Monday 11th August 2025
Blog Page 676

Is it time for Theresa May to be binned?

Cherwell Comment
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Is it time for Theresa May to be binned?

Yes: Luke Dunne

Since losing her majority in 2017, it has always seemed inevitable that Theresa May would eventually face the consequences of relying on every discordant element of the Conservative Party to hold together her government, in the face of a Brexit settlement that would surely leave some disappointed. The day when the irreconcilable divide within the Conservative Party brings down the government now seems to be fast approaching – whether or not the Moggites are able to force a no-confidence vote in the leader from within, her Brexit deal seems sure to be defeated in the Commons.

We now know that the DUP will vote against the current agreement, as will many of her own MPs. Even assuming a conservative estimate is true, there should be at least 30 hold outs from both extreme Leavers and Remainers, leaving her around 40 votes short of a majority. A few Labour rebels wouldn’t make up the difference, and moreover the idea that any more than a handful would vote to save this government for a deal in which they had no say is absurd.

In reality, there is no mandate for the current deal within Parliament. Moreover, it is unlikely that there is a mandate for any deal within the Conservative Party. The dual concerns of the Tory party are, as they always have been, patriotic nationalism and free market capitalism. In the case of Brexit, the two are simply mutually exclusive. This government will never negotiate for the best possible deal and will never pass a Brexit deal through Parliament. All the while, time runs out to reach a permanent settlement with the EU. Of course, it seems more likely May will dig in and our country’s future will be damned.

May should accept she has failed her near-impossible task, and do what we do in a democracy, when a government can no longer properly represent the people. Call an election, and let us vote to change it.

No: Joseph Clark

Theresa May is unlikely to be topping many ‘Best Prime Ministers of all time’ polls, and with a net approval rating of -32 at the end of October, ousting her would certainly be cathartic. That does not make it a sensible course of action. Recall that at the moment there is no issue more pressing than obtaining a Brexit deal with Parliamentary and European support that can at least take Britain smoothly into a transitional exit period.

Unhappily, parliamentary maths at present thwarts any proposal that a leader could put forward. Once an opportunist Labour Party is near unanimously resolved to denounce any Conservative Brexit bill, the remaining MPs can be split into entrenched camps of soft Brexit loyalists, People’s Vote activists (more of whom emerge from the Tory woodwork every day), and hard-line Eurosceptics. None have a majority in Parliament, and thus it might seem none could put forward a deal (or second referendum) that could resolve this deadlock. Indeed, the hard Brexit of Johnson or Rees-Mogg would have even less Parliamentary support than May’s consensus.

It’s also hard to imagine that Jeremy Corbyn, who if appointed now would be tasked with renegotiating two years’ worth of pernickety agreements in five months, despite never even having worked in a government department before. His party’s divisions on Brexit only fail to show as the leadership is not forced to take a stand on the issue. In truth, a leadership contest now would be nothing but an exercise in the kind of brazen procrastination that would make an Oxford student proud. Putting Sajid Javid or David Davis behind the desk changes nothing of Britain’s present situation when there is no reason to believe that they could secure a better deal, let alone in the eleventh hour.

If Parliament’s deadlock is to be resolved, it will not be done by changing who delivers the deal.

Dare to be different, or the Devil we know?

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Dare to be different, or the Devil we know?

Daredevil ​faced an uphill struggle as it returned for its third outing. Not only would this be marking Matthew Murdock’s first return to the screen since 2016’s lacklustre miniseries The Defenders, ​but it was also being released following announcements that both Luke Cage ​and ​Iron Fist were being cancelled after just two seasons. With Marvel shows dropping like flies, the question loomed large of whether the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen could prove why he was the first of the heroes to dominate Netflix. And although it isn’t without its flaws, season three reminds us why ​Daredevil ​deserves as much screen time as it can get.

When we pick up the story, Matt is a shadow. Following his battle with The Hand and the death of girlfriend/ninja warrior Elektra, Matt finds himself undergoing an existential crisis. Questioning his faith, he nihilistically concludes: ‘I would rather die as the devil than live as Matt Murdock’- words which establish the ominous tone this series adopts, as Matt contemplates sacrificing his moral compass. This is an interesting place to take the blind lawyer, since previously he had been adamant that his heightened senses were God’s gift, enabling him to answer the cries of those in need. And with Vincent D’ONofrio’s Wilson Fisk back in the fold, Daredevil’s morality is truly put to the test.

