When someone mentions British actors, who do you think of? Your mind probably jumps to people like Benedict Cumberbatch, Tom Hiddleston or Eddie Redmayne. Certainly, this appears to be a leap made by many a casting director. Yet all three of these actors represent the same, incredibly small, part of Britain. All of them were born and raised in London and all of them attended independent schools. Hiddleston and Redmayne overlap even more closely – both are from Westminster, London, and both went to Eton College and then Cambridge University. These are just three names out of many: Hugh Laurie, Hugh Grant, Dominic West, Harry Lloyd, Kate Beckinsale, Rosamund Pike, Ian McKellen, Tilda Swinton, Sacha Baron Cohen, Rowan Atkinson, Hugh Dancy, Thandie Newton – all attended either Eton College, Oxbridge, or both. Include the other fee-paying schools of Britain and the list expands to include almost all the most successful actors our country has produced, to say nothing of our writers, producers, directors, comedians, etc. About seven percent of British children attend fee-paying schools and yet they as a group are vastly over-represented in our entertainment industry. As someone who attended a state school, and who depends on receiving the maximum amount possible in way of bursary and student loans, it is impossible not to become even more aware of this imbalance during my time at Oxford – where on average between forty and fifty percent of the new student joining each year come from independent schools, and far wealthier backgrounds than I.
Let me be
clear: I am middle class. While financially I am not privileged, I still have a
Southern, middle-class accent which makes the acting industry more open to me.
Having an accent associated with the working class is a disadvantage for an
actor, in a similar way to Scottish actors who wish to ‘make it’ first having
to produce a decent English accent. Actress Maxine Peake has spoken about being
told to ‘tone down’ her Lancashire accent for parts and Christopher Eccleston,
also from Lancashire, has talked about his accent holding him back from
Shakespeare in particular, as there is a perception that working class actors
are not suited to classical theatre – and these are just two examples from
working class actors who have managed to make a career for themselves and are
in a position to raise awareness of this issue. Many would-be working class
actors are put off ever even attempting to make a living at it because of these
biases. Even if we imagine there is no prejudice involved, that no working
class actor has ever been judged for their accent or their background, there
just aren’t many working class parts, and those that do exist are often
supporting roles designed for comic relief. I have seen this phenomenon
in student productions here at Oxford. The University of Oxford has one of the
highest concentrations of wealthy, privately educated young people in the
country, and also a fantastic drama scene. It is disappointing that perhaps the
most consistent representation of the working class scene in Oxford student
drama is a servile, supporting role in a Shakespeare play portrayed by a
privileged person in an exaggerated imitation of a working class accent – a
character there to be laughed at, not with.
We must be conscious of our skewed demographic and make efforts to ensure the only portrayals of working class characters are not just supporting roles played out for laughs. Classism is something I have rarely heard discussed in Oxford, despite the fact that clearly, these discussions are more important here than at most other universities in the UK. We need to talk about discrimination against working class people, and acknowledge these biases within ourselves. How many of us have thought nothing of referring to people as ‘chavs’? In practical terms, the Oxford University Dramatic Society can focus their attentions and funding to putting on more plays written by marginalised people, encourage open discussion about class in acting, and raise support and awareness of vital charities like Open Door and Arts Emergency and campaigns like Actor Awareness, all of which are doing great work to encourage more working class people into careers in the arts, and offering support to make such a career more practical for people who have no family or family money they might fall back on.
The recent implementation of an Access, Diversity and Equity Rep and an Outreach Rep is a welcome step, and hopefully evidence of increasing awareness amongst our student population of class inequality in media. Alasdair Linn, President of OUDS, commented that “OUDS is making changes to improve the Oxford drama scene and the elitism that is inherent within it, a result of the many problems of access and representation within the institution of the University itself. We want to make it clear we are having these conversations, actively changing what we can do as a committee and are always open and wanting to hear from students about any issues and concerns. We aim to particularly support and encourage creatives from all backgrounds, especially working class creatives, to direct, produce and write for the New Writing Festival which aims to platform underrepresented voices on stage.”
I will be looking to see more of a working class point of view in our drama in future. Ultimately, after graduating many of us will go on to work in the entertainment industry, be that acting, writing, directing, or in any other capacity, and it is crucial that those of us who go on to have careers in entertainment remain committed to inclusivity, to tackling discrimination within the industry and to making such a career accessible to people from all walks of life.
I’ll be honest, at the start of lockdown I was terrified. Sitting in my childhood bedroom with Taylor Swift posters on the wall and my A-Level folders crammed beneath my bed, it was easy to feel like I’d been transported back to, and trapped in, my sixth form self. For me, that would include having a precarious relationship with food. The chaos of university had put this on the back burner for a while but, stuck inside these old four walls again, the familiar feelings of early teenage insecurity came flooding back. It was as though all progress I had made had been erased and I was back to square one, warily eyeing my plate three times a day.
But some things have changed. Maybe even irreversibly so. Next to my old (and frankly despised) physics textbooks now lie recipe books, some entirely dedicated to cheese, that I have gleefully pored over for hours. Next to my school timetable hang photos of new friends and messy nights out ending in beloved cheesy chips (Hassan’s, if you’re reading this, I miss you). My school uniform hangs side by side with my proudly ironed gown, witness to many a 4-course formal.
Maybe this is a sign that I desperately need to do a deep-clean (who still has their year 13 timetable on their pinboard?), but it is also indicative of far more than that. Lockdown has physically forced me to confront the massive changes that have occurred in my life over the past year. The strange combination of old and new versions of me that now make up who I am have suddenly become tangible. I am not the person I was last year, and my approach to food has improved beyond belief. Despite often having days where I still struggle, my attitude has, if not entirely changed, nevertheless shifted. My body and food are no longer sworn enemies but rather respectful acquaintances, occasionally even friends. Without weeks of compulsory isolation, I never would have taken the time to reflect on this newfound resilience.
Armed with this fresh self-awareness, I re-entered the world of quarantine. It is undeniable that, since March, much of our lives have revolved around food. Though the days of panic-buying pasta feel a lifetime ago, and even the bread baking mania seems to have calmed down, food is still everywhere. Not a day goes by where I don’t hear my family discuss the ‘quarantine 15’ or their detailed weight-loss regimes. With Joe Wicks and constant ‘fun home workout routines!’ clogging up my feed, it honestly sometimes feels like an obsession has gripped the nation. It speaks volumes that in the midst of a pandemic, we are still so scared of getting fat.
