TN2 Issue 8

Sweeten up your Valentine’s Day

Colm Tóibín Ciarán Lennon RSAG GAA at the IFI Valentine’s Day lingerie

Calendar of fun

tn2’s pick of the most exciting things to do in Dublin this coming fortnight

Tuesday

Wednesday

Thursday

Friday

Saturday

Sunday

Monday

10 The Trinity Arts Festival started yesterday.

There’s all sorts of stuff to be done. Scope out trinityartsfestival.com for more details.

Events campuswide

28 Asobi Seksu claim not to be shoe-gaze, which is silly because they are.

CrawDaddy, 8 pm, €15

12 The Jameson Dublin International Film Festival kicks off tonight with a gala screening of John Patrick Shanley’s Doubt.

Events citywide

13 If you missed it on Monday and Wednesday, you can still catch The Vagina Monologues tonight in college.

Edmund Burke Theatre, 8 pm, €7

14 Hugh Douglas Hamilton: A Life In Pictures ends tomorrow at the National Gallery.

The National Gallery, admission free

15 Shitdammit, Lordi are in town. Treat yourself to a trip beyond the realm of irony. Scary stuff.

The Button Factory, 8 pm, €24.50

16 The Ambience Affair are all over Whelans tonight.

Whelans, 8 pm, €10

17 The Third Policeman starts today for a twelve night run at the Project.

Project Arts Centre, 8 pm, €18

18 Des Bishop is doing that whole Unbearlable thing for the next few nights. If you didn’t get a ticket to these sold-out dates, worry not, he’ll be back in March.

Vicar St., 8.30 pm, €28

19 Crystal Stilts are the latest in the evergrowing line of “crystal” bands. Luckily, the quite good.

Upstairs at Whelans, 8 pm, €14

20 Whelans has a stupid amount of good gigs this fortnight, Oxford Collapse being one of them.

Upstairs at Whelans, 8 pm, €12

21 Formerly of The Immediate, Conor O’Brien, aka Villagers is in CrawDaddy tonight.

CrawDaddy, 8 pm, €10

22 The Light of Which I Speak, an exhibition of paintings by Padraig McCaul with words and music by Will Merriman, began on Wednesday.

The Bad Art Gallery until 19 March

23 What better to do on a Monday afternoon than take in a spot of video art? Grace Weir is at the Hugh Lane.

The Hugh Lane Gallery, until 24 May

xkcd.com

Bargain hunting?

Kasia Mychajlowycz recommends a trip to the Dublin Flea Market the next time it rolls around

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tepping inside the big warehouse space of the Dublin Food Co-op in Newmarket Square, I knew there was going to be something just for me amidst the piles, racks, boxes and buckets of the Dublin Flea Market. Though this was only the third time that the flea market had taken place, including its very successful Christmas market, dozens of tables had been set up by people selling vintage (and just plain old) clothing, jewelry, antique furniture, records, books, bikes, cutlery and pretty much anything else you could think of. The market first took place in November of last year, and has been going strong ever since.

The smell of the classic flea market was somewhat mitigated by the freshly-made food available from several vendors along the back wall, including homemade classic

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Italian pizzas made by the organisers Luca, Aisling and Sharon under the name La Bella Pizella. There’s also the Peace Café that has been a fixture of the Food Co-op since last year. Digging through all the “bric-a-brac and what-nots,” as the Dublin Flea Market describes its wares on its website www. dublinflea.blogspot.com, can certainly be tiring, but there are plenty of chairs and tables to take a rest at (and even a smoking patio in the back) and some great food and drink to refresh yourself with. I almost got a great racing bike for €60 (but I realized I’m skint), but did get a great Body Shop makeup bag for €2, and a hat for €3. I even almost wished that I had kids so I could buy them adorable vintage children’s clothes!

The next Flea Market is on 22 February, from 11-5 pm, at the Food Co-op, Newmarket Square (off Cork St.), Dublin 8.

10 February – 23 February, 2009

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Contents The tn2 culinary challenge

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Issue

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Another year, another Valentine’s Day, another opportunity to share a magical night with your significant other/weep gently in the darkness of your cold, empty room preparing yourself for the inevitably lonely death to which you’ve been condemned by a cruel, uncaring world. Regardless of which camp you fall into, you’ll always find a friend in tn2 (albeit a friend made of rapidly disintegrating paper), especially since, this issue, we offer you the kind of culinary tips that will help to send your other half into a rabid sexual frenzy or, alternatively, fill your own tummy with food of such deliciousness that, for just a single moment, the bleak hollowness of your life won’t seem quite so painfully unbearable. The intrepid Melanie O’Reilly was on hand to direct the tn2 culinary challenge, inviting young Cian ó Criodáin into her house and teaching him how to cook a delicious three-course meal for his girlfriend, as well as imparting some valuable life lessons along the way.

