growths    

navigate by feel into the warmth

of the hare’s mouth.

Image Credit: Jackson Palmer.

University confirms delayed return for most students

Cherwell News and Investigations Section Editors
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University confirms delayed return for most students

Most students will not return for Hilary Term until at least the 25th January, Oxford University has announced.

A statement on the University’s website said: “We are looking forward to welcoming students back to Oxford in Hilary term. We want to help make the most of your Oxford experience, within the constraints of the pandemic.

On Wednesday 30 December, the UK Government published new guidance about which students are allowed to return to universities in the New Year.

In line with Government guidance, only very specific groups of taught students will be permitted to return to Oxford from 4 January.  All other taught students are advised not to travel back to university until at least 25 January, with all teaching taking place online until at least that point.

If you are taking part in initial teacher training or medicine courses, you should return to Oxford as indicated previously. Students on a small number of additional courses (for example, some of those with professional accreditations) may be invited to come back to Oxford earlier than other students. Further guidance will follow on this next week.” 

The University also noted that there were specific exemptions, for example for international students who have remained at Oxford or cannot change their travel plans, for those who remained in Oxford over the vacation and for individuals who require additional support or access to study spaces. Guidance about completing three lateral flow tests on arrival remains unchanged.

The announcement comes after the government’s plans for students’ return to university were changed following the continuing rise in coronavirus cases across the country. The Universities Minister said that due to “early and concerning evidence on a new variant and the extension of Tier 4 restrictions to a number of regions of the country” the return of most students would be delayed until at least the 25 January, with plans for a staggered return of students following this date.

While this decision has been made on a University level, some colleges already informed their students of the delayed return. In an email from New College, students are also told that “there are some more decisions to be made at a University level on Monday. So further College advice will be issued early next week”. For international students, New confirmed that “you will not be required to reorganise your travel to the UK if this has already been booked”.

Charging arrangements for Hilary Term are yet to be decided but New’s email notes that “it is usual not to charge for accommodation or catering if UK rules do not permit students return to accommodation”. University College has already pledged not to charge students rent for the time they are not permitted to be in student accommodation while an email from Lady Margaret Hall confirms that “Oxford colleges including LMH are continuing to work on the principle that students will not usually be charged for any accommodation where a College is not able to provide it on account of UK rules, or a related policy of the University”.

Jan Royall, Principal of Somerville College, insisted that she would encourage all students who needed to return to do so: “I will do everything possible to ensure that students whose home circumstances make it difficult to study will be able to return as soon as possible”. She also urged caution: “For those of you wishing to book rail tickets on a specific date for your return to Oxford, I would strongly advise you not to for the moment”.

The Dean of St Hilda’s outlined reasons for returning to College prior to 25 January and urged students “to think carefully about whether you need to return before 25th January. College services will be available to support students who are resident, but College will not be fully open and services may only be available on a limited basis to reflect the government guidance to reduce mixing to a minimum”.

In an email sent to all students, Professor Martin Williams, the Pro-Vice-Chancellor, and Miles Young, who chairs the Conference of Colleges, wrote: “We realise that this last-minute change of arrangements provides yet further uncertainty in an already difficult year. We had some very good news this week about the approval of the Oxford vaccine for use in the UK. This provides us hope that we will be able to return to a more normal studying environment later in the year, but, for now, we would like to thank you for your patience as we work through this difficult period”.

Following this, the Student Union issued a statement saying they “welcome  the University of Oxford’s recent statement to all students on the start of Hilary Term following the recent government announcement.

“We are in regular contact with senior leaders across the collegiate University to ensure student views are prioritised at the highest level and next week will be highlighting student concerns at the key University groups we are members of including Education Steering Group and Hilary and Trinity Co-ordination group. 

“Following today’s update from the University we expect colleges to provide further updates to their students including around accommodation. Our view is that students unable to return to Oxford in Hilary Term 2021 should not be financially penalised; students should not have to pay for accommodation that they are unable to live in.  

“This year remains incredibly difficult for all students and this must be recognised by the University in their academic expectations of students. We were pleased to secure a continuation fees grace period for Postgraduate research students. We look forward to working with the University to ensure student learning and assessment isn’t disadvantaged due to the pandemic.  

“We know that the uncertainty around returning is challenging and we continue to encourage the collegiate University to communicate promptly and openly so that students can remain up to date. We are pleased the University have committed to updating students next week shortly after key decisions are made. “

The Student Union also included links to their student advice service, which reopens from January 4th, and the COVID-19 hardship fund.