Last year, this would, without a doubt, have been a sucker-punch to my self-esteem. But my new perspective towards food has helped to combat this diet culture. Every time it rears its ugly head up in conversation over dinner, I help myself to another serving of Parmesan cheese. Or drink another glass of wine. This technique doesn’t solve everything and it by no means is always easy, but I try. Because really? I don’t think that concerns about weight gain should even dare approach anyone’s radar screens right now. We have much bigger issues to solve.
I’ve realised that I am now more than welcoming of any potential weight gain, a viewpoint so shockingly different to where I was last year that it’s almost laughable. Especially during such unprecedented times, fat is, if anything, a blessing. Of course, it’s important to do your best to stay healthy, but in a pandemic ‘healthy’ takes on a wildly different meaning. There’s no way you could expect your body to stay the same shape as when you were able to freely walk everywhere, go to the gym, and didn’t need to comfort eat your way through quite as many existential crises. With your entire life disrupted, it only makes sense for your body to change too.
Now, more than ever, it’s worth remembering how vital our bodies are to our own survival. Without them, we simply wouldn’t exist. I’m grateful for everything that my body has carried me through, every trial and error, every triumph, every mistake. I refuse to punish it for needing some extra protective coating in what is, quite literally, a global health crisis. If this is what my body needs for comfort, to get through what can feel like staggering loads of stress, then who am I to deny it of basic sustenance? I haven’t worn jeans (or any kind of relatively tight-fitting trousers for that matter) in months, but I have no doubt that when I finally do, they will be a little snugger and my belt will be a little more unnecessary. If having to abandon my belts or go up a dress size or two is the worst that comes out of this pandemic for me, then I will be unbelievably overjoyed. Generously loving my body for what it does is a maxim I aim to live by for the foreseeable future.
In the meantime, I plan to use the vacation to further explore my love for food. From homemade carveries to failed attempts at the TikTok Dalgona coffee, my kitchen will soon wish it could see the back of me. I’ve finally realised how freeing enjoying food can be, and I am adamant not to let anything stop me. I’m excited to make cinnamon rolls next week. I’m excited to try a rice pudding recipe I’ve had bookmarked for years but have always been too scared to make. And I’m excited to do all of this without obsessively counting calories. If that means that by the end of lockdown there will be slightly more of me, then so be it.
When life returns to normal, I’m sure many of my lockdown habits will disappear. At least I certainly hope so – being the girl who does TikTok dances every Thursday night at Bridge is not a reputation I strive to earn. But I also hope that I will emerge from my home, slightly cautious and scared of socialisation, yet ultimately proud of what my body has done for me over the past few months. I’ll be a little rounder, a little less well-groomed, but I will have survived this crisis.
As I head to the cheese floor, ready for another inevitable night of mistakes, the buttons on my skirt will strain more than usual. On my way home, I won’t hesitate before joining the queue at the kebab van. Food has found a home in my life again, and I will do my utmost to keep it by my side.
Beat provides information and support for anyone affected by an eating disorder. You can call their student helpline at 0808 801 0811, or visit them at beateatingdisorders.org.uk.
If you were to walk into the University of Antioquia in Colombia and navigate through the maze of halls until you found the law faculty, the first thing you would be confronted with is a grid of faces displayed on the wall. It would only be natural to assume it was a faculty board. Your assumption would be wrong. The faces staring back at you are the members of the University, students and teachers alike, who have died fighting for human rights in Colombia. Some are young, some old, but all chose to actively participate in a fight for what they believe in, in a country where it is not safe to do so. When I visited the University last summer, I was impressed by the frequency and variety of protests. I walked through a hall with pictures of human rights defenders hanging from the ceiling, obstructing the path. A student explained to me that the inconvenience caused by having to navigate through the hanging faces as you walk from class to class serves as a reminder of the mass disruption in the lives of the protesters themselves. Activism should not be easy and in Colombia, this is a given.
Last year alone, the deaths of 107 activists in Colombia were confirmed by the United Nations. To put this in perspective, the report by Front Line Defenders estimated that there were just over 300 murders of human rights defenders across 31 different countries. For Colombia to make up a third of this loss is heart-breaking. Those most at risk are defenders of particularly vulnerable communities such as indigenous or Afro-Colombian groups. The coronavirus crisis has only served to exacerbate this situation. Social mechanisms and organisations created to defend human rights protectors have been scaled back or put on hold due to health risks. With the country’s government and police forces preoccupied, and Colombia imposing a strict quarantine, the number of defenders murdered this year is expected to rise.
Activists in Colombia are as diverse as they are passionate. Michel Forst, the United Nations special rapporteur on human rights defenders described civil society in Colombia as “vibrant, active, dynamic and engaged”, stating that these individuals are “agents of change who preserve democracy and ensure that it remains open, pluralistic and participatory.” What makes Colombia unique is that these social leaders are almost always ordinary men and women, often living in small towns or villages, who have witnessed injustice first-hand and decided to act. Amnesty International has identified a few of the hundreds of these defenders and created profiles on them as part of their campaign to ensure that the government affords social leaders adequate protection. One such advocate is Damaris, an indigenous woman who has become a figurehead for environmental activism in the North of Colombia. Her campaign began after witnessing the damage that mining activity had done to her region’s ecosystem. Damaris raised awareness of the issues by bringing women in the indigenous community together, this, in spite of difficulties she herself had to overcome as a woman stepping out of the role dictated by her culture. Ezequiel is another activist, who has fought for decades to protect his rural community from violence. After suffering numerous threats, Colombia’s National Protection Unit allocated him individual security. He rejected this, stating that his whole community and not just him, deserved equal protection. Despite years of struggle, Ezequiel has managed to create a “humanitarian zone” for his area in which armed groups are not allowed to enter. This success has, however, only compounded the number and severity of the threats he receives. These are only a few instances of individuals across the country fighting for freedom, protection, and individuality.
Pablo Emilio Angarita is the co-author of the book Violencia, seguridad y derechoshumanos (Violence, Security and Human Rights) and the recently retired Professor of Law and Human Rights at the Universidad de Antioquia in Medellín. Pablo was an activist for many years, working as the Director of the Instituto Popular de Capacitación, an NGO, and assisting on the human rights committee in Antioquia. Amongst other things, his role in creating a community of students and lawyers who were willing to offer judicial knowledge to vulnerable clients eventually resulted in him being imprisoned for over 50 days on fabricated terrorism charges. I spoke with him about his personal experiences, his struggles, and the journey human rights activism has undergone in Colombia.