Meanwhile in Music, the audacious Orla McCallion went and had a chat with Jeremy Hickey of RSAG, whose debut album, I’m told, is rather good indeed. Staying with music, there was, lamentably some sad news this issue as plucky Music Editor Steven Lydon stepped down after the chronic sexual harrassment to which he was exposed to in the office became too much for the little tease to take anymore. Luckily, the daring Catriona Gray was more than happy to fill his strangely girl-sized boots. Last year, Catriona was editor of tn2 and I just a lowly deputy editor. Now that the tables have turned, I fully intend to lord it over her at every opportunity and generally act like I’m a big, fancy pants-wearing man. And so my glorious ascent to the top continues.

Over in Film, the bombastic Michael Armstrong headed down to the IFI to watch some GAA-related sports films and talk to association president Nickey Brennan. Marvel at his ability to pretend he actually knows stuff about hurling, the cheeky chap.

In both Books and Art, we had the strange situation of our writers accidentally bumping into notable (and, indeed, quotable) figures. The gutsy Jean Morley met Roddy Doyle outside the Fighting Words Centre in town, while the valiant Sarah Brooks sallied forth to the Royal Hibernian Academy and met artist Ciarán Lennon at his own exhibition. This all meant that I didn’t have to do any work in attempting to organise interviews and the like, making Jean and Sarah my favourites this issue.

In Theatre, the bold Kathy Clarke talked to Dan Bergin about the new theatre company, Daguerreotype, he recently co-founded.

Despite the fact that I hate Dan (because he’s a shithead and always gives me abuse for my provocative glamour shot above), he once helped to free me from an inescapable toilet cubicle in which I rather unfortunately found myself trapped. Because of this, I wish him the best of luck in his future theatrical endeavours. The bastard.

Returning to the Valentine’s theme, the unflinching Patrice Murphy took us, quivering with unease, into the world of lingerie, giving us the low-down on intimates and providing yet another excuse to print a massive picture of Kate Moss in the paper.

So, as we approach Valentine’s Day, dear readers, remember: if you don’t have a prospective husband/wife lined up yet, you’d better get your shit together, because once college ends, it’s game over.

Valentine’s treats

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RSAG talks to Orla McCallion

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Faking it

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Sarah Brooks bumps into Ciarán Lennon at the RHA

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The kids are all write

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Big kids

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Michael Armstrong talks to GAA president Nicky Brennan at the IFI

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The Valentine’s lingerie minefield

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Tim Ryan: knitwear innovator

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20 ways to update your look for under a fiver

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Daguerreotype theatre company

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The Friends of Jack Kairo at the Bewley’s Café Theatre

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Rory O’Connor on God, fundamentalists and free lunches

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Hugh

Reviews

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Editor tn2@trinitynews.ie

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10 February – 23 February, 2009

Yours romantically,

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The tn2 culinary challenge With Valentine’s Day approaching, Melanie O’Reilly took one culinarily challenged student under her wing to help him impress his girlfriend

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All photos by Rachel Kennedy

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he tn2 culinary challenge all began one evening when I was walking through town to meet a friend for a meal and noticed the amount of Trinity’s finest queuing outside the likes of Subway, McDonalds, Burger King and Eddie Rockets (for those with a little more cash at their disposition, of course). I could not fathom why on earth people would actually choose to go to these establishments on a daily basis, and apparently see nothing wrong with fast food being their staple diet.

It then got me thinking about the amount of money those students were squandering on takeaways and how they were actually paying companies with no morals to help them on their way to type II diabetes. Something had to be done.

With the idea having taken root, it was time to think of a plan of action and what better way, than to abuse of my position as Food and Drink editor? My proposal was that we find a Trinity student who considers cooking to be the removal of the foil on a Tesco Finest microwave meal and teach them how to make a three course meal that they would then have to cook for their friends/family/ significant other. The point of this somewhat risky endeavour was that the starter and mains could be served on their own and that the leftovers could be frozen/kept for the next day. Of course, the dishes I selected were fairly simple, as I didn’t want to frighten away any possible candidates. Most importantly, the dishes did not make use of the same ingredients but allowed for the use of seasonal vegetables and fruit. The point was that if people realised how little effort it took to make a succulent dinner, with the added benefit of versatility, that perhaps our candidate would change his or her ways and maybe even do a Jamie and “pass it on.”

Once the ad appeared in the paper, there was no going back. But would anyone be interested? Thankfully, a candidate appeared in the form of Cian ó Criodáin.