The problem with Daredevil’s path of exile is that Matt, Foggy, and Karen barely share the screen, and their absence is felt. They are the heart of ​Daredevil, ​but it often feels like our main characters have been sidelined. As a result, we are also significantly deprived of Matthew Murdock. It feels as though Matt’s story is no longer the priority, since there isn’t a whole lot for him to do but mope and speak to imaginary projections of Fisk and his father (a conventional narrative trope that doesn’t feel like a match for the tone of this show) while he debates whether to permanently put an end to Fisk. While this allows other characters like newcomers FBI Agent Nadeem and Ben Poindexter to grow, it reduces our emotional engagement with the core trio. That being said, this isolation allows each character some memorable scenes, particularly the long awaited delve into Karen’s past, and also a chilling encounter as she meets Fisk for the first time.

The small screen has always been able to do justice to Marvel’s villains (Kilgrave, Bushmaster and Billy Russo to name but a few). Wilson Fisk however, was undeniably the trendsetter. One of the biggest successes of the first season, Kingpin is now back at the top of his game, complete with his classic white suit, providing the needed boost to bring Daredevil’s internal conflict to a head. Here we see a different side to the villain, who for the majority of the season is cooped up inside a penthouse suite, letting his machiavellian schemes unfold whilst he towers over Hell’s Kitchen. While still an undeniable presence, Fisk does not feel as menacing. Despite twists and turns revealing just how patient and thorough his plans are, Fisk’s involvement in the criminal networks feels less imposing because of how his setting rarely shifts.

Flaws aside, season three is still mind-blowingly good. One of the biggest appeals of this show is it’s action sequences. Here they grow both in scale and sheer technical achievement. In season one we got the hallway, in season two the stairwell, and this time round, we get a truly breath-taking piece of cinematic choreography. After Matt breaks into a prison, an eleven-minute long tracking shot ensues, incorporating fighting, talking, rioting, and escaping, whilst never losing any of its gruelling intensity. Also amazing are the clashes between Matt and Bullseye, with the choreographers matching each character to a style, so while Bullseye has the advantage from a long range, Matt gains the upper hand in close-combat.

The performances continue to impress, with Charlie Cox building on Matt’s spiritual torments and giving him new vulnerabilities to express. Similarly, Wilson Bethel excels at giving Bullseye the sense of an insecure outcast, manipulated to Fisk’s side. These raw performances are what makes the final run of episodes so effective, giving each character stakes that collide, but are still rooted in individual endgames. As Fisk, Daredevil and Bullseye come to blows in Kingpin’s penthouse, we get to see this primal brutality fully unleashed. It is here that Cox truly goes for it, and the satisfaction when he refuses to kill Fisk and boasts ‘I BEAT YOU’ is definitely a highlight of the series. Regardless of where the show goes from here, season three is a tight, well-paced narrative that may drag at points, but is worth it for the payoff.

 

 

 

Brink Review – ‘brilliant from start to finish’

Maya Little
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Brink Review – ‘brilliant from start to finish’

It’s always difficult to know what to write about a production that is brilliant from start to finish. Brink is a well-honed show, technically precise in a way that doesn’t prevent you from being utterly taken by in it. If it faltered at any point, I can no longer remember. But its quality is so consistent that I barely know which points to emphasise.

One might as well start with the opening movement sequence. The actors all gradually weave their way into what cannot fairly be described as a dance. There’s a more acute sense of interaction and individual purpose; characters mime touching each other (sometimes hitting, sometimes caressing, sometimes somewhere between), flowed effortlessly out of collective movements and into individual ones. These interludes, set to subtly evolving music, continue throughout, a beautifully evocative depiction of the violence of need and desire that underscores the whole show. The gestures are sharp and inelegant without being clumsy, packed with the raw energy and instinct for pace that will seem familiar to anyone who has seen a Christine and the Queens’ music video. Movement consultant Emily Everest Phillips deserves high praise for her choreography, as do the actors for carrying it out with such surety; tempo changes are handled flawlessly, and even the usually clunky movement of one actor helping clothe another doesn’t even manage to break the flow.

