Better Luck Next Time! - tn2 issue 1 October 2023

Interviews with Gráinne Binns and Olivia Byrne Is minimalism back?

Non-binary fashion

issue 1 October 2023

Meet Our Team!

COVER by Margot Guilhot Desoldatos

Interview with Gráinne Binns

4

The Impossibility of Dressing Genderless

6

Greige Minimalism: Tasteless or Tactical?

12

Fiction & Poetry

14

Where is the great Pandemic-Era novel?

17

Film Focus: Unfamiliar Femininity

18

Interview with Olivia Byrne

22

What to do in Dublin this month

24

Experiencing Fringe Festivals

26

‘Barbie Soup’; A personal history of Šaltibarščiai

28

Videogame Adaptations; the new trend

32

My Rapist Will Not Get a Redemption Arc

34

Hot Girl Summer; The Intricacies of a Media Ruled Trend

36

A Masterclass on Love with Olivia Rodrigo

40

Through the Quotidian with Mr. Bean

42

Is Dublin Beyond Repair?

44

Tn2 Picks & Arts Block Aesthetics

46

FASHION

Consuming Fashion Consciously and With Joy Interview with designer Gráinne Binns WORDS by Margot Guilhot Delsoldato

T

he growing awareness about the huge human and environmental cost of fast fashion as well as the current emphasis on sustainability have led many to reflect on how, and how much, they consume when it comes to clothing. Many young people who can have ditched fast fashion altogether, others try and avoid it as much as possible. All of this has been made easier by platforms such as Depop or Vinted, resale apps where you can find unique gems at extremely discounted prices. The lucrative opportunities of these apps, and new trends that have proliferated on social media, however, have created a new kind of consumerism that is not only unsustainable but detrimental to personal style.

Due to recent social media trends, fashion has grown to resemble a process of identification. There seems to be a popular understanding of fashion as a signifier of what group or subculture you belong to, what kind of media you consume, what music you listen to; but also how educated you are, how much money you have, and what your political orientation is. Especially on TikTok, where every viral trend is pushing to reach new levels of micro-individuality, insanely niche aesthetics are invented every single day, some so specific (and short-lived) as to become unintelligible to anyone who isn’t on the app. Whether it’s ‘old money / quiet luxury’, or ‘coquette’, or even ‘tomato girl’ (I don’t know what that means either), it’s actually stripping personal style of that individuality these trends so fervently claim.

This, in turn, makes it extremely easy for Depop resellers to justify charging 42 euro for an old Brandy Melville top, just as long as its name is preceded by “insert social or aesthetic ideal here – core”. The consequences of this are that even on these (usually affordable) apps, thrifting is no longer as accessible to people with less disposable income, and rather than being a fun and creatively inspiring activity, finding your personal style has become another

step in the endless process of categorization characteristic of the current social climate. I think fashion is so much more than that, and I think we as consumers have the nuance to shop in a better way – both environment-wise and in better spirit. I talked to Gráinne Binns, the founder of the independent festival-wear brand Subtle Poison, known for its bright colours and trippy prints, manufactured in Europe with sustainable fabrics. I asked about her relationship to trends as a fashion designer, wanting to know whether they were stifling inspiration on the creative side of things.

“I think you do have to take trends into consideration to some extent – but I try not to” she said. “When I’m designing I sometimes go back in time, I look at shows from the 90s or 60s, and because trends loop this has worked to my advantage”. Gráinne recalled being asked whether the pink disco-inspired garments she had designed three years prior and was selling at a pop-up store were for the Barbie movie. “But otherwise I’ve always wanted to do the opposite of what everyone else was doing with their clothes. I started shopping in charity shops around 15 years ago, when it was still considered kind of icky; I take the same approach as a designer: I try not to look at what others are doing”. “If I followed trends”, she remarked, “I’d probably have no colour”.

When I asked Gráinne about what inspires her to create a brand-new collection, what came up was an experience-based creative process that is very intuitive and centred around feeling, in a way that is totally disinterested in matching what the mainstream fashion industry has to offer at a given time. “What I have upcoming is based on the sunset, drawing inspiration from being home during lockdown and only being able to meet then. I just had loads of photographs of sunsets on my phone and thought they needed to be turned into something. (…) I draw a lot from my surroundings. The first print I ever did – I wanted it to scream fun, I had just started roller-skating

again and I wanted to express how I felt when I did it, even if it was just in my kitchen during lockdown – so when it’s not from the outside it’s from a feeling”. When I expressed my appreciation for the wholesome nature of her artistic process, she added: “It’s interesting because looking at last year, I was feeling really disconnected from my work and I pulled from trends more than usual, and a lot of the stuff I released then didn’t do as well”.

Gráinne finds that we’ve shifted to a place where it’s no longer just about the clothes, it’s about the story, and the lifestyle, and the sense of community that comes with the clothes. “This is what was missing for me last year”. The ethos of Subtle Poison is independence, freedom, and adventure – which is why Gráinne also runs community events featuring beach yoga, meditation, and sea swims.

“This lifestyle I live (roller-skating, surfing, traveling, going to festivals), it’s brought me so much peace and fun and I want other people to experience it”. “I had a business mentor at the start of the year”, she told me, “after I came home from Bali, absolutely broke, and I was like ‘yeah, I’m not sure it was the best business move but I just needed to go and be twenty-five for a while’, and they said that it was the best business move I could have ever made. ‘Your brand is about freedom and fun, and running away to Bali is exactly that’”.

“I realized it wasn’t easy to find clothes that would allow me to enjoy all of my passions” Gráinne says in a video where she explains how Subtle Poison came to be. We often hear the phrase “you’re not made to fit clothes, clothes are made to fit you”, and I think it extends beyond discussions of just size inclusivity. Seeing fashion as the extension of a lifestyle that makes us feel happy is endlessly more fulfilling than it being a function of categories that don’t fit us, and this counts for consumers and designers alike.

images courtesy of subtlepoison.com

5

FASHION

I

The Impossibility of Dressing Genderless

’ve been going by ‘they’ for over two years now, but it hasn’t been that long since I felt valid in my gender identity. I always felt a little disconnected from my feminine appearance, but I didn’t think masculinity was an option for me. Looking back at photos from even just a year ago fills me with a disconcerting sense of nostalgia, and it’s a bit in my friend group to compare me at 17, the typical South Dublin girl with a makeup page, to me now. It wasn’t until I chopped my hair off and dressed more in classic Adam Sandler-lesbian attire that I felt deserving of being referred to as ‘they’.

Femininity became my enemy, as if it were the boundary between being perceived as how I identify and being viewed as a woman.

This past year was both euphoric and dysphoric in how I presented myself. With a closet of 90% ‘feminine’ clothing, it became a daily battle of trying to prove my gender to everyone. While I used to fear being viewed as butch, now I am unsettled at being anything else.

I recently gave away years’ worth of dresses, skirts, anything seen as stereotypically ‘girly’, and it gave me this sense of freedom and euphoria. At the same time, it leaves me grieving a part of me. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy wearing masculine clothing and feel most authentic in them –

‘but in trying to escape one rigid gender I have, metaphorically, trapped myself in another one, in here lies the problem with ‘nonbinary fashion’.

There is an expectation, whether internalised or from others, that people who are gender-nonconforming should dress and appear as completely androgynous – to be ambiguous and separated from the gender they were assigned at birth. It becomes an obligation, which is as constrictive as it is to expect femininity from women and masculinity from men. If I dress in ‘feminine’ clothing and am then misgendered, I subconsciously criticize myself like it is my responsibility to follow these ‘rules’. This seems to be a recurrent issue from gender-nonconforming people. Faye, a fellow Trinity student, has said that “...even if I want to dress more ‘feminine’ I feel like because of the implications of other people’s perception of me it makes gender expression more difficult.” These restrictive ideas increase gender dysphoria, as it is unrealistic, and usually unattainable, for every non-binary person to emulate this assumed androgyny. Because of this, it’s not shocking that although we escape the rigidity of gender to a certain degree, we abandon some part of our individuality for gender validation. Wearing clothes deemed ‘gender neutral’, or more masculine to mask femininity and vice versa, has turned into its own gender performance. Nonconforming people are being put in their own gendered box when not everyone will feel comfortable in the stereotyped clothes. Coco Goran, another Trinity peer, said in reference to adhering to the ‘rules’ of appearing non-binary that ‘...it didn’t free me or make me feel authentic in the way I thought it would…’.Both femininity and masculinity exist outside of gender, but this perception of what we should look like taints the enjoyment and freedom of self-expression.

There are endless issues within the fashion industry, and with the rise of queer fashion in the past couple of decades there is this feigned inclusivity. It has been wonderful to see more diversity, but

it begs the question if it’s merely to follow a trend they believe gender queerness to be. As it often is with huge, capitalistic industries like this, they promote inclusivity without attempting to make real, lasting change. As depressing as it sounds (because it is indeed depressing), non-binary people are viewed by this industry as a niche to profit off, without catering to the very real needs we have. Another issue that causes this strain of dysphoria, I think, is that we attempt to change and bend these ingrained rules of gender within a gendered society that thrives off being one or the other. This is pretty evident in how the fashion industry generally runs. Instead of removing gender from genderless items, brands profit off this rise of gender-neutral fashion, while still placing them in gendered categories. This comes down to the lack of size and shape variety in brands, so everyone ends up being expected to fit the ‘female’ or ‘male’ clothing. This obviously leaves very little wiggle room for those who don’t feel comfortable wearing what brands deem appropriate for their body, increasing dysphoria to always be placed in one of these two boxes. Is it so bizarre or unrealistic to picture a time where there’s no ‘menswear’ or ‘womenswear’, where clothes are organized by item and not the gender they were designed for?

Because this fabricated time doesn’t exist, there really isn’t a place for non-binary people in mainstream fashion. With everything divided into two fixed genders there is no way to exist in these spaces without experiencing some form of dysphoria. For me, both feel slightly strange. In the women’s section I’m a fraud, since I only dabble in femininity; it’s a reminder that my life is so different now.

But in the men’s section, I feel like an even bigger fraud; I get paranoid that everyone is thinking ‘there’s another lesbian dressing like a man.’ We are usually shoved into following these expectations, where people assigned female at birth should dress masculine and those assigned male at birth should dress feminine. It’s as if this balances our gender out, when the purpose of not conforming is that

our identity goes far beyond appearance. The stereotypes that exist for women and men exist for non-binary people too, so it’s natural that we internalise it. Something that comes to mind, that really made me consider this subject seriously, was a recent purchase of a corset. This wasn’t an exceptional thing to happen, I highly doubt anyone around me gave that a second thought, but I hadn’t bought any ‘feminine’ clothing in so long it felt against the laws of nature.

It also felt freeing, and I went out looking cool and wonderful to be honest, however walking around I felt so disconnected from my appearance and body. In my mind I was lying to myself and everyone.

Then I questioned if it was the clothes itself that made me uncomfortable or was it the assumption that it wasn’t what people expected or wanted from me.

There is no clear conclusion here, this issue has so many layers to it that I can’t even figure out. This box non-binary people are supposed to live in wasn’t meant to exist, and it shouldn’t. The fashion industry has a long way to go in terms of gender inclusivity. Tokens of appreciation cannot fix the discomfort so many of us feel when shopping or wearing clothes. In trying to prove our identity to others we suppress parts of it. In a podcast, Say it With Your Chest, Joss Jaycoff beautifully spoke on the subject, saying ‘I think again the biggest misconception is trying to put a look on us… non binary is about the opposite, it’s about existing outside those standards, existing outside those gender roles that have oppressed us all.’ I think we need to focus on what clothes mean to us and not how it makes people perceive us, we know too well that we have no control over

WORDS by Bo Kilroy

7

IF I DRESS IN ‘FEMININE’ CLOTHING AND AM THEN MISGENDERED, I

SUBCONSCIOUSLY

CRITICIZE

MYSELF

LIKE

IS

MY

RESPONSIBILITY

TO

IT

FOLLOW THESE ‘RULES’.