Cian O’Criodain studies Maths and also speaks Irish fluently. If there is one thing that makes me feel really inadequate it is mathematicians, and to a lesser extent fluent Irish speakers. A combination of the two had me in a right tizzy, so now I had to up my game and try to be to as technical as possible. Thankfully, when we met, there were no condescending remarks about my inability to comprehend maths-related jokes

(we at tn2 are just too cool for that kind of thing really). There was also the added bonus of Cian having a girlfriend which ties in rather nicely with this issue’s Valentine’s day theme.

The great thing about the three course meal I selected is that there is little to no difficulty in its making, and I also used some novices’ cheats to increase Cian’s chances of success with his girlfriend later that week.

The starter was a savoury tartlet with caramelised red onion and goats cheese in the centre, with a side salad and my favourite pancetta au miel to give the side salad an extra oomph of flavour. The main course was stuck to the French rustic cuisine theme: seasoned chicken with a potato gratin and roasted marinated vegetables. The dessert I chose is one of my favourites and a real crowd pleaser, which is fantastic as it is so easy to make: “Suga Mel’s Cheat Yourself Magnificent Meringue Delight”(which you can see on the tn2 blog).

Timing was a major part of the lesson.

To ensure that the dessert was cool enough to eat after the main course, it was the first into the oven. Cian washed the blueberries and then poured crème de cassis over them as I explained why I used crème de cassis and the reason for the generous dose – that is, it makes for a more delightful meringue experience. The quick cheat here is to use a Gateaux pre-made sponge base which will help you to avoid any extra stress. Cian was grateful for the tip.

Making the meringue is the trickiest part of the dessert. I showed Cian how to crack an egg without breaking into the yoke when separating it from the white. For the most part, he managed to just about get the necessary quantity, however we did have one mishap with an egg and the kitchen counters. All in all, not a bad start!

When all of the caster sugar had been added, I showed Cian the necessary texture that the meringue should have before being spread over the sponge. We then proceeded to prepare the dessert, with only a few blueberries falling on the floor as they were spread over the base, thankfully. We then spread the meringue by simply emptying the entire mixture into the centre of the sponge and using a spatula to spread it delicately over the blueberries. It has to be said that Cian was a quick learner and it helped that he was eager to improve. I used a sep10 February – 23 February, 2009

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arate pre-heated oven for the meringue, which could then be used for the vegetables later on.

The next part was to prepare the mains.

The oven was pre-heated and I explained how a simple dish can be made extra special by using a few herbs. I was grateful that chopping was not an issue, as I am not sure I would have been able to deal with blood all that well! For a roast chicken, I find it best to melt some butter to baste the top, roughly chop some basil and coriander, then squeeze the juice of at least one lime on top and add half the basil and coriander to the top of the chicken. The skin of the lime and the rest of the herbs can be placed inside the chicken, to add flavour. The seasoning was very simply explained to Cian and he was able to do it without help. The end result will look a little too green, but, as I assured Cian, when it is cooked it is simply the most succulent

chicken ever.

The most complex part of the main course was the potato gratin. It requires a little finesse of the palate. I thought it might be better for Cian if he was able to watch and taste at will, rather than doing the prep work, and I was right. The best part of the gratin is that it is homely food (and my recipe is particularly tasty, of course). When the sauce was prepared, I let Cian finish the gratin and vegetables on his own. Once again, there was no major cause for concern, only the growing stack of dishes to wash!

For the starter, the only complicated part was caramelising the onions correctly.

I watched over Cian as he finely chopped the onions and I let the pan heat. When they were ready, it was merely a case of adding balsamic vinegar and brown sugar. Instead of making the tartlets, I cheated and bought savoury tartlets (available in Fallon & Byrne

Success?

Cian Ó Criodáin on the ups and downs of the challenge and his girlfriend’s reaction

couple of months ago, I was flicking through a copy of tn2 when my eye was drawn to a small ad in the bottom corner of a page. It stated that the paper was looking for someone to get involved with the paper and do something to do with cooking. I remember thinking that the whole thing seemed like a bit of laugh and I sent an e-mail asking to get involved. I didn’t hear anything for months and had pretty much forgotten about the whole thing until a few weeks back when I received an e-mail from Melanie, saying that they were ready to go ahead with the “challenge” and that I’d been selected as a “test subject”.

I still wasn’t really sure what this whole “challenge” thing would entail, but decided to go along with whatever Melanie had in mind, figuring it would be a bit of fun either way. In any case, Melanie told me that I was going to be taught how to prepare a fairly fancy three-course meal and then that I’d have to cook this meal for my girlfriend. I was pretty nervous at the thought of having to do this, since at this point, the extent of my cooking was that I could just about boil

pasta, without making a complete mess of things! Worse still, was that Melanie was going to be taking me to her house to teach me all of this. I’d never met Mel before and was a bit worried things wouldn’t go so well.