Outside of these choral sequences, each actor has their own series of monologues or near monologues to handle, each playing a different character on the ‘brink’, people left out, pushed to the side, neglected. Alone, or at least, lonely. Hannah Taylor is most moving as a teenage girl, always on edge and giving the sense of having her shoulders hunched even when she doesn’t. Trying to escape, at least mentally, the violence of her home, she looks for beauty in parakeets and sex. Emma Howlett’s Stephanie is a wonderfully understated portrayal of a mother and wife who no longer really feels like either of those things. Watching plane crashes on YouTube at night, she displays the same barely held restraint as when her daughter slaps her and laughs.

Julia Pilkington and Lee Simmonds both infuse a subtle comedy into their parts to balance out the distressing reality of their stereotypes; the mad lady down the road and the office stooge, respectively. There are points where actors perhaps failed to give their characters real depth, but this does little to detract because of the vignette structure of the show – for Stephanie and Felix in particular, one gets more an impression of their lives than the story of them. But this is a show that requires technical precision from all its cast – the difficult job of calling up with your eyes someone who isn’t there, the constant attention required from a chorus always on stage, the ability to provide your own pace in long monologues – and in these areas, the standard is always extremely high.

The script is, in the best of ways, barely noticeable. The flitting between characters always feels balanced. Poetic contrasts like ‘I didn’t know her name. I didn’t ask her name’ and the (perhaps slightly less poetic) reference to a fox who likes ‘free range chicken and free range children’ were carried off believably, and sparse but fitting mannerisms integrated beautifully with speech patterns that were subtly flavoured with the tone of each character, rather than overly stylised.

Brink is powerful, but in unusual ways. It doesn’t fully immerse you in one person’s life. The characters could all easily have sob stories but the play doesn’t care to emphasise them. It conjures the atmosphere of loneliness, the state of being on the outside of things, but never tells us how to fix things – instead, the most vicious tragedy is in the fact that the characters are ‘completely normal,’ just like everyone else.

Little Eyolf review – modern and experimental but lacking depth

Zad El Bacha
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Little Eyolf review – modern and experimental but lacking depth

Little Eyolf has many extraordinary virtues. It is a production that is not afraid to take an old text and play with it, disrupting structures and meanings in a joyful, sharp experimentalism. It has the mark of a strong director, who is fearless in making bold choices on the stage. It mixes theatrical dialogue with rhythmical, musical scenes, which sometimes feel like a fun TV sequence. A part of the opening of the play especially feels like a delightful intro to a TV show, with music and cut sequences and all. It’s brilliant in the way it draws on the language of different mediums, and original in its use of visual media in the projections.

Walking into the theatre, we see a Leon bag leaning against a simple and effective set. This bag – or rather, the episodes attached to a Leon cookbook and some Leon meatless meatballs – function as a manifesto for the play’s experimental choices. It also sets a tone: modern, light-hearted, realistic, absurd.

In short, the play rewrites Ibsen’s Little Eyolf to place it in contemporary London. But the story is continuously stopped, and the actors comment on it as themselves, bringing in elements of their everyday lives as students, and of their experience putting together the play. This structure allows all points of the play to be dissected and analysed, delving into the motivations of the characters’ actions and the details of their lives.

However, what makes this play ultimately unconvincing is the utter lack of depth of all the characters. They are all white, middle-class tropes: even when well-developed, they wouldn’t be the most interesting of characters, but being as flat and stereotypical as they are, they make it almost impossible to feel any emotional investment in the play. This is through no fault of the actors: they do an amazing job of holding up their parts, switching tones and characters effortlessly, but there is only so much depth you can inject into an evil stepmother caricature.

The most jarring of these one-dimensional characters is Eyolf himself. Unfortunately, he struck me as nothing but an ableist stereotype. There is no exploration of any of the ways his disability affects him as as an individual, as opposed to it being a kind of all-encompassing, misery-creating, character-defining, self-explanatory feature. It is posed as a tragedy that is making it impossible for him to experience anything in life (though the audience only understands that he has a limping leg – we never know why it affects him in this way). Hiring a physically disabled actor would probably have helped steer it away from such a flattening ableism, but unfortunately the BT Studio is not easily accessible, so that might have been difficult from a practical standpoint.

I understand that the point might have been that everyone around him views Eyolf as nothing but his disability, but the play as a whole treats him like that, as well. It goes as far as to claim that his disability (again: a non-functional leg, as far as the audience knows) dampens down all of his senses, never explaining why that would do so for him specifically. There is a scene which aims at exploring the intricacies of how he feels during the various conversations with his family, but it does not quite delve deep enough. I want to know more about Eyolf; I want him to be more.