PHOTOS by Ella O’Brien

ART & DESIGN

Greige Minimalism Tasteless or Tactical?

S

crolling through social media these days, it seems as though every interior design project looks the same – white IKEA furniture, off-white walls with grey and beige, or ‘greige’, decor. Often, comments under videos showing off these interiors will call them ‘boring’, ‘sad’, or even ‘tasteless’, as well as ask the question ‘Why would one want their house to look like an Airbnb?’. As a response to this ‘minimalist’ trend, terms such as ‘dopamine decorating’, emphasising vibrant colours, shapes and textures, or ‘maximalism’ have started popping up on interior design enthusiasts’ timelines. This polarising trend in home design has made me think –

‘Is it simply another fad, or is there something deeper behind it? Could it be a natural response to the financial climate we live in today?’

There are real positives to be attributed to minimalist interiors – their look is easily achievable, accessible, as well as strikingly more affordable than the vast majority of interior design options on the market. For example, a traditional wooden bookshelf

could cost potential buyers a few hundreds to thousands of euros.

The iconic, yet arguably bland, minimalist IKEA Billy bookshelf costs only up to seventy euros. Many young homeowners decide to purchase the cheaper option, as they are often simply unable to afford more ‘luxurious’ pieces with ‘character’, whether they like it or not.

Choosing cheaper design elements as an economic compromise raises the question: Why not just paint the piece of furniture to add some ‘personality’ to it? While the question is not outrageous, the reality is that painting furniture is not as easy as it seems. A piece of white furniture will go with nearly everything and is convenient for spaces that do not belong to their owner. According to Ireland’s Central Statistics Office, more than fifty per cent of under thirty-fives rent rather than own property, which increases as the age demographic decreases. Renters very rarely have the option of modifying their property’s interior elements. Besides, it is much more convenient to match a white Billy shelf to an offwhite wall and metal-coloured lamp than, for example, a Lulu and Georgia Apolline Curio Cabinet. A tasteful choice on its own, the strong character of this piece runs the risk of clashing with the overall feeling of the rental place. One can be encouraged to ‘paint their furniture in fun colours’, but is that really an option?

Even if one owns their property, they may still prefer ‘minimalist greige’ – on one hand, the cost of living crisis affects us all; having

a house does not mean having the means for unique or custom decorating. Wallpapers from the 70s, a brand selling retro-inspired wallpapers, runs the prices of their unique and eye-catching products at ten euros a metre and upwards. As for wall paint, prices are often steep as well – starting from five to ten euros per litre depending on the brand and colour. On the other hand, many homeowners ‘house flip’, or renovate the home they buy, then quickly resell it for a profit until they find (read: ‘can afford’) the home of their dreams. It is considerably easier to sell a ‘neutral’, minimalist house than it is to resell a highly personalised, colourful and ‘fun’ one. At the end of the day, for the majority of people, interior decoration is an economic decision, and maybe there shouldn’t be anything wrong with that approach.

We, as individuals, do not spend a lot of time at home, and the very few of those who do often place a bigger emphasis on interior design individualism. The reality for most of us, however, is that home is a roof to sleep under before going out for the entire day. It is no wonder modern homes look like hotel rooms – how different are their uses, really? ‘Sad greige minimalism’ is affordable, doable and practical, explaining its popularity. While some individuals do not have to consider the monetary practicality of these spaces, in this day and age, as living becomes more expensive, minimalist designs become an option for those who may not otherwise be able to spruce up their living space. So is the trend ‘tasteless’, or are its opponents classist?

‘Maybe we should start giving minimalist interior design some credit’ as, in the face of our society’s collective financial struggles, even a Billy bookshelf can provide the homeowner with the satisfaction of interior customisation.

WORDS by Agne Kniuraite

13

LITERATURE

Fiction & Poetry

The Well

By Luke Reid

Listen. Listen very closely. Can you hear it? No? I can. I’ve heard it since I was twenty-nine years old. That marvellous echo from an endless chamber of nothing. Little men tossing their coins on her, drowning her in gold.

I’ve heard it for forty years.

Walk around the hill with me. Draw pictures in the grass and pick at cotton clouds, pluck at the litter in the gravel, embedded there from the steps of the many travellers that pass through. They call up my cottage and ask me questions of the locale, I guide them to the local pub and shop and I don’t question where they got the number from. There’s a lovely barman there who’ll sort you out with a discount if you tell him I sent you. I always tell them that. Come down to the well, I always say. Bask in its magnificence.

I​ t’s just up here now. The well’s not too far. Always asking how to get to it and I point and wag my old finger up the hill.

Follow the steps of Jack or Jill, they’ll guide the way! Always gets a chuckle. Nobody ever stays for a chat. Never a nice chat with the locals. Just a question and they’re on their way. God bless them. God bless us all.

It’s a tough old walk now. There are old rotten wooden poles lining these broken steps guiding our path. Useless crap.

Better off walking the grass. Not in the rain though. Wouldn’t want you tripping. Falling down. Down, down, down the hill.

Down the well and down the hill. What a shame. Wouldn’t want that, now. Thunder cracking in the distance, do you hear that? Can you hear it rumbling down, across the rural hills of beautiful countryside? You can hear that at least.

S​ he’s still louder. Giggling away. Finished her weeping for the day. That’s always a good sign.

Why can’t you hear it? You’re not trying! You people never try.

Down in the meadow, you can hear the cows slobbering on shaven grass. Keeps me up at night sometimes. So far from my cottage and I hear them still. Just as I hear her showering in her pennies, trying to glue them together with her blood and her tears into a ladder to lift her back.

Always flowers at the well. Lilacs and lavender bundles, roses and dahlias, so pretty. Plenty and plenty of flowers all year round. Never-ending, really. Stop killing the flowers. It’s not very nice. Not at all. They wouldn’t like it if I killed their young. Poor flowers.

When the sun sets tonight, listen for her. I’m telling you she’ll call out your name. Enchanting you from across this plain.

Take my word for it, don’t listen to the others, they’ll only tell lies, steer you away. That’s what they do. So small, she was. Just a little girl. How can they ignore it. They know all too well.

Pristine cobbles, aren’t they? Crafted only yesterday, by the looks of it. But no, so old now. Wrinkled as I am, yet so intact on the surface. Humanity is wonderful!

​ ind yourself in the flutter of the rain, supposed to be a storm M tonight. That’s what they’re saying, isn’t it? Another storm, another storm. Always so bad out here in the west! Couldn’t ask for any better. I better go check the roof and the cobblestones around her. Habit now when the rain settles in. Wouldn’t want it overflowing and flooding our land. Such a blessed possession in our hands, why let it waste away?

The well is cracked and brimming with moss all over. Can’t watch the farms go down too. Can’t let that happen now, can we? No, no. I won’t let it. Not until her voice rings out in her absence.

​ o, don’t look down there. Down into that pit. Who knows N where it goes? ​ ey do. They did forty years ago. They all knew what was Th down there. Ah, such a long time ago now. No point in reminiscing. The past is in the past is in the past. That’s what I always say. Every time I’m here at the well, I tell them all that.

S​ o kind of you to stay for a chat. Not often an old man like me gets to chat. ​ h, listen. Do you hear her now? I think she knows I’m here.

O Listen carefully, closely. She’s calling for me.

​Daddy’s coming dear! I’ve come with a guest! ​ o say hi to her. It’s been a long time since they threw her D away. Tossed her and turned her, left her to die. That’s what I saw. I swear it. Way back when. The past is in the past is in the past.

Water under the bridge, or in the well, as they say. Have a look at her. She’s waving to me now. None of you can ever see her.

Drives me mad. How could you do that to a little girl?

Sit by the phone and sing your songs. One day, one day.

I suppose they’ll understand when they’ve seen it for themselves. Go, look inside. It’s only a well. You don’t believe me, then look at her. She’s harmless. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, could barely reach one. So long since I last seen her. Never a call or nothing. Such a tragedy for us both.

Thunder clangs like an ancient gong, masking the grand echo of the fall. Bones crack with the flash of lightning. What a shame. You’ll see what it’s like down there now. They’ll all see eventually. Come down to the cottage and up the hill. ​ anks for staying for a chat. An old man needs it these days.

Th Nobody but myself down in that cottage. So lonely these days.

She’s calling again. Someone will ring in no time. Best be getting home now. The storm is setting in. I’ll stand and wait by the phone, the well out my window, staring back at me. I miss my daughter very much. How could they leave me alone like this, sitting by the phone all day long? The call is coming and nobody can hear.

They’ll be drowned by tomorrow.

At War

By Ellen O’Brien

Thou shall not fly Over blue seas, Troubled waters.

Adhnúall is faithful to Fionn, As nature forgives And time forgets.

The river is silenced By whispers.

A stark terror ensues, A gutted fish left miserably On the surface.

Redemption is fanciful In these times.

15

October

Caught in the rain

In our impatient, calendar-less youth, our mother would proclaim: Halloween can begin when all the leaves have fallen; when all the trees are bare And we would conspire to pluck one by one ‘til we could don our masks and stretch out primed buckets.

What an atrocity to press on the hurried passage of time.

Now in my life there is never a year when August’s end doesn’t harrow, threatening its easy whisper over those who dare a waking step

He said the rain suited me My hair lay flat sticking to a dampened face His words warped my own reality of myself I could imagine the beautiful girl in the rain A vision of weather weaponizing beauty Raindrops caught on eyelashes for catching men Lips red drenched, softer than the fall of a light drizzle A smile lighting up the darkening clouds I could imagine seductive me But such thoughts fall away after the thinking The reality so impossibly far that thought goes stone cold and dies any redness of lips or fluttering of eyes would only be for him like the shower we hurried through I am caught Beauty in any form of mine is sure to radiate only for you If I am beautiful to you in a downpour Soaking, dripping rain It is because you made it so Oh, to be caught without an umbrella Such art I thought myself incapable of Your stroke proves me wrong as my colours deepen and merge If I am the art, then you the artist A regrettable amount of power Hidden among the easel and brush Would I let you shape me if you so chose?

Or will you be my Critic, my visitor, my admirer?

Shall we both take up residence in a museum On opposite walls, my darling Temporarily, for now, while the Exposing water bullets stay themselves What a vulnerable position one puts oneself in Oh, to be caught-to be caughtWithout an umbrella.

By Caitlin Parnell

Merriment conceals always the forthcoming stretch of dissolution, pulling orange wool over agog eyes whose time for meeting has been plucked.

Should the impenetrable cold become too much, you will wake and bury yourself beneath another layer of earth But when the darkness extends, there is no hiding from the cold that wants you — only you — in its grasp And it is only in sleep where the leaves don’t crumble, the berries don’t wrinkle, and the sun doesn’t seduce behind a wall of pernicious glass

By October, the air leaves a sting in the base of your throat as you gasp through the feeling Of running through water from something fast approaching, always and telling yourself to enjoy the journey as every muscle heaves upon each trudging step From a safe distance, you take yearly stock: How sparse are the hairs on your father’s head; How weak are the bones in your mother’s body; How brittle is the very skin that ties you together; How thin is blood when the cold sets in?

There is greyness in all the eyes on the six o’clock train, like we are all preparing, like we are already mourning We are already mourning

By Eve Delaney

LITERATURE

Where is the Great Pandemic-Era Novel?

O

ne of my favourite things about reading classic literature is that I can engross myself into the time period a work was written in. For me, novels are the best way to get a glimpse into a bygone era. History books can give you the facts and figures, but they will never be able to effectively convey the gaudy and ephemeral lifestyle and fashion of the roaring twenties the way that ‘The Great Gatsby’ does, or accurately capture 1950’s teenage dialect like ‘The Catcher In The Rye’.

Pulitzer Prize for fiction has chosen nine. These high-profile awards can create literary superstars and shed light on lesser known authors. It feels like a lot of light is being shed on one genre.

In this way, novels take on an extra significance as time goes by, one that even supplants an author’s original intentions: they act as cultural touchstones that allow us to visit times past.

