From Falmouth to Berlin: Insights from the Berlinale2014


Falmouth University’s student trip to Berlin felt like an escape from the apocalyptical weather that has been affecting the South West, especially when we arrived to blue skies and mild temperatures. After the long over night bus ride and the flight energy levels were low but travelling through the city from Berlin’s Schönefeld airport on the South East of the city rejuvenation borne of excitement was in the air. The prospect of four days of cinematic indulgence in one of Europe’s most historic and exciting capitals certainly assuaged any lingering tiredness. Shortly after our arrival we walked from our hotel past the Reichstag and the beautifully lit Brandenburg Gate, monuments to Germany’s imperial past, and onto Potsdamer Platz, central point of the festival and symbolic of the country’s contemporary economic power. The central streets were buzzing with activity. Throngs of people milled around the red carpet area at the front of the Berlinale Palast, hoping to get a glimpse of a celebrity, and the box office, located in a central shopping centre already boasted long queues. This, as it turned out was a forbearance of the problem that would beset all out students throughout the whole weekend: the quest for tickets.

Brandenburg Gate

Brandenburg Gate

There are many adjectives to describe the Berlinale ticketing process: abstract, clandestine, chaotic, perhaps even anarchically democratic. Tickets are shared out between the online store, the centralized box offices and the individual cinemas for each specific screening. There seems, however, to be no rhyme or reason as to when or how the ticket allocation gets released for any given film. Questioning the proficiently polite tellers added to the mysticism of the process. “Are there tickets?”, “no”. “Will there be?”, “maybe”. “Any idea what time?”, “I don’t know”, was the kind of discourse repeated on many occasions. The difficulty can be attributed to having arrived ostensibly in the middle of the opening weekend screenings were intensely busy and therefore tickets, particularly for the big American and competition films, were hard to come by. All that could be done then was to embrace the British stereotype for stoic queuing and hope that fortune favoured the patiently diligent.

 

Berlinale Palast

Berlinale Palast

The ticketing dilemma struck me on the first night as I went directly to the Haus de Berliner Festspiele to try and see Wes Anderson’s Grand Budapest Hotel – the film that opened the entire event. This proved to be wishful thinking as the screening was announced as full long before we got to the main entrance. The film was seen however by Oliver Graves who extolled on “Wes Anderson’s trademark idiosyncratic camera work”, which “dollied around geometrically like a castle on a chessboard”. He added, “the script and performances were delightful, especially the rapport between Gustave (Ralph Fiennes) and Zero (Tony Revolori) along with the impeccable use of the colour and detail in the sets and costumes”.

Queueing for tickets

Queueing for tickets

Having failed in our first attempt to get into a screening my colleague Mark Douglas, along with Bristol Film Hub Coordinator Tiffany Holmes and I, engaged a back up plan, which was to walk a short distance to the fantastically named Zoo Palast to try and see what turned out to be a severe Chinese drama entitled Shadow Days (Zhao Dayong). This was a rather unevenly told story about forced abortions resulting from China’s one child policy. The serene and pictorial cinematography and poetic ghostliness clashed jarringly with the brutal social realism that depicted the scenes of state corruption and abuse. The film produced some arresting moments but overall was a rather cumbersome affair to watch, lacking a shocking outrage it seemed to be aiming for. Afterwards, the humbled director (this screening was the world premier) was beckoned to the stage for an atrociously hosted Q&A - another recurrent theme throughout the festival - which (translation problems accepted) gave little further insight into the relevant cultural politics.

 

Despite the obstacle of the ticketing over the weekend the students saw many of the festival’s highlights. Lauran Carter cited two films as standouts: 71 (Yann Demange) is set in Ireland during the height of the troubles and “deals with the conflict in a double edged manner, refraining from simple black and white assertions, and through a story which was “emotionally entangling”. But even more impressive was N - The Madness of Reason (Peter Krüger) a transnational film that depicts Frenchman’s Raymond Borremans’ obsession with African culture and the Ivory Coast: “The viewer is guided, with Borremans, by the spirit of Africa in a beautiful film with footage that offers a deeper insight into cultural difference and affiliation”.