Moreover, one of the problems of having an all-white cast (yet again, in Oxford) is the absolute lack of tact in bringing up a section of ‘mindfulness’. The actors lead the audience in an entire mindfulness exercise (the point of which is unclear to me, though it was pleasant), but it is presented as somewhat of a joke. Mindfulness practices however are drawn from Buddhist scripture originally: it is many people’s religion. The writers make no effort at acknowledging that, or at somehow turning it into a mockery of a certain, bland, toned-down version of mindfulness. This section brings up another problem with the play: many of the sections outside of the narrative don’t have a clear purpose. The absurdity of them is often enjoyable, and many are pulled off through a brilliant grasp of dramatic rhythm, humour and visuals, but I still do not understand what unethical data collection has to say about mental health.

The attempt to particularise the actors’ narrative to Oxford University also results in little more than mediocre JCR banter, missing a chance to use it as a thread of familiarity through which to communicate emotionally. This is a minor issue in the general lack of successful build up of emotion, which is mostly caused by flimsy character development.

Having said all this, I must emphasise that Little Eyolf still deserves a lot of credit. The flaws it has are most likely a product of the short time frame one has to put together a play during an Oxford term, which makes dealing with such a complex and daring concept difficult. I am sure that with further development and thought, it could become incredibly good. The set design is excellent, and it is also an ode to beautiful costume design: all the actors but one have matching red socks, and the one who doesn’t has a red dress, a detail which I found delightful. It is trying to do much more than a standard student production does, the actors have talent, and the director clearly has strong vision as well as a great eye for stage aesthetics and rhythms. Mielspiel can definitely go places.

Chinese Studies needs a radical rethink

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Chinese Studies needs a radical rethink

With the highest suspension and drop-out rate, there is no question that Chinese Studies is a challenging degree. Listed as the most difficult language in the world to learn, electing to study Chinese is no easy decision. Mandarin is a tonal language with a complex writing system which makes it difficult to learn for English native speakers. The course itself requires a lot of juggling of different tasks, ranging from studying modern Chinese, Classical Chinese, and Chinese history simultaneously in one’s first year. But these are not the only challenges for Chinese Studies undergraduates. There are two key factors that make it an incredibly demanding degree.

As a graduate student currently studying the MPhil in Modern Chinese Studies, I know all too well the struggles of learning a language from scratch. At the age of 22, I decided to learn Chinese, and got thrown in the deep end as a complete beginner of Chinese at Oxford. But in my cohort, there was only one student who had a more advanced level of Mandarin when we started, and so logically she was placed in a higher-level Chinese class.

When undergraduates first start the course, there is often a wide mixture of abilities, with some students having done A-levels in Mandarin or having studied for a year in China already, whilst others start as complete beginners with no experience of learning the language. One would assume that as a result, students with experience of Chinese would be put into a higher-level class, and beginners would be put into a beginner-level class.

But at undergraduate level, this is not how it is done. All undergraduates are lumped into the same class regardless of ability. This causes major stress and anxiety for many first years and is one factor that makes the course difficult for many. It certainly raises the question, why are Masters students separated into different classes depending on one’s ability, whilst undergraduates are not? Before undergraduate beginners even start the course, they are already on the backfoot. This is extremely intimidating for many of those who have never studied Chinese before and puts first years with no Chinese language experience at a significant disadvantage.

Moreover, the course differs from modern European language courses at Oxford as students go on their year abroad in their second as opposed to their third year. The reason for this is that going to China and learning the language in a Chinese setting is fundamental to getting everyone’s language up past beginner level. However, there are significant challenges that come with this part of the course’s design. In a typical Oxford students’ second year, they rent a house in Cowley and learn how to pay their rent and bills.

Chinese Studies second years have to do this in China. Not only have most of them never lived abroad before, but most of them are also living in a non-English speaking environment with only a basic command of Chinese after just one year of study. Evidently, this makes reading a housing contract a particularly daunting task. As a result, the year abroad is a particularly stressful time where students often contemplate dropping out.

The timing of the year abroad also means that students leave the rest of their year group in Oxford after only one year in each others’ company. They return in third year when most people’s friendships are by then well-established and fewer are looking to make new friends. Because of this, it is often difficult to find a way to integrate back into college life and can be the cause of significant emotional stress.

