Saturday, May 17, 2025
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Friends with Benefit

Eimer McAuley and Jonny Adams
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Friends with Benefit

Friendships can take you in the strangest directions, even to eyeshadow palettes and lipgloss tubes. This week, Cherwell Life listens to two College friends who found inspiration and confidence in each other’s creative flair, and courage to be different.

Wearing makeup for the first time

Eimer: Makeup seemed like the answer to everything when I was twelve, the magic silver bullet that would take out both my social insecurities, and the body image issues of a prepubescent girl with acne, and a weird bob haircut. If only I was allowed to wear it. One day after school I took all my pocket money and splashed out on make-up. The next morning in the P.E bathrooms I transformed myself. My foundation was caked on, my blusher was neon, my eye-liner smudged and wobbly. But I felt empowered, and most importantly, pretty. Until I got to registration and my form teacher told me I had enough foundation on to build a house, and drew a circle around my face with a makeup wipe. I tearfully removed the rest in the bathrooms, but I wasn’t going to be swayed. That was the beginning of my makeup obsession.

Jonny: It was at Oxford that I first went out in drag, and I decided to enlist Eimer to do my makeup. Many brushstrokes and screams of “Sit still and let me do your waterline!” later, I looked at myself in the mirror. I’d gone into the experience thinking of it as just a fun, new thing to do when exploring queer culture in Oxford (which it certainly was). However, seeing how radically my face had been altered unleashed a fascination with makeup’s transformative power that has led me to experiment with drag more often. Stepping out in heels and a wig, I would be lost without a faceful of makeup to help me inhabit my new persona (I’m provisionally calling her ‘Jasmine T’).

The power of makeup

Eimer: At university, makeup came to mean a lot more to me than a suit of armour: it became a skill. When I started to do other people’s makeup for nights out, it even became a challenge. There’s a lot of pressure when someone trusts you with their appearance, but it’s so rewarding when they’re pleased with your efforts. The first time I did Jonny’s drag makeup was really special, I think, for both of us. Drag makeup is an entire skill in itself. Having tried to glue down brows before, I couldn’t have more respect for the artistry of drag. After a tense hour of poking and prodding (in which I was perfectly professional) I was holding my breath as he looked in the mirror. His reaction to seeing himself in makeup for the first time reminded me of my 12-year-old self in the P.E toilets. That makeup allowed me to be a part of such a transformative moment with a friend summed up for me what an empowering art form it is.

Jonny: I see makeup as a way of expressing aspects of myself that, in my everyday life, I don’t usually get to exhibit. Not only can makeup change your appearance almost beyond recognition, but in a society defined by gender norms, makeup allows you to explore modes of expression that lie beyond traditional expectations of your gender. For instance, there are certain things people do not associate with traditionally masculine gender expression. Men are rarely described as ‘beautiful’, ‘pretty’ or ‘glamorous’. But for some men, perhaps especially conventionally ‘feminine’ guys, whose interests and behaviour have been stigmatised by society, these feelings can be empowering. When I go out in makeup, I can unlock different ways of feeling confident in my skin. I feel bold, attractive and empowered, in an entirely different way to my ordinary appearance.

Changing societal expectations

Eimer: Firstly, I feel makeup shouldn’t be gendered as an art form. Men should feel free to wear makeup whenever and wherever they want without facing discrimination. I also feel students who wear makeup to school shouldn’t be publicly humiliated by teachers for doing so. Not only could this be potentially very damaging for young people with image issues, I believe it ties into the wider culture of slut shaming in schools, where recently girls have been criticised for wearing clothes deemed to be potentially ‘distracting’ to boys. Lastly, makeup doesn’t have to be pretty. We get caught up in the beauty trends on Instagram, but we shouldn’t constrain makeup’s capability as an art form. Jonny and I both love the band PWR BTTM—a band from New York who play loud, alternative punk music while daubed in stunning, messy makeup—and particularly love how they explore makeup. Band members Liv and Ben cover their faces in paint and glitter, with lip-stick ‘inspired by desperation’. It’s beautiful and messy and shows how versatile makeup can be as a means of expression.

Jonny: I’d like more people to realise that wearing makeup as a man, for whatever reason, is nothing to be ashamed of. Makeup can make you feel more confident and give you a sense of control over your appearance, helping you cover up blemishes and redness. Men in the show business have been doing this for years, but beyond this there is a stigma around men applying makeup to look the way they want to. However, discussion around this is opening up, which in my mind, can only be a positive thing. There are inspirational figures like PWR BTTM who, when performing, show that makeup can be fun and expressive, as well as functional.

Inspiring each other

Eimer: Jonny’s approach to makeup is pretty fearless. Nothing is ever too much, so that makes him the perfect muse. He inspires me to go outside of my comfort zone. He’s definitely the little voice in my head that says “more highlight, more glitter”. I’m really proud that he’s exploring drag more (shout-out to Jasmine T), but I will be sad when the day comes when I’m surplus to requirements. I’m also just eternally jealous of his cheek-bones.

Jonny: Eimer’s passion and skill for makeup artistry is strong. When she’s doing my makeup, I’m always excited to see which direction she’ll take it. From gorgeous smoky eyes and long lashes, to contoured cheeks and fabulous overdrawn lips, it’s incredible to see her skilled hands create the vision of her artistic eye. Colours, textures and shapes abound, her creative approach to makeup inspires me to approach my own style more inventively, and I will always seek to emulate her.

