Repping other people's words

You know when you're fighting with someone, and you get a bit het-up and your words get a bit garbled and you come away from it thinking "dammit, if I'd had more of a grip on myself that would have gone so much better and I might have got my point across!"?

Yes, google, yes I did.

So many times, when I engage with someone about a particular topic, I wish I could get them to read some of the stuff I have, which explains precisely my point in a far better, wittier and more accessible way than I ever could. Recently in particular, the Internet has been AFIRE with brilliant opinion pieces and social commentaries, and so, this is where my contribution to this blog post ends (just about). Below are some brilliant articles I've read recently, that I'd love to share. Facebook has become something of a circle-jerk of interesting articles lately, which I can't help but love, so here's my attempt to collect a few together in one place rather than spamming everyone.

1. HULK EXPLAIN, DISSECT AND CRITIQUE RAPE CULTURE IN SURPRISINGLY NUANCED YET PASSIONATE MANNER. An essay, written entirely in capslock by Film Critic Hulk, which is one of the best, most thoughtful, intense and accessible analyses of rape culture I have ever, ever read. It's long, but it's worth it. (Huge trigger warnings for rape and sexual assault - proceed with caution.)

2. Crying shame: Things you should know if you're a cryer (or you have one in your life), by Chichi Kix. This essay is me. I am this essay. For someone who has always felt ashamed that crying is my default reaction to basically all emotional stimuli (joy, sadness, anger, fear, hunger, anything), this was enormously reassuring. Please read it if you'd like to understand me, and people like me, better.

3. 12 mistakes that almost everyone who writes about grammar mistakes, makes by Arrant Pedantry. I have OPINIONS about linguistic prejudice anyway, but this piece sums up perfectly the frustrating, patronising trend of articles about spelling and grammar 'mistakes'. Oh, you know how to use apostrophes in a standard manner? Congratulations, you're a better human than everyone else.

4. Aamer Rahman on "reverse racism" - not an article, a YouTube video, but more than worth your time. Adeptly and amusingly explains why racism against white people isn't a real thing.

5. How to write about the North, by Stuart Maconie. It's grim up North, you know?

6. What if Spotify recommended hot guys instead of music? Ah, BuzzFeed, you have permeated basically every aspect of online life with your gif-heavy lists and nostalgia hits, but I can't fault you for this one. Particular kudos for the inclusion of Tom Welling (damn, Smallville) and Tom Mison.

Go forth and enjoy, readers! (All four of you.)

Teenie Bopper 4lyfe

This post has been in the drafting process for about six months. It has been written and re-written several times, ditched and started again, and somewhat agonized over. "What is its topic?" I hear you cry. "What could possibly warrant such meticulous crafting and editing? Politics, perhaps? The systematic destruction of the environment? The economic crisis?"

No, my friends.

Pop music.

I've wanted to write about this for a little while, if only because whenever someone asks me about it, my answer comes out as bashful garbled nonsense, which does nothing for my cause. My cause being, in short: so I like pop music, what of it?

Here is a list of the shows I have tickets for in the next few months:
12th December -- Slow Club, Queen's Social Club, Sheffield
4th February -- Taylor Swift, O2 Arena, London
4th May -- McBusted, Motorpoint Arena, Sheffield
30th May -- One Direction, Etihad Stadium, Manchester

One of these things is not like the other. One of them is a "proper band", one I probably wouldn't mind chatting about. If I mention the others, I'm inevitably greeted with eyerolls, raised eyebrows and laughter. Yes, I'm 24 years old and I have tickets to three huge pop gigs in 2014, and guess what?

 

Bless you, queen Judy. (source)

I just don't care any more, you guys. I'm done feeling embarrassed for my musical tastes including, but not being restricted to, pop music. I like it, I enjoy it, and I'm going to tell you why.

“One thing pop music is good for is remembering that somewhere inside us is the potential for unvanquishable joy.”- John Darnielle, The Mountain Goats

I'm not even entirely sure how to categorise pop music. What's popular isn't always pop, and what's pop isn't always popular - it's a bit like 'indie', where the original name of the genre didn't actually describe the sound of the music itself, but now it kind of does, in a hard-to-grasp way. But with regards to the name, I think some of the snobbishness can be directly pulled back to the name - popular. It's a weird phenomenon, the one that seems to assume that because something is liked by a lot of people, it's somehow deligitimised. I guess everybody secretly wants to believe that their taste is above everyone else's, that they were the only ones with the discernment to favour a particular thing, while the rest of society blindly worships the mainstream - I can understand that, it's an intoxicating idea. Only the purest of art exists on the fringes; the rest is a big old mess of diminished creativity and blandness, etc.

But one of the things that makes me the happiest about pop music is the idea that it's bringing joy to thousands and thousands of people. I saw McFly on tour last year, and in October I paid to watch their 10th anniversary Royal Albert Hall concert online*, and being in a room (whether in reality, or virtually) with hundreds of giddy, dancing, singing bodies made me infinitely glad to be alive. It thrums through you, that kind of collective joy. And even alone, knowing the music I'm listening to is probably making someone else laugh, cry or riot at the same moment - that's pretty cool too.