(Translated and summarised from Spanish)
Would you tell me about any difficult personal experiences you have suffered as a Human Rights Defender in Colombia?
“In 1987 I was the labour law professor at the Universidad Autónoma Latino Americana and a director of an NGO in the city. It was a dangerous time where there were frequent deaths and a huge number of forced disappearances across much of South America. I was part of a small team of lawyers who were doing a lot of work with the unions at the time, and this had attracted significant national attention. On this particular afternoon, I was working in my office with a group of other human rights lawyers when the military broke into the office. Four of us were taken and accused of being terrorists working in the service of drug dealers. You can imagine the fear and confusion. Our faces were everywhere. The news was covered with stories of us using our work as lawyers as a cover for an expansive narcotics business.
“There are many aspects of the experience that are painful for me to remember. Before we were taken to jail, we were blindfolded almost constantly and were made to walk through the jungle to various locations. For us, there was no physical pain, but the psychological anguish was constant. We would often hear screams in rooms nearby and fear that whatever things were happening would soon be happening to us. We didn’t know what would happen and whether we would ever see our loved ones again. The possibility that we would become just another disappearance was on my mind constantly.
“At the time in Colombia, there was huge panic about the Medellín drug cartel who were terrorising the country. The cartel wanted the government to negotiate on extradition to the US and were using frequent attacks as a bargaining chip to pressurise the state. What was especially bad news for us, and almost became the nail in our coffins, was that the week after the four of us were captured and sent to jail, a lot of the terrorist actions in Medellín stopped. This was, of course, portrayed as a success due to the capture of us “corrupt lawyers”.
“We were lucky enough that our case was known both nationally and internationally and we had amazing people working around the clock to get us out. Amnesty International became involved and sent frequent messages to the government. My students, staged protests throughout the city, raising awareness of what was happening. I consider myself extraordinarily fortunate in this sense. We spent 53 days in prison but without national and international pressure on our behalf, it could have been 20 years.”
What was Colombian prison like at the time?
“The way that prisons operated in Colombia when I was there in 1987 was a direct reflection of outside society. Those with power on the outside have connections and power on the inside. Some prisoners lived very well and had access to a huge variety of luxuries from musicians to fine wine, whilst others had to suffer every hardship of jail. The four of us felt privileged in that every day we would receive messages of encouragement from students or organisations who were fighting and campaigning on our behalf. But it was terrifying. Almost every day, someone would die in prison. As we were accused of being involved in the drug trade, which had affected and destroyed the lives of hundreds of Colombians, we were constantly afraid that a prisoner may try to exact revenge on us, for a brother or father who may have been a victim of the violence.”
Do you think the situation has improved nowadays for defenders of human rights?
“A number of developments have occurred relatively recently which have impacted the situation. The most obvious is the 2016 Peace Treaty between the Colombian government and the FARC (Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia). As soon as the peace process was signed, many of the armed groups were demobilised, a significant step forward, and an indicator of change. The violence of the war has decreased and there are fewer casualties which, of course, signifies increased safety. Time precludes me from going into detail on this vast topic, but the current problem Colombia is faced with is that despite this peace treaty, there are sectors (such as extreme right groups) that are opposed to the peace process and therefore continue promoting the war. As well as this, there are other groups active in Colombia such as the ELN (National Liberation Army), who were not a part of the peace treaty and have called on the government to negotiate peace with them. As the government has not been paying attention, or enough attention, according to these groups, they try to force recognition by using terrorist tactics. Then there are problems with the treaty itself. There are private sectors, especially in the countryside that are not happy with the peace accord as concerns the fight for land in Colombia. Mass displacement has occurred over the years and many small land-owners are naturally infuriated at their land having been taken from them. They are campesinos (farm workers) who have been stripped of everything and forced into the city with their families to look for jobs and a new way to survive. Yet another, more controversial factor is that there are allegations against the current president of Colombia’s political party, the Democratic Centre, that indicate that there are reasons for the government not wanting to fully implement the peace treaty. One of the requirements of the treaty is that the government come clean about their actions and that the implications of the part that they played in the war come to light. There are allegations that they were involved in paying to assassinate social leaders, and that they facilitated the displacement and forced possession of land. This is a highly complex situation and although the situation has improved for activists since the treaty, defenders are still at high risk. Therefore, although there is hope, and there have been improvements, there is still a long way to go.”
What role do you believe the government plays in protecting activists?
“Naturally, some governments in Colombia have been more supportive than others. What I will say is that even though our governments believe and promote the fact that they work within the law and within the democratic frame, there are millions of threads that lead and tie them into the service of the elite and small groups of rich landowners. Governments maintain the appearance of democracy, that the state is in service of the people, that both law and government are neutral. In my opinion, this is a smokescreen. Diverting us away from the reality that the law and the state serve the powerful. In countries such as Colombia, history has shown that powerful people give money to politicians, they fund their political campaigns and so when these people reach government, there is a debt to pay. When governments act, they do this due to certain motivations and pressures. It pains me to think that if not for international pressure applied by groups such as Amnesty International, we may have stayed in prison for years longer, accused of being terrorists just because we were doing human rights work.”
Why do you think activists carry on fighting for their various causes, despite the risks being so high? What motivates them to continue?
“The life force behind the strong social movement in Colombia is the hope that these dreams will soon be converted into reality. Men and Women work to support mental health, to fight for feminism, agriculture, education, there are all manner of causes. Despite the situation, the driving force is always happiness and hope for the future. Yes, we cry when something happens to our loved ones and yet we dance salsa and cumbia, we protest and we march, and when we do, it feels like a celebration of something.”
Pablo ended the interview by quoting a well-known saying in the streets of Colombia: “They took so much away, that they even took our fear.” We love our country and we fight for a better tomorrow.
—
Colombia has been fighting for peace for as long as many of its citizens can remember. A country that boasts the greatest biodiversity per square foot of any country in the world. A place famed for its coffee, salsa, and the spirit of its people. A population that, despite countless struggles and hardships is consistently rated as one of the happiest in the world. Huge improvements have been made in recent years, with Medellín, in the past known as the murder capital of the world, being termed the World’s Smartest City, winning the World City Prize in 2016, and being universally acknowledged for its innovation. In comparison to 1993, Medellin’s homicide rate is 1/20th of what it was and 2/3s of those in extreme poverty have emerged from their situation. This is just one example of the potential and progress that Colombia has shown. Injustice works in darkness and significant efforts have occurred to shine a light on human rights abuses in Latin America. With groups such as Amnesty International, Front Line Defenders, and the OHCHR campaigning and petitioning the government directly for increased protection of human rights defenders, clear and workable recommendations have been put forward. If these are enacted and real change is actualised, then activists can concentrate on fighting for their causes without fearing for their lives, a significant step forward in Colombia’s journey towards peace.