 

Luigi Sibona particularly admired two films: Calvary is John McDonagh's follow up to his successful black comedy The Guard which “takes Brendan Gleeson's good priest character to disconcertingly darker avenues”. Framed as a whodunit, “Calvary explores the contemporary distrust of the clergy, and the meaning, or lack of, found in death. Crucially it never gets bogged down in its subtext, constantly delivering jet black humour and an utterly compelling, dense mystery thriller plot.” Luigi also sighted Concerning Violence (Göran Olsson) as “the most innovative and affecting non-fiction film of the last few years. Comprised of archive footage of Africa's liberation and readings from Frantz Fanon, Olsson creates shocking, poetic and deeply affecting piece of nonfiction cinema”. High praise indeed.

 

Representing a lighter mood Ashton Snow saw French fantasy animation Jack and the Cuckoo-Clock Heart (Mathias Malzieu, Stéphane Berla) based on an illustrated novel and concept album made by rock band Dionysos. The bittersweet tale set in 19th century Scotland left her “emotionally exhausted” after a “beautiful ending accompanied by peaceful yet haunting music which left the audience (which included many young children) in silence as the credits rolled”. Emma Graham points to the unsettling Thou was mild and Lovely (Josephine Decker) which “Left you unsure how to you feel” as a sweet love story “takes a shocking and bizarre plot twist. Visually there were some beautiful shots but too much transitioning in focus undermined this”. Emma’s final comment “I would have to watch twice to understand but it’s a film you can only watch once” perhaps sums up its enigmatic effect.

Cubix Cinema

Cubix Cinema

One of the most pleasurable aspects of going to the Berlinale is dashing to different parts of the city to see films in different cinemas. Many of the filmpalasts we visited representative of the changing architectural styles in different time periods, but and are also symbolic of Berlin’s politically divided past. Yes, there are many generic multiplexes carbon copied throughout the world. But grandly named edifices like The International and The Colosseum are huge monuments of utilitarian modernist design, which attempted to imbue a futuristic ambiance but now, from 2014, seem very dated. But this is no criticism. Entering these buildings to watch a film one gets a greater sense of the cultural value of cinema. Perhaps it is nostalgia for a past that only exists in the romantic imaginary but these arenas suggest a time before the soulless corporate revenue stream culture of contemporary cinema exhibition. Their magnitude and sumptuousness, along with design idiosyncrasies, adds a real sense of place, and therefore occasion, to a film screening.

 

The viewing highlight for me was Michael Gondry’s beautifully crafted documentary about the academic and political commentator Noam Chomsky Is the man who is tall happy? Gondry’s films always venture in some way into the realm of human consciousness and here the director actually sets out an epistemological reasoning for using animation at the start of the film. The areas that his conversations with Chomsky broach – the nature of reality as it is perceived by the human mind - undermined the possibility of using live action is it assumes notions of ‘truth’ in a manipulative way. Gondry wanted to remind the viewer that they are watching a construct, and allied to this, the animation allowed the director to visually assist in explaining the complex conceptual ideas that are the hallmark of Chomsky’s work. The film succeeded therefore in creating a form of accessibility into some very difficult ideas.

Michel (not Michael) Gondry Q&A session

Michel (not Michael) Gondry Q&A session

 Michel Gondry was at the screening for an audience Q&A and I was looking forward to hearing him discuss the film. This was, however, another example of a rather badly run session, if also somewhat amusing. Firstly a rather austere and disinterested man introduced him as “Michael” Gondry, which drew laughs from the audience. The director took this in good humour. However, during the Q&A after the film – which was again monopolised by the host – the same man who had announced his name incorrectly interrupted Gondry in full flow and said in a thick, monotone German accent “you must stop now.” Gondry replied on the mic “you are a very rude man. You didn’t know my name when you announced me and now you stop me from answering the audience’s questions.” This statement drew a round of applause from the audience and the clearly unhappy French director and festival judge put the microphone down and walked out.

Some in depth film discussion

Some in depth film discussion

Travelling back home and talking to the students they all seemed to enjoy the weekend, equally for the cultural experience of Berlin as much as the film festival. Lauren Carter stated that the “forums and Q&As with directors/writers/producers gives extra insight into the films. Having a chance to speak to people directly from the industry is priceless for film students. Also the independence and self-confidence this trip has given me is irreplaceable and I gained courage form having independent time within the city.” I think this sentiment epitomises the value of the trip in that it lies beyond instrumental outcomes and is more about developing one’s independence and confidence. I, and I’m sure many others, are already looking forward to next year.