C+: Four in five disabled students struggle with academic work

Cat Bean
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C+: Four in five disabled students struggle with academic work

A poll by Cherwell’s Investigations team can reveal that 82 per cent of students that identify as having a disability find it harder to complete their academic work each week. Many students cited social stigma and a lack of understanding among tutors and staff as contributing to their work’s extra difficulty.
Some students—especially without formal diagnoses of disability—were worried that they would not be taken seriously by their tutors when asking for extensions or flexibility. Other students reported feeling explicitly discriminated against, both by their tutors and fellow students.
Tutors’ attitudes apparently vary considerably between colleges, suggesting a lack of consistent support throughout the collegiate system. In general, the survey found that students wished their tutors were more aware of how specific disabilities affect students, and that some work deadlines could be adapted to fit specific needs.
Many students felt as though ‘invisible’ disabilities, including mental health problems, learning disabilities and other mental disabilities, needed more awareness from the University. Students felt as though the stress of high workloads on these conditions was less well-known by their tutors.
In a statement to C+, Gillian Hamnet, head of Student Welfare and Support Services said: “We are keen to provide support, where needed, to help disabled students succeed in their studies. The central Disability Advisory Service works with disability contacts in colleges and departments to ensure that appropriate support is in place.
“We consider each student’s individual circumstances to provide the resources they need to study, and currently support around 3,000 students at Oxford who have declared a disability. We also help students to apply for the Disabled Student’s Allowance (DSA) or other relevant funding, and can recommend support such as adjustments to accommodation or alternative arrangements for examinations.”
88 per cent of students said that the Disabled Students Allowance paid for all or part of the resources needed to help study.
Lectures were frequently described as inaccessible locations for disabled students. Despite some lectures being recorded, the opt-in process for lecture capture has resulted in variations between different courses, Cherwell learned.
Dr Peggy McCready, Director of Academic IT, said: “More and more lectures are being recorded for all students to use. Lecture capture is freely available at the point of use and is an opt-in service where departments are encouraged to capture their lectures in the interest of supporting student learning.”

Why are we against fun in fashion?

Daisy Chandley
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Why are we against fun in fashion?

There are few things more irritating than smug, feigned confusion, and yet everyone, from the Metro to female-focussed news websites, is exclaiming their bewilderment. The centre of all this fuss: a top. I’m not going to claim that the top is a firm wardrobe favourite of mine, and at £25 it is, perhaps, a little overpriced, but I can’t deny I’m tempted to take the plunge, if only to buy it a drink and congratulate it on all the ridiculous drama it’s caused.

What exactly is the item’s crime? A derogatory slogan? Hand-appliquéd sachets of pig’s blood? No. The top has—strap yourselves in—a big purple ruffle. This ‘scandal’, if we can call it that, is similar to outcries that have spread across the internet in response to other  vaguely weird new items of clothing from high-street stores like the clear plastic-insert mom jeans from Topshop, which spurred the Tab headline: “Look at these ‘clear knee mom jeans’ from Topshop and tell me that God isn’t dead.”

My first reaction to seeing these articles was the same as my first reaction to any source of minor stress in my life: I thought about Meryl Streep’s monologue from The Devil Wears Prada where she chastises her wardrobe-incompetent new assistant for pretending to be entirely above fashion when, in reality, it’s an industry in which everyone plays a part. If journalists think the top is ugly then that’s fair, but certainly not worth the writing of an entire article.

What they are claiming is that it makes no sense, which is flat-out wrong. That top existing at this moment in time makes all the sense in the world. It’s no secret that ruffles are ‘in’—they’ve been trickling down the fashion food chain since approximately SS16—and, despite being wrongly pronounced dead more times than the perpetually sleepy goldfish you had as a child, band and skater tees are managing to cling to some form of ironic-grunge relevance. What’s apparently really bothering and confusing people is that anyone could possibly like the top—after all, it isn’t nude, doesn’t involve tastefully ripped denim, and doesn’t have city names printed on the front in a font that scream “wanderlust”, “go see the world”, and “I’m a trust fund baby”. Of course, shops are still stocking these things, and they’re still selling—nobody would try and deny that—but there’s something about the ruffled monstrosity that represents an attitude to fashion that’s coming up faster than some can handle.

In 2016, we were warned by one fashion columnist to “beware the frill” and to “be restrained” lest we look like an overenthusiastic toddler, or even a Gone with the Wind character. Instead, the key advice was to keep our fashion neutral—simple bags and cream clothes were in. Only a few sources dared to recommend a bare shoulder, or a bit of clashing print. The change since then hasn’t just been the typical shift from one season to another, but rather a meaningful shift in attitude—we’re being recommended bright and bold colours, frills, and even gingham! The idea of being afraid of coming across “too much” of something, and of practicing mannequin-like restraint in fashion, is being put aside by brands and publications with major voices.