“Los seres humanos no nacen para siempre el día en que sus madres los alumbran, sino que la vida los obliga a parirse a símismos una y otra vez”.
“He allowed himself to be swayed by his conviction that human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but that life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.” ― Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera
All colleges will operate a “household” approach to accommodation next year to minimise the spread of COVID-19, Oxford University has announced.
Colleges are planning to group students into “households” in accommodation where they “share high-contact facilities such as bathrooms or kitchens.” Colleges and faculties have been preparing for the change.
Merton College is conducting a “worst case” housing ballot for undergraduates, on the assumption that “households” may be required.
Some rooms will be removed from the ballot if they are in houses which accommodate too many students for one household. This means that no living space will house more than 6-8 people. The spare rooms will be converted into kitchenettes, equipped with fridges, microwaves, and toasters.
The College will add five new houses to the ballot to make up for the loss of rooms elsewhere.
An earlier email from the Biochemistry department said students will be allocated a household of six to eight people on their corridor or living space.
If a student tests positive for COVID-19, their entire household must self-isolate for two weeks. Within the household, social distancing will not be required.
Balliol Master Helen Ghosh told students in an email that “all colleges will operate a system of ‘households’ for up to 8 students and occasionally more.”
In an email seen by Cherwell, Ghosh said that colleges were taking the measure to “minimise the number of students who have to self-isolate if any one of them gets COVID-10.”
Ghosh said: “If one person in the ‘household’ has a positive test, then everyone in it will have to self-isolate for whatever is the prescribed period. But this doesn’t mean that students will have to move around in a household ‘bubble’.
“Outside their staircase, flat or household zone, students will simply have to operate within normal social distancing and other rules, whether for teaching/studying, eating, or socialising. We may need to adapt some spaces to act as teaching rooms, so that we can ensure proper distancing and enable strict cleaning regimes.”
Further details of the University’s plans for Michaelmas include a University testing service, a comprehensive health regime, and supporting students who have to self-isolate, including international students arriving in the UK. There will also be online teaching for those unable to take part in face-to-face teaching.
The University of
Oxford has published its statistics for Student Welfare and Support Services in
the 2018-19 academic year.
The report shows that demand for the Counselling Service increased, with 12.1% of students seeking counselling. This represents a 0.9% increase on the 2017-18 figure. The number of students accessing counselling has risen consistently since 2007-08, when 5.5% of students sought counselling. In total, 2,958 students accessed the Service in 2018-19.
Due to the increased demand, the average waiting time for an appointment increased slightly to 8.9 working days. Similarly, the average number of counselling sessions per student is at an all-time low level of 3.1.
The report says:
“There is increasing evidence that we are now under-serving some students,
sending them away without having had adequate time to make secure progress.
This is reflected in greater numbers of students returning to the service
seeking supplementary sessions.”
The number of
students declaring a disability has risen to 17.9% of undergraduates, a total
of 4,387 students. The most common disability declared are mental health
conditions (29.6%), followed by learning difficulties (27%).
In response to
increased demand, the University recruited additional advisors, reducing the
student to advisor ratio. A specialist mental health advisor was also
introduced to support the increased number of students disclosing mental health
issues.
Feedback for the Counselling Service and the Disability Advisory Service (DAS) was largely positive. 95% of students rated their experience of the Counselling Service as good or very good, and 90% of students said that the support arranged for them by the DAS was helpful.
The University has also released statistics for the Sexual Harassment and Violence Support Service, which was launched in the 2018-19 academic year. The Service provides support to any students affected by sexual harassment and violence.
The vast majority of students accessing the Service were female. Almost 150 female students sought support compared to 21 male students. Rape and sexual assault accounted for 44% of the cases reported.
The report states that it provides support to students who have been accused of sexual harassment and violence. The Service supported nine accused students last year.
The University reports that demand for the service was higher than expected. Feedback to the service was positive with respondents saying they were comfortable speaking to their advisor. However, only 10 of the 52 students contacted gave feedback.
Gilian Hamnett,
Director of Student Welfare and Support Services, said: “We are pleased and heartened to see
such high levels of satisfaction from students using our welfare and support
services. Supporting the
wellbeing, safety and mental health of all of our students is always a key
priority for the University. As demand has increased for our counselling
services, waiting times have also alongside this (8.9 working days), however
they remain significantly below the sector-wide average wait time of 52 days.
“Earlier this year the University signed up to Big White Wall, and can
now offer 24 hour online mental health support to all students. The move to
remote learning during the pandemic has been challenging for all, and we want
our students to feel connected and supported at all times. To help
students during the lockdown we have also released targeted welfare and mental
health advice through our blog and podcasts.
“In keeping inclusive teaching and learning at the heart of our strategy
moving forward, it will eventually
become unnecessary to make special arrangements for most disabled students.
Instead, their needs will have been anticipated and largely met, and they can
be treated like any other student, which we know many would prefer. However,
support services will still remain available and accessible at all times.
“The user response to our Sexual Violence and Harassment Service is
equally encouraging to see. The University continues to work in collaboration
with local services like OSARCC to provide support to anyone affected by these
incidents.
“There is always room for improvement and student feedback continues to be vital to the effectiveness of our services and the support that we provide. Where concerns are raised we commit to engaging constructively with students to address them.”
Oxford SU Disability Campaign and It Happens Here have been contacted for comment.
2020 has been a strange, stunted year for music, as it has for all art forms. Nevertheless, several exceptional albums had been released or recorded even before the terms ‘self-isolation’ or ‘social distancing’ had been coined, and coronavirus-induced lockdowns seem to have sparked a new productivity in certain key figures of the pop world. Here are ten albums that Cherwell’s music contributors have judged to be among the best of this weird, weird year so far:
Charli XCX – how i’m feeling now
To say that Charli has her finger
on the beating pulse of the current global situation would not be enough. The
album accurately describes the thing that we’re all struggling with right now,
trying to create something amongst the current madness. how i’m feeling now
is a direct product of winning that battle with boredom and procrastination. It
is, paradoxically, a professional rendition of a DIY art project. It is
personal, genuine, polished, unpolished, and covered in PVA and glitter. Words
like ‘unpolished’, ‘crunchy’, and ‘sickening’ wouldn’t typically be used to describe
a ‘Masterpiece’ album. Yet, that’s kind of the point. Hyper-Pop walks the
tightrope of cheesy trash and truly boundary pushing music production with such
subtle finesse that the ‘ironic hipster’ mindset is necessary to really
appreciate it. Adam Hewitt
Dua Lipa’s sophomore album Future
Nostalgia is pop escapism at its best, just when we need it most. She
succeeds in building on the successes of her chart-topping first album by
layering her well-established vocals and commanding lyrics with new sounds in
pursuit of a cohesive and innovative follow-up that certainly tops its
predecessor. The singer belts her way through break-ups, new love and female
empowerment, all whilst remaining upbeat, optimistic and, ultimately, fun.