The lack of differentiation between Chinese language levels and the timing of the year abroad are two factors that I think make it a particularly challenging degree. It is a course that most benefits those students who are able to easily adapt to fast-paced and intense conditions which in many ways epitomize the Oxford experience. As a result, many students are left feeling alienated and unsupported.

Volleyball Blues claim decisive win over Cambridge

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Volleyball Blues claim decisive win over Cambridge

Oxford’s Women’s Volleyball first team played Cambridge at home on Wednesday 14th November, winning three sets to one.

Each set is played to 25 points, with Oxford winning the first set by a large margin at 25-13 and the second by 25- 20. Cambridge were generally out-skilled and out-powered throughout the game, they tried to  develop into play and push back against the dark blues but they were forced into errors and were on the back foot after their poor start.

Cambridge won the second set at 25 to 21 but Oxford clearly wanted to take the game as convincingly as possible and won the fourth set 25-23 after a last push from Cambridge. In ending the game before a fifth and final set Oxford were able to take an impressive victory which will provide them with a crucial psychological advantage over the Tabs when going into the Varsity match.

The sports hall at Iffley was filled with noise as both team sustained loud cheering and support throughout the game, with the Cambridge side beating a drum to keep up the high energy needed for volleyball. There was a display of camaraderie between the Oxford players which was unlike anything I have ever seen, with players coming together after every point to boost one another. Volleyball’s spirt may be unusual to a British audience where it is a lesser-known sport but the volleyball club, which has one of the highest levels of international participation in Oxford, displayed a unique quality of enthusiasm, positivity, and support.

Cambridge were often unable to respond to Oxford’s powerful slams and conceded several errors such as hitting the ball out on the first serve. Their libero, a defensive player who is under certain restrictions, was also penalised for hitting the ball when it was above net height which caused Cambridge to challenge the official and tensions began to show.

The dark blues appeared as the fitter, taller, and stronger team and this allowed them to maintain stamina throughout the match. Oxford’s attack was very impressive and their number 3, returner Debbie Malden, provided key height and skill at the net. Oxford Libero Alba Piacenti also provided important team support throughout the game, communicating with players, and offering them regular encouragement.

In the final two sets Cambridge seemed to be coming into the game with aggression and determination. Taking the third set from Oxford meant that the dark blues weren’t going to win on straight sets and they had to respond with accuracy in a close run fourth set to prevent the game slipping into a fth set. Oxford managed to claw back some control with the final set being the closest in points.

They managed to reach 25 points with the crucial two point lead on their opposition and burst into jubilation in being able to grab the win after such an impressive opening to the match. This win, as well as importantly being against their light blue rivals, was Oxford’s first of the season, having had a disappointing year thus far.

However, the impressive performance on Wednesday could be a sign of things being on the up for the dark blues. Last year the team came fourth in the BUCS Premier South League and currently being placed in fifth they will need to achieve several more wins to climb the leaderboard. The club has an impressive record of winning both the BUCS League and Cup competitions so this dip in performance is unusual for the side.

Fantastic Bore And Where To Fail Your Fans

Molly Chell
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Fantastic Bore And Where To Fail Your Fans

As President of HPSoc I jumped at the chance to review a Harry Potter film. Writing this review however has been a battle between objectivity and my love for the franchise. But as much as I wanted to give a glowing review, nostalgia cannot hide the film’s evident flaws. Our story picks up six months after the events of Fantastic Beasts – dark wizard Grindelwald has escaped custody and Dumbledore tasks Newt Scamander with putting a stop to his schemes for wizard domination.

The film primarily suffers from being the second outing in a franchise with another three movies planned. Consequently, it spends more time setting up further sequels than providing us with a satisfying story in this instalment. Considering the amount of information that the film throws at the audience, it feels surprising that some important exposition is lacking. The trailer already made clear that Credence Barebone had somehow survived his apparent death at the end of Fantastic Beasts, and yet the means of his seemingly impossible survival is not revealed.

Overloading us with complicated backstories, whilst missing out on some of the essentials speaks more generally to the plot’s disjointed nature. The film would have gained a lot by spending longer in the editing room as it simply tries to pack too much into one movie. Throughout the film there is indeed a marked preference for plot over character. Although the central plot centres on Credence’s attempts to discover his true identity, he is given little meaningful screen time to make us really root for his success. Throughout the film’s events, he is accompanied by Nagini in human form. Despite the revelation that Voldemort’s snake used to be a woman plagued by a blood curse, for all the hype that this generated she is given a very small role that will leave viewers angry that this reveal had very little significance in the film.