It’s easy to attribute this to runoff from the recent work of Gucci, Prada, and the like,
and it’s undeniable that they’ve played a key role. Alessandro Michele is, without a doubt, uniquely visionary and has injected some serious fun and excitement into recent fashion weeks. However, this change has come from the ground up, as well as from the top down. Polyster Zine, a publication I’ve loved for years and, which seems to gain traction by the day, comes with the tagline: “Have faith in your own bad taste”. Makeup artists who made their name on Instagram such as Bea Sweet and Juliana Horner are changing what’s considered normal when it comes to painting your face, and the two way street of influence between us ‘millenials’ and the runway can be seen in the success of Desigual’s snapchat filter makeup, and the screeching, crash-and-burning failure of Dolce and Gabbana’s ‘influencer’ show.

It’s reasonable to ask what the importance of this all is, as it might seem like the current ‘thing’ is just to dress colourful and wacky, wearing giant purple frills across your body, and, in a year or so, it will be over. However this attitude crucially overlooks the culture surrounding the shift—it isn’t just clothes that are getting more fun, more experimental, and more risky. Unicorn-themed drinks, competitions between eateries to see who can produce the most convoluted crossover food item, and even the holy territory of enchantingly surreal memes all signify a visible cultural movement towards the absurd and the bold in a way that’s broad and far-reaching enough to stick around for a while. In terms of clothes, it’s very possible that the buzz around bright colours will fade and ruffles will fall out of favour. What we’ll be left with, however, is the idea that your bralet-legging-leopard-veil combo might be as unpleasant as a ramen burrito, but that it’s winning in its own way, just by turning heads.

This change also has major implications concerning the prevalent classism and snobbery within fashion. When the ‘big thing’ is minimalist, beige shapes, which are just meant to make your body look as ‘instaworthy’ as possible, all you want is the best possible version of these simple pieces. In the case of clothes like these, high-end names (which come with high-end prices) really do hold weight, otherwise you’re just wearing ‘normal’ and, let’s face it, boring clothes.

This means that wearing something from Primark (or the like) is often looked down upon. As the unusual becomes usual, however, wearing something from Primark can be a badge of honour—you managed to find something that cool and weird that cheaply? Because, while Primark probably can’t do a better version of a plain Cos shift dress, if it takes an unusual top from any of the big players in high street fashion and adds its own take, with an extra ruffle or a few rainbow tassles, it immediately becomes a completely worthwhile contender.

Anyone looking to channel these ‘go bigger and brighter’ looks won’t feel it necessary to look down at cheaper more attainable alternatives, which not only makes fashion phenomenally more accessible for people from poorer backgrounds, but equally helps to break down this classist snobbery within the fashion world. So, with the attitude of Miranda Priestly, let us shoo the bitter columnists who can’t handle ASOS’s ruff, or the seismic shift of which it’s only playing a microscopic part.

It doesn’t matter if the top’s ugly, and it doesn’t even matter that the band named on it doesn’t exist. Someone out there—one happy person —will be wearing it this week with a pair of bright red latex culottes, or a matchy-matchy lilac skirt, or maybe just a pair of jeans that onto which they’re building up the courage to sew a patch. And they won’t care what the Metro says. And they’ll look fantastic.

‘The Parisian’ is a barrier to progressive fashion

William Hosie
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‘The Parisian’ is a barrier to progressive fashion

I was walking up Oxford High Street on a Sunday afternoon when I spotted a girl wearing skinny black jeans, Velcro Stan Smiths, a white crew neck jumper, a long black coat, and a black hat. Monochromatic girl, as I have called her ever since, looked particularly chic next to the indie-grunge humanities students just emerging from their beds at 3pm, still hungover and heading to McDonald’s.

I bet you she’s French, I said to myself, and sure enough, as we crossed paths, I overheard her phone conversation: “Non mais j’en peux plus de ce mec. Il s’est fait de la School la dernière fois qu’on est sorti tous ensemble.” Those two sentences told me everything I needed to know, or rather confirmed everything I already knew (and despised) about ‘the Parisian’.

I spent my secondary school years at London’s French Lycée, where the absence of a school uniform meant succumbing to popular trends (such as being dressed top to toe in Abercrombie from 2010 – 2012). The school’s cultural and stylistic demographics changed drastically in 2012 with the sudden influx of rich Parisians fleeing Hollande’s 45% tax rate. No more did Uggs and velvet sportswear plague the courtyard and classroom. Converse were quickly replaced by sturdy (and expensive) sport shoes, and black vests took over Hollister t-shirts, and Gap puffer jackets were discarded in favour of Canada Goose versions.

The Parisian stronghold altered the vibes and set new standards for us Franco-English plebs to imitate. The British section of our school that year laughed at our monotonous, conservative style, whilst they enjoyed mixing stripes with dots and vintage denim jackets as well as wavy orange trousers courtesy of the History department’s trip to India. Their idea of standards was not to have any, and they emulated the look of English school kids on weekends.

The French students wanted to show that they too could be artsy and hipster. But they did it in a more codified and chic way. Wavy garms weren’t acceptable, but alternative brand names were encouraged. Three boys in my year set up their own brand called ‘Nola Grant’. No one ever really understood where the ‘Grant’ came from, but Nola was short for ‘No One Likes Average.’ Their creations were a disappointment to say the least.