But it's not just the abstract idea of pop music that makes me so happy. It's the bare bones of pop music. It's the ridiculously catchy melodies, the riffs, the beats that make it impossible not to dance. The hand-clapping, the doo-wopping, the cowbell. The repetition, mantra-like, of a hook, until it's burned into your brain and you're singing it over and over while you're trying to sleep. This one, I'm sure, is a matter of taste - my brain is just wired to like that stuff, to love it, and other people's might not be. But that doesn't mean my brain is less advanced or something. Silly girl only like silly song. No: woman with varied interests enjoys music that makes her happy in her very soul.

Just because something is created with a mainstream audience in mind, doesn't mean it's free from talent, conscience, passion and craft. Something that sells that well is hardly going to be complete rubbish, and dismissing it is a huge middle finger to people who work damn hard - both in front of the camera and behind the scenes - to make music that people will like.

And as for my tastes in particular, allow me to elaborate:

McFly/Busted - It's a debate I've had with several people, and I'll stick by my guns every time: A lot of the time, the only real difference between McFly and some kinds of pop punk/soft emo bands is the market they're aimed at. If you got All American Rejects to play One For The Radio, then got McFly to play Gives You Hell, you'd absolutely think they were the bands' respective songs. Both write all their own stuff, both play their own instruments, both are great, but one is marketed towards tween girls while the other is marketed towards angsty teenage boys. Except McFly have no problem being seen as a pop band - they own it, they know their army of Galaxy Defenders have made their career and they appreciate that. It's the unpretentiousness I adore; naturally, they get frustrated when people assume they don't write their own music**, but they're not mad about being seen as a pop band. They owe a lot to their pop following, and they make it very clear that they're here for the fans.

 

This video is a love letter to McFly fans and it's beautiful.

And as for the birth of the supergroup that is McBusted, I can honestly say that I haven't been this excited about a musical event since...since the last time I saw Busted, probably. I was such an enormous Busted fangirl at 13/14, and this is basically just like a dream come true. If they don't play my favourite song about failing at sex, I'm going to be gutted.

TASTE MY HAPPY. (source)

Taylor Swift - SWIFTY, my queen, my joy, my idol. And, apparently, the pop act that most people seem to have a particularly unfavourable opinion of. There are better analyses of Swifty's meteoric rise and popularity than I can offer in this space (but just get me talking about it, particularly after a few wines), but let me tell you why I love her. Swifty is my age. At 15, she wrote songs I literally could have written myself, if I'd had a modicum of talent - songs about being the bitter, unpopular girl with a crush on her jock next door neighbour (or in my case, the guy I sat next to every day) who would never notice her "like that". Song about Romeo and Juliet fantasies. Song that indulged that very particular experience of being an emotional, lovelorn, angry, romantic teenage girl. Yes, some of the things she wrote were silly and problematic, but she was also fifteen. 

Do you know how important it is for a young girl to look at someone like Taylor and think "it's okay to feel like this"? Just so important. It's bad enough being female and having your emotions disregarded, but being a emotional teenage girl - well, nobody's going to give a shit, because you're just a child, and it's puberty, and you're probably just being dramatic, etc. etc. ad infinitum.

“I think that allowing yourself to feel raw, real emotions in public is something I am never going to be afraid to do,” she said. “Hopefully that’s the case, if I can remain a real human. I’m fine with being honest with my fans about the fact that it’s okay that everything isn’t okay all the time...Those are real feelings that every single person goes through. I think that it’s okay to be mad at someone who hurt you. This isn’t about, like, the pageantry of trying to seem like nothing affects you.” - Taylor, from the article linked above.

Taylor Swift is an openly honest and emotional young female, and I fucking love that. And dammit, her songs are good. We all caught the We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together bug, and yelled along with I Knew You Were Trouble. She's a bloody good songwriter. Just listen to All Too Well (her MASTERPIECE): You call me up again just to break me like a promise // So casually cruel in the name of being honest. MY GIRL TAYLOR, you feel me.

And as for writing about her string of exes, I'll make three brief points and leave it at that, because I could go on for a while.

- As far as I can tell, Taylor has about the same number of exes as I have, a fairly normal amount for a girl my age. It just happens to be that hers are famous. And why shouldn't she date?! Anyone saying she gets around is engaging in slut-shaming, pure and simple.

- Dudes (and other women) have written album after album of songs about their exes - Maroon 5 actually going as far as to name their debut album Songs About Jane, after Adam Levine's ex. You don't hear anybody deriding them now, do you?

- If you think Taylor Swift isn't the most self-aware, astute master of her own reputation, you're entirely mistaken.