Worst case scenario, I envisaged myself inadvertently setting her kitchen on fire.

When we got to Mel’s house, she set to work straight away; chopping, baking, stirring and frying. I tried to help where I could, cutting vegetables and trying, in general to help things along, without getting in the way too much. All the while, Mel was explaining things to me and giving me detailed instructions on each stage of the cooking process. I hadn’t a clue how I was supposed to remember all of this, even though I was to be given fairly detailed recipes. After about three hours of hard work, we had finally finished and were able to enjoy the finished product.

I was incredibly impressed at all we had managed to achieve, but the real question was: could I repeat the whole thing alone? I felt quite apprehensive at the idea of cooking for my girlfriend but figured I’d give it my best shot nonetheless. Oddly enough, that night I actually dreamt about cook-

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10 February – 23 February, 2009

and Marks & Spencer). The caramelised onion was placed in the tartlet, a large slice of the goats cheese log placed in the centre and then the tartlet was popped into the oven.

The salad is low on skill, but it does demand an eye for presentation, so I took the opportunity to discuss the bonuses of a well-presented dish with Cian. I could soon tell that I was losing the poor boy’s interest, so we decided to tackle the obstacle full on.

I made my presentation plate of the starter and asked him to do the same. He soon realised why I felt so passionate about presentation – a colourful and well presented dish has the ability to make a person salivate at the thought of consuming such a delight.

The timing schedule I had worked out ran like clockwork and the lesson took roughly three hours (which included actually eating the meal itself). The fact that such a meal was made in such a short amount of time

without rushing, further increased Cian’s enthusiasm and confidence in the kitchen.

The lesson gave me a small insight into one reason why students avoid cooking: for many, the kitchen is a foreign land amd unless you are fortunate enough to have gourmand family, preparing a meal can be quite a daunting task. Consequently, I think the best part of the lesson was seeing our test subject’s enthusiasm increase with every mouthful of the three courses. A convert was born! tn2 sent our little lamb off into the wilderness of the world of cuisine, with a small goodie bag to help him on his way to conquer the kitchen.

Would Cian impress his girlfriend? The wait began...

If you, too, want to try your hand at our culinary challenge, check out the tn2 blog at trinitynews.ie for recipes and instructions and let us know how it went.

ing and things going horribly wrong. I just hoped my dream wasn’t a prelude of things to come. Eventually, the big day rolled around and it was time to finally get down to it. Mel had e-mailed me the recipes and the list of ingredients a couple of days earlier but, despite this, I was still dreading the thought of going through something so difficult all by myself.

I started cooking at around half past three, figuring that it would take a good three hours or so to get everything done.

My girlfriend had decided to head over early and watch me cook, which didn’t really do much to ease my nervousness, but certainly gave her something to laugh at as I frantically boiled, baked, chopped and fried everything in sight.

Finally, after much hard work, everything was finished and ready to serve. My girlfriend really enjoyed the whole meal and was pretty impressed with me. It had been really nice to be able to do something like this for her and now that I know I can pull it off, I hope to keep it up and cook for her more often in the future; she certainly expects me to at any rate!

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Valentine’s edibles Aislinn Lucheroni offers some advice on how to impress your loved one this Valentine’s Day via the medium of food

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ur mission here in tn2 is to help you, this week with the eternal problem of what to buy your love interest for Valentine’s Day. Teddies and flowers may be what Hallmark wants you to buy, but our suggestions have the added advantage of being a self-present: in that hopefully you will be allowed share in the yum.

These suggestions particularly suit those with an interest in matters gastronomic, but there is something for everyone – who wouldn’t like to be presented with a bottle of something sparkling on the fourteenth?

And, mindful as we are of general brokeness in college, we have budgeted carefully to ensure maximum wow-factor for your money.

Under €10

Some of the delights on offer at Leonidas (above, Hazel Iris; below, Ferreria)

The fact that you have no money should not prevent you from buying your sweetheart a present. There are loads of choices out there for the empty of purse - from a Butlers Chocolate Heart (€3.80) to a gorgeous box of many coloured Macaroons from Léon (€8).

My personal favourite idea though, is to take advantage of the fact that Valentine’s Day is on a Saturday this year, and prepare your loved one breakfast in bed. Marks & Spencer do four flaky, buttery croissants which you just have to pop in the oven for ten minutes, for the bargain price of €1.19!

Or why not go fancy schmancy and have scrambled eggs with smoked salmon (Lidl’s smoked salmon is a particularly good budget option). Orange juice, tea, coffee and the obligatory Coco Pops and you could be in any glamorous hotel.

Well, except for those flatmates, and all the mess and, of course, the single bed.