The clothes were designed to be street chic, styles which could have been copied direct from Kendall Jenner’s Instagram page. This was drawn from what is known as ‘Parisian Style’: to blend in yet stand out, to wear the same clothes as everyone else, but wear them better, thus upholding one of fashion’s main success staples—it’s not about what clothes you wear, but about how you wear them.

To a certain extent, these ideals do t with those true to ‘the Parisian’. Monochromatic skin-tight clothes go hand in hand with a stylish walk and a straight, composed posture (combined, of course, with a snobby air of utter disdain). Parisian style is part of a cultural attitude, the costume of a social type that smokes Camel cigarettes whilst gently sipping a Perrier on one of the outdoor tables at La Muette.

But most Parisians are aware of the deprecating implications of their city’s label. My Parisian mother is the first to mock the bourgeois 16th arrondissement lifestyle and aesthetic. Monochromatic, monotonous and monocultural, Parisian style is similar to the Parisian mindset: conservative, bleak and narrow-minded.

I always chuckle when my English friends talk about Paris as the city of love, or when French history textbooks proclaim that it’s the city of lights, progress and tolerance. The harsh truth is that 21st century Parisians are quite regressive. Just look at Marine Le Pen’s position in the polls. Republican propaganda (I’m looking at you too, Fillon) is merely a mask for xenophobia, homophobia and conservatism. Non-conformity and radicalism are deplored in Fillon’s official campaign video. His desire to preserve French integrity involves the rejection of cultural exchange: he preaches national unity, yet targets minority groups as the sources of economic meltdown and terrorist proliferation in France.

The Parisian fashion scene is the same. Where were the hijabs at fashion week? Where are the famous French black models? Are there any French models above a size 3? Casting out differences for the sake of homogenity means reinforcing the white Catholic middle-class norm that is ‘the Parisian’. French designers seriously need to rethink the way they see their city, and their city within a larger, diverse country.

‘The Parisian’ is not all Parisians and the term’s totalising nature unwittingly highlights the social and cultural segregation in a city dominated by middle-class Fillon voters, where council ats are restricted to the outskirts so as not to ‘stain’ the beauty of the sandstone Haussmann cityscape. Entrenched and marginalised, the ‘other Parisians’ who cannot fit the ‘true Parisian’ mould show us that fashion, politics and social demographics remain intrinsically linked.

Cliché of the week: ‘If Messi had scored that’

Matthew Roller
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Cliché of the week: ‘If Messi had scored that’

The 55th minute of a Euro 2016 quarter-final was the greatest moment of Hal Robson-Kanu’s footballing career. With his back to goal, he was played in by Aaron Ramsey down the right, beat two Belgian defenders with an outrageous Cruyff turn, and finished gracefully past the onrushing Thibaut Courtois.

“If Messi had scored that,” exclaimed an excited Robbie Savage on the BBC, “they’d be talking about it for years!”

Except, of course, they wouldn’t.

Perhaps the most memorable aspect of Robson-Kanu’s goal was the fact that it was Robson-Kanu’s goal. Here was a nomadic striker, recently released by Reading, playing in a knockout game at a major tournament and making players of twice his stature look foolish.

Indeed, given the number of fantastic goals that Messi scores, the Argentine’s goal often get less attention than those of other players.

His goal against Celta Vigo last month, for example, was close to footballing perfection: he picked the ball up forty yards from goal, dribbled through the midfield as though they weren’t there, and finished from twenty yards.

But scoring that sort of goal is as much what Messi does as it is what the likes of Robson-Kanu’s don’t do. Savage ought to realise that average players scoring great goals is what makes them memorable.

Take me to (Broad)church

Charles Britton
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Take me to (Broad)church

Many viewers across the UK are probably feeling between a rock and a cliff-face now that the hit ITV crime drama, Broadchurch, has concluded for good. For the uninitiated, Broadchurch first aired in 2013 and was met not only with critical acclaim, but evolved into something of a national obsession. The simple, but effective, whodunnit structure of the show gripped the nation for three series, each offering up a new storyline, new suspects to construct theories around, and a new slew of tragic moments to bring one to tears. What persisted, however, was a stellar cast portraying characters with immeasurable depth, excellent cinematography, and ambitious stories worth telling. Now that the fever is starting to subside, however, are the cracks beginning to show on a passing television fad? Warning: spoilers abound from this point on.

Without a doubt, Broadchurch has been one of the most ambitious drama projects in ITV’s history. Chris Chibnall went to great lengths to mask the identity of the perpetrator of each series’ crime not only from the ravenous press, but from the cast themselves – he believed this double-blindness would make the acting more authentic, and not allow the actors’ knowledge to be reflected in onscreen gestures or attitudes toward other characters. The cinematography is also phenomenal, incorporating sweeping shots of the iconic Dorset cliffs as a foreboding motif, especially in the first series. Vibrant lighting and bloom filters clash with the atmosphere of distrust reigning in the town.

What really adds to the worldbuilding, though, is the incredible acting talent on show. Characters receive ample time to develop, with some arcs spanning the whole three seasons. Seeing the Latimer family attempt to cope with their devastating loss in series one, their desperate battle to get the murderer convicted at his trial in season two, all the way to their tragic separation in series three, is touching. Casting David Tennant as DI Alec Hardy and Olivia Colman as DS Ellie Miller was a vital component in the success of the show. Tennant’s Hardy, a cynical officer with a mysterious past, plays off Colman’s dry witticisms masterfully, and the duo are a joy to watch, together or alone.