On Christopher Hitchens

Anything I could say about Christopher Hitchens would be completely inadequate compared to the outpouring of grief, affection and admiration that has come from all quarters since his passing away on the 16th of December 2011. Like most people I only knew him through his writing, and through reading about him, both avenues indelibly confirmed his reputation a giant of the written word and of the lived life. I first heard ‘Hitch’ on Youtube. As an increasingly vociferous atheist I came upon the many debates and lectures that, thankfully, are posted online and was immediately a fan. I became hooked  on both his ardently secular philosophy but also on the simultaneously mesmerising yet daunting scope of his intellectual delivery. He had the uncanny ability to be both forensic and poetic at the same time. His uncompromisingly oppositional and combative stances on so many issues often left you in no doubt where you stood, whether it be in agreement or disagreement, with regards to his position. At the risk of an inadequate metaphor, a commentator once described another genius, the racing driver Ayrton Senna as, “often leaving you to decide whether or not you would have an accident with him”. This aptly described Hitchens’ writing and oratory, its clear and sharply incisive rhetoric that, while not deliberately designed to offend, made no apologies if it did so.

Reading Hitchens could be a somewhat belittling experience. The depth of his knowledge and the range of references, that gave his writing such weight in an era of sound-bite superficiality, required a required a regular retreat to the Internet to look up a source. I know reading Hitchens has improved my own knowledge; reading Why Orwell Matters was an education in itself. But engaging which such an mind and a talent through his work reinforced my own political beliefs about the inequalities of education that are ingrained in Britain but also globally – the subject is discussed at length in Hitchens’ memoir Hitch-22. His influence on me has been tangible in terms of a commitment to dialectical thought, critical enquiry and the discipline of production. Further than this reading Hitchens affords the realisation that such worthy aims are made more relevant when imbued with a certain joie de vivre. It leaves one with note of caution however that latter may have contributed to his far to early death. Perhaps this is an unintended lesson that Hitch leaves behind. I had often thought about writing to him over past few years particularly in the light of his illness. Work, laziness a sense of my own inadequacy meant I never did so. In one of his final interviews, with Jeremy Paxman, Hitchens said “if you ever wonder whether to write to anyone, always do...I regret not doing it more myself”. Upon hearing this I deeply felt such regret, that I had not taken up the pen to give some small indication of how much Christopher Hitchens, as a writer and person, had influenced me.

A Conspiracy of Mutual Interest

The public debate and interrogation of the ‘hackgate’ scandal is so copious that one hardly knows where to start. However, an aspect of the story that strikes me as prescient, yet largely ignored, is how the affair has exposed the overlapping networks of power that form a nexus of controlling elites in our capitalist democracy. The seemingly endless revelations highlight how the political/media/corporate complex is intricately linked through matrices of friendships, acquaintances, business partnerships, familial ties, abstract loyalties and social debts. Well this is no big deal right? We all knew that. But what recent events have crystallised is how these interconnections form a socio-cultural hegemony based almost entirely on elites knowing and serving each others interests in order to maintain, on a micro level their own position of power, and on a macro level, the overarching hierarchies of the social system.

Italian political philosopher Antonio Gramsci used the term hegemony to define how a society’s dominant class configures the processes, and creates the discourses, that effect mass social control. Such social control is maintained no only through coercive means (laws, police, judiciary) but also ideological conformity has to be affirmed through cultural avenues such as education and the mass media. These conduits of information persuade the subordinated classes to spontaneously consent to the rules and values of the political and intellectual elite. This serves to negate the possibility or even the need for dissent, because the organisational apparatus enforces the inevitability of lived experience within the, already apparent, social structure. Any instances of dissent against the dominant classes are represented as pathological and are thus summarily punished, through legally sanctioned punitive measures, but also symbolically, via the strident critique of the media propaganda machine. The hegemonic organisation of society is so pervasively ingrained into culture that it is more or less wholly accepted by the masses as the civilising, didactic role of the elite.