The cream of the under-a-tenner crop, though, has to be Colli Trevigiani Sacchetto Prosecco. This is widely available in Dunnes Stores, and looks ultra posh. It says its artisan produced, and it certainly tastes it. This fizz is fantastic value and dangerously tasty.

Under €20 Let’s stick with classics to begin with and profile some chocolate choices – for this price you can get some very good quality chocolates. Get swept away with the cheesiness of Valentine’s Day and buy your paramour a red velvet heart-shaped box of chocolates – €13 for 150 grammes of Butlers Chocolates.

To step the quality up a notch, Danucci are Ireland’s top artisan chocolatiers – they have a box of 16 rich chocolates, handmade in Ireland for €16.35, available in milk or dark chocolate. These are available in Fallon & Byrne and Avoca in town, and certain local delicatessens or food emporiums across the suburbs (I’ll let you guess which suburbs I’m talking about).

Popular Belgian chain Leonidas sell their chocolates by weight, and you can pick a Valentines Day box for €3, and fill it with however many Belgian chocolates your bud-

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get can afford, their advantage over Butlers in my opinion, is that you can get the fancy box while still choosing your own sweeties.

So if the light of your life is a fan of caramels, then fill a box full of caramels and reap the reward.

The winner in the fizzy wine category, not to mention the slightly kitsch category, is JP Chenets sparkling rosé (€12.99 in Dunnes).

For something a little bit different, The Cake Café on Camden Street are doing boxes of home-baked Valentine’s Days cookies for €12, or you could plump (ha) for their 4 cupcakes in a box for €9.40.

If you are short on cash, why not buy a heart-shaped cake mould and bake a cake for the one you love? If you keep to a simple chocolate sponge recipe and just melt chocolate and plop it on top it shouldn’t cost more than €12, and if you are totally insolvent just make a normal cake and cut it into shape (this is actually a lot more difficult than it sounds, trust me).

Under 30€ In these recessionary times, thirty quid can get you a whole lot, so look out for lunchtime specials and take that special someone out during the week.

Luckily, Monday is near enough to Valentine’s day – especially if you go home at weekends – to legitimately avail of the cellar in Fallon & Byrne’s “Monday Madness” (The madness is that they don’t charge corkage on Mondays! Rejoice!)

Six Carlingford oysters (cue leery winking) for €9 accompanied by one of the two wines specially selected to match them, a Muscadet at €15.95 for a bottle or a Chablis at €20.95. If you’re feeling even flusher, in the Restaurant upstairs, the pre-theatre menu is available all night on Mondays.

Combining two of the themes of this article – Champagne (well fizzy wines) and chocolate – the Queen of England’s favourite chocolatiers, Messrs. Charbonnel et Walker, have a beautiful box of champagne truffles for €24.95, with a trio of flavours: Bucks Fizz, pink Champagne, and white chocolate Marc de Champagne.

Under 50€ If you choose carefully or are willing to go for pre-theatre or early bird options, you can definitely get a great meal for two. Along with Fire on Dawson St and La Peniche, found at Grand Canal on Mespil Road, many places which are normally above a student budget are falling over themselves to attract customers.

Marks & Spencer are due to have their legendary Meal for Two for €12.50 (which includes a bottle of wine) on Valentine’s weekend, since their last one was the weekend of 30 January. Or you could always stay in, cook, and reap the benefits of slaving in a kitchen during the day when the lights go out.

Personally, I will probably be lying on the sofa (alone) with a massive bar of Dairy Milk and a cup of tea.

10 February – 23 February, 2009

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Sound of the underground Orla McCallion met Jeremy Hickey of RSAG, whose debut album has been getting the Kilkenny native quite a bit of attention of late

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wo months after the release of his album Organic Sampler, Jeremy Hickey of RSAG (that’s Rarely Seen Above Ground, by the way) is getting into gear for a fast-paced year.

Just one day before he spoke to me, the affable Kilkenny man had spent the day being shadowed by a television crew. RSAG is to be part of a show about musicians, Raw Sessions, which will feature on RTÉ 2 in March.

The smile on his face could be discerned through the phone as he described his day.

“The crew came down for the afternoon and were around until 8-ish. They were really sound; we had a bit of a laugh. It’s not what I’d be into on a daily basis though – it would get a bit intrusive.”

Obviously growing in popularity, RSAG have been said to blow acts they support off the stage. Their unique sound was appreciated by hundreds last year at one of the country’s biggest music festivals – Electric Picnic. Jeremy performed on the Saturday in the Body and Soul area. “Although there were some security issues with the crowd (they were afraid someone was going to get impaled on the barriers!) it really added to

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10 February – 23 February, 2009

the show. Some people had to leave or sit down; it made it into a bit of a circus!”