I shouldn’t be complaining. We have plenty of authors working today, like the ones I mentioned above, who are producing engaging and thought-provoking novels that will likely stand the test of time. Who am I to tell these talented people what to write, like some literary back-seat-driver. I should be happy sustaining myself off of Paul Murray and Sally Rooney and the few authors who write fiction for those living in the 2020’s.

Reading a mix of both contemporary and classic fiction leads one to question which modern writers will be remembered and read decades from now, the way Fitzgerald and Salinger are still read. In conversations like these, the names of literary behemoths such as Colson Whitehead, Elena Ferrante and Kazuo Ishiguro are bound to come up, and deservedly so. In my mind, these names have earned their reputation as modern literary masters.

However, I find that something is missing in these works, something that isn’t missing in older novels. Unlike those that came before them, the great writers of our day seem to be more interested in reconstructing the past than in conveying our present.

Throughout each of these author’s bibliographies, it is rare that one will engage with the culture of our modern times. Colson Whitehead mainly writes novels set in 19th and 20th century America. Ferrante’s greatest books, ‘The Neapolitan Quartet,’ portray 1950’s southern Italy. Ishiguro, who was previously preoccupied by the British interwar years, has leapfrogged the modern day altogether to take on dystopian fiction.

And it isn’t only these few select authors that write novels set in the past. Magazine and newspaper lists of “the greatest novels of the 21st century” are chock-a-block with historical novels as well as fantasy and sci-fi. Writers like Cormac McCarthy and Hilary Mantel dominate literary criticism with their historical epics. Even Zadie Smith has given in and published a novel set in Victorian London, ‘The Fraud,’ despite her previous reluctance to write in the historical genre: “If you pick up a novel and find that it could have been written at any time in the past one hundred years, well, then, that novel is not doing it’s self-described job, is it?”.

I couldn’t agree more. Nevertheless, literary prizes continue to bestow awards onto historical novels. Out of the past ten winners, the Booker Prize has chosen seven historical novels, while the

WORDS by James Grace

Are authors catering toward these prizes? Are they afraid of dealing with modern problems like post-pandemic anxiety or worldwide political instability? Are they, perhaps, not bothered to write in their main character checking their phone every two minutes?

Still, I can’t help but wonder what will future generations think looking back on our era the way I look back on the literary output of the past. Will our time exist as some kind of black hole, where there is nothing that marks the emotions and lifestyles that dominated our lives? Will we ourselves look back in vain for something that acts as a portrait and reminder of those younger years, unable to find anything? Will future scholars, when charting the course of literary history, look to each other with puzzled faces and ask, “where was the great pandemic-era novel?”.

But all is not lost. This year’s Booker Prize shortlist has seen a shift in its normal biases, as the judging panel has decided to select works that reflect the “unease of our moment”. All of the books are by authors who have never been shortlisted, and two of the books are debuts. Each book selected, such as Paul Murray’s ‘The Bee Sting,’ explore “societies pushed to the edge of tolerance,” which is a theme that is specifically relevant to our time. While this doesn’t necessarily signify a significant change in the types of books that will continue to be written and discussed, seeing a conscious effort made to bring younger writers with more modern sensibilities to the forefront gives me hope that we can see more writers take on the 2020’s through their work. Fingers crossed.

‘Unlike those that came before them, the great writers of our day seem to be more interested in reconstructing the past than in conveying our present.’

17

FILM

Film Focus: Unfamiliar Femininity “I’m not interested in seeing a film just made by a woman - not unless she is looking for new images.” - Agnès Varda.

E

uropean cinema has given us a treasure trove of exceptional female directors who have left an indelible mark on the world of film. With their unique perspectives and groundbreaking approaches, they’ve not only shaped cinema but also explored the ever-evolving theme of feminism. Here, we’ll take a dive into the lives and works of three trailblazing directors and recommend some of their must-watch films.

Agnès Varda Agnès Varda, was born on May 30, 1928, in Brussels, Belgium, is often affectionately referred to as the “Mother of the French New Wave.”

The French New Wave was a period of cinema (1958-1962) characterised by its experimental style of filmmaking, ditching the conventional norms.

Over Varda’s extensive career, she created a diverse body of work that blended documentary and narrative styles exploring the human experience. Varda moved to Paris in the 1950s at the beginning of the La Nouvelle Vague movement and became involved in filmmaking. Not solely a director but a visual artist too, she brought a creative versatility to her work. In 2017, Varda received an honorary Academy Award for her lifetime achievements in filmmaking.

This made her the first ever female to receive the award; not to mention at eighty-eight years, she was the oldest

person to ever be nominated at the Oscars for her documentary Faces Places (2017). Varda passed away from cancer in 2019 at the age of ninety, but the cinematic influence of the mother of French New Wave lives on.

What to watch: Cleo from 5 to 7. (1962) Varda’s 1962 French cinematic masterpiece Cleo from 5 to 7, not only enchants audiences with its unconventional narrative structure but also delves deep into the intricate realms of feminism. This evocative film revolves around the protagonist, Cleo, a glamorous singer who grapples with the impending uncertainty of her mortality as she anxiously awaits the results of medical tests. This looming anxiety serves as the catalyst for a profound and introspective transformation within Cleo, forcing her to confront her role as a young woman in society.

In one memorable scene, Cleo, reeling from a discouraging encounter with a fortune teller, clings to her beauty as a lifeline, muttering to herself, “As long as I’m beautiful, I’m even more alive than others.” In the society she inhabits, Cleo’s assertion holds true. Her life, prior to this revelation, thrived on the currency of her youth and beauty.

It’s a world that places a premium on feminine desirability above all else, and Cleo is the embodiment of this

societal performance. She luxuriates in opulence, draping herself in tulle nightgowns and languishing upon her sumptuous four-poster bed. However, the social wealth she amasses exacts a toll on her personal happiness, as the relentless performance of femininity proves emotionally draining.

As the narrative unfolds, the film meticulously traces Cleo’s journey of self-discovery and inner awakening.

She grapples with her identity as a woman in a patriarchal world and with existential questions that transcend her individual existence. Despite the objectification and commodification imposed upon her by the men in her life, Cleo finds empowerment through her interactions with women. It’s in these conversations that she uncovers the importance of solidarity among women and the complexities of feminine self-discovery.

Cleo from 5 to 7 masterfully underscores the weight of gender performance, highlighting the significance of solidarity among women in the face of societal pressures, and illuminating the path toward feminine self-realisation. In this cinematic gem, Agnes Varda not only tells a compelling story but also sparks a thought-provoking exploration of feminism that continues to resonate with audiences to this day.

Chantal Akerman Chantal Akerman was a Belgian filmmaker also known for her experimental style of filmmaking.

Born on June 6, 1950, in Brussels, Belgium, Akerman emerged as a prominent director during the 1970s.

Akerman’s work is characterised by its unique blend of minimalist aesthetics and long takes. She directed Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles at just twenty five years old! Referencing French New Wave director Jean-Luc Godard as an influence in her filmmaking, it is clear to see this experimental inspiration in her avante-garde type films. She passed away tragically in 2015 at sixtyfive years old after a life-long battle with depression.

What to watch: Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles. (1976) Akerman’s groundbreaking cinematic work, Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles, has earned its place as an influential masterpiece in the realm of feminist film. The movie delves into the intricate character study of Jeanne Dielman, a widow who juggles the roles of housewife, mother, and part-time sex worker. Akerman’s artistry lies in her ability to plunge the audience into a transcendent state of monotony,

employing open, static camera angles and protracted scenes meticulously chronicling Jeanne’s daily domestic routines.

Over the course of three and a half hours, we become intimate observers of Jeanne’s meticulously regimented life over three days. As we watch her carefully execute every task with painstaking precision - from self-care rituals to preparing meals, knitting, and running errands in an eerie silence - we witness the gradual unravelling of her sanity. Each of Jeanne’s movements exudes an air of compulsivity, hinting at a woman desperately clinging to a manufactured semblance of order and control to maintain her sanity.

Akerman’s film unabashedly thrusts the female condition of domestic enslavement into the spotlight, asserting that both domestic work and sex work are forms of labour. Jeanne’s involvement in sex work is portrayed without judgment, emphasizing her agency in making choices to provide for her son and maintain her household. Her teenage son remains oblivious to her profession, a secret carefully guarded by Jeanne, mirroring Akerman’s choice to shield viewers from explicit depictions of the act through strategic editing until the final scenes of the film.

The film’s sheer length and deliberate monotony, coupled with its subdued pastel-coloured palette and mundane chores, draw viewers into a meditative

trance. Gradually, we absorb the overwhelming loneliness and isolation that define Jeanne’s daily existence.

During a poignant dinner scene with her son, Jeanne reads aloud a letter from her sister who says, “You’re too pretty to be alone, you only say you want to be alone because you don’t want to complain, I often cry when I think of you.” However, in a later conversation with her son, Jeanne confesses that she never aspired to marriage in the first place, underscoring how societal expectations have moulded her into the domestic role. Jeanne’s character becomes a symbol of gender constraints, alternating between the roles of a mother, housewife, widow, and prostitute, never experiencing the opportunity to realise her own liberated identity fully. As the narrative unfolds, we witness her descent into a silent fury, leading to an unexpected turn that hints at a peculiar form of societal liberation. This disintegration serves as a metaphor for the suffocating nature of traditional gender roles.

Despite its formidable running time and demanding content, Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles stands as a compelling testament to cinema’s power as a vehicle for fostering human empathy.

Akerman’s magnum opus continues to resonate as a landmark in feminist filmmaking, provoking deep introspection into the multifaceted arenas of women’s lives and the hidden struggles they endure within the confines of patriarchal norms.

19

Věra Chytilová

audiences in a world rich with irrationality and contemplation.

Indeed, the film leveraged farce as a potent tool to deepen its thematic agenda, shrouding its arguments against misogyny in absurd comedy.

However, it would be a mistake to assume that Daisies lends itself to passive viewing. The theme of feminine chaos it explores continues to evoke polarising reactions in modern audiences.

Věra Chytilová, born on February 2, 1929, was a Czechoslovak film director and one of the most prominent figures in the Czech New Wave, a cinematic movement that emerged in the 1960s known for its satire of the Communist Party (its film industry being a repressive environment) and its use of documentary techniques. Chytilová’s work is characterised by its surreal and experimental techniques, absurdist black humour and feminist themes. A former philosophy student and model, Věra Chytilová’s films portray a unique insight into the feminist perspective and societal expectations of women.

What to watch: Daisies. (1966) In the realm of Czech-Slovakian cinema, the year 1966 witnessed the emergence of a groundbreaking work that defied conventions and pushed the boundaries of traditional feminine stereotypes. Daisies stood as a surreal and farcical masterpiece, offering a unique platform for a critical exploration of gender roles, all while operating within the constraints of the film industry of the time.

The film’s defiant nature led to its censorship, albeit on rather peculiar grounds: food wastage. Surrealist cinema, as a movement, adopted a modernist approach to filmmaking.

Figures like Jean Epstein boldly declared the movie projector to be “an instrument of derationalisation,” with the cinematographic experience promising to tap into the richness of intrusive thought. The film fulfils this surrealist promise, immersing

The narrative of Daisies centres around two young women, both bearing the name Marie. These characters personify the epitome of feminine beauty ideals, heavily adorned with makeup, doll-like features accentuated by their large, lined eyes and pouting lips. They intentionally infantilise themselves with pigtails and don babydoll clothing, exuding a coy sexuality designed to allure older, wealthier men. The irony, however, lies in their subversion of these ideals as they subject both the men and phallic-shaped objects around them to destructive treatment. Their performance of feminine desirability serves as a satirical ploy to dismantle the patriarchal system, liberating themselves from archaic gender constraints.

What distinguishes Daisies is the protagonists’ keen understanding of the male gaze. They navigate the world with audacious disregard for societal norms, leaving a trail of chaos in their wake. Astonishingly, the men surrounding them offer little resistance to their audacious behaviour, resulting in a farcical, self-fulfilling prophecy.