This is a breaking article and will be updated as new information becomes available.

01/01/21, 14:22 – Updated to include communication from the Student Union.

01/01/21, 14:58 – Updated to include communication from St Hilda’s and Lady Margaret Hall.

Oxford SU LGBTQ+ Campaign publish open letter in response to University’s Woman’s Place UK payment

Issy Kenney-Herbert
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Oxford SU LGBTQ+ Campaign publish open letter in response to University’s Woman’s Place UK payment

Oxford LGBTQ+ Campaign has published a letter in response to the news that the University of Oxford has given £20,000 in consultancy fees to Woman’s Place UK. The LGBTQ+ Campaign described this organisation as a “group we believe to have contributed to a growing climate of transphobia in the UK.”

The letter provided a history of Oxford’s prior involvement with WPUK: “many of us remember that, in the winter of 2019, the university was content to rent a room in the Examination Schools to them, despite their members’ well-documented record of speaking out against trans people’s right to self-definition, and their existing rights under the Gender Recognition and Equality Acts.”

The letter went on to state that “we believe that the University’s involvement with WPUK demonstrates that it neither cares for nor respects its trans students.”

When contacted by Cherwell, the University responded that it “aims to create an inclusive trans-friendly culture, workplace and learning environment, free from discrimination, harassment or victimisation, where all transgender people are treated with dignity and respect.”

They further acknowledged they were aware of the payment, and that “it is not unusual for research groups across the University to work with a wide range of external groups to support their research, and the allocation of such funding is regulated and scrutinised.” The University also stated an intention to respond in more detail in the New Year.

Within the LGBTQ+ Campaign’s letter, they addressed the “university’s public commitment to supporting trans students and to upholding its duty to keep itself free from anything which would create an “intimidating, hostile, degrading, humiliating or offensive environment” for trans students” describing this as “an aim which we do not feel is compatible with the hosting of WPUK events, let alone providing them with funding.”

The letter further outlines the university has neglected “to follow the advice or answer the request of its own students, many of whom devote substantial time and energy to engaging with the university only to be consistently rebuffed’ and that ‘pro-trans activists are ignored by the university administration.”

Woman’s Place UK received £20,000 as payment for consultancy work to support research into University of Oxford’s project Women and Equalities Law: Historical Perspectives on Present Issues. To read more about the project itself, please see this article.

The letter was co-signed by 28 other campaigns, groups including Oxford University LGBTQ+ Society and Oxford Feminist Society, and student representatives across 15 colleges.

Cherwell’s best films of 2020

Culture Staff
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Cherwell’s best films of 2020

Joanna’s picks:

Let Them All Talk
Filmed aboard the Queen Mary 2 as it sailed from New York to Southhampton, Steven Soderbergh’s Let them all Talk is a rare gem: a story about older women that feels neither heavy nor saccharine. It’s serious, but it’s also refreshingly light. Meryl Streep plays Alice, a distinguished novelist and decidedly difficult woman, travelling to collect a literary prize. She invites two estranged friends from her college years along for the journey, during which, they come to terms with how the Alice’s success has altered the course of their lives. Alice’s nephew is also on board, as is her literary agent, a secret passenger who hides from Alice whilst trying to discover what her next, overdue, novel is about. Many scenes were improvised and, as the title suggests, there is a lot of talking. The beauty of the ship, the women’s sass and Soderbergh’s craftsmanship all contribute to create a film that is memorable because it feels casual.

Waves
A stylish, disorientating and relentless film. Trey Edward Shults uses technical tools (innovative photography and switching screen proportions) along with a stellar soundtrack to relate his dark but ultimately hopeful narrative. Shults’ fluid camera, spins and glides through the life of Tyler, a handsome, happy highschool athelete. That is, until a shoulder injury sends his world crashing down, threatening to derail his sporting career, his senior year and his college prospects. Tyler doesn’t tell his sweet sister, supportive stepmother or pushy father, but pops pain pills and slowly comes apart at the seams. When he finds out that his girlfriend is pregnant, a series of terrible decisions lead to tragedy. But the film does not linger at its depths, it picks itself up, pivots, and becomes another film entirely, one focused on how bad decisions can ultimately impact good ones. We realize that this isn’t only Tyler’s story.