 Nicki Minaj's face, though. (source)

Little Mix - Now, I haven't mentioned Little Mix yet, mainly because they haven't announced tour dates yet, but when they do, I'm going to be first in line. Little Mix are my favourite musical artist of 2013. They're beyond talented, their 90s grunge vibe gives me life, and they're unapologetic besties who represents a pretty diverse way of being female. Both their albums have a strong contingent of songs - cowritten by the girls - about female friendships, about knowing who you are, about celebrating womanhood, and not feeling obliged to fall at the feet of every boy that pays you attention (Salute, Wings, Change Your Life, Always Be Together, We Are Who We Are, How Ya Doin? Going Nowhere, Little Me...need I go on?) and that is such a fucking important message for young females.

 

I implore you, WATCH THIS VIDEO. Talent!!

One Direction - Okay. Here it goes. I remember seeing One Direction on the X Factor a few years back, and remarking that they were a precious little box of puppies, and not much else. Obviously, they were inescapable, and my penchant for pop music meant that I enjoyed What Makes You Beautiful A LOT. Yeah, it's a bit sketchy, but at 13 I would have eaten that shit up - "He likes me because I'm shy and awkward? Oh my gaaaaaaad", etc. Then came the video for One Thing (another brilliantly catchy song), which also involved what has been termed London Porn, which is just cheating, really.

I watched a few interviews, read a little about them, and realised that they seemed like a pretty sweet, fun group of lads who sing bloody catchy songs. I never really had a 'boyband' phase when I was a kid (Busted aside), so it was almost like my 11-year-old self was yelling "YOU OWE ME THIS". And there it is. I just like them. They're fun and daft and they don't take themselves too seriously and their albums are solid and they're actually pretty damn talented. I'm not screaming at them in the street or waiting outside their houses, but I'm unashamedly being an adult human who appreciates what they're doing***. This one, inevitably, gets the most laughs, but the people who laugh at me didn't go and see the One Direction movie with three of their best friends after a couple of bottles of wine and have the best evening ever, did they now?

Also, I am just leaving this here. For science.

*****

As I've said, I can understand why my tastes don't match up with other people's - that's just a fact of life. I don't like peas, but that doesn't mean I vocally and rudely mock and attack peas, or laugh in the faces of people who do like them. Liking pop music as an adult attracts a particularly patronising kind of derision. It's tiring and I'm bored of it. The artists I mention above, among others, make music that is designed to bring joy to loads of people, me being one of them, and I think that's pretty great, actually.

*I'm just saying, this is a great idea - for limited-space concerts like that, ones that were too far away for me to manage, I could happily pay a little to watch them online, as I'm sure others would too.

**And if you think they're poor songwriters, go and listen to She Falls Asleep pt I & II, then help yourself to a big handful of wrong.

***Though don't get me STARTED on how horribly exploitative that documentary was, ugh.

One day, there will be another actual post on this blog...

...but for now, more Doctor Who reviewing! This one is blessedly shorter than the last.

Hannah reviews Who! With her voice! On the Internet!

So, I thought I'd try A Thing. A project, to get me through these cold winter months*. The following audio file should adequately explain everything, but in short: here commenceth the Hannah's Doctor Who Audio Reviews!



And, conveniently, here's episode one!



I'm very much hoping to keep going with this, though I can promise that future reviews will be shorter than 13 minutes - or I will do my level best to make them so!

*I say that, today is September 22nd and I got sunburned.

Notes from a gap year

And so, I come to the end of two years in York. Well, fuck - that's a bit mad, isn't it? I will soon be leaving for pastures new (well, Sheffield), and it's fair to say this has been an eventful couple of years. Good and bad, I've learnt phenomenal amounts (about linguistics and about myself) and had some utterly, utterly glorious times.

This year in particular has been busier than I thought possible, juggling five part-times jobs and PhD applications, but being someone who doesn't function unless they're late for five things at once, it's been bloody great. I've spent most of the year responding to "So what do you do?" with "Well, it's complicated..." -- so what have I actually been up to this year, and what am I taking away from it all? Glad you asked...

Do ALL THE JOBS!

Job #1 - Project Officer for the Temporal Co-ordination in Communication project
What? My main source of income this year, I was lucky enough to snag a research assistant job at York Uni almost immediately after graduating. Working under Dr Richard Ogden in partnership with some talented musical folk at Cambridge University, we set out to investigate whether rhythmicity in speech (and music) was shared between conversational participants, and whether this could be seen in their intonation patterns or physical gesture.
No really, what? I spent the year analysing the speech and movements of pairs of speakers as they chatted, played games, and made music. It was super rad.

Lessons learnt
- Analysing people's video-captured eyebrow movements in great detail makes you hyper-aware of eyebrow movements in real life. Related: people get uncomfortable when you stare at their eyebrows.
- If you pause a video at the right moment, any two people can look like they're in love. Or like they want to kill each other.
- Some cliches are true, and sometimes people are so posh that you literally can't understand what they're saying. One gent was talking at length about "rang" and I swear to God it took me about three minutes to figure out he was talking about "rowing".
- There is little more painful than having to watch two non-musicians try to make music for fifteen minutes.
- High quality audio recordings are a gift. The sound of a person smacking their lips or hocking up phlegm directly down your headphones is not.