A recurring motif throughout the film is the characters’ complex relationship with food. Food, in the world of Daisies, embodies a paradoxical duality. The young women desire it incessantly, yet they throw it around, play with it, and squander it recklessly.

This symbolism raises profound questions about society’s treatment of young women, inviting audiences to confront the whimsical rebellion that the film embodies whilst advocating

for female empowerment.

In the end, Daisies challenges societal norms, defies categorisation, and remains a testament to the power of cinema to provoke thought and foster change. It is an audacious masterpiece that urges us all to embrace whimsical rebellion and to stand in solidarity with those like Chytilová who seek to challenge the status quo of gender roles.

Although it may appear a daunting prospect, engaging with feminist cinema and the works of these directors can allow for a broader perspective and understanding of cinema as a whole, they are an important part of cinematic history.

The beauty of these works is that they need not be watched solely on the basis of their feminist messaging. These films are also recognised as works that push the boundaries of conventional filmmaking, styles and techniques. It’s the cherry on top that they provide us with alternative ideas on femininity, gender roles, and perhaps even a better understanding of what it means to be a woman.

What distinguishes Daisies is the protagonists’ keen understanding of the male gaze. They navigate the world with audacious disregard for societal norms, leaving a trail of chaos in their wake. Astonishingly, the men surrounding them offer little resistance to their audacious behaviour, resulting in a farcical, self-fulfilling prophecy.

A recurring motif throughout the film is the characters’ complex relationship with food. Food, in the world of Daisies, embodies a paradoxical duality. The young women desire it incessantly, yet they throw it around, play with it, and squander it recklessly.

This symbolism raises profound questions about society’s treatment of young women, inviting audiences to confront the whimsical rebellion that the film embodies whilst advocating for female empowerment.

In the end, Daisies challenges societal norms, defies categorisation, and remains a testament to the power of cinema to provoke thought and foster change. It is an audacious masterpiece that urges us all to embrace whimsical rebellion and to stand in solidarity with those like Chytilová who seek to challenge the status quo of gender roles.

Although it may appear a daunting prospect, engaging with feminist cinema and the works of these directors

can allow for a broader perspective and understanding of cinema as a whole, they are an important part of cinematic history. The beauty of these works is that they need not be watched solely on the basis of their feminist messaging.

These films are also recognised as works that push the boundaries of conventional filmmaking, styles and techniques. It’s the cherry on top that they provide us with alternative ideas on femininity, gender roles, and perhaps even a better understanding of what it means to be a woman.

WORDS by Fionnuala Short

21

THEATRE

Interview with Olivia Byrne “The industry as a whole is looked upon in this very way that’s like... if you're not in it you don’t know anything about it.”

O

livia Byrne is an actor based in Dublin. Reprising her role as Shirley in Hangmen at The Gaiety Theatre, Olivia chats with our theatre editor Amy about entering the world of theatre, the current Irish theatre scene and the importance of having taste.

The theme of our issue is ‘Better Luck Next Time’. Having already played the role of Shirley, how have you prepared for the character for a second time around?

I think, it’s mainly how I feel is different, if that makes sense? I feel less nervous and less scared and I think that’s going to help in whatever way [the play] changes because of the actors around me changing or because Andrew [Flynn] wants to change something or if he felt something didn’t work the first time [...] The role really evolved as the run went on. It was very different at the end than what it was at the beginning, mostly because I was just more comfortable. I could do more, I could have more fun. I knew the show so well at that point. We did over sixty shows which is a lot of work. So I knew the show so well. I know a lot of actors sometimes feel closed in when they do a play because it’s the same thing over and over again but for some reason knowing it so well gave me the freedom to be really listening and watching what was happening on stage.

Because every show is different and it’s really based on what the audience is like.

If the audience is giving you nothing the show is going to be very different.

PHOTO by Davie Jakes You are working with big, well known, experienced actors who are mostly male. It’s your first time in the rehearsal room and you’re the youngest and the second only female [actor]. How did you navigate that?

Well I think I got very lucky that they were all very kind. Especially Denis [Conway] who played my Dad, who was kind of like…you know, it’s like “number one on the call sheet” kind of person, they set the mood a little bit. And he was amazing and he’s the kind of person that is so good that you want to be good for him because he is just on top of it, just knows what’s going on. And then Aisling O’ Sullivan who played my Mam was such a comfort, she was so amazing. We shared a dressing room and I just had such a feeling that she was looking out for me if anything were to go wrong or anyone was to say something I wasn’t comfortable with. I just really felt she was looking out for me.

Is there anything you would change about the current Irish theatre scene? What’s your opinion on it right now? [...] I think we lack in [having] solid places for people, young people especially, to go and create. We don’t have [those] solid, established places that people can use, or if we do I just don’t know about them.

I’m kind of of the belief that like, I’m not hearing about it [so] it’s probably not happening because I’m, like, involved? And I’m also actively seeking stuff out? And it’s also like (sighs), the industry as a whole I think is looked upon in this very way that’s like if you’re not in it you don’t know anything about it. And it can feel really hard to get into it and then if you’re in it at all you’re like ‘oh, there’s like… five people here’. And they all know each other, and

everyone knows everyone. And especially in Ireland, it’s so small that, like, if you know someone they’ll know someone who knows someone and then everyone knows each other. But if you’re not in that, it can feel so hard and like, how can you even begin to do that? And I think we need to just demystify the whole industry as a whole, film and theatre. Because there is space for people to get into it and people should be getting into it but it’s just hard when you don’t know how. And like, no one talks about it because in a way everyone is trying to protect their place within the industry.

You studied screen acting, how has that influenced your craft as a whole and in theatre?

I think what screen acting has done, especially in Bow Street [Academy], it established a process for me and gave me the tools to be able to sustain myself in work and to be able to look down the barrel of three months of work and be like ‘okay, so I need to map this out in my head. How am I going to do this and survive and like…not die?’ Because it’s a lot of work and it’s a lot of mental work that you’re constantly doing. Everytime we do the show, it’s like ‘what worked? What didn’t work? What’s funny? What wasn’t funny?

What did I like about that? What didn’t I like about that?’ I think I’m lucky in the sense that my teachers or mentors I grew up around instilled in me the constant learning kind of feeling. So every show is different or every take is different because I’m open to constantly being wrong. And I think it’s really hard to do that, to be silly and make a mistake and be like ‘this isn’t working, so what is working and where

a long time to get to a place where I wasn’t like ‘no! I know what I’m doing!’, you know? But when you watch amazing stage actors work and get it wrong and be in the rehearsal room and just go for it and then figure it out as they’re doing it…you’re like (sighs) ‘okay.’ Because they’re allowing themselves to get it wrong or allowing themselves to improve. Going into the first round of rehearsals, I kind of was like: ‘I need to have my full character figured out, all the lines off ’, like, ‘Know what I'm doing!’ But then you get into a room [and] we’re all trying to figure out the show together, you know?

Is there any advice you have received from your fellow cast and crew of Hangmen that has resonated with you?

Oooh, em…. less, like, solid pieces of advice and more just watching them work. I learned what they do and how good they are. I learned a lot about protecting yourself in the sense that you have to figure out your own routine [...] I go in early to the theatre because I like to be there early and I like to have time to wind down in the theatre before getting ready for the show.

And then learning a good warm up so your voice is protected, because I got sick in the middle of the show and it’s like a ‘doctor-theatre’ thing [where] you go onto the stage and you feel completely fine and then you go off and you’re like (gasps) ‘I’m gonna die’ [...] Gerry [Grennell] actually taught me something really interesting because I felt so grateful that I got the role in the middle of doing that intermediate course [at Bow Street Academy] so I could bring some of the stuff to Gerry. We were going through this exercise where he was like “become as big as the room”, so, like, you fill out the space. And he said voice-wise instead of trying to reach them [the audience], become as big as the space so they’re already coming to you, so you’re not straining.

Having done Hangmen, do you have a new perspective that you’re leading yourself with into your future career?

Yeah, I think so. I worked when I was, like, seventeen. I got a role and I got my agent through that and then I didn’t work at all until I was twenty. So that’s three years of no work where you’re auditioning constantly. It’s a lot of self esteem knock-backs [...] After the Bow Street full-time [course] I had, like, an existential crisis where I was

like ‘I don’t know what I’m doing’ and I went to London for a little bit of the summer and I basically was a tour guide [...]

But being there and living on my own I really aligned my thoughts around acting.

Because I think before that I was coming from a place of desperation and fear that I couldn’t do anything else ‘cause I’d done it for so long. So I really sat myself [down] for a moment and I was like ‘What am I going to do if this just, like, doesn’t happen?’ And I have to have a life, you know?

And I have to know that I can do other things. And I really came to terms with the fact that sometimes this just doesn’t happen for people. And it took away a lot of that fear because I was like ‘Well, I can live. I’ve lived before and I can live after’.

And it’s hard when you’re “in it” and you’re auditioning for things, it’s hard to look at that or look at it like that, when you really want something, especially. And I also got really specific about the kind of role I would want, the next role I would want and I remember sitting in the car with my Mam and I was like [...] ‘‘I want to be in a play by the end of the year”. And my Mom was like “I don’t know how you’re going to do that, because…what kind of play, like, you know? (laughs) No one’s really doing plays [with young roles]?” And I was like “I know but I want to be in a play by the end of the year”. Manifestation’s real!

And then I got the call for Hangmen and I only really got it when I got really specific about what I wanted. [...]

on so that you know what you want to do.

And also when you get to a point where you have the luxury to choose, you’re doing things you want to do and you’re not just doing things that you, like, think are going to be successful. [...] I think once you cultivate your own personal taste it’s not about, like, commercial success then and your whole career or your point of view isn’t like ‘oooh... is this going to do well?’

Like, ‘am I going to become rich?’ or ‘am I going to become famous from this?’ [Instead]it’s like ‘well, do I actually even like this?’ I would rather have a lengthy career that is full of projects I’m proud of, even if no one sees them, than do five movies that every single person in the world sees and then really be stuck, you know? You see that with a lot of actors who get really big and then start to branch out but they don’t know what to do [...] And then you’re like, (sighs) that’s upsetting, you know? And it’s sad to see and it happens so often. And I’m not saying that I won’t maybe fall into that, you know, the “allure” of Hollywood, or whatever, is enchanting to anyone. But I just think…I think I’d rather…yeah, I’d rather do what I want.

Do you believe the advice often given to aspiring actors that “if there’s anything else you can do, do that inswtead”?

I think it’s really important to have a life outside of acting because it can be very all-consuming and then when you do get a job, if you’re lucky and it’s a big job, it’s months of work that’s really, really, like… intense. And you’ve no time for anything else and it’s draining and you’re working all day, or it’s all consuming, so it’s really important to have a life outside of that that isn’t…you’re not just being dragged down [...] There’s a kind of self absorbency that you kind of have to have where you’re like ‘no, this is going to work for me. I’m going to make it work’ that gives you a drive to keep going [...] I’m at a point in my career where I can’t say no because I don’t have the luxury of choice, yet, but you also can have taste, you know? And I think it’s really important to create taste really early

WORDS by Amy Callery

‘Hangmen’ by Martin Mc Donagh, directed by Andrew Flynn, returns to The Gaiety Theatre from the 19th of October.

Tickets available now at www.ticketmaster.ie or from The Gaiety Theatre Box Office.

23

Tickets available on Eventbrite €16.67

25-28

Tickets €22 - €25

Oliver Cromwell is Really Very Sorry Project Arts Centre

€6

Mystery Matinée at the IFI Buy tickets well advance because this one sells out super quick!

15-28

Oktoberfest The Bernard Shaw Event is 20+

Tickets available on Eventbrite €11.70

Italian Fusion Fest The Well in Stephen’s Green

Student tickets €10

Running until Jan 28

Andy Warhol exhibition Hugh Lane Gallery

22

WHATS Going on?