The Crimes of Grindelwald caused a stir long before it hit screens with the casting of Johnny Depp and the decision to refrain from explicit reference to Grindelwald and Dumbledore’s relationship. Johnny Depp may not be how many people envisaged Grindelwald, yet he brought tons of charisma to the role, setting Grindelwald up to be a dangerous villain. As warned, we were not shown Harry Potter’s first gay relationship, but while a simple shot of intertwined fingers aptly conveys Dumbledore’s inner turmoil, it ultimately was only really there to serve the plot.

Visually, the film cannot be faulted. Exquisite costumes, and vibrant depictions of magic renders The Crimes of Grindelwald a feast for the eye, though the final duel could have been more creatively staged than a war between different colours of fire. Newt’s creatures were less of a focus this time, but they still had a suffcient presence to justify the franchise’s title, and were also responsible for a high proportion of the laughs in my screening.

The amount of connections to the main Harry Potter franchise makes The Crimes of Grindelwald a treat for fans of the original series. Familiar family names and characters appear, including a younger version of Albus Dumbledore – big shoes for any actor to fill, but Jude Law comfortably exceeds expectations. This means that the viewer’s enjoyment
is heavily dependent on their familiarity with Harry Potter, as the film relies on the nostalgia it can evoke from viewers.

The film’s twist reveal at the end was both shocking and intriguing. If explained well in subsequent films, it could come close to Vader’s iconic reveal to Luke at the end of Empire Strikes Back. Overall, The Crimes of Grindelwald leaves us with more questions than answers – maybe it’s time for J.K. to relinquish the scriptwriting quill and stick to her novels.

 

Wearing a thong is never consent

Colleen Cumbers
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Wearing a thong is never consent

There are many reasons why a woman may choose to wear a thong. Maybe she finds them really comfy. Maybe they make her feel confident, like she can take on the world. Maybe she doesn’t want a visible panty line. Sometimes us women wear sexy underwear for the benefit of our partner, but most of the time it is for ourselves. The decision to wear a thong certainly does not suggest that someone wants to be raped. However, earlier this month in Ireland, a barrister told a jury to consider the underwear that the 17-year-old girl was wearing when she was allegedly raped by a 27-year-old man. The barrister’s words have caused outrage both in Ireland and around the world.

The court case in question took place in Cork, Ireland. The 17-year-old complainant insisted that she did not give consent to a 27-year-old man with whom she had a sexual encounter in a lane. He insisted that she did give her consent. After cross-examination, the jury ultimately found the man not guilty of rape. It is not the intention of this article to challenge this verdict. I do not know enough about the case or the evidence to do so. What I am taking issue with is the closing statement of the defence attorney, Elizabeth O’Connell. She asked the jury: “Does the evidence rule-out the possibility that [the complainant] was attracted to the defendant and was open to meeting someone and being with someone? You have to look at the way she was dressed. She was wearing a thong with a lace front.” This comment, and the fact that the alleged victim’s underwear was passed around in court as evidence, has caused public indignation.

It is perfectly legal, and unfortunately common, for an alleged victim of rape’s underwear to be passed around in court as evidence. But the only reason for which underwear should be considered in the court case is if it provides some sort of medical evidence, such as DNA which will help the case. Forcing victims to hold up their underwear or to see it passed around is not only humiliating, it is a further violation. In the case in Cork, it is unclear whether the jury was influenced by O’Connell’s closing statement or the display of the complainant’s underwear, but the issue is that there is no law in Ireland which declares which evidence can be used to indicate somebody’s character. Underwear can currently be used; therefore, it must be considered as part of the evidence by the jury. Regardless of the other evidence, a woman’s clothing – whether it be underwear or anything else – never implies consent.

The Irish court case is indicative of a wider culture of victim blaming. In sexual assault cases, the way that the woman was dressed, how much alcohol she had consumed and her actions (such as walking home alone) are often considered. The assumption in this case, as presented by O’Connell, is that the victim was wearing ‘sexy’ underwear, and that therefore she must have wanted sex. A woman’s clothing absolutely, under no circumstances gives consent or should be used against them. Women and girls are constantly pressured in society to appear sexual, but this is then turned against them and used as evidence. A thong does not cause rape. A short dress does not cause rape. Rapists cause rape. To suggest anything else is victim blaming and is part of the reason why sexual assault remains such a large problem and why rape convictions are so low (about 8% in Ireland in 2009 – the last available figures).