Job #2 - Vowel analysis for the Scilly Voices project (University of Sheffield)
What? Dr Emma Moore is looking into language variation and change on the Isles of Scilly. I leant a hand by listening to old archive footage of Scillonians born at the turn of the century and delimiting, labelling and coding certain vowel sounds.
No really, what? I listening to charming old folks talking about island life and marked up whenever they said a vowel that rhymes with the one in 'mouth'.

Lessons learnt
- Never underestimate how long it will take to get through a 75 minute recording. (For the record, eight hours.)
- All Praat and no play makes Hannah something something. (Go crazy? DON'T MIND IF I DO! etc.)
- It's very easy to get invested in the lives of interviewees, particularly if they saved someone from drowning and/or their dad beat up the headmaster of their school for caning them. (Both the same guy!)

Job #3 - Data monkey for the Surrey Syncretism Database project
What? The University of Surrey, along with its compatriots, is compiling an online resource that gives academics access to an easily-searchable database of languages, in order to display and investigate syncretism (when a language has the same marking for different features).
No really, what? I unpacked reports about complex languages and turned them into shiny, organised spreadsheets to pop into the database.

Lessons learnt
- Kashmiri is a fucking complex language.
- Excel spreadsheets and complex language paradigms are made approximately 67% more fun when you colour code them while listening to loud pop music.
- Accidentally ctrl+Cing when you mean to ctrl+P is akin to a papercut, in that it is a minor annoyance that causes ridiculous amounts of strife.

Job #4 - copywriter/subeditor for publicservice.co.uk and defencemanagement.com
What? These guys compile public sector information journals, commissioning and creating content and distributing it. I worked here for a year between my BA and MA, and they kindly kept me on freelance.
No really, what? I write stuff, and nitpick stuff that other people write.

- Anybody who talks excitedly and with passion for their field makes for a charming interviewee, and the article subsequently writes itself.
- It's possible to get super-invested in something you had no idea you were interested in, so much so that you exceed the word count by nearly half; in my case, military medals, and how they're made and awarded.

Job #5 - copywriter/content provider for various sites, through a centralised pool of writers
What? I wrote blog posts, articles, product descriptions and suchlike for a bunch of websites.
No really, what? Seriously?

Lessons learnt
- There's only so much bullshitting one can do. And you can't bullshit your way through an article about institutional insolvency in Europe when you have less than no idea what you're writing about.
- Fluff pieces about Kate Middleton's holiday plans and the best-dressed celebrity mums are alarmingly easy to churn out, but doing so kiiiind of makes you want to kill yourself.
- Never underestimate a word count. Sometimes, 450 words can seem like thousands.

York livin'
Having lived in this glorious city for two whole years, I am obviously the foremost influence about the places to be in York. HA! No. But still, I love this city dearly, so if you ever find yourself visiting or living here, these are my recommendations.

• Go to the Minster. Yes, I know, duh, but it's easy to forget that your home plays host to one of the most staggering pieces of architecture and history in the country. Even if you're not religious, go to Evensong or the Christmas carol service - it's beautiful. If you can, explore the crypt and the tower - it's worth the money. At the very least, go inside and look up. Take a deep breath, and take in the ceilings. Incredible.
• Visit National Railway Museum. All of York's museums are great, but this is my favourite by far. Its free, for a start, and is a brilliant celebration of man-power and industrial endeavour. Huge and sprawling, it makes you feel like a child, and walking through the room full of mish-mash railway memorabilia and accessories is like a historical jumble sale. It's a fantastic museum that needs and deserves saving.
• Walk up the river, from Skeldergate bridge. Either side - down the cycle path or through Rowntree Park. Both are gorgeous.
• Cycle the solar system route, particularly if it's a sunny day. It's super easy to do because it's 99% flat, you take in some gorgeous countryside, and when you get back you can say that you CYCLED AROUND THE UNIVERSE.
• Get a huge, ridiculous ice-cream sundae from Licc. Hands down the best ice-cream I've ever had, and comes in a ridonkulous number of flavours. One time, I had a sundae that was cinder toffee, caramac and salted caramel, and it's probably the closest I've come to passing out in an eatery because the food was so good.
• Bishopthorpe Road is where it's at. The Pig and Pastry is a delightful and friendly café whose eggs royale are to die for; Pextons is a proper old hardware store which has everything you could ever need; and Millie's greengrocer is cheap and brilliant (and one time they gave me a free Milky Way). The whole street is just a lovely, mutually-supportive group of independent shops, and it's lovely.
• Go to the Mason's Arms on Fishergate, whether it's for food (their portions are huge!), drinks (lovely, cosy atmosphere and a host of ever-changing local beers), or the Wednesday quiz (SUPER fun, and free food!). The staff are impossibly lovely and kind, and the food is stellar.

Life, the Universe, and everything in it

This has been A Year. Good, bad, bonkers, awful, exciting, terrifying, all of that business and more. I learned many Important Life Lessons, and much as I might not have wanted to, I'm very glad I did.