Centralisation of ownership in a pervasive media environment is a key tool with which hegemony is affirmed. Of course, in a totalitarian regime the state directly controls the media and is therefore able to disseminate its ideologies directly. In democracies, where ‘free speech’ and an open media market are lauded as vital components of open debate and informed citizenship, the managing of information has to be much more sophisticated. In this regard the construction of particular discourses, which become naturalised as ‘truth’ (particularly through the populist tabloid strands of the media), is imperative. For example, tabloid culture creates demonised ‘others’ that the - presumably - law (and moral) abiding silent masses should be afraid of. The almost forensic focus on immigrants, minorities, gays, single mothers, activists, unionists, students, the unemployed, public sector workers etc etc etc, draws attention to the perceived threats of individuals and groups who, in actuality, have very little power. This obfuscates critique and interrogation of those at the very top of society who really affect the social conditions of the masses on a direct basis, whether it is economically, politically or culturally. Because most of us actually belong to one or more of these categories the real genius of media manipulation is how it places such groups in opposition to one another, rather than highlighting their common struggle.

Furthermore, in order to help us deal with the fear and uncertainly of these inferred external dangers we are fed a constant diet of inane celebrity culture, reality television and premiership football – in other words highly elaborate means of escapism that make no difference in our lives but somehow, probably through some kind of vicarious false consciousness, inspire us to maintain a monumental level of consumption and bury our critical heads in the sand. In many ways we are complicit in this. There is some truth to the notion that the public gets what it wants and we all have the choice to turn off. There is, for me, a fundamental hypocrisy in a public that doesn’t mind if Sienna Miller, Prince Harry or Gordon Brown have their privacy violated but is suddenly outraged when it is Milly Dowler or victims of 7/7. Of course there is a difference, but what are we really outraged about? Hacking itself, or just that the right people at the right time are being hacked? Can rabid journalists break the law when the target is deemed inconsequential? The popularity of the News of the World encourages a sensationalist news culture in which the “interest of the public” (i.e. what will sell) far outweighs a more political understanding of “public interest”.

But how much choice do we really have? The huge, centralised media monopolies like News Corp create a mainstream news agenda that dissolves serious interrogation into spectacle and superficiality. Whether illegal hacking is involved or not it is tabloid culture more generally that sets an agenda that is almost inescapable and inescapably banal. Media conglomerates make it largely impossible to circumvent tabloid culture even if one wants to. Murdoch’s vast network of media outlets affords him an incredible autonomy over what the world sees and hears. It has been commented that Murdoch has no ideology or political motivation beyond an endless desire for money and power, but that is an ideology which undoubtedly underpins the kind of media we receive. One that is fundamentally beholden to markets thus invariably commodified, highly populist, simplistic and unable (or unwilling) to truly hold the elites to account. Until hackgate, Murdoch’s acquisition of total ownership in BskyB was proceeding almost without question (once Vince Cable was removed), which would have enabled him an even firmer control over the apparatus of information dissemination. The corporatisation and centralisation of the media is still continuing despite a supposedly more open, diverse and interactive communications age.

The building of this kind of power requires political acquiescence. Politicians, Corporate owners and Media moguls are not interested in informing the citizenry or helping to create a nation of critical thinkers because that could lead to a much more rigorous questioning of not just the individuals in power but the way system works to keep them there. What the hackgate scandal exposes is just how much the interests of the different branches of the dominant classes are interconnected, not just on an overtly political level, but on a social level too. It is easy to produce a rather archaic working-class assault on the Old Etonian front bench, the chipping Norton set and the jobs for the boys (and girls) culture, as the foundation of an old fashioned class system. However, cultural hegemony spans across the political divide of left and right. Gordon Brown rose recently in parliament, an unusual step for a former Prime Minister, to berate News Corp and tabloid culture. In an interview with the BBC he went onto discuss how he cried when he learned that the details of his son’s medial condition were to be splashed on the front page by the ‘sewer rats’ at the News of the World. One pertinent question is why didn’t his government, or previous governments ever do anything about tabloid culture or what many have suggested was the excessive influence of Murdoch. The answer is they form part of the Political/Media/Corporate complex and they know, perhaps even only on a subconscious level (but for many it is on a pragmatic level too) that their power is inextricably linked. There may have been no “specific” discussion but make no mistake, Andy Coulson was hired by David Cameron not despite his relationship to the News of the World, but because of it.

