Dunkirk, the mere mention of this name bring forth only imaginable horrors placed in our minds from countless school lessons, echoed with yearly documentaries that only add to the horror. Christopher Nolan brings these horror to the big screen (or the really big screen, if you watch it on IMAX) with his latest epic, Dunkirk.
Women’s sexuality is often the subject of cinema. From sexual repression (Belle de Jour) to sexual liberation (The Diary of a Teenage Girl), however often, as with most of cinematic history, their stories are told by men (and mostly for men). However, since the rise of feminism, and women in the arts, sexuality in back in the hands of women, and film is no exception.
Within long form cinema, women’s sexuality has been explored by Sofia Coppola in Virgin Suicides, and in Andrea Arnold’s Fish Tank. The topic hasn’t been missed out in short form either. The short films below are just a tip of the iceberg for exploration of women’s sexuality; from the history of the clitorus, to the sexual exploration of an uptight woman.
One evening, you’re sat on the couch, flicking through the various channels, hoping to find something other than advertisements. And then you come across a talk show- some dude pulling his celebrity guests into admitting something, to spilling the beans on some rumour, to make a risqué comment. However, this time, he pulls out a card with an illustration on it, and you feel your stomach drop- oh no they’re going to pull out fanart and fan work. They’re going to comment on the not appropriate for me to describe artwork, or they’re going to get the poor embarrassed actors to read out some colourful fanfiction. At this point, I have to turn the TV off.
While for some it can be fun to laugh at the terrible prose of Sherlock asking John out on a date, I can’t help but think of the person behind the words, the person who poised at their keyboards with ideas whizzing about their mind as their fingers couldn’t keep up with their poetry. I understand the want to laugh- there are only so many times you can listen to terrible similes and not laugh. But the sheer fact that (usually) grown men are laughing at the work of (usually) a teenaged girl is something to pause and take note of.
Summer is upon us, endless days oozing an unshakeable heat. No matter how many drinks you down, how many ice creams you lick, the sun batters down and glares onto your skin. However, sometimes, relief can be found on the living room sofa, in front of the TV, with a carefully place fan on full blast.
Summertime viewings are lush and bright, echoing the laziness you can feel some days. Other days, you want to watch something that echoes the yearning you have for feel rolling down your car windows as you rush down the motorway, feeling the wind in your hair and the sun bouncing off your sunglasses. Other times you just want to sing along to that old song you haven’t heard in years, and feel the warm embrace of a character you somehow remember.
I went into the Barbican’s latest play, Obsession, with relatively low expectations. I knew it was starring Jude Law, that it was about an affair, and some how a car was involved. All relatively top line and straight forward information, which the play delivers on, but somehow I left the theatre disappointed and a bit confused.
In a new blog series, I’ll be doing a round up of some short films I’ve been loving recently. The short film is a great way of seeing some brilliant story telling, techniques, and general entertainment, all wrapped up in a quick bite size.
‘This is what a feminist looks like’
‘The future is female’
‘Girls just want fun-damental rights’
Undoubtedly you have seen these phrases at some point, if not out and about, but on the internet. However more recently I am willing to bet you have seen it plastered on a t-shirt or a pullover with various happy and proud wearers boldly painting their political declarations across their chests.
Over the past year or so, feminist and political declarations have been printed onto t-shirts, so much so that at the recent fashion weeks, designers such as Prabal Gurung sending models down the runway with t-shirts that read “The future is female,” “I am an immigrant,” “Our minds, our bodies, our power,” “Revolution has no borders,” plus other bite sized phrases that captures attention and garnered the designer applause online.
While such a move is bold for a designer, putting liberal words onto the stage to buyers who may not share such a sentiment is a risk, but it was done at a time where such t-shirts and such sentiments have become somewhat of a trend.
It is the wider trend, one which lends itself to easy social media slacktivism, that I am weary of. It’s a trend that leans in too deeply into white feminist tones, one which could lead to people wearing the t-shirt without any critical thought behind it.
Spring time in movies always blossoms in a beautiful way, with a morning dawning and birds singing. In real life, spring comes slowly, gently easing itself out of slumber and edging itself to our attention, from having the sun in the morning, to a slight rise in temperature, but with an April shower thrown in just in case you thought summer was coming early. With a lack of complete spring with us yet, and the April showers more regular than I’d like, there is still time to fit in some screen time activity before the sun completely glazes over the television.
Modern Romance, in a nutshell, is a sociological overview of modern romance- from woo-ing through a screen, to waning passionate love in marriages. The book is insightful, touching, and humorous- and gave me some confidence using Tinder.
Ansari, alongside sociologist Eric Klinenberg, travelled the global, examining dating as we know it. Overall he argues that dating hasn’t changed too much, only the medium through which we meet and get to know people. This argument waivers from time to time, with Ansari noting how we can only do things due to technology.
My final year of university was stressful- countless assignments to juggle, a ten thousand word dissertation to research, balancing them alongside a social life, whilst also trying to avoid the fact that I had to get a job in a couple of months. This kind of environment does not lend itself to reading Tolstoy nor James Joyce. During my hour of need I turned to authors whom many have never heard of- Kleypas, Rodale, and the much esteemed Quinn. These authors are not well known, unless you are knee deep in romance novels.