14

October

25

12

31

100+ stalls spreading over the indoor and outdoor Kelly’s yard (the Old Tram Depot right beside Dalymount Park)

Le Zeitgeist Flea Market

€23

Midnight Disco Halloween Party Here and Now

€30

CMAT at The Olympia

29-2

Card accepted by most vendors

10.00-17.00

5

29

Farmleigh Market Phoenix Park

Tickets on RA guide from €6

BPM and Bitten Twice Collective at the Racketspace (Below the Bernard Shaw)

November

THEATRE

Having an Existential Crisis?

We’ve got the Fringe for you

A

lot of people don’t realise that Fringe festivals are meant as innovative precursors to more established theatre festivals. Think of the Fringe as the maverick cousin of Edinburgh International Festival and Dublin Theatre Festival. We’ve compiled our students’ experiences of these festivals in a disorganised and chaotic way (á la Fringe) to attempt a glimpse at the wonderful madness that these festivals have to offer.

WHAT IT’S LIKE TO VOLUNTEER AT THE FRINGE: Kate Feelihy

If you have even a vague interest in the arts I cannot recommend Fringe enough. It changed the entire way I view the industry. The amount of work at Fringe is both terrifying and encouraging. It’s scary to think of being lost amidst so much work, but it is invigorating to see artists thrive, thinking one day that may be me. Fringe is no relaxing get-away, but like many other returners, I’m itching for these eleven months to pass and make my yearly trip to the Edinburgh Fringe.

WHAT IT’S LIKE TO SEE THE FRINGE: Éle Ní Chonbhuí

Volunteering at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival is not for the faint of heart.

Some Fringe shows are bad, but they are never boring.

It is fast paced, high energy, and exhausting; but it is also intoxicating. For two Summers I have volunteered at Fringe to spend my August at the biggest arts festival in the world.

As a volunteer I am offered free shows, accommodation and a small subsistence allowance. In return I spend six days a week scanning tickets, giving directions, and greeting the public.

However, volunteering is a financial risk and it demands lots of resilience, but for me the joy of working on a team united by a shared love for the festival is unmatched.

Endings. ran as part of the Dublin Fringe Festival from the 9th to the 16th of September at the Project Arts Centre. This musical, although both Laura and Larney agreed that ‘concept album’ has a much cooler ring to it, features an original score composed by Ethan Roe and Morgan Beausang. With performances from brilliant voice actors including Morgan Jones, Megan Mcdonnell and Michèle Forbes, Endings.’ intriguing blend of spoken word, electronic music, voice recordings and musical performances brought a modern, Dublin-based, take on the Faustian pact.

While this mightn’t sound like a riveting Summer vacay, I can promise it is an experience like no other. This August I saw fifty-two shows - from drunk Shakespeare and sexy clowns, heartbreaking shows on human trafficking or masculinity, to comedies about bananas and time travel. I never had a free moment. Before an evening shift I would run from play to play, and squeeze in a late night cabaret afterwards too. The Fringe challenges you to work hard and play harder. Shows, nights out and attractions are in abundance. Scheduling sleep, rest and downtime is a must or you will contract the dreaded “Fringe Flu,” (also known as burn out). You have to have the drive to invest in a demanding experience like Fringe but also have the self restraint to take care of yourself. This year at Fringe there were a reported 3,535 shows. In one city. In one month. The thought alone is dizzying. As an aspiring artist, the feeling of so much theatre at my fingertips is addictive.

Larney: “It’s just me on stage interacting with all these recorded voices... We pitch the voices up and down in software and I’m interacting with all these characters. [...] What we realised [when we made Beat] is we can’t afford to make five films with guns and car chases and whatever, but we can do it with audio.

We did that and from there we jumped off. So, when I was making [Endings.] I knew the capabilities of what we could do with the audio” Laura: “Some of the themes that are in the show’s description are love, loss, destiny and legacy. The [themes of] destiny and legacy made me wonder, is there any influence from an epic structure?”

Larney: “The piece is definitely influenced a lot by classical works, if I tell you what classical works, it’ll spoil the play. [...] I think specifically the play is about masculinity and about men in the modern age and I think legacy and destiny are such huge things men seem to be grappling with right now. There’s so many men that are lost because they’re in their mid-twenties, they don’t know where they’re going with their life, but they also feel owed something by the universe. They feel they should have been given something that they haven’t, and it leads to people getting led astray by your Andrew Tates. [...]

As an artist or as a writer, I feel like the more specific you try to write, the more universal it feels. You see that all the time in the media, people trying to reach every demographic and please every demographic...”

Laura: “And it doesn’t reach anyone” Larney: “Exactly, [...] but when you give those voices to people of those demographics, and they make the stories, then it means something. I definitely don’t think that I can claim that I’ve written the story for everybody, but what I have tried to do is write something from a specific perspective that will shed light on an issue. [...] It’s definitely set [in Dublin] in the modern day, it’s definitely engaging with Irish modern issues. But that setting is less important than the fact that it’s set in Henry’s head. It’s set inside his mind [...] I’m not really interested in telling a happy-clappy story that doesn’t say anything about the world, or my perspective of the world. [...] So, I think I want for some members of the audience to leave challenged.

For some members comforted and for people to feel entertained.”

WORDS by Éle Ní Chonbhuí

27

FOOD

‘Barbie soup’

A personal history of Šaltibarščiai

WORDS by Agne Kniuraite

Lithuanian Cold Beet Soup (Traditional Šaltibaršciai) Preparation time: Up to 30 mins Serves 4

Ingredients

Preparation

For the soup 500 grams boiled and marinated beetroots, grated 1 litre kefir Half a lemon Cucumbers, grated Scallions, chopped finely Dill, chopped finely Salt and pepper

Peel the potatoes, wash the eggs.

For the garnish 4 eggs (or any number of eggs you’d like) 8 potatoes (or any number of potatoes you’d like) Sour cream (optional)

Pour the grated beetroot and kefir into a large pot, and mix.

Boil two pots of water, one for the eggs (until hardboiled) and the other one for the potatoes (until soft).

When the water reaches boiling temperature, add a pinch of salt to both pots and add the eggs and potatoes into the pots separately.

Squeeze half of a lemon into the mix for a more sour taste.

Add the cucumbers, scallions and dill to the soup. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Pour the soup into bowls for serving.

Once the egg and potato have finished cooking, chop them into any desired shape and add them to the bowls of soup still hot.

Garnish the soup with sour cream. (Optional) Bon Appétit!

29

2013 – Soup Can Be Pink?

T

he heat has been hitting record highs this summer and no one I know has an AC system. Here, the temperature rarely passes twenty-five degrees Celsius, and seldom thirty, and air conditioners are just such a waste of resources both in the cold cold winters and the marginally less cold summers anyway; so on that one day they would actually come in handy, all work slows down and pets go lay on the dry grass and even the flies stop bugging you. On that day, the world stops spinning, giving way to only the endless heat.

The day is spent at my grandma’s farmstead in the middle of Lithuania – a relic of times past, complete with an outhouse, a well (that my grandpa hand-dug) but no running water, and absolutely no connection whatsoever. I am not too preoccupied with the lack of amenities, however. In my hands, I hold a Barbie doll. She’s a princess, she’s so beautiful. I love dolls, I love looking at them and petting their long silky hair, and I like playing out life stories and dramas rivalling any telenovela. The heat makes it hard to play outside. I walk back home. My mother stands over a big pot at the kitchen table, ingredients scattered around. She is mixing the pot with a big wooden spoon, and I can see the colour pink. My surprise was undeniable: I had never seen something edible so starkly pink before, or even known about the existence of this soup before this day. I spent the first years of my conscious life abroad, disconnected from my culture’s traditional dishes. It was only around the beginning of the 2010s that I encountered my culture for the first time, the pink soup being one of those moments of realisation. ‘Šiandien valgom šaltibaršcius,’ today we eat cold beet soup, my mom tells me. I scrunch up my nose. Beets? Yuck! ‘Jie Barbiniai,’ they’re like Barbie. I look down at my doll. What does weird-looking soup have to do with Barbie?

I approach the table and look into the big pot. The soup is stark pink with eggs and potatoes bobbing up and down in it; equal parts intriguing and repulsive, awakening curiosity. I would spend the next ten years trying to explain the concept to my foreign friends. ‘There’s beets and there’s kefir –’ ‘Wait, kefir?’ ‘Sure, they go great together.’ ‘What kind of soup is it even?’ ‘Cold.’ Looks of shock and disgust ensue. They usually end up liking it after a try.

‘Paragauk,’ try it, my mom urges me as I take the spoon and reluctantly try the mystery soup. It is good. Kefir and beets go together. I ask for the recipe. It’s easy enough for even a child to make.

2023 – The Soup is Not Enough, Take Out The Ice Cream Machine The heatwave is unbearable. It is the second week the temperature has stayed over thirty degrees and I feel like my skin is melting off my skull. In the years of rising temperatures, I discovered a good hack for non-AC owners is to go to the cinema and watch whatever is on. While a home cooling system is still unnecessary, the number of unbearably hot days is rising every year. I’ve seen all the highs and lows of this year’s summer line-up to hide from the oppressive weather.

Inevitably, I saw Barbie, which reminded me of my childhood summer days spent playing with the doll. While I wasn’t the biggest fan of the film, its colour scheme lingers in my mind.

I have always liked the colour pink, and with its resurgence in the past few years – Kalush Orchestra’s pink bucket hat (now a symbol for Ukraine’s liberation) at Eurovision 2022, Chanel’s back-to-pink catwalks, and now Barbie’s all-pink life on the silver screen. – there has hardly been a better time for pink.

Temperature changes pose an issue (among many, arguably bigger ones): the refreshment beet soup once provided is not enough for today’s climate, and a fatty, dairy-based soup is more likely to make one feel worse than better. My mantra these days has become ‘it’s probably better frozen’; freezer full to the brim with whatever foodstuffs I crammed in there in a desperate attempt to make them more digestible. The beet soup will be better frozen.

I credit my mom for this idea. We have an ice cream machine, but after a time the ideas of what to icecreamify run out. Turns out you can turn the soup into sherbet. My inner child rejoices I can now eat ice cream and call it a healthy meal! I’d like to imagine a Lithuanian Barbie eating it – I’d like to imagine young me playing her life out.

Making cold beet soup ice cream is simple: just take the traditional recipe, blend it, and put it into an ice cream machine. You can also sherbet-ify it by freezing the blended soup overnight and then blending it again until it becomes sherbet-like in texture!

Every time I eat the sherbet dish, I reminisce about my grandma’s farmstead, about that one hot day in 2013 I spent playing with dolls and unexpectedly facing my heritage through food. The soup – first magic, then mystery, and finally, a beloved summer treat, has always been an easy-tomake yet effective meal both for me and any guests. I love sharing it with my Lithuanian friends, as well as challenging any unsuspecting foreigners who may not have had the chance to try it. Šaltibarščiai, cold beet soup, Barbie soup, or whatever you call it, is a dish to definitely try: created by hard-working, simple farmers and brought to the rest of the country and the world, it is undeniably one of the most recognizable (rightfully so) Lithuanian foods.

31

GAMES & TECH

Videogame Adaptations: The New Trend WORDS by Sean Romera McCarthy

I

t struck me, as I watched the third act of Tom Cruise’s latest summer blockbuster, Mission Impossible Dead Reckoning: Part One, that the high octane and nail-biting final sequence was one that I had seen years before in a videogame; Uncharted 2: Among Thieves. In almost the exact same fashion as rogue agent Ethan Hunt, the charismatic, globe-trotting treasure seeker, Nathan Drake, had already clambered through a precarious train carriage, dangling miles above the ground in a Tibetan mountainside, all during a snowstorm. Compared to Tom Cruise leaping over some chairs in front of a greenscreen, I couldn’t help but feel Drake had somehow done it better. Thus, as I left the cinema, two questions sprang to mind. Why are videogames surpassing films and TV, and why are Hollywood studios desperate to cash in on, or adapt, the gaming industry?

Videogames have come a long way since iconic arcade staples like Pong and Space Invaders. With the evolution in graphics, writing and acting, along with an unlimited runtime to explore stories and worlds, the games of today have often managed to provide some incredibly engaging adventures to dive into.