When the term conspiracy arises, what comes to mind is darkened boardrooms, secret meetings, intricate plots and faceless couriers doing the bidding of shadowy ‘organisation’ men. Films revel in such narratives, and the modern imagination seems to desire buried “truths” behind iconic historical events such as 9/11, the moon landings and the Kennedy assassination. Occasionally the entire façade of organised corruption is revealed, Watergate being the most obvious example. Hackgate is being touted, by some, as the British version of the affair that claimed the Nixon presidency, and maybe it will cause a realignment of the individual power dynamics.What it will not do is destroy the overarching structure. Murdoch, Brooks and Cameron may be displaced -  in most conspiracies ‘a few bad apples’ get the blame - but the essential mechanisms of hegemony will, most likely, be left firmly in tact. Think about the huge reorganisation of the financial system which was “inevitable” in the wake of the financial crisis….what ever happened to that? If we deign to call modern society conspiratorial it is a far more sophisticated concept than a room full of shady power brokers hatching diabolical plots. It is a conspiracy that doesn’t require definitive plans or specific goals, just a recognition of the mutual interests of those at the top and the decisions that need to be made to preserve the status quo.

Political Debate Actually

Watching last night’s Question Time was fascinating for many reasons but, for me, ultimately showed the bankruptcy of our current political discourse. Almost the entire programme was, quite rightly, taken up by the News of the World phone hacking scandal with Rupert Murdoch shutting down the title, laying off over two hundred staff, but failing to sack its editor at the time, and current CEO of News Corp, Rebekah Brooks. The political aspect of the story revolves around the arrest, again, of Andy Coulson, who resigned from the News of the World in 2007, and then went on to become the Conservative party’s press secretary. David Cameron is facing tough questions concerning his judgement in appointing Coulson, not to mention the closeness of his relationship with Brooks and Murdoch himself. Having failed to call for Brooks’ resignation when pressed by Ed Miliband at PMQs, the ambiguity and awkwardness of Cameron’s position was obvious. All of this is framed by News Corps’ attempt to fully take over BskyB and the leaking of information to News of the World journalists by the Metropolitan Police.

Discussing all of these issues on Question Time were three representatives of the main political parties: Chris Grayling (Conservative), Douglas Alexander (Labour) and Shirley Williams (Liberal Democrat). Joining them, and this provided the most intriguing part of the discussion, were right-wing shock-jock and former Sun columnist Jon Gaunt, and (not so) floppy-haired charmer (and former “Prime Minister” ) Hugh Grant. Grant’s inclusion on the panel derives from his public antipathy toward tabloid culture, he is an ardent supporter of injunctions against the press having had his own phone hacked. The first time I heard him speak on the issue however was on Radio 5 live when he came across as articulate, knowledgeable and, above all, direct. When I saw he was a guest on Question Time I wondered how he would fair against well-briefed and seasoned political debaters.

Whatever one thinks of Hugh Grant, or his films (and I can take or leave either) the clarity of his points from the outset cut to the heart of the matter and the audience seemed largely in agreement with what he was saying. Undoubtedly his demeanour and delivery demonstrated a person used to public speech and I think his arguments were aided by an extra dollop of charm and star performance. His persona contrasted greatly with that of Jon Gaunt whose blustering, shouty soap-boxing and cringe-worthy winks to David Dimbleby were, frankly, pretty annoying. However, Gaunt was also clear, decisive and reasoned with his opinions and the two of them agreed at times and clashed others but, in essence, provided a clear debate (apart from when Gaunt couldn’t resist a cheap shot at Grant for his arrest with Hollywood prostitute Devine Brown).

What struck me however was the ineptitude of the politicians at being able to articulate directly their points without mitigating clauses or deliberate obfuscation. When Chris Grayling was asked whether a judicial enquiry should be called he gave the classic political evasion. Hugh Grant then turned to the audience and summarised definitively (and with a hint of sarcasm) why Graying could not answer the question: his boss David Cameron doesn’t want to fully cut Murdoch loose. Grant’s statement: “it’s scary you can’t answer that” deconstructed the compromised link between the political elite and the corporate media. Douglas Alexander was not allowed to escape to the position of oppositional safety as both Grant and Gaunt repeatedly pointed to Labour’s wooing of the Murdoch press in the era of Alistair Campbell and Tony Blair. Indeed, the revelation that politicians of all stripes were quaffing champagne at a recent Murdoch party, and the fact that ministers have continually backed away from investigations into News Corp shows the how the government relates to Murdoch with an equal measure fear and awe.