Following the release of the album in November, Jeremy took January off from gigging to write a few new tracks for the live show. “I’ve been playing the same songs for about two and a half years; I want to introduce some new material at the next show.”

The album itself has been a success, with the Irish times describing each track as “leaping out of its skin because the producer won’t settle for the mundane.” It has been nominated for the acclaimed Choice Music Prize, which will be presented in March.

The Irish equivalent to the Mercury Music Prize, the award-winner is chosen by a panel of media experts coming from print, radio, TV and online backgrounds across Ireland.

The panel centres their judgement solely on the music, disregarding sales or image, and selects an album which best represents the talent of Irish music from the past year.

Since the beginning of his career in 1996/97, this extraordinary and exciting artist has come a long way. From a simple demo with a few tracks, Jeremy got involved with soul / psychedelic / dance music group, Blue

Ghost, and became renowned as a “percussion machine.” It was when a fellow Kilkenny man, Paul Mahon, came on the scene that things started to fall into place for Jeremy.

“RSAG started off being a one man show.

It was hard to conceive the idea of playing live with just one guy on stage.” Jeremy had known of Paul from his home county years ago, but came to know him well about two years ago. Jeremy was interested in Paul’s work: “he had made skate videos and such, I had seen a video of what he’d done.” These days Paul creates visuals to accompany Jeremy. “There is a virtual band on stage playing all the different instruments behind me.

London was our first gig with that.”

If you don’t know RSAG’s music, you won’t understand the sheer amount of instruments it entails. Jeremy played all of the instruments that can be heard on his current album, apart from the cello. “The drums and percussion are my speciality – they were the first instrument that I learned. I moved onto the guitar and bass, and then picked up some keyboards skills. Vocals are becoming more and more a part of the music. I’m very interested in developing that.”

Jeremy spends most of his time gigging here in Ireland, although he’d love to go abroad. “There’s a few places in Paris where we went down well, I’d like to see if I could develop that.”

Extremely passionate about his music, he describes the artistic process: “I would

listen to a band’s music and think about the limitations that they encountered in the recording studio.” To Jeremy, music often sounds the way it does because bands have “no other choice.” This clearly excites him, presenting the opportunity to develop further what others begin.

Reluctant to compare his music to that of any other artist, Jeremy sets about describing the origins of his work. “The music is full of beats, melodies, and vocals. It’s really about moods that you’re trying to get across. It’s all about what you’re listening to at the time or over the years - it’s always moving or progressing.”

Stimulated by a huge range of musical genres, Jeremy’s work has inevitably become quite diverse-sounding. “It’s all about themes really – I love the whole sound of Muddy Waters, Bo Diddly and Elvis.” From The Rolling Stones to Bowie, Kraftwerk or Joy Division, the list of influences is endless.

“Last night, I watched an interview with Kate Bush. Hearing her explain her idea of what she wanted to do was amazing. She’s a very expressive music-mime artist. After seeing her combine the two in her videos, I realised what she was all about. Her vision was mind-blowing.” The common thread in all of these artists seems to be that they have been inspired by others but really made the music their own – which is exactly what Jeremy himself has done.

RSAG play The Academy on 17 February.

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Fake it to make it

Janet Coen on the increasingly popular art of forgery 8

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e’ve all been playing the Recession Game lately. Economists make predictions, provosts e-mail plans and we laymen begin to wonder how things really are. It was during one such bout of wondering that I began to muse on how the art market is faring in the current climate. Are collectors getting the right prices for their art? With European police reports estimating that as much as half the art in circulation could, in fact, be forged, it seems there is a much deeper issue facing the international art market: are collectors getting the right art for their money?

In March of last year, Spanish police and the FBI closed in on a multi- million dollar art forgery ring. The fraudsters had duped more than 1,000 clients into buying counterfeit prints purporting to be by artists including Picasso and Warhol.

Much of the work was sold on eBay. The rise of the online marketplace and the expansion of the global economy has seen a considerable increase in art forgery. With few barriers to entry and with various obstacles for online regulation through contract law, the provenance of artworks and the integrity of sellers is difficult to guarantee.

So far, so obvious. But last January also saw the final verdict in the case against the Bolton Forgers, who had successfully sold their homemade fakes to museums and art houses over a 17 year period.

Typically, Sean Greenhalgh, 47, would produce an L.S. Lowry painting or a pre-Christian artefact in the family’s garden shed at Bromley Cross. His father, George Greenhalgh, 84, would then sell it on to an expert, on the premise that he had found or inherited it in the most improbably mundane circumstances. They famously extracted £440,000 from the Bolton Museum for the fake Egyptian statue “Princess Amarna.” The statue had been authenticated by both Christie’s Auction House

Claude Monet’s Waterlillies as reproduced by John Myatt, “the biggest art fraud of the twentieth century.” and the British Museum.