- It is, apparently, entirely possible to simultaneously have not enough and too much to do. It's very easy to get to the point of "well, I have so much to get done that I might as well just curl up under my duvet and watch Doctor Who again".
- I have the attention span of a gnat, and I need to work on that.
- You're never too old for boybands.
- What you think is 'right person, wrong time' may actually just amount to 'wrong person, full stop'.
- I have loved living with guys, but when they start peeing with the door open, you start to need female company. I've mainly lived with girls in the past, but living my best New Girl life with four male housemates this year has been absolutely brilliant, and I wouldn't have changed it for the world.
- You can't fix people who don't want to be fixed.
- It's tough when your closest friends aren't geographically close, but that's doesn't mean you're alone.

The number of people who asked after the family before/after dad's op, and who congratulated me on getting PhD funding, was staggering. There's been times this year where I felt like I had nobody, but I was wrong. I was just focussed on the people who weren't there, rather than the ones who were. Thank you, everyone.

My time in York has been enhanced and rescued by some wonderful, wonderful friends. I'm afraid the rest of this blog post will be horrendously sappy and overemotional. But, you guys are reading this, and it's ME - what else did you expect?

THE ARCHAEOLOGISTS

I was lucky enough to be warmly welcomed by the Archaeology/Cultural Heritage Management gang last year, and they're about as lovely and fun a crowd of people you could hope to meet. I also learnt a staggering amount from them all - it's a diverse and fascinating subject, and I'm very glad they just let me sit there and ask inane questions about it for hours on end.

THE ECONOMISTS

This year's Archaeologists (i.e. the group of people who allowed me to tag along with them all year) were the Economists, who are also a properly fantastic bunch. Admittedly, I asked fewer probing questions, because the idea of Economics makes me brain bleed, but they were just as interesting regardless.

THE BISHY ROAD LADIES

Coming to York, I didn't know anybody. I luckily managed to snag a room in a house with three girls through a friend of theirs, and arranged to meet my new housemates a few weeks before. Within about four seconds I though "these are my people", and they made the transition to York a wonderful one. Fun, sweet and just as nerdy as me (if not more), I can't think of people I'd rather scream at the television with.

LINGUIST LADIES

Linguistics tends to be a female-heavy course, and the MA programmes last year felt a bit like an awesome girlband, minus the dance moves (well, most of the time). We cried on each other about dissertations, bitched about professors and danced off all the stresses of the year. Each and every one of them is a beautiful brainbox, and I'm so glad we got to chuck our hats in the air together.

ALI AND BRI

(I should note that I've already started crying by this point.)

A dreadlocked South African, bespectacled Californian and a bright-tights clad Brit walk in to a bar and order some flavoured cider. They then proceed to talk animatedly in pop-culture quotes and Internet memes while flailing their arms about and intermittently singing and dancing. They alienate the rest of the bar, but build a friendship for life. God, I miss these girls every day, but I know for certain I will see them again as frequently as the oceans allow.

MISCELLANEOUS BESTIES

Yeah, I was doing really well at categorising groups of people, until I got to this point. Friends, friends of friends, housemates of friends, friends I watched a lot of football with, friends whose weddings I happily attended, friends I did pub quizzes with, friends who marathoned tv shows with me, friends I watched on television, friends I attempted to swim in the North Sea with but quickly bailed because it was too damn cold. God, I love you all.

GRAY STREET MASSIVE

We've had lots of people in and out of the house this year, but the five of us have had a cracking time. We've enjoyed/endured Ross' eclectic music tastes, we've cared for DJ Boot in his invalid state, we've eaten A LOT of banana cake, and while two of our number are currently gracing Thailand and Belize with their presence, it's been a bloody brilliant house to live in all year.

ROSSINGTON

We found Ross on the Internet when looking for a housemate, so he could have been anything: an axe-murderer, a kleptomaniac, a Tory. But I thank my lucky stars every day that he was Ross - a hilarious, charming, caring and generous guy who honest to god lights up any room he's in. I wouldn't have got through this year without him looking out for, entertaining and challenging me. He's like my big brother - very occasionally I want to tear the Avril Lavigne singlet off his shoulders, but I wouldn't be without him for the world.

***

Right, I've cried enough writing this. On to pastures new, taking incredible friends and important experiences with me. So long, York. It's been real.

Recently, at the theatre...

Four great shows, four great evenings. Here, have some typical Hannah reviews (i.e. capslock and feelings and objectification, probably).

The Tempest @ The Globe
Globe, Globe, Globe ... spiritual home, bringer of endless joy, tridecagon of boundless wonder. I shall never tire of it, and was particularly excited about its season-opening production of The Tempest owing to the casting double whammy of Colin Morgan and Roger Allam. Merlin and Peter Manyum? Why, if you insist.

I was never going to dislike the production, with a cast like that and a long-held affection for the play after studying it for A Level (not to mention my Globe-blindness), but it completely exceeded my expectations. Much as I like the play, it is undeniably dry and not one of Shakey's strongest or most exciting. However, the text was eked for as much humour as possible with spectacular results - a charming, magical and warm production, it was a delight from start to end.