There are huge issues concerning media influence and ownership, privacy laws and what constitutes public interest and the regulation of the press, and the police, that were touched on by the programme. However, it was the fact that Hugh Grant and Jon Gaunt provided the lion’s share of the discursive analysis and political debate that stood out for me. Maybe politicians feel that they cannot be straight, the machinery of government doesn’t allow them to be straight or the media sensationalises everything to the point where a clear and direct argument cannot be had. Maybe Grayling and Alexander were simply star struck. However, last night’s Question Time led me to wonder what has our democratic system become when it is a Hollywood actor and a radio DJ that articulate the ins and outs of an important political issue leaving the politicians stuck in ambivalent semantics. Following on twitter there were numerous lines suggesting “Hugh Grant for PM”. Sadly, I think the irony of this reflects the state of our current political debate and exemplifies the low regard in which our democratic representatives are held.

The Philosophy of Hypocrisy

Across the Middle East historic uprisings show the power that ordinary people can still wield. But what these tumultuous events have also brought into sharp focus is the sheer hypocrisy of Western governments, in both their policies concerning specific dictatorships, and the doublespeak used to mitigate those relationships. For years the West propped up Egypt’s President Mubarak, a despot who oppressed his own people. The recent revolution, however, was roundly applauded and, in the end, diplomatically supported by the international community. This immediately reveals the morally questionable discourse of the West which supposes that a dictator is palatable as long as he (it’s always a man) is ‘our’ dictator. Such a policy remains intact until that situation becomes politically untenable (a point made by Noam Chomsky in his interview with Jeremy Paxman on Newsnight 08/03/2011). The old chestnut of regional stability is usually the reason given for the West’s support of an autocratic ruler; such an argument can be critiqued in itself as evidence of a Eurocentric, racist mindset. But any altruistic notions of promoting stability through diplomacy are, in reality, about trade, and usually a specific type of trade: arms and oil. A dictator’s human rights record can suddenly seem quite hazy when these two commodities are on the bargaining table. The question of how a dictator wants to use said arms, and the backhanders on offer for a reasonable crude price, is a question the West rarely asks. If the price is right, morality disappears.

Yet, when the citizens of Egypt unceremoniously ejected Mubarak from his position it was billed as a triumph of democracy. Barak Obama said, “the people of Egypt have spoken. Their voices have been heard, and Egypt will never be the same”. Obviously Egyptian voices were much quieter when the United States was helping to maintain the Mubarak regime. David Cameron also jumped on the freedom and democracy bandwagon: “Egypt now has a really precious moment of opportunity to have a government that can bring the country together. As a friend of Egypt, and the Egyptian people, we stand ready to help in any way we can”. Cameron, eager to show ‘solidarity’ with the newly ‘free’ Egyptians, was the first to arrive in the region to bask in the reflected glory of this ‘liberated’ state, or as he put it, offer Britain’s help in creating the “building blocks of democracy”. That fact that he was accompanied by a delegation of arms and aerospace contractors was, on the one hand, a public relations disaster, but on the other, laid bare the unadulterated hypocrisy of protestations of support for the Egyptian people’s democracy. How many of Mubarak’s tear gas canisters had ‘Made in England’ written on them?

Hypocrisy reaches epic proportions in the context of Libya. Gadaffi goes from evil dictator to internationally rehabilitated moderate, back to brutish despot, depending how Western governments determine his political usefulness. Since the start of the revolt in Libya there has been almost total condemnation of Gadaffi, which may be totally justified in and of itself, but coming from Western leaders it is fundamentally duplicitous and shows a convenient loss of collective memory. Gadaffi’s promise to stop supporting terrorism and suspend nuclear weapons programs led to a phalanx of Western leaders (a grinning Tony Blair included) parading themselves with the redeemed Libyan leader in front of his tented village. This was defined as victory against terrorism and a triumph of diplomacy yet in the background, again, was a range of arms deals and oil contracts. The complexity of Britain’s ties to Libya also incorporates the decision to release Lockerbie bomber Mohmed Ali al-Megrahi, and continues to be revealed through details about a nepotistic relationship with the London School of Economics.