Another concerning implication from O’Connell’s words is that if the complainant did choose her underwear because she was looking for sex, she had ‘made her bed’ from the moment she put the underwear on. One of the key concepts of sexual consent is that you can change your mind. A man or a woman may say they want to have sex, but then by the time they get to the action, they may vocalise that they have changed their mind. This is fine, and the consent no longer stands. O’Connell appears to be dismissing this, suggesting that the complainant put her underwear on, wanting sex, and so cannot complain that she later got it. This is completely appalling.

I have focused a lot on defence attorney, O’Connell’s, words, but it is important to remember that she is only a small part of a bigger problem. Reform is needed in Irish courts. There needs to be clear laws defining what evidence can be used in sexual assault cases, ensuring that any evidence used does not victim blame. The words used by lawyers and other authority figures also need to ensure that the focus in these cases is on the actions of the perpetrator rather than the attire or the situation of the victim. There are guidelines in the UK, but these can also be improved upon, as well as encouraging a cultural change in British courts. Protests throughout Ireland and an international Twitter campaign, #ThisIsNotConsent, with women posting pictures of their underwear are calling for such reforms.

The chants of those protesting – “whatever we wear, wherever we go, yes means yes and no means no” – capture the issue of consent. It is not just about this one court case, it is about victim blaming and the dismal rape conviction rate. Change must come to move the courts out of the archaic and patriarchal systems which fail victims of sexual assault.

Restaurant Review: Zheng

Darius Parvizi-Wayne
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Restaurant Review: Zheng

Back in 2009, food writer Giles Coren named SoJo as one of the best Chinese restaurants in the country. Just a couple months ago a cockroach was found in a customer’s meal, alongside rat droppings and urine in the kitchen.

Even before this, in 2015, Coren crowned a new restaurant on Walton Street as being “possibly the best authentic Chinese-Malaysian in the country”. This restaurant was Zheng.

Given the demise of SoJo, you can understand my apprehension as I walked through the front door of Zheng. In a place like Oxford, perhaps because of the rapid in and outflow of students, standards can slip worryingly fast. I expected to either be positively blown away, or bitterly disappointed. In reality, I felt neither of those things.

Firstly, it must be noted that the service at Zheng is wonderful. Attentive, polite, and efficient, absolutely no complaints to be had here. However, the atmosphere is odd. Certainly not dead, but certainly not as alive as the other bustling institutions lining up through Jericho.

The mood is lightened somewhat by the extremely eclectic interior. I can guarantee that the designer of Zheng has never done a course in interior design, but that’s a good thing: no one wants to eat a Chinese in Ikea.

Now to the food. My friend, Biz, and I order a set meal which is decently well-priced at £21.50. It starts perfectly well. Biz, who has never had a duck pancake in her life, was impressed not only by the meticulous self-organisation that come with the dish, but also the flavours. Crispy on the outside, tender on the inside – everything that Chinese duck should be. However, it all started to go a little down-hill from there.

The sweet and sour chicken was certainly crispy and the sauce, often sickly sweet, was well balanced. Nevertheless, it lacked a real punch, as did the beef in black bean sauce. The meat was not only a tad undercooked, but swamped by its rather watery counterpart.

It wasn’t that tasty flavours weren’t there; they were just shoved into the background, crying out for attention behind confusing textures and a rather unsightly presentation. Now I know I should not have been expecting Michelin-star-esque daintiness, but, even so…

All in all, not bad. Best Chinese-Malaysian in the country? Certainly not. Either Coren’s standards were considerably low that day, or Zheng might be just be heading the same way as SoJo.

Review: Sweetener by Ariana Grande

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Review: Sweetener by Ariana Grande

Favourite Tracks: God is a Woman, Get Well Soon, No Tears Left to Cry, Blazed

Rating: 6/10

In an interview with The FADER magazine prior to the release of Sweetener, Grande’s fourth album, the singer hinted that listeners should expect something different: “I’ve always just been like a shiny, singing, 5-6-7- 8, sexy-dance…sexy thing. But now it’s like, OK… issa bop – but issa message.” The release of Sweetener comes at a somewhat precarious moment for pop music. For a genre synonymous with commercial appeal, it seems increasingly challenging for pop artists to rely on the established formulas which once guaranteed success.