Allam's Prospero was, of course, a BEAST of a man - at once commanding and fatherly, and not as cruel as I've seen previously, which was lovely. His interactions with James Garnon's wonderfully ape-like Caliban were less abusive, more piteous - as a softy at heart, this pleased me. Moreover, Prospero's relationship with his daughter was particularly touching, with a star turn from Jessie Buckley too - her wide-eyed, playful Miranda was particularly lovely. Paired with Joshua James' bumbling, puffy-chested, adorable Ferdinand, the two brought a charm to the lovers I've never seen before. Gorgeous.

Jessie Buckley, Joshua James and PROSPERALLAM.

Nautrally, Colin Morgan's Ariel was going to be a highlight for me (tunnel vision, what can I say?), and he was pretty damn magnificent. I wonder whether the Merlin writers had him on some kind of magical diet, because he seems to have grown, bulked and aged about ten years since the show ended. Sprightly and ethereal, he wound his way around the stage effortlessly, and the less said about the whole upper-body-strength thing the better - this blog should at least attempt to be PG13.

Big pimpin'.

Boosted by spending a gloriously sunny day with friends in London, The Tempest was dizzyingly delightful and engaging from start to end.

Taming of the Shrew (Propeller Theatre Company) @ Sheffield Lyceum
This...was a weird one, and warrants a shorter review. I love Propeller - their productions are bright and smart and moving and always well-staged. Taming is always going to be a troublesome play, and I feel like it can be done one of two ways: 1. Kate is as complicit in the interactions as Petrucio is, and they play off each other to find a relationship that works for both of them, or 2. the domestic violence angle is exploited in an attempt to make a point, and exemplify its horror.

I prefer the first, no question, but I can see why you might attempt the second, as Propeller did. Their portrayal was incredibly well performed, particularly by Dan Wheeler - painful and uncomfortable to watch as it should be, there's no doubting the talent involved. I just couldn't get on board with the decision to play it like that. Firstly, alongside the bawdy comedy of the Lucentio/Tranio/Biondello subplot (which was undoubtedly well done again, and had me frequently in stitches), it seemed jarring and uncomfortable, but not in a good way. And secondly, though they amped up the play-within-a-play idea in order to pull away from it at the end, leaving Petrucio/Sly shamed and judged by the players for his awful behaviour, it wasn't enough for me. There wasn't enough overt condemnation of his behaviour to make me comfortable with the way it was played out.

I thought, for a time, that the portrayal was made worse by the fact that it was an all-male cast; but the more I thought about it, the more I wondered whether an all male company were, in fact, the only people who could do justice to such a storyline - the depressing truth being that it takes the overt abuse of a man at the hands of another man to really bring home the suffering Kate endures. It could have been too cruel were Kate played by a woman, and the strength of a man overpowered by Petrucio's cruelty may work to make the realisation all the more shocking.

I just don't know with this one, kids. It left a bad taste in my mouth, and I still can't get my head around why.

This House @ National Theatre
God bless NTLive, the National Theatre's endeavour to screen some of their biggest shows in cinemas up and down the country, and abroad. When I had a steadier job and income, I was back and forth to London an obscene amount, and was lucky enough to see loads of shows. These days, it's far more infrequent, and several live shows have passed me by - much as I'd prefer to see the shows in person, having NTLive to fall back on is a gift.

Particularly for a show like This House, which I would have been utterly foolish to miss*. Set in Whitehall between 1974 and 1979, it dramatises the inner workings of government during the period of hung parliament which saw the two leading parties grasping for as many votes as possible to push their policies through. We see the progression through the eyes and actions of the Chief Whip's offices, as they seduce the 'odds and sods' of fringe parties to their side, desperately trying to get the elderly, incapacitated and infirm into the House to make sure their policies are passed. The play cleverly backgrounds the rise of Thatcher in the Conservative party, which of course takes on a new poignancy watching it now, and the NTLive production featured an interview with Baroness Ann Taylor, who is herself portrayed in the play - and who paid testament to the play's accuracy.

Much as they present fictionalised versions of events, This House and shows like The Thick of It have both shed light on areas of government I never would have given a thought to before - whips, spin doctors, the men and women behind the faces we see everywhere. It's simultaneously fascinating and unnerving to see the cogs in the machine, even more so to realise those cogs are human beings.

Photo by Johan Persson.

A pacy, vibrant, smart and hilarious production with moments of real tenderness and honesty and some brilliant visual effects and choreography, it was a real tour de force from newbie writer James Graham. The cast of main characters were faultless, with the relationship between Charles Edwards and Reece Dinsdale's Deputy Whips in particular a delight, and the rapid accent, clothing and facial hair changes from the supporting cast being pretty damn impressive too.