All this without even mentioning the West’s association with Saudi Arabia.

Back home, in the midst of the financial crisis, hypocrisy has Premier League credentials, perhaps summed up by the mantra “we’re all in this together”. This phrase has been preprogrammed as the default response of every coalition MP and, by and large, it seems to have been swallowed. It seems that not only every politician but every media commentator, economist, corporate CEO, indeed anyone with a public voice accepts this dictum as fact. The tokenistic attempts at financial regulation set out by George Osbourne are wrapped around the rhetoric of fairness. However, at the same time the boss of RBS takes home a £6 million bonus for presiding over a £1 billion pound loss in an institution that the taxpayer had to bail out and now owns. Juxtaposed next to the massive cuts in front line services across the board, clearly, we are not all in this together. The possibility of simply taxing corporations and the rich more is never even mooted. “Common sense” economic maxims are masking real ideological manipulation here. “We’re all in this together” is classic Orwellian doublespeak.

Yes there are uprisings of dissent over the cuts but it seems that the level of anger over what the public is told it now has to deal with is, in actuality, quite paltry. The philosophy of hypocrisy, it seems, is working well. Egyptians and Libyans (along with other North African and Middle Eastern peoples) are fighting and dying for the possibility of a democratic voice. We supposedly have that voice, but maybe we need some advice from them in how to use it.

The American Astronaut

After a long teaching day I went to a Leeds Film Festival preview screening of The American Astronaut last night. The film, directed and starring Cory McAbee, is incredibly strange collision of prototypical Western genres including Sci-fi, Western, Film Noir, Comedy and Musical but rather than trying to amalgamate these elements seamlessly it revels in their incongruities. McAbee stars as space cowboy Sam Curtis travelling through a parallel universe that resembles our own but it not quite the same. The surreal narrative and tone of the film is reminiscent of David Lynch. The opening scenes show Curtis delivery a cat to an old Western style saloon station on a remote asteroid. Meeting his old dance partner, an interstellar fruit trader named the Blueberry Pirate, Curtis receives a machine that can grow a ‘real live girl’ as payment. This instigates journey first to Jupiter to trade the machine for ‘the Boy Who Actually Saw a Woman’s Breast’ and then to Venus to deliver the boy to a planet populated exclusively by women. All the while the protagonist is being chased by the sinister Professor Hess.

 

This, unfortunately, is a totally inadequate synopsis but in many ways the plot is incidental to complexities of meaning that permeate the film. Visually the film is superb. Shot in kind of glossy, metallic black and white it perfectly captures a kind of retro-milieu which fuses the Western frontier with the final frontier. The film never falls into nostalgic sentimentality however. There is a creative imaginary here exemplified by several elements of visual virtuosity. Sam’s spaceship is an old steam engine (which comically docks with an interstellar barn at one point) produced using decidedly lo-fi special effects but which marry perfectly with the surreal aesthetic. Other standout elements are Professor Hess’ ray-gun which turns his victims into sand (a nod to the sand men of Logan’s Run perhaps) and a kind of photo-montage sequence in the middle of the film encapsulates the friendship that develops between Sam and the boy.

 

Indeed, for me the most interesting aspect of the film was the representation of gender. I was interested in seeing the film because of its relationship to my PhD. I have not seen as esoteric a representation of familiar iconographies of masculinity in any other film. It takes the recognisable tropes and behaviours that we might recognise from cinema concerning he cowboy/astronaut but subtly skews the viewers expectations while not undermining their familiarity. The universe of The American Astronaut is definitely a male domain but the lack of the female presence ‘queers’ the homosocial relationships within the film. But this is represented in a very quirky, off-beat way. In stead of fighting, the men sing and dance. Indeed the friendship between the Curtis and the Blueberry pirate is affirmed by their winning of a dance contest which seems to replace the standard Western gun fight. There is an empathy and emotionality in the male bonding that undercuts the usual masculine bravado and competitiveness found in American genre films. But despite the comedic singing and dancing numbers masculinity is never overtly camp or explicitly homosexual. It is as though a universe without women would produce a different context for masculine interpersonal relationships.