Joe’s picks:

I’m Thinking of Ending Things
Charlie Kaufman’s latest film, released directly on to Netflix, felt like the perfect film for our locked-down times. Claustrophobic car rides, uneasy family relations, and a general sense of confusion, superadded to by a boxy aspect ratio, lend the film an eery appositeness. Except, the film was conceptualised, written, and shot in sweetly naïve times, when coronavirus sounded like a nasty beer-induced hangover. So, really, I’m just projecting current circumstances onto the film, tying Kaufman’s aesthetic and narrative choices to the strangeness of our times. Except, this really is the whole point of Kaufman’s mind-bending masterpiece. Please watch it, and I promise the above rambling will make at least some sense.

Lynn + Lucy
2020 has seen a welcome increase in filmmakers approaching stories that buck the current fascination with historical thrillers or middle-class melodramas, instead focusing on urban life and more quotidian realities in a way that avoids Ken Loach’s sometimes overly-blunt social realism. Sarah Gavron’s Rocks, a story of a group of teenage Londoners, and Ladj Ly’s Les Misérables deserve a special mention, but the most credit must be reserved for Fyzal Boulifa’s debut feature. Set in small-town Essex, the story of friendship ruptured by tragedy, and the Hardyesque pressures of misguided community, is as deeply moving as it is artfully crafted.


Martha’s picks:

King of Staten Island
Judd Apatow has found his niche in the home-grown American deadbeat; the lord of the suburbs, The King of Staten Island. The semi-biographical comedy-drama stars Pete Davidson as Scott, a twenty-four-year-old aspiring tattoo artist who is left scarred after the death of his firefighter father. Scars that are reopened with the arrival of Ray, firefighter and Scott’s mum’s new boyfriend. There is a rawness to the film; an honesty founded in its ugliness. The dark humour, naturalistic dialogue and difficult situations make us uncomfortable just as intended. Apatow rejects the glossed Hollywood-ified portrayal of life and replaces it with what feels to be an authentic tale of grief, growth, and the joys of being an idiot.

Trial of the Chicago Seven
I loved Aaron Sorkin’s The Trial of the Chicago Seven because it made me feel genuinely upset. And in a true-story drama that recounts the prosecution of the ‘Chicago Seven’ and Bobby Seale, Black Panther come eighth defendant, after the protests at the 1968 Democratic National Convention, the genuine seems a necessary feature. Balanced by vibrant costume, a beautiful colour-palette, and an impressive all-star cast, The Trial of the Chicago Seven makes the hard-hitting palatable, and the film is enjoyable precisely because it is hard-hitting. Just as it is a political trial being portrayed it is a political film being watched; Sorkin brings together the then and the now and his historical piece feels pertinent to the world that watches it.


Trudy’s picks:

Portrait of a Lady on Fire
Céline Sciamma’s slow-burning romance is a haunting study of the female gaze – I couldn’t quite get it out of my head. Marriane is a young painter in the 18th century who crosses the sea to Brittany in order to paint the portrait of the aristocratic Héloïse. The portrait is to be sent to Héloïse’s husband to be – however, Héloïse doesn’t want to get married and refuses to be looked upon, and so Marriane must paint her subject without her knowledge. The two women slowly fall in love, and their feelings for each other are explored through the politics of the gaze. Sciamma focuses on the perspective of the woman in a society where she is bound by expectations and objectification, and a quiet, burning desire to free herself from those norms. The visuals and music in this film will stay in your mind, just like the smouldering gaze of a perfectly crafted portrait .

Babyteeth
My favourite films are always the ones where I fall in love with the characters. Shannon Murphy’s Babyteeth is a beautiful example of this. The film follows Milla Finlay, a schoolgirl who has been diagnosed with cancer, as she falls in love with a gorgeous and dangerous 23 year old drug addict, Moses. The viewer is completely drawn into Milla’s experience; slightly disconnected with the world, but desperate to immerse herself in the excitement of life. You fall in love with Moses just as much as Milla does, but at the same time hate and mistrust him bitterly as you put yourself in the shoes of Milla’s parents, Henry and Anna. Each of the four main characters are whole, flawed, and real, and yet also worthy of love and sympathy. The soundtrack is as unique and emotional as the film itself – I strongly recommend you give this a watch and/or listen.

The Power of Food

Jill Cushen
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The Power of Food

Food is more than nourishment; it is a joy which can bring people together, and its connective power is needed now more than ever. Food has a power which goes beyond the physical. It can be more than just an experience for the taste buds but can inspire and unite – powers which we value even more after a crisis which forced us apart. It isn’t just the taste we enjoy. It’s the company. 