Catchy, bright and enthusiastic, the album leaves the listener with no option
but to dance along and be pulled into its worry-free world, if only for a few
minutes. The album marks a turning point in her own career, as well as marking
Lipa out from her pop peers. Future Nostalgia is completely its own,
refusing to fade into the background of the crowded field of contemporary pop
music. Emily Cope
Fiona Apple astonishes on her
fifth full-length outing, a record that will likely be talked about for years.
She weaves a rich musical tapestry of sounds and images. What is patently clear
from this record is how intuitive Apple’s music can feel; in the same way as it
works itself beneath your skin, Apple herself works from the ground up, raising
rhythm from every sonic crack and gulf. It is perhaps through this vertical
movement that Apple manages to escape her confines and float forever upwards.
This reminds the listener that Fetch the Bolt Cutters is a work with the
refined knowledge of the escape artist, the wire-walker, the trapeze artist:
that winning elixir of muscle memory and self-knowledge. You can’t knock her
off-balance. “Kick me under the table all you want,” she says, “I won’t shut
up.” Lukas Lacey-Hughes
At the time of writing, two
singles have been released from Julianna Barwick’s upcoming album Healing Is
A Miracle, releasing on 10th July. So far, it seems like this album is
exactly what is needed at the moment. She began recording the songs last year, with
the sole motivation of “making something for myself, just for the love of it
[…] I was recording music that was just from the heart”. Especially right now,
as many of us reassess what is important in our lives, I think that is a
beautiful sentiment.
And both singles reflect this
goal. ‘Inspirit’ begins solely with layered voices in a soaring and fading
soundscape – this is heavenly on its own, but when the droning electronic bass
comes in partway through, the song takes on a transcendent and meditative feel.
‘In Light’, the second single, released in collaboration with Sigur Rós’s
Jónsi, moves away from this reflective nature with percussion and pulsing
vocals, adding dynamic motion and an uplifting sense of hope. With more songs
on the way with collaborators such as harpist Mary Lattimore and electronic
artist Nosaj Thing, and the known ability of Barwick to create both stunning
and haunting works, it looks like my next few days are going to be
enlightening. Adam Kavanagh
The album’s title, translating as
‘winter’s journey’ in German, is a name fit for an opera. And an opera it is – Winterreise
is meticulously arranged, its songs flowing into each other in congruent
movements, despite the fact that most of them have had single releases at some
point over the last few years. The precocious Fendrix is at centre stage, a
natural performer who embodies personas with ease; what else do you expect from
someone whose stage name is itself rockstar material, equal parts legendary
guitarist reference and bizarre sexual innuendo? Fred Waine
[Song for Our Daughter] is
a quietly powerful album, with moments of softness interspersed with more
upbeat folk-rock. Her lyrics are introspective and wise, and, set against her
characteristically clear vocals, make you feel like you’re being offered advice
by an old-soul kind of sister or friend. Building from 2017’s Semper Femina,
Marling explores femininity in all its facets, this time directing her wisdom
to an imagined daughter, a figure she describes as ‘The Girl’. It is this
universalized listener that she feels she can now guide through life, or, as
she describes it, “the chaos of living”. Exactly as she says, the album is like
a ‘whisper’ – gentle, brooding snippets of advice that drift into your
consciousness through Marling’s clear and soulful voice. Florine Lips
With the release of their
fourteenth studio album, and 35 years after their first number one ‘West End
Girls’, Pet Shop Boys could be forgiven for sliding into middle-aged mediocrity
or, worse, becoming their own tribute band. Their album Hotspot
demonstrates neither. From the instantly-identifiable opening song
‘Will-o-the-wisp’, incorporating typically catchy keyboard riffs in the
time-honoured tradition, to ‘Wedding in Berlin’, the closing satirisation of
marriage which pairs the Wedding March with a pulsating dance beat, the album
remains lively and varied. More playful songs such as ‘Monkey business’ act in
contrast to quietly reflective songs, the products of a career in music which
has now spanned five decades. The latter is exemplified by ‘Burning the
heather’, a sombre and melancholic account of solitude which is a product of
singer Neil Tennant’s time living on the moors of County Durham.
The highlight has to be the lead single ‘Dreamland’, a refreshing collaboration between two generations of queer synth-pop icons in Neil Tennant and Olly Alexander, who had previously described Pet Shops Boys as “two of my heroes”. Harking back to the 1987 number one ‘It’s a Sin’, ‘Dreamland’ seeks a more general escape from the modern political climate, with the eponymous location being a place where “you don’t need a Visa, you can come and go and still be here”. The urgent feel is combined with a catchy chorus and toe-tapping beat, typical of the philosophy of a lead singer who once said “we do politics through satire”. Yet this is not to detract from the relevancy of the album. Released in an uncertain time, it is little wonder that Tennant and Alexander sing in ‘Dreamland’ that they “don’t wanna wake up”. Joe Hyland Deeson
Rina Sawayama – SAWAYAMA
Rina Sawayama emerges shimmering on her debut LP, SAWAYAMA.
It’s clear that emulating Y2K has become her signature brand, and it’s one
which is increasingly popular with the emerging generation of young people who
grew up in that era. Alongside fresh ideas, as she thematically intertwines
critiques of capitalism and patriarchy with an exploration of her experience as
a British-Japanese woman, Sawayama successfully takes inspiration from the
music of her childhood to craft an album that feels authentically her. She has
already crafted her own pop persona, and now artfully plays on a generation’s
memories of childhood, while offering fresh subject material to encapsulate the
mood of her late twenties. She’s angry at the world, reflecting on the choices
of her younger self, as she attempts to put the pieces of her current identity
together. And that’s why it works so well – aren’t we all? Sofia Henderson
It Is What It Is, the
latest album of American artist Thundercat, is both far from and close to the
previous port of call. In terms of genre, it’s all over the place: hip hop,
funk, disco, and ambient all vie for position in this album, creating a
wonderful mixture of songs with Thundercat’s characteristic falsetto, warping
bass and odd harmonies. Artists such as Childish Gambino, Steve Lacy, Steve
Arrington, and BadBadNotGood make their appearance and add to the joy of
listening, but Thundercat shines through to steal the show.