The Last of Us alone won over two hundred ‘Game of the Year’ awards when it released to critical acclaim in 2013. Since then, other titles like God of War, Uncharted, Red Dead Redemption 2 and Ghost of Tsushima have followed suit in delivering incredibly original and exciting experiences. This popularity when compared to Hollywood’s business model comes down to a variety of factors.

When someone picks up a controller, they’re no longer just a spectator to the story unfolding on-screen, but an active participant.

‘It develops an attachment that is impossible to compare to the experience of watching a film or TV series.’

Taking The Last of Us as an example, it is one of the few successful adaptations of a videogame, yet nonetheless still falls short to its console predecessor. Traversing through its fourteen-hour story, the player connects to Joel and Ellie over a far longer period. You evade capture, you fight swarms of infected, you absorb the quiet moments between the two protagonists. By the end, when Joel goes through the game’s gripping finale, the player’s actions in pulling the trigger and scrambling against the clock feels earned and intense. You’re on Joel’s side, because, in a weird way, you are Joel.

The series, on the other hand, can’t help but feel rushed over its roughly eight-hour runtime, cutting out memorable set pieces and focusing on subplots which, although benefiting from added context, aren’t vital to the main story at hand. As such, although it delivers an enjoyable viewing experience, it pales in comparison to the bond brought about by a player and their controller.

‘These games are surpassing film and TV because you can become something or someone else, not just observe it.’

You can be an all-powerful, unstoppable warrior, a seasoned spec-ops agent battling terrorism, an honorable cowboy riding across a vast and lawless America, or a superhero beating up bad guys and saving the city from crime. In a sense, videogames nestle themselves and feed on the nostalgic nature of ‘makebelieve’, a trait often present and vital to the development of children. Thus, it’s no wonder why it has risen in popularity across the world.

Why Hollywood has decided to adapt or replicate elements from videogames comes down to a growing issue in the film making industry. Originality is rare, and frankly, running out of supply. Not because storytellers have been reduced to scraping the barrel for ideas, but rather, Hollywood and its outof-touch formula has restricted access to originality entirely.

Simply put, major studios don’t want to risk it. Why take a chance on a brand-new concept when they can keep pumping out Star Wars, Marvel and Indiana Jones films?

Franchises with established fanbases and an unbeatable guarantee of success (though, ironically, even this guarantee, following shameless cash-grabs, is rapidly slipping away).

Videogames are far more liberated when it comes to concepts.

That’s why HBO picked up The Last of Us, because it’s fresh and gripping, a welcome change of pace from the never-ending stream of teenage love stories and fantasy epics.

Another glaring factor is the audience consuming the entertainment. After all, gaming is still considered a relatively niche hobby. However, films and TV are universal, and Hollywood is acutely aware of this.

By adapting videogames, they manage to entice the preestablished videogame fanbase, while drawing in a larger portion of the population with no knowledge of the source

material. That way it comes off as original to most viewers, jackpot.

Make no mistake, there have certainly been attempts to adapt videogames before. Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time, Assassin’s Creed, and Uncharted are but a few in recent years, all games with fascinating and thrilling worlds, yet each one’s adaptation failed to deliver anything truly exciting. Such endeavours branded games with a pop-culture “curse”, that they can never be successfully translated to another form of media. Yet, it now seems that Super Mario Bros. and Sonic the Hedgehog turned the tables, with The Last of Us finally revealing the goldmine of gaming for all to see.

As the superhero genre withers and slowly fades away from the silver screen and streaming services, the potential of videogames could take centre stage and step into the limelight. Five Nights at Freddy’s is set to release this October, and should adaptations such as these continue to be produced with the same level of passion and care, they’ll undoubtedly transform into the brand-new trend of entertainment.

33

SEX & RELATIONSHIPS

MY RAPIST WILL NOT GET A REDEMPTION ARC RAPE CULTURE IN TRINITY

W

hen Frances was 18, her boundaries were crossed by a boy she had met at a party. It wasn’t extreme but it was enough for Frances to miss a few days of school and cut herself off from her friends for a month. At the end of it all, Frances looked in the mirror and assured herself nothing like that would ever happen to her again.

Two years later Frances sat on her bed on the phone with the Dublin Rape Crisis Hotline desperate to find answers about what had happened to her. A month prior, she had decided to end things with her boyfriend. She knew it was for the best, she needed to be on her own and realized they were not compatible. She felt sad hurting someone she cared about, but knew it was the right thing to do. She did not know she had unleashed a dormant creature that had been resting inside of him. One month after the breakup, Frances sat on her bed as her ex left her apartment. Dejected, guilty, and disgusted with herself, she cried but her tears felt empty. It would take another two months before Frances could say the words “he raped me”. When she thought about it, it wasn’t surprising. They had issues with her feeling coerced into sex, he had previously exhibited violent behaviour when drunk at a party before they got together, and he told her that he had fantasied about raping her after they broke up because of how angry he was. When Frances thought about it, there were so many signs, so many boundaries were crossed just like they were when she was 18.

And yet she ignored them. Because certainly this was normal right? This behavior was accepted and therefore it was normal.

Now entering my third year at Trinity, I sometimes hear these normal stories over pre lecture coffees or smoke breaks outside the library. Stories like this become anecdotes at events, smushed between some crazy hook up story and who the mutual friend there is. These stories, however, are not normal.

And we know they are not normal. These stories push people out of their friend groups and out of Trinity. They keep people up at night and they turn campus into a minefield. Victims are not taken seriously, assaulters are allowed to roam free with no consequences, and we are all complicit. There is a name for this. It evades conversation and only shows up in a handful of articles. But it is like an invisible wound, festering and eating away at all of us. It is a burden that we all walk with, whether we know it or not. It is the culture which we sit on. It is Rape Culture.

We all know of Rape Culture but it sounds so ridiculous? But, it is not ridiculous, it is not a thing of a feminist’s imagination.

“IT IS ALIVE AND WELL AND AT TRINITY WE SIT IN THE STOMACH OF IT.” This should come as no surprise. Ireland’s sexual assault statistics are vastly underreported.

According to the Irish Times, 52% of Irish women have experienced sexual violence in their lifetime while 28% of Irish men have. 78% of adults know their assaulter. And while 53% of women will disclose their experience only 34% of men will disclose their own. These numbers are likely underreported.

The Irish Examiner reports that of 2020 3 in 10 first year female students experience sexual violence though incapcitation due to alcohol (35%), coercion (34%), and force or threat of force (20%). These statistics are likely to be higher but once again are likely underreported. Trinity News reported in 2015 that 1 in 4 female students in Trinity have been sexually assaulted.

To combat this Trinity does have the Speak Up form; referral to the notorious Trinity Counseling where students wait ages for an appointment, and Garda Referral. However these bandaids offered by Trinity remain ineffective when it is working alongside the parasite of Rape Culture running rampant within the student body.

So what is Rape Culture? Rape Culture comes in many forms; we see it manifest in victim blaming, slut shaming, and objectification of survivors. Rape Culture allows for sexual assault to be accepted, excused, and even laughed off.

It allows for predators to go unchallenged and unnoticed.

Anyone of any gender and sexuality can be a perpetrator.

Anyone can become prey. Rape Culture dictates people only to view sexual assault as that horrifying back alley rape by a stranger. That is what allows these assailants in Trinity to continuously terrorize and get away with it.

As previously stated, women are not the only victims and men are not the only perps. It is not a gendered crime like we used to view it. However, I would like to focus on the men in Trinity who weaponize their ‘soft-boy’ aesthetic to inflict violence on others. These men are the ones who are always seen with the drunkest girl at the parties, who proclaim how accepting they are despite their fetishizing of queer women.

I have been witness to so many of these boys and accompanying their arrogant attitude are countless stories of non consensual sexual exploits. However anyone who is bold enough to bring it up is shut down by the people (often men) around them. Boys support boys, and in this support is an erasure of their actions and the fortification of an unsafe campus. This ‘boys club’ of Trinity, keeps rapists safe and victims silent.

We are all guilty of protecting these people. There is a fear of being iced out of the friend group. Sometimes they will even try to intimidate you to scare you into submission. After all, who are you to challenge the moral integrity of a Trinity Rugby Star, a scholar, or a private school graduate with a second home in Wexford? These perpetrators will stroll throughout campus unscathed by their criminal actions while their victims avoid campus, others tighten the grip around their drinks on nights out at the sight of them, and Trinity becomes a hunting ground.

The worst part is they know. Just like all of us they know what they are doing and what is said about them. But we have allowed them a suit of armor against these accusations by minimizing them to petty gossip. They do not receive consequences, they remain in their friend groups, they get girlfriends, and they get to graduate. And survivors get to watch.

We are so willing to give these men the benefit of the doubt, but this is not a victimless crime. Giving these antagonists the benefit of the doubt isolates the people who have suffered at their hands. It also feels a bit ironic that this is so normalized given that Trinity students love to boast their social awareness and show how tuned in they are to social issues. Yet at the same time they are babysitting rapists. So how do we stop it?

“WHEN I READ THIS I THOUGHT “HAVEN’T I BEEN DOING ALL THESE THINGS?” LISTENING TO SURVIVORS, NO VICTIM BLAMING, EDUCATING MYSELF. HOW COME I STILL FELT LIKE I WAS FAILING?” I am kind of at a loss when answering that question. I really do not know. I do know that I can do better. We all can. We cannot let ourselves be ruled by fear. Rape Culture is so embedded into our system and it stays there by preying on our fear. Fear of social ridicule, fear of violence, fear that you will never be believed. Pushing against that fear is what will lift Rape Culture from our lives. We cannot live in fear of each other. Your story is real and valid and you deserve to be heard and believed. You deserve to live without fear. You deserve to know your rapist will not receive a redemption arc.

WORDS by Margaret Clark

There are many documented ways to fight against Rape Culture. The UN Women has their “16 Way You Can Stand Against Rape Culture”. From things like enthusiastic consent to redefining masculinity the article outlines ways individuals can stand against this toxicity.

35

SEX & RELATIONSHIPS

Hot Girl Summer the intricacies of a media ruled trend

I

was having coffee with a friend one day - we’ll call her Alice.

Alice declared that she was going to have a hot girl summer.

Being relatively out of the loop on most events in life, I asked her what a hot girl summer was. Alice had decided that a hot girl summer was a summer of effectively old school debauchery: going out, partying, getting with lots of people, maybe even having a traditional summer fling. The only rule? Absolutely nothing serious.

Apparently, the hot girl summer is what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas but for a whole season and also specifically for women. As Alice had been recently dumped, I inquired about whether this was the best project when taking into consideration her overall mental health. Alice lit a cigarette and declined to answer.

My conversation with Alice left me feeling confused. Was hers the accurate definition of a hot girl summer? Should I have a hot girl summer? Is it dangerous? Generally, any type of aesthetic that involves groups of women and analyses their lives makes me instantly suspicious. Still, I was intrigued, so I did my research and found out that the idea of a hot girl summer rose to popularity with the homonymous Megan The Stallion song from 2019. On a base level, the hot girl summer relates to being a girl, being hot and the time of year being - guess what - summer. Seems simple, right? Well, it doesn’t just stop there. It didn’t take long for this trivial concept to develop the type of mystical social subtext only the Internet can manufacture. Not for nothing, when you google ‘hot girl summer’ and scroll through various definitions - mainly provided by the one and only Urban Dictionary - the word “hoe” frequently appears. A conservative definition then would conclude that the hot girl summer is also characterised by both not being tied down to any specific person and the tendency to ignore or spontaneously drop potential partners.

In other words, the hot girl summer exudes the aura of Carrie Bradshaw in Sex and The City - it is the epitomic allure of potential and possibility. As soon as May hits, you are expected to run around the city, buy extremely expensive shoes and finally transform into an irresistibly sexy entity that men are irrevocably drawn to. Then you will take after Meryl Streep in Mamma Mia and embark on a musical journey to have casual sex in your twenties. Surprise surprise, romance has departed our world in favour of a weirdly scrutinising set of rules for women to learn and follow. How original and fun!