From the outside, it seems inconceivable: industry professionals being taken in by mere cottage industry shamming. We are all familiar with the impressive fellows at the Antiques Roadshow, who can hum along so confidently in saying that a piece was “certainly produced in the summer of 1942, by an artist called Cavendish Foxdale, a jazz enthusiast, who was allergic to sausages…” We are also well acquainted with the kind of popular crime programme which portrays forensics as the magic method to discover the truth about physical objects; their age and treatment – their authorship, if necessary. But improving technology can benefit the forger as much as it can those who would detect him and the awareness of it makes him twice as careful. Good forgers can source original materials or fake them so they appear to be genuine. They are also so talented that their work is stylistically flawless; differences from the original are virtually imperceptible.

A number of famous forgers have been motivated by the idea that imitation is the surest (or perhaps the only) road to success. Elmyr de Hory, who was the subject of Orson Welles’ 1976 documentary F is for Fake, persisted, even as a conman, in trying to find an audience for works under his own name. These attempts were not met with much interest, although his convincing forgeries clearly testified to his skill. John Myatt, described

by Scotland Yard as “the biggest art fraud of the twentieth century,” became involved in the business as a single father, simply looking to supplement his meagre income as an art teacher. He now has his own business, painting “genuine fakes.”

The detective who arrested Myatt was one Jonathan Searle, a name which is amusing for what it represents. The John Searle of popular fame is a philosopher, who posited the “Chinese

Room” thought experiment. This idea behind the experiment is that a computer would be created which behaves as though it understands Chinese.

The computer could answer questions posed to it in Chinese, with accurate responses, such that it convinces a human Chinese speaker that it is itself a person, who can speak Chinese. The computer has passed what is known as the Turing test – most proponents of AI would conclude that it understands Chinese, just as a person does.

Forged paintings may, in a sense, be said to have passed the Turing test. They ape the original work in so convincing a fashion that they are often accepted as being the original work itself. But the question we are ultimately left with is the same in both cases: Does the imitation have any qualitative value or content? Is it meaningful?

In purely economic terms, the answer is obvious. An artist comes to be celebrated for a limited body of work, which is the original product of an individual consciousness; one life, in one time.

It represents a moment in art. It is valuable precisely because nobody else did it; nobody made it exactly as it is and nobody ever can. But to an individual, perceiving the object, where does the value lie? While standing before a fake, believing it to be real, would we not attribute to it all the significance of the original? Even standing before it, knowing it to be fake, would we not still look at its content and search it for meaning? In Myatt’s own words, all that is missing is an added “frisson” that seems to be “culturally acquired.”

Despite all of this, however, art is creativity and “to create” is an original act. Art, by definition, relies on some sense of inherent value in the object. If it supported the generic, then it would perish, both as an industry and as an institution.

And John Myatt would be wrong in saying: “With these fakers, no one is dead.”

10 February – 23 February, 2009

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Straight from the artist’s mouth Sarah Brooks visited Ciarán Lennon’s latest exhibition in the Royal Hibernian Academy and bumped into the artist himself in the process

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here is currently an exhibition of Ciarán Lennon’s work on at the Royal Hibernian Academy and I was very surprised upon leaving the gallery to meet the artist himself. As I stood in the reception area, admiring my favourite piece of the exhibition, Arbitrary Colour Collection, Lennon, who was photographing this collection, introduced himself and I was fortunate to be able to ask him a few questions about his work.

For those of you who are not familiar with the artist, he was born in Dublin in 1947 and currently lives and works in the city. His work is displayed not only in public collections in Ireland, including The Irish Museum of Modern Art and The Hugh Lane Gallery, but also in several collections abroad. In response to the recent re-opening of the RHA, Lennon has conceived a special installation of his work.

His work is abstract and minimalist, with a focus on the concept of time and the different ways in which it can be expressed.

He plays around with vibrant colours and painted objects to produce pieces that he states represent neither chaos nor order, but the space in between. Lennon tends to produce sequences of work which explore a certain title and this present exhibition focuses mainly on two of his collections: Lens/Askew and Arbitrary Colour Collection.

Right upon entering The Royal Hibernian Academy, one is given a taste of Lennon’s work as there are a number of his images on display in the reception area.

On the left hand wall hangs a series of miniature paintings from Arbitrary Colour Collection, which are all uniform in size and strategically placed in a long line. This collection features overlapping layers of colourful acrylic paint which Lennon has painted onto a mixture of copper and brass metal sheets which are all suspended very slightly off the wall to leave a gap running behind them. In this collection, the thickly applied dripping paint provides an interesting contrast against the shiny metal backdrop particularly as it thins towards the bottom of the sheets. Lennon uses an interchangeable and arbitrary assortment of colours ranging from light, pastel, sugary shades to much deeper, richer colours.