It is, of course, his creation,
and, in this regard, it is close to the messages of (Julianna Barwick’s) Healing
Is A Miracle. The album is a labour of love for Thundercat: it tackles the
complex emotions and philosophical musings surrounding the loss of the late Mac
Miller (to whom this album is dedicated). But then again, some of the tracks
are just downright hilarious.
The lines “I may be covered in
cat hair/but I still smell good” are one of the many reasons why ‘Dragonball
Durag’ is my favourite track. It’s so chill and friendly and has a tune that I
couldn’t get out of my head for days. ‘Overseas’, featuring Zack Fox, also
carries this comedic vibe, with the setting of an aeroplane and the smooth bass
and vocals creating just a fun time. More expressive tracks include the cosmic ‘King
of the Hill’ with its wondering voices, the calming ‘Unrequited Love’
(featuring Ty Dolla $ign & Lil B) with its fluttering guitar, the
introspective ‘Innerstellar Space’ with the virtuosic Kamasi Washington on
saxophone, and the classic funk “Black Qualls” with a whole roster of talent to
check out.
The album comes to an end with a sombre tone with the titular ‘It Is What It Is’, a reflection on mistakes and things that don’t end as wanted. It begins purely with vocals and guitar, to focus on the sentiment of the song. Slowly, the bass, harmony, guitars, strings, and unrelenting percussion build to the crest of the song – and then simply fade away to nothing, in an ending that makes you stop and just listen. It Is What It Is is an album tinged with melancholy but also a celebration and, simply put, one of the best albums I’ve heard in a long time. Adam Kavanagh
Tricot – 真っ黒 (Makkuro)
As a genre, math rock has travelled
a long way. This particularly ‘intellectual’ variant of rock music, which mixes
rapid time signature shifts with angular polyrhythmic melodies, is most closely
associated in Western culture with late-20th century US groups such
as Slint and Don Caballero. But the math rock tradition has long been a prominent
part of Asian music, since at least the mid-80s, and is given an exhilarating
twist on the latest album by Kyoto-based band Tricot.
From about four seconds in, everything
on Makkuro (meaning ‘pitch black’ in Japanese) is done at absolutely
breakneck speed. Tricot combine J-Pop tropes (the sugar coated vocals, the colour-coordinated
outfits) with virtuosic musicianship, while simultaneously sounding like they’ve
just drunk 20 Red Bulls between the four of them. The band fly out of the traps
on opener ‘Mazeruna Kiken’ (‘mixing danger’, a nod to the theme tune of the Japanese
manga show Ushio to Tora) with a staccato riff that recalls Black Midi’s
‘953’, before finding their groove on ‘Unou Sanou’ and ‘Mitete’, tracks driven
by Hirohiro Sagane’s syncopated basslines. Other stand-out moments include the (slightly)
more serene ‘Abunakunakunai Machi e’, which at times sounds more Snail Mail
than Slint, and the album-closing double whammy of ‘Masshiro’ (‘pure white’) and
‘Makkuro’ (‘pitch black’). These two final tracks interact more than their
juxtaposed titles might suggest, identical riffs and drum fills subtly re-emerging
in both, in a way that highlights the improvisational ingenuity of the group.
Fronted by the all-female trio of vocalist Ikkyu Nakajima, bassist Hirohiro and guitarist Motifour Kida, Tricot have released a math rock album to rival any of the critically acclaimed offerings of their (predominantly male) predecessors. There’s no denying it, Makkuro is a kick-ass record. Fred Waine
Listen to our Spotify playlist featuring stand-out tracks from each of our albums of the year so far:
The artwork for Phoebe Bridger’s latest album, Punisher, is pretty sinister. Standing in the middle of the Californian desert, her head tilted to the sky, Bridgers wears a skeleton costume and the ground around her glows red. Its morbidity is fitting for an album that speaks so frankly about death: in her song ‘Halloween’, Bridgers sings “I hate living by the hospital/the sirens go all night”, and in ‘ICU’ that “I’ve been playing dead/my whole life”. In spite of her haunting lyrics, however, nothing about this album is dead – released on 18th June, it is a hurricane of different melodies, instrumentals and narratives, each of them bursting with colour and life.
Bridgers stormed onto the
international music stage in 2017 with her album Stranger in the Alps, a
folk-rock release that won her widespread acclaim and comparisons to Bob Dylan.
Follow-up albums are tricky by design, often held back by the anxiety of recreating
previous success, but Punisher is a clear anomaly here. The album is a
broader range of experiments. Sonically, there is greater texture to tracks
like ‘Garden Song’, enmeshed in synthesisers and a string quartet; ‘Kyoto’, the
most pop-worthy single, brings together bass and brass; ‘Savior Complex’ swings
between arpeggios with hypnotic ease. Lyrically, Bridgers is also at her most
vulnerable. She sings of disorientation, millennial life and fame, delivering
the lines “I’ve been running around in circles/pretending to be myself” (‘Chinese
Satellite’) with characteristic Bridgers candour. The balance of wry lyrics
with quiet melodies is difficult to achieve, but is done remarkably well by the
twenty-five-year-old singer. The effect is akin to a seesaw: with each song,
the world becomes blurrier, as if drunk, only to be immediately sharpened again with the
piercing nature of Bridgers’ lyrics.
And the lyrics are this album’s
greatest asset. Bridgers’ poetic palette is seriously rich – she cites the
fellow Californian Joan Didion as an inspiration, and the album features a
fictional biography by short-story writer Carmen Maria Machado. The result is a
patchwork of influences, the fabric of which is gradually revealed throughout
the album – there are notes of Sufjan Stevens in ‘I Know the End’, and the
title track ‘Punisher’ is dedicated to one of Bridgers’ favourite musicians,
Elliott Smith. “I wrote a song about how, if Elliott Smith were alive, I
probably wouldn’t have been the most fun person for him to talk to”, Bridgers
explained in her interview with The New Yorker this
year. “I’m a
superfan, and I know way too much about his music. So, I wrote that as if I
were the punisher.” It’s a self-deprecating description of her devotion to
Smith, but it speaks volumes about Bridgers’ readiness to acknowledge her
influences, all while creating something of her own. (“Jeff Buckley!” she
exclaims, unable to keep still when asked about her favourite singer as a teenager by
the Rolling Stone.