That said, there are some issues which detract from the show, apparent now that its run has ended. The whodunnit structure of the narrative becomes easy to predict once the viewer learns how the writers think. All the principal suspects and general civilians alike are so shady that distinguishing who the criminal is becomes an act of accusing the character who seems most innocent, but is still relevant in terms of screen-time. In hindsight, with two amazing series involving a murder and then a rape case in the present day, sandwiching the historic murder which causes Hardy to suffer from so much guilt, series two seems more inconsequential than the others.

The final season epitomises both the show’s greatest strengths and its weaknesses. It deals not with a murder, but a rape, not with a family in mourning, but a woman in distress left to come to terms with her trauma, while everyone else who knew her at the party tries to cover their own tracks. Miller and Hardy’s roles as single parents away from their work are also explored more thoroughly. In many ways, series three feels more socially aware than its predecessors, but it suffers from similar symptoms. When the teenagers Tom Miller and Michael Lucas were first shown possessing pornography, I thought it was clever writing to draw links between the sexual fantasies of the older characters, the assault experienced by Trish Winterman, and the scenes of sexual violence consumed by the younger generation. When it became increasingly obvious that Michael Lucas was the rapist, the revelation was not as cathartic as it should have been.

Chibnall must have deemed the scene where Mark Latimer attempts to drown himself too tragic as well, as in the next episode, he is miraculously saved, sapping the scene of its impact. Hardy and Miller were never completely professional, often letting personal affairs affect their work, but in series three jarring plot holes mean they come across as more incompetent than previously. Even though they know their children are involved with the rapist, something they would have pursued further in any other series, the officers dismiss the matter as unrelated to the crime.

Maybe this, in addition to their other sins, suggests that Broadchurch is about the fallibility of the police, more than it is about their heroism. It is also about community, as Reverend Paul Coates asserts at the end of the final episode, but how that community will repair itself is rushed at the end. I do not buy that Trish’s ex-husband, who had spyware installed on her laptop, can mend everything with a Chinese takeaway, no matter how powerful the surface message is.

Nevertheless, Broadchurch stands as a thrilling crime drama and as a success for Chris Chibnall. Although all the perpetrators are widely known, and the fever that made Broadchurch’s premise so gripping has subsided, I’d say the show is still worth a watch for the outstanding worldbuilding and acting alone: Broadchurch’s quality is not entirely dependent on sensationalised revelations.

Personally, I am glad to see Chibnall move on, set to become the head writer of Doctor Who beginning in 2018. The show has run its course and keeping it going would merely risk the formula becoming stale. For the time being, as Alec Hardy concludes at the end of the show, Broadchurch “did [its] job” in providing quality entertainment. It stands as proof that there is still some enjoyment to be had from the humble television drama. At the very least, it gave me an excuse to huddle around the television with my family and watch something we were all engrossed in, something all too rare when studying away from home.

Is television too small for the both of them?

Theo Davies-Lewis
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Is television too small for the both of them?

Back in December 2014, BBC Four released a documentary titled The Fight for Saturday Night. Presented by veteran television executive Michael Grade, the show detailed the ratings battle between the BBC and ITV for dominance on Saturday night, and highlighted how presenters, producers, and executives endeavoured to create bigger and better live shows to win over the British public.

Of course, since the 1950s—when London Weekend Television was trying to steal away the BBC’s audience base—a lot has changed. We’ve seen not only technological advances and a shift in presentation techniques, but also a change in how shows are broadcast.

The advent of streaming services like Netflix means that audiences do not always have to wait in suspense for the next episode of a series; instead, they can binge-watch it. Of course, the whole concept of a service like Netflix would have been laughed off by the figures interviewed by Michael Grade for his documentary, but its popularity, despite being a shock even for the platform’s proprietors, is undeniable.

After all, by the end of 2016 Netflix had 93.8 million subscribers, nearly 20 million more than 2015. This is a far cry from the days when the main service of the company was to sell DVDs.

Some complain that this has had a negative effect on the shows produced: if episodes are available all at once, the emotion, drama, and action seem to deflate somewhat, the tension of the weekly wait trumped instead by the cheap thrill of immediate access. Consequently, the viewer may be less inclined to appreciate the show. Yet, Netflix’s shows—from House of Cards to Homeland, Thirteen Reasons Why to Stranger Things—are some of the most popular and successful on the planet.

So, does this signal the end for scheduled programming on major broadcasters such as the BBC? Not quite.

The BBC could never be like Netflix, and vice-versa. Scheduled programming is still important for older generations, and Netflix cannot exactly provide comprehensive analysis of local issues in countries all over the world. Key items such as the news, soap operas like EastEnders, and entertainment shows like Strictly Come Dancing belong on a schedule for order, continuity and consistency.

Organisations such as the BBC have not ignored the importance of online streaming. Corporations realise the opportunities that streaming provides, and there are even whispers that BBC Radio may head online, a move the importance of which may only be understood in retrospect.

Clearly, there needs to be a balance between scheduling and streaming. Each has a role to play in the ever-shifting landscape of modern television, and each has an audience to cater to.