However, precisely because of how stereotypical this whole situation sounds, it exposes the problem with hot girl summer: it doesn’t exist.

Anyone who has spent an entire two or three months partying, drinking and shagging their way around knows the last thing on your mind is upkeeping your physical appearance. Your main thoughts tend to be where the next pharmacy is so you can obtain ibuprofen, condoms, and a pregnancy test. Hot girl summer then appears to be yet another barometer we’ve created for women to judge themselves and each other; you can’t just have a normal summer, or a relaxing summer, or even just a boring summer. You have to have a ‘hot girl summer’ or else you’re doing something wrong. It all seems like a lot of effort for something that is supposed to be simple.

Is that all there is to it then? Are we doomed to this cycle?

When discussing it further with another friend - let’s call this one Emily - she described a completely different experience. While her hot girl summer did include partying and messing around, it primarily focused on having a great time with all the friends she was unable to see during college, getting to travel, and, finally, relaxing. Yes, of course relationships appeared within that, but it was not the main theme of the exercise.

Emily opened up a whole other element to the concept of hot girl summer: that it was possible to have one without the express purpose of getting laid. Sure, if it happened, it happened - she wouldn’t say no, but ultimately she just wanted to spend a good summer with her friends and have some funny stories to share at the end of it. In this way, the idea of the hot girl summer might even come to reject the notion of perfection. It convinces you that stumbling out of the nightclub on MDMA at 7am in the morning is not ‘messy’ , it’s ‘exploring Europe’.

It then turns out that maybe the real idea of hot girl summer was never about being a hot girl during summer; maybe it just relies on the friends you made along the way and the great experiences that you shared together. Yet, not to worry if that is still not your scene. Everybody knows that after hot girl summer follows sad girl autumn: sitting at home, drinking tea, listening to depressing tunes, and ruminating. This definitely seems much more accessible; every girl can, in fact, do that, and you don’t even have to leave your bed.

In conclusion, the media will always try to shove something down your throat about what you ‘should’ be doing and what is ‘fun’; however, this does not make any of these expectations true. On the contrary, they are generally not fun and overwhelmingly unachievable. So, my personal advice to you all is to follow your own gut and find out what fun and happiness consist of for you.

Next year, aim at having a summer of joy, no matter if it is hot or not.

WORDS by Sarah Murnane

37

PHOTOS by Margot Guilhot Desoldatos

SEX & RELATIONSHIPS

GUTS A masterclass on love and life with Olivia Rodrigo

A

fter a long two years, popstar Olivia Rodrigo is back and more confident than ever with the release of her highly anticipated sophomore album GUTS, finally out for the world to behold. The uproarious second album from Rodrigo is a collection of bratty rocker-chick anthems that could slot into the soundtrack of any classic high school flick : ‘It’s not a complete reinvention of the first album, but it’s new and fresh’ , Rodrigo said in a recent Rolling Stone cover story.

Rodrigo is at her best when she leans into the theme of a woman coming of age, and she expands on it in GUTS by asking bigger questions about life and love whilst still developing the ideas she introduced us to with SOUR: heartbreak, teenage angst and jealousy.

Rodrigo’s first album SOUR was written at age seventeen, whilst GUTS is predominantly written (alongside her collaborator and producer Daniel Nigro) in her final gruesome year of being a teenager at age nineteen. Despite there only being a short period of twenty-four months between the two albums, the growth in her lyricism and outlook on love and life is exceedingly apparent on GUTS. The thematic content of SOUR was centred upon a fickle former lover who betrays Rodrigo’s trust and moves on too quickly, with happier, enough for you, and favorite crime being among the songs from her debut album which touch upon the subject.

However, GUTS displays a vulnerability that is accentuated in comparison to her earlier work, as well as a notably more mature perspective on her relationships, heartbreak and selfworth. This sophomore body of work delves into diverse themes previously not discussed in the popstar’s work, including the societal expectations set for women to be perfect at all times (in all-american bitch and pretty isn’t pretty), the urge to rekindle an old flame with a former partner in a series of poor decisions (bad idea right?), being exploited by an older partner (vampire), forgiveness (or lack thereof, in the grudge), social anxiety (ballad of a home-schooled girl), revenge (get him back!) and also dealing with the internal conflict from the new life that fame has thrust upon her (making the bed and teenage dream).

The opening track of GUTS, all-american bitch, captures every essence of Rodrigo’s newest musical era - Rodrigo’s writing is witty, sharp and endearingly strange, with moments of dry, dark humour. Both of Rodrigo’s albums reflect a young woman’s internal strife and chaos as she comes of age, but GUTS explores

this chaos with self-aware sarcasm rather than with selfreproach. Get him back! features Rodrigo grappling with the conflicting feelings of wanting to reconnect with a former lover, yet simultaneously wanting to inflict revenge on him:

Wanna kiss his face with an uppercut, I wanna meet his mom just to tell her her son sucks She continues to explore the internal conflict of reuniting with an ex, in the track bad idea right?, her second single for the era :

Yes, I know that he’s my ex, but can’t two people reconnect?

This is a theme previously unexplored in SOUR, displaying her personal and emotional growth as she navigates her own relationships as a young adult.

Another piece of evidence of this evolution comes with the inclusion of the stellar powerhouse ballads, vampire, making the bed and the grudge. These songs have a distinctly Rodrigo feel to them, harking back to similar themes and styles of song explored throughout her first album. However, this is one of the first times she expresses frustration in herself for her contribution to the downfall of her relationships, and an acknowledgement of her role in their undoing; “You called them crazy, god, I hate the way I called them crazy too’’ in vampire, “I’m playing the victim so well in my head, but it’s me who’s been making the bed’’ in making the bed, and ‘’We both drew blood, but man, those cuts were never equal’’ in the grudge: all these lyrics demonstrate Rodrigo’s personal evolution and her journey towards self-accountability. Particularly in the grudge, she combines her self-awareness with the inability to forgive a partner after being wronged, a topic untouched in her debut album– “it takes strength to forgive, but I don’t feel strong’’.

A satisfying mix of grunge and pop punk, GUTS captures the essence of the transitory period between the ages of 19 and 20, as Rodrigo makes the best of her youthful anguish and turns

the ritual humiliations of girlhood into dazzling, over-thetop musical spectacles. On all-american bitch —an epithet borrowed from Joan Didion’s Slouching Towards Bethlehem— she reckons with the impossible expectations young girls face: to be sexy and virginal, selfless and ambitious, and no matter what, to be always grateful, satirising the many expectations that women face :

All the time, I’m grateful all the time, I’m sexy and I’m kind I’m pretty when I cry Other fiery anthems on GUTS include ballad of a homeschooled girl and love is embarrassing, both of which explore the awkwardness of socialisation and of both romantic and platonic relationships. Ballad features nostalgic lyricism and describes the social fumbles of her adolescent years: tripping, stumbling on words and making simple mistakes for which Rodrigo seems unable to forgive herself : “Each time I step outside, it’s social suicide’’.

Olivia continues her self-discovery in the track love is embarrassing, detailing the rollercoaster of emotions experienced during a tumultuous teenage romantic relationship (a theme quite commonly expressed in Rodrigo’s music) :

I’m planning out my wedding with some guy I’m never marrying Rodrigo therefore continues to create songs which effectively capture the essence of being young and in love, whilst allowing us all to relate to her frank and sincere songwriting and the experiences she faces.

Perhaps one of the most surprising and poetic tracks on the album, the song lacy, takes a completely different route and barely sounds like Rodrigo. Soft whispery vocals allow Rodrigo to communicate to the listener her struggles with an inferiority complex and with jealousy, as she details the beauty of the “Lacy’’ character she seems both intimidated and infatuated by.

Although she touches on a similar theme in jealousy, jealousy from SOUR, it is an entirely fresh approach to this topic on GUTS as Rodrigo seems to develop a crippling obsession with someone she considers her competition :

I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you On the whole, Rodrigo fully spills her guts in this work. The project evokes a wide array of emotions for the listener, with a wide variety of sonics, intense lyricism and a more mature and deeper understanding of her feelings surrounding heartbreak. .

Rodrigo is having fun and acting her age on this album, archiving her youth and all of its overused cliches, oddities and dramatics.

A perhaps unexpected sound for Rodrigo’s second album, it was an absolutely necessary project to establish Olivia Rodrigo as a master songwriter and the next global pop sensation that will be here to stay indefinitely - raising Gen Z as we navigate love, life and relationships in our twenties, side by side.

WORDS by Alice Matty

41

ALT.

through

R

the with

quotidian mr. bean...

While a testament to the strengths of physical comedy, especially in an era when this style was otherwise unsung,

owan Atkinson’s evergreen portrayal of the inscrutable

“Mr. Bean” also serves as an interesting contemplation of the intricate

Mr. Bean has become, through the litmus test of time

web of societal constructs that govern human interactions. I don’t

passing, a staple of TV comedy, a meandering figure that

intend to suggest that Mr Bean is really an intellectual pursuit of

seems to remain solitary in its status of cultural possession. Atkinson

psychological

consummately represents someone who does not dictate his actions

exploration, he is really just a silly little guy, so proved by a vast

in accordance with any sense of what would be considered polite.

percentage of his dialogue being just “Teddy”. But he can be sort

Or of sound mind. What I mean to say is that when you watch “Mr.

of read as a treatise on how often contained within comedy, there

Bean” back, he is kind of actually just an insane guy, but a happy one.

is a reliance upon our trusted network of generally excepted social

A titan of physical comedy, Rowan Atkinson’s performance is really

patterns, and the necessary manoeuvring it takes for them to be both

wonderful, but if you squint a little, there is an interesting examination

obeyed and disrupted.

of social rules going on, and what happens when they are shattered.

Let’s talk about how this analysis of our social conventions relates to

WORDS by Rowena Breen

the position of the audience in TV. I think that the dynamic between an audience and performance is especially unique in the case of Mr. Bean. He is an interesting testament to the interplay between audience and performance, and how our own implicit expectations, which we often take for granted, determine the context of the media that we consume.

Throughout each episode, and the Beaniverse (Bean universe) as a whole, there remains a sense of continuity.

He has a teddy, a girlfriend, a car, and each episode it is clear what his ambition for that day is.

These daily ambitions aren’t the crazy part; it’s his execution. What began as a normal attempt at a day at the beach, has sprung into completely avoidable madness. It is these rules of engagement that Mr Bean, initially acting in accordance with, recklessly abandons, and so his circumstances descend into a comic nosedive of the absurd. While each Beanuation (Bean situation) itself remains that of the exceptionally ordinary, it is his intuition and impulses that seem to plunge Mr Bean into situations of bizarre chaos. This is a demonstration of the universality that silliness achieves. He needs few words, as he is harnessing the deeply recognisable and transforming it into an absurd commotion.

This transfer between the ordinary and the odd, does have a sort of re-

Mr. Bean has the unshakable conviction that he deserves a bath, and

flection in that of mind and externality in an interesting suggestion of

hopes he can discreetly sneak into the room next door, using his power

our power to completely disrupt social dynamics, on purpose or oth-

drill. But there is a sense, a small glimmer of recognition within the au-

erwise. Turns out, these rules that dictate our social interactions that

dience, that maybe he should have a bath in his hotel room. Maybe he

appear so necessary and unbreakable, can actually be quite delicate.

should dismantle the infrastructure of his hotel wall and invade another guest’s private room. His fearlessness is what takes his insane decision

‘he is really just a silly little guy’ These notions of balance between odd and ordinary, action and inaction, stillness and motion, are sewn throughout the world that Mr Bean stumbles through. This thread of normality runs consistently through his adventures of nonsensicality. He is both the every-man and simultaneously the least relatable person ever. Viewers watch and

making from a position of “I see where he is coming from” to actual and sincere madness. Mr. Bean has tapped into a reservoir of determination that eludes his audience, which is what makes him stand out within the contextual circumstance of the relatable quotidian. It is an irrational pole within the scaffolding of rationality that contains him and us. Because we can all see ourselves in the framework within which he is operating, his sideways approach to the mundane stands out that much more, and takes him from a silly guy to a full on Bean. We understand wanting to give a busker some change, but when the rest of us realise we haven’t got any on us, we don’t set out our hat and start doing a little dance.

think, I would literally never do that, but also, he’s just like me. His Beanearance (Bean appearance) is that of the discernibly usual, and so too are his initial whims. He wants to make a sandwich, to go swimming, to cheat on an exam. It is this invitation of relatability that, when disturbed (because Mr Bean has decided to drill a hole through his hotel neighbour’s wall in order to use his bath), warps our sense of where he ends and we begin. In this comedic dance, the audience oscillates between the familiar and the bizarre along with Mr. Bean, our laughter serving as a recognition of the incongruities that surround us. The human condition is that of the unsure, and this unfaltering character of comedic sensibility recognises the hilarity of trying to make the right call.