 

The enigmatic Professor Hess is obsessed with the main character (they could be father and son but that is never resolved) and his underlying feature is that he kills without reason. Yet his motivation stems avails itself through a kind of overly emotional jealously – he doesn’t like Curtis dancing with someone else and is particularly irate that the protagonist won’t sing happy birthday to him! Very surreal traits for a film villain. When all these male characters finally reach the female inhabited Venus, the performance of femininity is equally satirical and ironic. Dressed in what looks like renaissance ball gowns the women flutter fans in front of the eyes in a kind of coquettish display. It is as thought lack of men serves to hyper-feminise them. The narrative and intentionality of The American Astronaut is impossible to categorise in any simple way. Its pleasure for me was accepting it strangeness and going with it. Once I did that as a viewer I felt the film questioned my assumptions about representation, identity, gender and construction of reality that we mostly take for granted. I know I haven’t really done the film justice here but it is well worth seeing particularly if you are tired of Hollywood’s one-dimensionality and formulaic characterisations.

For more on the film visit this link.

University Cuts

I have been building up to a particularly vociferous rant on the issue of university spending cuts. This is a thorny issue and has myriad complexities and contradictions and I am starting from a perspective of working in the academe which does, of course, colour my opinion. First of all cuts are going to happen across of British society, that is unavoidable. This in itself is largely unfair when it was rich casino-style bankers who go us into the mess and are ones who seem to be suffering the least. I am amazed that there is more outrage in the public domain about this. But in many ways the problem is systemic when you have capitalism on the upturn and socialist welfare state (for bankers) on the downturn.

I digress, back to universities. Universities are, in many ways, the easiest, and therefore the first port of call for cuts. I think this is partly cultural linking to general attitudes towards students and student life. Throughout my university life I’ve been called ‘tax-dodger’ by various working, and unemployed, but not particularly witty or well informed, acquaintances. Yet the fact that producing highly trained people is good for the country, both economically and cultural, is rarely mentioned and then only in passing. However the cuts that propose 80% percent be wiped of University budgets with the students themselves paying for the bulk of their tuition costs themselves is going to cause a major shift in the culture of higher education and thus British life.

First of removing the cap from universities can charge creates and open market. Access to knowledge will become explicitly what one can afford, the upshot being it will be the preserve of the rich. The proposals say there will be concessions for the less well off but this seems as though it will simply be a token gesture. The majority of lower-middle class students will end up leaving university with debts closer to £100,000 rather than the £30,000 they are averaging now. This simple fact is going to put off a huge percentage.

Another outcome will be the entrenchment of a two-tier system. In many ways that is what we have already. If you have Oxford or Cambridge written on your degree certificate, this in itself, provides a huge advantage over those with degrees from less prestigious institutions. Lifting the cap on what universities can charge however will make such hierarchies an acceptable part of HE organisation that will filter into graduate’s work opportunities. Courses will be rated almost exclusively on how much they cost rather than the academic knowledge they provide. The universities that can attract the big money will welcome these proposals (like Michael Arthur did on Channel 4 news when asked about the implications for the University of Leeds). New universities, which cater ostensibly for working-class students, and often provide courses that are considered light or inconsequential, are going to suffer disproportionately. Many of them will have to close departments and even may close altogether.

Another outcome is that the diversity and depth of knowledge provision will suffer enormously. Even before the credit crunch the idea of knowledge and learning for it own sake was becoming an antiquated concept. With these measures every course will have to be justified for purely economic reasons shifting the onus even more onto specific subjects which are deemed as fundamentally important or directly related to a specific profession. This will render subject such as the arts, humanities, social sciences and alike as the most susceptible to cuts. There is definitely a case for students to contribute to there education in today’s climate. However, saddling young people with huge debt before they enter the world of work alongside creating and American style tiered university system that will further fuel a separation between rich and poor and create a knowledge market where certain types of knowledge will always be privileged, is not the recipe for a progressive an equal society.

And finally…it is very telling that defence cuts in terms of percentage are going to be much less than most other spheres of society. This reveals the very ideological nature of the Tories plans in this regard.