Grande says that her music is now both “bop” and “message”, but she is by no means the first to try and combine the two in recent times. Rihanna’s ANTI and Beyoncé’s Lemonade are both albums which were critically acclaimed for their perceived ‘authenticity’. ANTI was lauded as a more personal, less overtly ‘commercial’ album than Rihanna’s previous work, whilst Lemonade was both political and intimate in its celebration of female strength and resilience. Sweetener can thus be seen as part of this broader sea-change occurring in contemporary pop, in which “message” is just as important as commercial appeal.

Set against this backdrop, whilst Grande’s album is undeniably her strongest work to date, it also falls oddly flat in multiple places. There is a sense that this album is an attempt to broach new musical territory for Grande, and yet the overall result feels more cautious than innovative. A case in point is the album’s third track ‘The Light is Coming’, one of seven to be produced by Pharrell Williams, which features an oddly chant-like refrain as well as a fairly underwhelming verse from frequent collaborator Nicki Minaj.

The song contains a repeated sample of a man shouting, “You wouldn’t let anybody speak for this and instead!” at a town hall meeting concerning healthcare in 2009. As well as becoming increasingly irritating as the song progresses, the reason for its inclusion is difficult to understand; is this an attempt to lend a political edge to a track which is ostensibly about a difficult relationship? If so, the move feels poorly executed, as well as unimaginative given that Pharrell has previously used the sample in the N.E.R.D and Rihanna collaboration ‘Lemon’ as well as ‘Master Race’ by Busta Rhymes.

Another misstep is the forgettable ‘Borderline’ which contains a criminally short guest verse from the imperious Missy Elliott and a background of uninspiring synths and plodding beats. Ironically, Grande sings ‘won’t you give me a bit of your time’, and then allows Elliott only seventeen seconds of airtime, wasting the rapper’s considerable talent.

The album flits between different styles from track to track, from the 70s-influenced groove of ‘Successful’, the trap beats of ‘Everytime’ and ‘Sweetener’, to the R&B of Beyonce-rejected-demo ‘’R.E.M’. By the end of the album Grande has covered an impressive amount of musical ground. The mixture of trap, R&B and pop is admirably ambitious in scope and if occasionally it feels a tad scatter-gun, it is evidence of Grande’s recent musical development as an artist, her willingness to try out new sounds and ideas even if they don’t always come off.

The album’s strongest moments arrive when this readiness to throw caution to the wind is accompanied by the pop hooks and vocal power which have always been the foundations of Grande’s sound. This winning formula is executed most successfully on the album’s most obvious stand-out hit ‘God is a Woman’, which has already become ubiquitous in department stores across the country. The fusion of sexual and religious imagery is not without precedent (Madonna’s ‘Like a Prayer’ anyone?), but the gratifying intricacy of lyrics like “And I can tell that you know I know how I want it” prevents the track from sliding into cliché. The sleek mid-tempo production combines pop and hip-hop to create the perfect space for Grande’s sultry vocals, which scale an impressive range effortlessly, rendering the song as the most polished example of the new sound you feel she’s trying to create. The assertiveness and conceptual inventiveness of ‘God is a Woman’ is something you feel the album could do with more of in its weaker areas, yet that is not to say there aren’t other highlights.

The first single, ‘No Tears Left to Cry’ is a peppy dance-pop track which offers an anthemic solution to tragedy: ‘I’m lovin’, I’m livin’, I’m pickin’ it up’. This and ‘Get Well Soon’ are songs which reach out to the listener and offer a strength and resilience which appear hard-won; the latter song, in particular, seems intended as a tonic to all those who suffer from anxiety and mental health problems. The way in which Grande offers her support (‘I’m with you, I’m with you, I’m with you, just call me’) to her fans is incredibly moving given the context of the Manchester terror attack last year, as is the forty seconds of silence which brings the song’s run-time to 5.22 (the date of the attack).

These moments of warmth and musical fineness have the effect of casting a harsh light on the album’s weaker tracks, exposing where they are lacking in comparison. And yet despite the unevenness, this work constitutes a significant creative progression for Grande – neither “bop” nor “message”, Sweetener is something stranger, occupying a middle-ground between the two. This is not an album which innovates contemporary pop music, but perhaps understandably, Ariana Grande is not too concerned with that right now. Instead, she has made an album which feels like a successful act of healing.

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