One of my favourite things about Mr Bean is how often he becomes unapologetically frustrated with his deemed incompetence of the people that surround him. He would like to be able to take a bath and registers it as obviously absurd that his neighbour has got one and he hasn’t. Naturally, he uses a power drill to create a hole into the bathroom next door, and brings his rubber duck. He is so secure of himself and what he wants, that when people who are otherwise in tessellation with the rest of society get in his way, he becomes very quickly impatient.

43

ALT.

Is Dublin Beyond Repair?

T

his summer, I moved from a small village in Kildare to the bright lights of Dublin 1. I had some previous experience of living away from home; last summer I lived in Berlin. I had been through all the struggles of independent living. I had no money, I stayed out too late, I had to find a way to eat dinner every night… and so on. I thought that I had seen it all—yet I hadn’t prepared myself for the blinding city lights of Parnell Street, nor the savage conditions that exist cycling in Dublin. With rising crime levels, violence and intimidation, and punishing levels of rain in twenty-degree heat, my question stands: is Dublin beyond repair?

My story begins in my quiet village of Prosperous, Kildare, on a quiet February day when I was deciding how to spend my summer.

LIVE IN DUBLIN! The travel agent in my mind had set up shop.

YOU’LL SEE MORE OF YOUR FRIENDS! They said.

YOU WILL SEE BLOOMSDAY! They said.

YOU CAN CYCLE FROM A CITY CENTRE FLAT AROUND THE BOROUGHS!!!

They said.

And so, I packed my bags and moved to Dublin 1 in mid-May. I had moved into a semi-rotted Victorian flat with three bedrooms and a bathroom.

Soon, I had a job and a bike and I saw my friends every single day. Life was good. I had money as I began working full-time.

Every day, I would wake up at five forty-five in the morning to be at work for six thirty. I either got the 13 bus (a very smelly, all male bus) or if it was dry, I cycled. Off to James’ St I popped. I opened the café and stayed until four thirty. I had a lot of regulars who knew me by my name and I spent the day drawing out conversations about the city, life, or the weather. From talking to the people of St James’ Hospital, or the Basin Street flats, I was gifted some Dublin knowledge that I keep with me to this day.

I found out that Ger’s Deli of Ballyfermot is the best place to get a breakfast roll, that you could catch some nurses on the lash at Cooper’s Corner of Kilmainham on a Thursday night, that you should “question everything you see in the media”, and so on. Working in this café exposed me to the callousness of the Dublin City Corporation and the relentlessness of building the new Children’s Hospital. I was provided with unstoppable small-talk skills, and a good hand at latte art.

After work I would text my friend Brian, whom I lived with. We would set up some kind of plan for the night, be that going out to our locals, or having a cosy night in with some pasta Amatriciana and a myriad of charcuterie boards. Brian and I carved our own depravity into the damp month of July, and with our reckless cycling in tow, we had the city wrapped around our respective fingers. Our house became less unfriendly regardless of the mould. We quickly became obsessed with Dublin, the Dubliners, Luke Kelly, our neighbours, including David Norris and an affluent family with a newly crowned barrister, Cassie Stokes, and Professor Christopher Morash. The latter, who is a lecturer in the School of English, described some parts of Dublin as ’rich in literary texture’. To use the words of the King of Depravity, Woody Allen: Dublin was our town and it always would be.

We frequented a pub on the outskirts of town (which I will be gatekeeping) which exhibited to us some of Dublin’s real-life Bohemians. Every

Thursday there is a trad and folk session run by hash-wielding OAPs who have more musical talent than sense. The pub has not only one of the best (and cheapest) pints in the city, but also a foggy ambiance that sets it apart from some of Dublin’s more heralded spots. God bless. We quickly became regulars and got to know everyone that came every week. It was, and still is, a place that we know for certain we can call home. We are reminded of that every time we go back.

However, with all this excitement, there was a sad and scary rise in the public violence of the city. The city was destroying itself from within.

A combination of the housing crisis, cost of living crisis, and a sense of lawlessness amongst groups of youths on the street, saw Dublin lose her disheveled charm. After the brutal attack of Stephen Termini in July, the people of Dublin in both the cafe and the pub were remarking how dangerous their city had become. One of the regulars in the pub told me: ‘I feel shame. Most people initially assumed that an immigrant had attacked the American tourist, but it was one of our own. The only people causing trouble on the streets are young Irish kids. I know it’s terrible to say, but it makes me feel ashamed to be Irish.’ There was disappointment in his eyes.

It seemed that the people of Dublin had a summer of discontent in their city. The summer wasn’t sunny anymore. We had record-breaking levels of rain in July. I stopped cycling. Grey skies and mucky shoes were at the forefront of daily life, and the regulars at the cafe started to say, ‘I think the summer is over already’.

With the cost-of-living crisis, Dublin’s inequality of wealth has become starkly apparent. The impact of this crisis has brought a new wave of altright thought to the streets of Dublin, a more recent example being the riots on Kildare Street, a protest in which thirteen people were arrested.

The protest put a spotlight on the popular phrase ‘Give Ireland Back to the Irish’. The phrase originated in an anti-Troubles song by Paul McCartney but has now become a slogan for xenophobia and anti-immigration activists in Ireland. All over Facebook and X (previously Twitter) there are messages of hate from Dubliners.

My question is, how can these problems of violence, poverty, and intolerance be solved? Is Dublin herself beyond repair? What certainly remains in Dublin is the people: Dubliners. But do they survive under the extreme cost of living crisis? Are bohemians and charlatans being swallowed by a 7+ euro Guinness?

Of course, one could say that if these problems have been caused by the cost-of-living crisis, shouldn’t they be solved by it too? I’m not sure it works that way. The damage has certainly been done to Dublin. Rent is too high, the small businesses have already closed, the millennial have moved away, the emigration to Australia is at an all-time high (2,310 Irish in 2022, Irish Times). What’s next? Personally, I think a return to the greasy spoon cafe is the answer. But I’m not sure that will happen. With an inevitable breaking point, there is some hope in Dublin’s future. Dubliners have to understand that Dublin is rapidly changing, and to adapt to that is to accept it for what it is. Of course, this is easier said than done. When the bigwigs over at Leinster House find a way out of these terrible crises, maybe then Dublin will be ‘fixed’. Anyway, it could be worse. We could be living in Tullamore. At least for now we can have a nice auld sit down and a cup of tea in the Hibernian Metropolis.

‘To use the words of the King of Depravity, Woody Allen: Dublin was our town and it always would be.’

WORDS by Ciara Munelly

45

Tn2 October Picks Dublin Fringe Festival

Past Lives visit tn2magazine.ie for Rosie’s review!

Shouk Casual, busy restaurant with a pretty back garden serving broadly Middle Eastern.

Order the mezze platter (which has chicken skewers and grilled aubergine, all delicately flavoured and well thought out). They do house made drinks and its reasonably priced!

Big chunky fleeces

Little vintage watches

The Kylie headband

Red Tights

Mid length skirts

AESTHETIC QUIZ ARTS BLOCK EDITION

HIRT OFC TOP... A T-S A D E EVE E N 1. YOU LONG-SLE ACK IRT L B H S A) VICTORIAN OP / T MESH HENLEY S T. 0 IR 0 H 20 S B) P P P U Y P C) OP TO UTCH CR D N O V ) D

‘A

esthetic’ is a word that you like to throw in the title of your Pinterest board, Spotify playlist, and in the hashtags of your ootd, potd, votd, botd, totd, etc. Alas, we bring ourselves back to the question; what is aesthetic? And why does the arts block show so many versions of the ‘best’ ones?

2.

A) B) C) D) OVER

It seems like nobody wants to work these days, get your tush up and work to find your personal aesthetic. We’re here to provide you with the only four Aesthetics that exist, matter, and run the Arts Block. If you heard otherwise, it was probably a clueless first year who only went to Trinity because of Normal People.

MOSTLY

As

Coquette, Feminine, LDR, Gilmore Girls, Boy Genius, Taylor Swift, Greta Gerwig Lucy’s Lounge and Flip Clothing, Fownes St. Upper Om Diva Vander,

and Drury

Jenny St.

Bow and Pearl, Swan Centre.

Greens for You,

are Good Lemon St.

Etsy

jewellery

Most your

importantly: Granny’s closet.

FIRE… SKIRT PANTS 501S SKIRT JEANS

;) JACKET A SHAG 3.

COAT GY SHAG A) PENNY LANE JACKET ARC’TERYX B) C) GILET / UTILITY VEST / DENIM JACKET D) LONG LEATHER TRENCH COAT

W A R N I N G !

No other aesthetics exist except for what this quiz gives you. You can only be it for the rest of your life. Once you’re ready to use this quiz to become the arts block fashion icon legend royalty, you are granted the privilege of strutting past the benches outside numerous times a day so everyone sees your fit.

D I L E M M A !

Running late to your dreaded 9 a.m. lecture in the arts block on a September morning...Grab your outfit, quick, let’s go!

PANTS ON LONG ANY CARGO LEVIS WASHED DIESEL BELT FLARED

4.

SHOOSE YO SHOES A) ANY PAIR OF DOCS B) SALOMANS / NEW BALANCE C) NIKE AIR FORCES FOR DA WIN D) PRADA LOAFERS / NEW ROCKS GOING? BAG ANY 5.

AND ARE ESPE SHAK A) DIE I TIL TOTE COMPANY PACK BACK HER B) CROSSBODY LEAT BACKPACK ANTI-THIEF THAT C) HANDBAG THAT D) A LEATHER YOUR LAPTOP DOESN’T EVEN FIT IN

6. UPDATE! IT WAS RAINING = HAT TIME A) 2000S PAPERBOY HAT B) BEANIE C) BASEBALL CAP D) FUR AND ME BUCKET HAT PURRR

MOSTLY

BS

Gorp, Sambas / Spezials, Salomans, Skater, Sporty, New Balance ahh fit Nine

crows,

Mary

St.

35

Vintage,

Fade

St.

Dublin

Y TIME JEWELLER N A E M I LOCKET 7. JUULHEART D L O RINGS G A) CHUNKY R E RING V IL S S S A B) AND CL H C T A W / VIVIC) JUST A NECKLACE Y ETC N FA , D) TIF EARRINGS E ENN

Vintage

Factory

MOSTLY

Cs

Clean, basics, Cos, Weekday, Ralph Lauren, 501s, Reeboks, sweatshirts

Burberry, Prada loafers, Maison Soki tights, Branded Luxury, Smaller Designers Brown Thomas and Arnotts

COS and dopl., Exchequer St.

TolaVintage, designersection

Charity shops, NCBI ( w i n d s h e e t e r s )

Indigo and Cloth, Essex St. East

Phibsborough (independent

O n Uniqlo, ASOS

O n l i n e : Depop, Facebook marketplace (join local groups in Dublin area), Adverts. ie (variety of listings)

Rollers SkateStore, Aungier St.

Market sellers)

TK

Ds

Maxx, UrOutfitters

High board

Zara, ban

MOSTLY

l

i

and

n

e : Monki, Weekday

47