Week in Science: 07/05/17

Cherwell Science and Tech Editors
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Week in Science: 07/05/17

It’s not easy keeping up with all the events going around the University. With Week in Science, the Cherwell Science and Tech editors bring to your attention interesting talks around the city and university.

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The Butterfly Effect – What Does it Really Signify?

 Presented by Oxford Mathematics Public Lectures.

Date and Time: 9th May, 17:00 – 18:15 pm.

Location: Lecture Theatre 1, Mathematical Institute, Radcliffe Observatory Quarter, Woodstock Rd, OX2 6GG

Speaker: Tim Palmer

Description: Meteorologist Ed Lorenz was one of the founding fathers of chaos theory. In 1963 he showed with just three simple equations that the world around us could be both completely deterministic and yet practically unpredictable. In the 1990s, Lorenz’s work was popularised by science writer James Gleick who used the phrase “The Butterfly Effect” to describe Lorenz’s work. The notion that the flap of a butterfly’s wings could change the course of weather was an idea that Lorenz himself used. However, he used it to describe something much more radical – he didn’t know whether the Butterfly Effect was true or not.

Tim will discuss Lorenz the man and his work, and compare and contrast the meaning of the “Butterfly Effect” as most people understand it today, and as Lorenz himself intended it to mean.

Tim Palmer is Royal Society Research Professor in Climate Physics at the University of Oxford

Entry: Free – to book a place, email [email protected]

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An evening “flight” over two modern topics in Mathematics Random Fractal Cruves and Rough Paths Theory

 Presented by Oxford Invariants Society.

Date and Time: 9th May, 20:00pm.

Location: Andrew Wiles Building

Speaker: Magarint Vlad

Description: The flight will leave from the – “terminal” – conformal mappings of domains of the complex plane – and will fly over the history of this development and prepare for landing at the first layover destination -the definition of SLE (Schramm-Loewner evolution).

After the first stop, the passengers will be asked to move to the “terminal”- Rough Paths Theory. We will ”fly” together across the development of a deterministic theory on Stochastic Differential Equations and prepare to land at the destination: the definition of Rough Paths and Rough Differential Equations.

The sky is announced to be crystal clear and we will be able to see during the twilight fractal rivers. Food on board: conformal pizza.

Entry: The event is free for members and £3 for non-members. Memberships is also available for £15, for life.

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The Sound of Symmetry and the Symmetry of Sound

Presented by Oxford Mathematics Public Lectures.

Date and Time: 11th May, 17:00 – 18:15 pm.

Location: Lecture Theatre 1, Mathematical Institute, Radcliffe Observatory Quarter, Woodstock Rd, OX2 6GG 

Speaker: Marcus du Sautoy

Description: Symmetry has played a critical role both for composers and in the creation of musical instruments. From Bach’s Goldberg Variations to Schoenberg’s Twelve-tone rows, composers have exploited symmetry to create variations on a theme. But symmetry is also embedded in the very way instruments make sound. The lecture will culminate in a reconstruction of nineteenth-century scientist Ernst Chladni’s exhibition that famously toured the courts of Europe to reveal extraordinary symmetrical shapes in the vibrations of a metal plate.

The lecture will be preceded by a demonstration of the Chladni plates with the audience encouraged to participate. Each of the 16 plates will have their own dials to explore the changing input and can accommodate 16 players at a time. Participants will be able to explore how these shapes might fit together into interesting tessellations of the plane. The ultimate idea is to create an aural dynamic version of the walls in the Alhambra.

Entry: Free – to book a place, email [email protected]

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String theory, black holes, and the quark-gluon plasma 

Presented by Oxford University Physics Society.

Date and Time: 11th May, 20:15pm.

Location: Martin Wood Lecture Theatre, 20 Parks Rd, OX1 3PU.

Speaker: Andrei Starinets

Description: Nuclear matter created in heavy ion collisions at accelerators such as the LHC is known as the quark-gluon plasma. Despite being incredibly hot and dense, it shares a number of properties with quantum liquids, although it is not described by the standard Landau Fermi-liquid theory. Theoretical understanding of the quark-gluon plasma requires non-perturbative tools. One of them, known as gauge-string duality or holography, comes from string theory, and relates spectra of black hole excitations to transport properties of the models of the quark-gluon plasma.

Entry: £3 for non-members. Free for members (membership is £10, and for life)

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Controlling and Exploring Quantum Matter Using Ultracold Atoms in Optical Lattices

Presented by Oxford Physics Department.

Date and Time: 12th May, 16:30 to 17:30pm.

Location: Martin Wood Complex, Department of Physics, Parks Road, OX1 3PU. 

Speaker: Dr Immanuel Bloch

Description:  More than 30 years ago, Richard Feynman outlined the visionary concept of a quantum simulator for carrying out complex physics calculations. Today, his dream has become a reality in laboratories around the world. In my talk I will focus on the remarkable opportunities offered by ultracold quantum gases trapped in optical lattices to address fundamental physics questions ranging from condensed matter physics over statistical physics to high energy physics with table-top experiment.