Reece Dinsdale and Charles Edwards (photo by Johan Persson)

I could talk more about other aspects of the politics of the play that intrigue and unsettle me, like the change in the social makeup of the labour party since the 70s, and the heightened policy-based idealism these politicians seemed to have, as opposed to the glory-hunting that seems to pervade politics these days. This House hints at both these issues and more without thwacking you over the head with a sledgehammer. It directly played into my interests in changing class politics, and made me more determined to pursue study of it further.

Obviously, I can hardly say 'make sure you get tickets!' now the show itself has finished, but gosh it was worth seeing.

The History Boys @ Sheffield Crucible
If you think I am capable of being in any way objective about a production of The History Boys that stars one of my favourite actors in one of my favourite roles, then you are sadly mistaken. I will, however, give it a damn good shot.

When I heard about the Sheffield Crucible (one of my favourite theatres) putting on a production of the History Boys (my favourite play), which was going to run through June 7th (my birthday) and would star Will Featherstone (one of my favourite actors) as Scripps (my favourite character), I was honestly a little bit concerned that someone had been stalking my subconscious, because that it quite literally everything I love. Then finding out that Oliver Coopersmith was taking the role of Posner opposite Matthew Kelly's Hector? Well, I snapped up tickets as soon as humanly possible. There's always a wariness with something that, on paper, sounds so great - what if it doesn't live up to my preposterously high expectations? But in this case, I just knew it would. I had complete and utter faith, and I was not let down.

Will Featherstone and Scripps, in rehearsals. I had ENTIRELY PROPORTIONATE reactions to this photo. (Photo by Robert Day: source)

It. Was. Brilliant. Fast-pased, dynamic, dazzlingly kinetic and energetic, it was a production full of youthful exuberance with its feet planted firmly in the 80s. I concede, with a text this strong it's hard to go wrong, but there was so much newness to the play which meant it was, to me, entirely invigorated. The movement of the sets was cleverly done and refreshed every scene, emulating that clattery desk-and-chair noise only found in secondary schools. The dance and music breaks were wonderful, and the boys themselves moved around with pure teenage vibrancy, as if the soles of their very feet were itchy and they couldn't stand still. The metre-stick-boom and satchel-camera employed during the film recreations; the constant action at the back of the stage; Dakin's earring - all these little touches added to the raucous youthfulness of it all.

Photo by Robert Day: source

And still the play kept its gorgeous moments of poignancy and heartbreak. Posner's reward, the funeral, Hector's breakdown, "the best moments in reading..." - all gorgeous, as they should be. It's also wonderful to see lines you know backwards as fresh as ever, garnering huge laughs from the audience; Ross Anderson's delivery of Rudge's immortal "one fucking thing after another" went down a storm.

The performances (and accents) were excellent all round - Coopersmith's petite Posner, all buttoned up in his duffel coat, was heartbreakingly good, and I was not let down by Featherstone's charming, whip-smart Scripps (who's ability to playing a moving piano was particularly impressive).

Oliver Coopersmith as Posner (Photo by Robert Day: source)

The stand-out performance, though, was Tom Rhys Harries' Dakin, who entirely reinvented the character in my eyes. Other productions have recreated Dominic Cooper's swaggering, old-before-his-time dickbag - not a bad thing of course, as Cooper's portrayal is brilliant. But Rhys-Harries brought Dakin back to school. Younger, gentler, more wide-eyed, this was a Dakin who was still, ostensibly, a boy, who was just as lost as the others, just better at pretending not to be. There was a tenderness and timidness there I hadn't seen before, and it was wonderful.

Tom Rhys-Harries as Dakin (Photo by Robert Day: source)

There's a reason this is my favourite play, and stagings like this are the a reason I'll never tire of it.

***

*I say that having now seen it, so if I had missed it I would have no idea what I missed, but shh with your logic.

Six truth punches that changed the way I look at things forever

(trigger warning: rape and sexual abuse, racism, ableism, homophobia, transphobia)

Beans on toast; sunshine; Take Me Out -- sometimes the simplest of things are the best things.

I read a lot of stuff on the Internet. It's both important and enjoyable for me to read about politics, sexism, racism, ableism, body image issues and similar issues that fall under the umbrella of "social justice" – it helps to educate me and encourages me to adjust my thoughts and behaviours in order, as I have previous put it, to not be dick. I've read so many incredible lengthy pieces of writing (whether blogging or journalism*), which I frequently bookmark or email to people to spread them around.

But sometimes, it only takes one sentence to absolutely transform the way I think about something, or to sum up an issue to perfection. Often referred to as a Truth Bomb, my preferred nomenclature is the Truth Punch – something that comes out of the blue, punches you smack between the eyes, and leaves you dazed, cartoon birds circling your head. And afterwards, everything looks a bit different; things have shifted, become more clear.

I thought I'd collect up six examples of times I've read a sentence or thought, and felt like I've been knocked for six.

ONE

(source)

Nobody deserves to be sexually assaulted in any way, regardless of how they're dressed. By stating that a woman is in any way responsible for being attacked because of her clothing choices, not only are you insinuating that she invited a violent sexual act upon herself (NO), you're insulting men, too -- suggesting that, in the face of a short skirt or low-cut top, they become physically unable to resist turning into a monster and attacking someone.