In primary school, children trade lunch box treats; swapping Freddos for chocolate digestives and making friends in the process. Food can provoke laughter, particularly when culinary endeavours don’t quite go to plan, and the meal can’t be distinguished from a pyrex dish of black ash. Friendships can develop through any food experience, a celebratory banquet at the end of term or even a Taylor’s sandwich in the University Parks. Eating is universal, it is a shared experience. While not every meal has to be a memorable feast, eating together the odd time, rather than at our desks with only Netflix as a companion, can bring us together. 

Coming together for a meal is a tradition as old as the bible. The disciples gathered for the Last Supper where the breaking of the bread was not only a symbol of the body of Christ but an experience which connected the twelve apostles. We can scarcely begin to imagine the grandeur of the feasts served up in the Roman Empire, and maybe it was munching on those platters of meat and cheese together which made them such a powerful empire. Given that their relationship lasted two days, perhaps it was the 10-course meal on the Titanic over which Jack and Rose formed such an intimate bond. Countless are the times we wish we were guests at Nigella (aka the Domestic Goddess) or Jamie Oliver’s dinner parties, joining in the conversation and gorging on their creations. Food can be an explosion of flavours in the mouth, but the taste is not the only memorable part of eating together. 

Food is a form of cultural expression. We learn to appreciate and understand our diversity as a global community when we are exposed to new flavours and culinary traditions, whether that’s a coconutty curry, salty ramen, a stack of pancakes or even fish and chips. Food reveals more than what we eat or how we cook, but who we are and why exactly we come together to eat it, be that munching on puris under Diwali Lights or enjoying chicken soup and matzah balls while gathering for Shabbat. During the festive season, the uniting power of food is more evident than ever. Arguing over when to take the turkey out or experiencing a mass stomach ache after consuming a mound of chocolate sound familiar? Meals at Christmas can bring people together, even if only one household is allowed to devour the feast together this year. 

And if you were lucky enough to have one, Freshers’ Formal, the first test in understanding the years’ old traditions of Oxford, is indeed a bonding experience, as you wrestle with whether to sit or stand and attempt to withhold your giggling spurts as Latin phrases are recited. Buying someone a vodka shot while cramped in a sweaty club wasn’t really an option this term, and so a coffee and a pastry from Pret or the weekly bubble meal was a way to forge friendships. After months of eating only at the kitchen table, we also have a renewed sense of the importance of restaurants, the communal experience of eating out being a rare treat between lockdowns. 

Food is nourishment for our bodies, our souls and our hearts. As Hilary Term draws near and uncertainties remain, remember the power of food. Bonding might not happen during a night of club-hopping this year, but a dinner party of six can be just as enjoyable, even if it’s chaotically prepared in the confines of your tiny shared kitchen and consumed on the floor of your bedroom. We all have to eat, so why not eat together? 

Image credit: Wikimedia Commons.

BREAKING: University returns paused until “at least 25 January” for most students

Abigail Howe
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BREAKING: University returns paused until “at least 25 January” for most students

Michelle Donelan, the Universities Minister, has released a letter to universities in England with new instructions for returning to university next term, stating that “we will shortly be updating the Spring 2021 guidance to reflect the decisions set out below”.

In the letter, the students who are able to return in the first tranche (from 4 January) are restricted to Medicine (and subjects allied to medicine or health), Dentistry, Veterinary Science, Education (in particular, initial teacher training), Social Work and courses which require Professional, Statutory and Regulatory Body (PSRB) assessments or activity which is scheduled for January and cannot be postponed.

Donelan continues that “all remaining courses should continue to be offered online from the beginning of term. Given the rising infection rates, the return of all other students should be paused until at least the week commencing 25 January. The government will review this decision and provide further communication to providers in the week commencing 18 January. On the basis of this review, we will ask providers to plan for the staggered return of further students, prioritising those who will most benefit from in-person provision. We will work with the Office for Students and the Office of the Independent Adjudicator for Higher Education to discuss the impact of these measures”.

However, Donelan also stressed the importance of ensuring that “those students who have remained at university or who have compelling reasons to return are given appropriate support and access to study space”. Appropriate reasons for return cited within the letter include international students without alternative accommodation, students without access to study space or appropriate facilities in their vacation or home accommodation, students who remained in their university accommodation over the winter break, those requiring additional support (including for reasons regarding mental health) and those on placements.

Cherwell has contacted the University for comment to discover how this will impact Hilary returns. Previous college policies can be found here.

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