“I listened to his stuff every night”.) This album is an exploration of these
pin-ups, marked out by its own agency: Bridgers is the ‘Punisher’ and not the
punished.
Its one downfall? Perhaps the similarity between songs. Snatches of ‘Moon Song’ wouldn’t be amiss in ‘Halloween’; there is the danger that individual tracks lose their resonance by occasionally blending into one. There’s no denying, though, that Bridgers has released an album that so perfectly articulates the current moment. “I’ll get up and lay back down/romanticise a quiet life/there’s no place like my room”, she sings quietly in the final track, ‘I Know the End’ – a song that is pre-pandemic but curiously prophetic. Punisher is undoubtably a lullaby for the apocalypse, and it couldn’t have come at a better time.
Part of Khruangbin’s marketing campaign for Mordechai
features an update to their online playlist curator, AirKhruang. The 2015 website
allowed listeners to create playlists for their upcoming flights by inputting
their departure point and final destination, as well as other parameters, such
as whether they prefer window over aisle seats, or tea over coffee. The
resulting playlist lasts the duration of the flight and features music from
countries over which the plane will travel. Khruangbin’s new update, AirKhruang: Shelter in Space,
creates playlists based on the listeners desired activity and duration. An
extensive list of activities ranges from exercise to meditation, and the
created playlists includes music from around the world.
Mordechai continues Khruangbin’s tradition of
incorporating global influences into their music. Whereas Khruangbin’s two previous
albums are based on Thai and Middle Eastern music, Mordechai takes
listeners on a journey from Latin America to West Africa. Mordechai may
lack the stylistic cohesion of Khruangbin’s 2015 and 2018 works, but it nevertheless
contains moments of inspired, and at times even original, music.
2020 has marked a change in direction for the Houston based
trio. Leading on from Texas Sun, a collaboration with Leon Bridges
released earlier this year, Mordechai includes a large number of vocal
tracks, a change from their largely instrumental existing repertoire. Although
the use of vocals disrupts the much-loved simplicity of the guitar, bass and
drums line-up, the songs with vocals are some of the most memorable on the
album.
‘Pelota’ is the album’s main highlight. Here, the Spanish
rumba influence is obvious, while Khruangbin continue their tradition of accompanying
heart-warming music videos. The groove is catchy but not tedious, over which
the guitar lines are executed with excitement and precision. The percussion, with
the added cowbells, handclaps and toms, provide a rich palate of sounds without
overcrowding the mix. ‘Time (You and I)’, a track made for the dancefloor, is
equally strong and adds a disco song to the band’s catalogue. Bassist Laura
Lee’s lyrics are simple yet charming: “That’s life / If we had more time / We
could live forever / Just you and I / We could be together.” The end of the
song includes shouts of “that’s life” in an array of languages over the funk
groove, a fitting tribute to the global influences that have had so much impact
on the band.
The use of vocals on the album is distinctive and
refreshing, but their use is often textural, as demonstrated in ‘First Class’. When
the function of the vocals is purely melodic, their success ranges from good, in
‘If There is No Question’, to just okay, in ‘Dearest Alfred’. The vocal
additions may detract from one of Khruangbin’s main selling points: Mark
Speer’s highly melodic and creative guitar lines, which act in a ‘vocal’
manner.
Of the instrumental tracks on the album, ‘Shida’ is by far
the strongest, embodying all the expected characteristics of a Khruangbin song:
elegant guitar melodies, metronomic drums and inventive bass lines. The
variation in chord progressions is refreshing, and the use of the voice,
although sparse, is effective. As for the other instrumental tracks, ‘Father Bird,
Mother Bird’ feels a little repetitive, but introduces a harp flourish, which
provides some continuity between otherwise stylistically dissonant songs. The
lyrics of ‘So We Won’t Forget’ are foreshadowed on the dub track ‘One to Remember’.
Although reprises can often be interpreted as lazy or “album fodder” – see
Arcade Fire’s Everything Now – Khruangbin get away with it on this
track. The song is stylistically far removed from ‘So We Won’t Forget’ and the
lyrics are set back in the mix with enough reverb to give the vocals a distant,
dreamy quality.
‘Connaissais de Face’, a poetic conversation between Mark
and Laura, builds on the use of spoken word in Con Todo El Mundo (2018).
As the pair remember old friends, their words are wonderfully quirky. ‘Dearest
Alfred’, however, may be the weakest song on the album. The vocal melody is
unimaginative and repetitive, and the background littering of instrumental
effects fails to produce the same level of interest as the opening track ‘First
Class’.
Khruangbin owed
their previous successes to their global influences, simplicity, and
versatility. Their evocative music is an ideal soundtrack for everyday life, perfect
for many of the activities listed on AirKhruang:
Shelter in Space. Although AirKhruang may appear as a gimmicky marketing tool, it does provide insight into
Khruangbin’s enormous appetite for global music. It also hints at the vast number
of largely undiscovered musical gems that can easily be found through todays
powerful streaming sites.
Mordechai is not a cheap pastiche, but a fresh take on an array of global styles. The inclusion of vocals on Mordechai has altered Khruangbin’s sound, but the result is a refreshing and varied album, adding a new depth to the trio’s repertoire.
Keble College has announced a month-long process of consultation about a redundancy programme to deal with the financial impact of COVID-19. Details have been given in an email to students and a recorded statement.
The College told students that it has lost around £3 million in revenue due to the cancellation of conference and bed and breakfast bookings and a loss of income from room rentals. The Governing Body states that it is aiming to avoid any compulsory redundancies.
In response to a FOI request from Cherwell, Keble stated it employed 135 non-academic staff in total in the last financial year, most of whom are involved either directly or indirectly in the conference business. The total cost of their employment was £4.68 million in the 2018-19 financial year. Roughly half of these staff were furloughed, and their full salary was paid by the College. The ongoing impact of the pandemic has rendered these costs unsustainable.
As explained by the Warden, Keble has already made attempts to reduce costs through the cancellation of alumni events and the reduction of academic allowances. But without the associated revenue of the conference business, which will be suspended until Summer 2021, and with an anticipated drop in academic fee income, the College has begun a process of redundancy consultation.
In his first statement to the student body, the Warden expressed a desire to “avoid any compulsory redundancies if at all possible” and “to give as much support as we can to those affected.” It is not yet known what form this support will take.