For example, I will show how it has now become possible to image and control quantum matter with single atom sensitivity and single site resolution, thereby allowing one to directly image individual quantum fluctuations of a many-body system or directly reveal antiferromagnetic order in the fermionic Hubbard model. I will also show, how recent experiments with cold gases in optical lattices have enabled to realise and probe artificial magnetic fields that lie at the heart of topological energy bands in a solid. Using a novel ‘Aharonov-Bohm’ type interferometer that acts within the momentum space, we are now able to fully determine experimentally the geometric structure of an energy band. Finally, I will discuss our recent experiments on novel many-body localised states of matter that challenge our understanding of the connection between statistical physics and quantum mechanics at a fundamental level.

Entry: Free – no registration required.

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Think like an Amateur, Do as an Expert: Fun Research in Computer Vision and Robotics 

Presented by Kyoto Prize at Oxford.

Date and Time: 10th May, 14:30 to 15:45pm.

Location: Blavatnik School of Government

Speaker: Dr Takeo Kanade

Description: For Dr Kanade, good research derives from solving real-world problems and delivering useful results to society. As a roboticist, he participated in developing a wide range of computer-vision systems and autonomous robots, including human-face recognition, autonomously-driven cars, computer-assisted surgical robots, robot helicopters, biological live cell tracking through a microscope, and EyeVision, a system used for sports broadcast. Dr Kanade will share insights into his projects and discuss how his “Think like an amateur, do as an expert” maxim interacts with problems and people.

Dr Takeo Kanade is the 2016 Kyoto Prize Laureate for Advanced Technology.The Kyoto Prize is an international award to honour those who have contributed significantly to the scientific, cultural, and spiritual betterment of humankind. The Blavatnik School of Government is pleased to host the Kyoto Prize Laureates as part of the inaugural Kyoto Prize at Oxford events.

Entry: Free – to book a place, register here.

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Trump’s first 100 days have been a succession of failure and fear

Alex Doody
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Trump’s first 100 days have been a succession of failure and fear

Speaking as a supposed linguist, there was something perversely fascinating about Trump’s language on the campaign trail: it was short, it was simple, and it was proactive. Yet it was also terrifying, coupled as it was with a divisive rhetoric of Islamophobia and nationalism. Sentences like, “We are going to build a wall and make Mexico pay for it!”, filled with the suspiciously self-confi dent bravado of an underhand used-car salesman, gave Trump his populist outsider appearance and appealed to his fanbase, but made him look like an angry wannabe-fascist to his rivals.

Simultaneously, pre-election Trump had a remarkable unpredictability, and an ability to both provoke and be provoked. From China to Kristen Stewart, from exes to contractors, nobody was immune from his judgement or wrath—a trait which Hilary exploited on her campaign trail when she argued that we ought not to entrust America’s nuclear arsenal to a man who could be enraged by tweets. 100 days into the Trump presidency, how much of his ambitious plan for America has he achieved? What has changed?

Trump made his mark early in his presidency with the “Muslim ban,” or rather a ban on people from countries Trump doesn’t like. Touted as a key policy—with Trump advocating immigration freezes and a “Muslim registry”—it was promptly shut down in a rather timely reminder that the executive branch is thankfully not absolute.

The other pillar of Trump’s plan—the Mexican border wall, to empty America of so-called “bad hombres”—has thus far fallen quite flat; from a “big, shiny wall” to a fence, to a plan which America will pay for now but Mexico will definitely be paying for in the future. (About as definitely as the turkeys will be paying for their own gravy). Obamacare, that evil front for FEMA death squads, gay frogs, forced abortion, and the second rapture, remains undead—though Medicaid is dying an agonising death. Nothing seems to actually be getting done, and the frustration in the air must be tangible.

Trump promised quantifiable results, that he would bring back jobs and penalise China, yet there doesn’t seem to be evidence of Trump following up on this pledge. Though employment has increased, it will take Trump-time to fairly be called a ‘jobs president’. So Trump has tried the foreign policy route, leaving us all feeling somewhat disconcerted.

He has defied Putin by attacking Assad and moved carriers into the Pacific, just off the Korean peninsula. Trump is prodding sleeping bears for the sake of showing off his power on the world stage. Fortunately this has not ended in complete disaster, for now. Nonetheless, Trump is showing a reckless and unpredictable side. Trump got involved in Syria and Afghanistan for emotional reasons, not after a lengthy consideration of the facts or the consequences.

This inability to control his outrage and anger—in the form of a tweet or a bomb—remains the single most terrifying aspect of a Trump presidency as a Brit. Gendered bathroom bills are a terrible thing, but legislation governing who gets to use which toilet will not cause a nuclear apocalypse.

That being said, the America beyond Trump’s head has never been so divided over issues such as these. Never before has one side of the culture war been so embodied by a president. America has seen cities full of protests and workplaces emptied by strikes since 20 January.

As for the world inside the White House, that too appears to be in disarray. Trump has been characterised as a loner, stressed, and hunched in front of CNN. He has suffered from leaks and gaff es oozing from all areas of his administration. His own staff have popularised “alternative facts” and “fake news.” According to Press Secretary Sean Spicer, Zyklon B wasn’t a chemical weapon and so Assad is worse than Hitler.

There have been far more serious leaks though, suggesting Trump will sign any executive order handed to him, and that Steve Bannon has been taking advantage of this fact. Melania, meanwhile, is costing the taxpayer millions as she (perhaps wisely) sits out the administration in New York. All the while, poll ratings are slipping to lows of under 40 per cent and Trump is so hated that even Ivanka’s fashion lines have become untouchable.