No. People are raped because someone decided to rape them, and while in a world that is already broken, keeping oneself safe is key, teaching women how to "not get raped" is ridiculous when it's not paired with explicitly teaching people to "not rape". If a person is going to rape someone, and decides to choose their victim based on the length of their skirt, then they will find someone to rape. If you're promoting changes to women's behaviour to "prevent" rape, you're really saying "make sure he rapes the other girl". The culture in which anybody thinks it's okay to sexually attack someone is the thing that needs to be changed, not the height of the victim's heels.

TWO

(source - though I'm 99% sure this isn't the original source, I just can't find the real one)

Ah, the Friendzone. A concept made up by guys (and perpetuated by everyone) who were super pissed that someone they were nice to didn't give them unfettered access to her pants. Oversimplified, yes, but that's the jist of it. The concept of the friendzone is 99% bullshit – if someone doesn't want to be with you, despite you being a nice person, that is not their fault. They're not into you in that way, so quit being an butthole about it.

While this applies to relationships between people of any gender identity, it's most frequently found between guys and girls, and as the latter, I can assure you that it's extremely creepy and disappointing to think that the only reason a guy would want to be friends with me is as a means to an end – that end being getting his end away. Women are not vending machines that you put kindness coins into until sex falls out. Just because you're a nice person to someone (shock horror, a friend!), doesn't mean they owe you anything: sex, eternal love, nada.

THREE
Annoyingly, I don't have an image for this one (my perfectionist heart is crying a bit) as I can't recall the exact phrasing, but the quote was something along the lines of:

As a white person, saying "I don't see race" is basically saying "I wish everyone was white".

It is, of course, an admirable ideology to be anti-racist, but saying "I don't see race/I wish we lived in a world where people don't see race" is crazy problematic. It comes from a place of erasure rather than equality; it says, "I wish you didn't have the qualities that make you different from me", suggesting that the victim is the person who should have something changed about them in order to make everything okay. For white people to reach equality with people of colour, we shouldn't be ignoring race. Instead, we should be making the time to understand and appreciate the differences, learning about the issues that have lead to the imbalance of power between racial and ethnic groups, and making the effort not to treat someone differently because you don't share a skin colour (like it's actually an effort - it's just 'being a decent human')**. Kerry Washington sums it up here; erasing someone's culture and history is not cool.

FOUR

(source)

This comes from the incredibly erudite and excellent Ali, whose blog you should all go and read because she's super rad. My mad skillz have allowed me to highlight the section that hit hardest, the Truth Punch: When I hear skinny girls obsessing about their weight, all I hear is "I don't want to turn into you". I don't have a commentary on this, because I haven't thought or read enough about body shaming and its surrounding issues to write one, but it shocked me into realisation, and really made me think about the very personal effect of the way I, and the rest of the world, see and talk about our bodies.

FIVE

(source)

It's really the first sentence of this passage that, for me, is the actual Truth Punch, but it's all good. I won't go into too much detail on this one, because I've covered it already in my previous post, but it hardly takes explaining, really. Political correctness isn't an assault on your free speech, it's adjusting your language to not marginalise people – it's evening the score. The defensive "oh it's political correctness gone mad!" is just a reaction to being calling out on linguistic bullshit. Politically correct is just a term assholes came up with so they can dismiss people who have the nerve to want to be respected. It's not imbalancing something that's already equal, it's redressing an imbalance that already exists. Nothing is lost - equality is gained.

SIX

(source, but again I don't know if this is the original artist!)

This one is a pictorial Truth Punch rather than a written one, but its excellent simplicity works just the same. This is occasionally a more controversial opinion to hold, because the consequences appear to negatively affect those in a position of privilege (they don't in reality, but they appear to). Equality isn't just about giving everybody the same chances; it's about redressing imbalances that are so ingrained in our society that we don't see them any more. It's not enough to open things up, in my opinion - concentrated effort should be made to gain ground for marginalised groups, whether they be ethnic groups, the disabled, those who have changed gender, whatever.

This often leads to people in positions of privilege claiming that they are 'victims' of affirmative action, that they missed out on something because of box-ticking and filling quotas. I call bullshit - I doubt any sensible person would give an opportunity to someone less worthy because they have to make numbers. We still live in a meritocracy, and people gain based on what they have to offer. But if two people are in exactly the same position? Well, if a small amount of box-ticking is what it takes to equalise a vastly unequal society, then so be it. I happen to think the burden is on those of us in positions of power and privilege to even the score. (Obviously this is a tricksy subject, though, so commentary and response are welcomed.)

***

So, there they are. Six quick shocks to the system that made me rethink, re-evaluate and adjust my system of belief. Extended commentary and discussion is great, but occasionally, simplicity is key.

*A distinction it seems odd to even make.
**Among other things, of course. That simple shift in behaviour isn't going to solve racism.