In a recorded message to students, the Warden stressed the importance of avoiding “unsustainable debt”. He stated such financial instability would prevent the College from continuing its work in student access and admissions and in supporting the graduate body.
In recent years Keble has continued to pursue its educational mission through the establishment of the H B Allen Centre for graduates. This project cost a total of £60 million for its construction and fit-out and was funded mostly by support from alumni and friends, with gifts and pledges totalling £38 million.
The Warden, who has two years left of a twelve-year tenure, has identified the safeguarding of Keble’s educational mission and the strengthening of the College community as his main focus going forward.
The College has stressed that the decision to make “dedicated and hard-working” staff redundant has not been taken lightly.
The JCR President and Keble College have been contacted for comment.
The #MeToo movement sparked international outrage about
sexual harassment and empowered women to stand in solidarity to oppose sexual
misconduct in the workplace. The hashtag went viral in 2017 when the focus was
drawn to the film industry with the sexual allegations against Harvey
Weinstein. In response, Hollywood celebrities founded ‘Time’s Up’, providing a
legal defence fund to support those who experienced sexual harassment and pay
discrimination. Above all, it was, and still is, part of an ongoing battle to
achieve gender parity in the film industry.
Meryl Streep, who attended the 75th Golden Globes wearing
black in support of the movement, stated: “People are aware now of a power
imbalance”. A spotlight was put on the film industry to answer for its serious
gender disparity. The focus was on the visual representation of women on screen
by calling for more female roles and fewer stereotypes, such as the seductress,
wife or mother. Whilst there is still a long way to go, recognition of the
changing role of women in film is starting to have an impact.
But what about behind the screen?
The attention has been on female actors, but statistics for
women in roles behind the camera are dire. More pressure is needed to bring
about equality throughout the whole industry, not only on the screen. Women are
vastly underrepresented as directors, writers, cinematographers, editors, and
producers. If more awareness is brought to the need to increase representation
in these areas, then change is more likely to occur.
Out of the top 100 films of 2019, women made up around 12% of directors, 20% of writers, and only 2% of cinematographers. The films are mostly male dominated productions, often with male-led casts and crews, such as films directed by Stephen Spielberg and Christopher Nolan. Spielberg’s 1998 film Saving Private Ryan, which won him Best Director at the Academy Awards, consisted of an overwhelmingly male cast and crew.
Gender parity on-screen is vital. But the same equality
needs to be promoted more off-screen too, which will enable films to resonate
with a wide audience. Women make up around 51% of moviegoers, yet women’s
stories are marginalised. A man can write and direct a film about a woman, but
it is often said that the best stories draw upon personal experience. Jessica
Chastain criticised the “disturbing” portrayal of female characters in the
films at Cannes Film Festival in 2017, and hoped that “when we include more
female storytellers we will have more of the women that I recognise in my
day-to-day life.” With women in behind-the-scenes leadership roles, such as
writing, naturally there will be more films centring women’s narratives.
Lucy Percival, an emerging young filmmaker from Sheffield, has personal experience of being a female trying to break into the industry. The inequalities prevalent in filmmaking are undeniable. She has been involved with many programs, making connections within the industry, such as producing a short film with the National Film and Television School (NFTS), and says: “out of the six directors there was only one woman.”
Why are there so few women in film? To be able to promote change, the core of the problem must be analysed. Women need to be shown that this is a viable career for them. Sarah Gavron, director of the 2015 film Suffragette, recalls she “started to have these ideas for films. They were like running images in my head. But I didn’t think I could be a director. I just literally didn’t think it was a possibility. Then I started to suddenly see films of women.” She articulates a key issue for aspiring female filmmakers: there are not enough role models in the industry. In the 92 years that the Academy Awards has taken place, only five women have ever been nominated for Best Director.
More women need to receive international acclaim and credit
for their writing and directing to allow others to believe that it is possible.
Change is on the horizon. It may be slow, but gradually more women are gaining
recognition. Greta Gerwig and Olivia Wilde have made it into mainstream film
circles with Little Women (2020), Ladybird (2017) and Booksmart
(2019). Noticeably, all are films that centralise female stories.
The problem is that not enough women have mainstream film
careers. There are more women in roles behind the camera in independent
filmmaking, with indie film festivals such as Sundance having higher female
representation than those like the Oscars and the Golden Globes. Hollywood
blockbusters are notorious for their poor diversity record, and huge studios,
like Universal, Paramount, and Warner Bros need to face more pressure to
include women in the filmmaking process. Hardly any of the large-budget
blockbusters are directed or written by women, and often this is down to
executives having a lack of trust in female directors.
Lucy Percival wants to follow the independent route, for she says: “I don’t see myself directing [what the American director, producer and screenwriter Martin Scorsese calls] ‘theme park’ movies of the big studios. I prefer character-driven narratives rather than big budget action movies.” However, independent films receive less exposure to the public, and therefore are less lucrative. There must be a conscious effort to diversify the industry to allow women to break into the male-dominated world of the big studios.
Change is happening now. The number of female directors in mainstream cinema rose from 4% to 12% in 2019. But 12% is clearly nowhere near equality. Pressure needs to be applied from below: both from smaller companies employing female directors and writers, as well as from the public. The more we watch female-directed films, the more that big studios will recognise their value and increase their representation.
Certain institutions and individuals are working for greater inclusivity in the film industry. The British Film Institute (BFI) and British Academy Film and Television Awards (BAFTA) have many courses and programs, some of which Lucy has taken part in, to encourage young women to become involved in roles behind the camera. With more movie stars speaking out about the issue and taking action, such as Reese Witherspoon starting her own company with the aim to produce quality films and TV for young women, public awareness is rising. Individual female directors are also taking on what Sarah Gavron considers to be her “responsibility as a female director”. She aims to create a more inclusive working environment on set by employing many women in the crew to create a space for them to gain industry experience. The main producers, editors, cinematographer, and writers in her latest film Rocks are all women.
The arts are a huge contributor to the economy, but access
to the film industry is limited. More support of careers in film is needed in
schools, and to avoid discouraging women from aspiring to work in film due to
lack of stability. Throughout my own school years, a career in film was seen as
unrealistic and was almost scoffed at: “so what is your back-up plan?” Instead,
we need to make a career as a female filmmaker seem possible, and to put
pressure on the industry to give more women a chance, to make a career as a
female filmmaker achievable.
Then a possibility can become a reality, and the film
industry can move closer to gender equality.
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