One thing that certainly hasn’t changed is Trump himself. His policy of ‘tweet now, think later’ shows no sign of abating. Who can forget his suggestion that Obama had wiretapped his New York apartment, and then his attempts to suggest that GCHQ had done the same. There was the embarrassing moment Trump refused to shake Angela Merkel’s hand, revealing him as an uneasy diplomat, and the article where he openly admitted that being president was “harder than expected.” Trump is finding out on all fronts that the presidency isn’t a business where he can shout at his underlings until the problem is solved. He’s finally realising that the presidency does not endow him with the same powers of reality TV to simply solve everything with a few careful edits. No wonder he spends so many weekends playing Golf at Mar-a-Lago. With so many people portraying your administration as incompetent, leak-prone or run by Steve Bannon, I’d be tempted to fly there and never come back.

So do I fear him? Or do I pity him? He does have control over a nuclear arsenal. He may be only 100 days into a four year term, but I feel he is almost more worthy of our ridicule for his 100 days of floundering.

Asian actors are invisible in Hollywood

Vivien Zhu
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Asian actors are invisible in Hollywood

Everyone knows the Oscars are the crème de la crème of acting accolades – yet it was even more special this year as the 2017 Oscar nominations were dubbed “the most diverse yet”. Six black actors were up for the main acting awards and records were smashed when the first black woman was nominated in the editing category, and the first African-American was nominated for cinematography.

This is all well and good, but for the “most diverse” Oscars yet there was a surprising lack of Asians on the list of nominees. The only Asian nominated in the acting categories was Dev Patel, a British-Indian actor. Where was the representation for other Asians? The answer is: it doesn’t exist, because Asian actors are invisible in Hollywood. As Gemma Chan, a British-Chinese actress, points out: “You’re more likely to see an alien in a Hollywood film than an Asian woman”.

The few Asians that are recognisable are usually typecast into certain roles: Ken Jeong is always “the kooky Chinese guy”, Jackie Chan is “the karate dude” and Lucy Liu is “the sexy Asian chick”. Even the characters that you would presume to be Asian are cast with white actors.

The most recent casting controversy was Scarlett Johansson as the lead in Ghost in the Shell, a film adaptation of a popular Japanese anime. The situation was worsened by reports that the film was testing digital effects on Johansson to make her look “more Asian”. People were understandably angry at this revelation: Constance Wu, an American-Chinese actress, vented on Twitter that this reduced the Asian race to “mere physical appearance” and that it completely ignored other aspects of Asian culture, identity, and history. Admittedly, whitewashing isn’t anything new—Mickey Rooney’s inane caricature of a Japanese man in Breakfast at Tiff any’s was one of the most memorable performances in the film. However, that was 56 years ago—shouldn’t we have moved on by now?

Though recent reports have suggested that there has been some progress, this is primarily on the small screen. Shows like Fresh Off the Boat and Dr Ken have had a satisfactory reception from Western audiences but an occasional Asian presence on TV just isn’t enough, especially when the characters adhere strictly to Asian stereotypes. Ken Jeong plays a doctor (a typical Asian job) in Dr Ken, and Randall Park’s character in Fresh Off the Boat is a Chinese immigrant desperately trying to achieve the American Dream. These attempts to integrate Asians into Hollywood may be admirable but the method is patronising. The most recognisable Asian-centric shows are all comedies, as if Asians are nothing but a joke. Judging from the reception of shows that do try to move away from Asian tropes, it certainly seems that way: Selfie, an American romantic comedy show about a white girl (played by Dr Who’s Karen Gillan) falling in love with her Asian boss (played by Star Trek’s John Cho) was cancelled after only one season, citing low ratings. Though there could’ve been many factors leading to the show’s cancellation, it’s likely that people just couldn’t comprehend an Asian man as a romantic lead.

The most commonly cited reason for the lack of Asian castings is that Asian actors are not bankable. But what about the massive source of potential income from the Asian film industry? As the continent with the highest population, it follows that it also has the highest number of filmgoers—the gross box office sales in China alone for 2016 were worth $6.6 billion.

So why hasn’t Hollywood tried to appeal to this potential goldmine by casting more Asians? Even the collaborations they have done with the Chinese film industry has only resulted in a token Chinese segment in the film—an entire act of Transformers 5 was moved to Hong Kong for no discernible reason.

Asian stars are not “bankable” because there aren’t enough job opportunities for them to build up a “bankable” reputation. The studios are not willing to take the risk of casting an Asian as a lead because the success rate is so low—if it isn’t even received well on the small screen, how could they risk it on the big screen, where the losses would be significantly higher? But with the potential income from the Asian film industry, Hollywood can afford to—and needs to—take more risks.

The film industry is all about risk; actors embark on their career knowing this. But Asian actors have to take a bigger leap of faith and so far, they are getting little out of their gamble. What Hollywood doesn’t recognise is that Asians have their own unique stories to tell and this is sorely needed to inject life back into Hollywood—the monotonous production of film sequels and book adaptations have led to murmurs that the industry is becoming stagnant. To save both the film and TV industry and achieve true diversity, we need to push for change.

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