Whilst facing these paintings, Lennon encouraged me to stand right up close to them and explained that his brushstrokes symbolise the rhythms of life. Birth is represented at the top of these paintings where the colours overlap and are abundant, whilst life itself is represented in the main body of the painting as the paint drips down and thins. Death or the “messy end,” as Lennon called it, comes at the bottom of the paintings, where trickles of paint and

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smudged colours merge. Such representation, I believe, links to another comment Lennon made about his work: he likes to think of it rather like that of a metronome constantly ticking. In the main room of the exhibition, The Charles Gallagher Gallery, there is another Arbitrary Colour Collection, featuring a similar sequence, except the metal sheets are larger.

Lennon’s collection Lens/Askew is also displayed in the Charles Gallagher Gallery.

Unlike his Arbitrary Colour Collection these works all vary in size and are spread out about the room, which perhaps suggests that they should be viewed more as individual works as opposed to a compact sequence. In Lens/Askew, Lennon uses a mixture of opaque, transparent and reflective materials to distort one’s vision. The collection derives its name from the fact that sheets of painted plastic, wire meshing and mirrors are all positioned on top of one another at slightly skewed angles. Lennon explained that the viewer is supposed to feel a concentration of colour coming out towards them. What I found particularly striking about this collection was the way in which one could see one’s reflection in the thickly applied glossy acrylic paint that Lennon has applied onto the rectangles of plastic. Clearly this is a collection that is interested in the process of seeing and in the concept of reflections too – as indicated by the fragments of mirrors incorporated into some of the pieces.

The photographs that Lennon has taken of Lens/Askew suggest that the pieces in this collection should also be viewed from the side. If one does so, one can clearly see the dripping globules of glue that hold the different materials together, and the angles at which these materials are placed create interesting shadows on the wall. This collection very much reflects Lennon’s statement that his work represents neither chaos nor order but is, therefore, a contained mess. Whilst Lennon splatters paint onto the different materials, they are themselves all neatly cut out rectangles and although they are squashed at skewed angles on top of one another, they have been systematically placed and are not sprawled across the wall in a random fashion.

Lennon’s exhibition provides, amongst other things, a refreshing and colourful meditation on the concepts of time, the process of seeing and the nature of life itself. Yet what I love the most about his work, aside from its pleasing aesthetic quality, is that there are so many ways in which it can be interpreted. This is probably the reason why Lennon himself was reluctant to give away too much about the inspiration behind behind his work.

Ciarán Lennon, Lens/ Askew 2/10/08 (2008). Image courtesy of the artist.

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All write

Is there a novel in all of us? Jean Morley visits the Fighting Words Centre on Russell St. and has her faith in the power of the imagination restored

Photo: Andrew Holohan

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K, well I’m just going to point out the fire exits so you can see where they are. We don’t want you to start any fires or anything, but that’s pretty much the only rule.”

Offering complete freedom to a group of ten year-olds is a fairly risky venture. I have no doubt that in my old school, this comment would have directly resulted in a mass exodus to the shop. But this group of thirty fifth-class girls, on a visit with their Ballymun School, are sitting transfixed.

It’s understandable. The Fighting Words Centre is two bus stops from Croke Park but four steps into an alternate universe. In the short few minutes since they disembarked their bus, the class has walked through a magic door, been introduced to an invisible, but nonetheless terrifying publisher, “Mrs McConkey” and been told they have two hours to author a book.

It might be the muggiest of January days, in deepest Drumcondra but, in this building, there’s a buzz of the impossible at work.

School has been replaced by multi-coloured walls, scattered beanbags and a giant screen.

Sums and spellings are left at the door, while PE is left out in the cold (proper order). All that matters are the stories we tell, as young and old alike are encouraged to write.

Set up by Roddy Doyle and Sean Love and in operation for three short weeks, the Fighting Words Centre is a new creativewriting space. Modelled on the 826 Valencia project in San Francisco, the centre brings the community together for creative fun.

As Sara Bennet, the manager and volunteer co-ordinator explains, the project aims to be inclusive of all. At the moment, the emphasis is upon kids in schools, with primary and secondary schools visiting the centre all week. Led by a team of trained volunteers, the children are encouraged to produce their own work. Anybody can become a volunteer, the prerequisite being an ability to have fun. “We do have a number of writers

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and aspiring writers but they’re certainly not in the majority,” Sara explains. “Most are just people to whom the project appeals; it doesn’t matter if you’re a stay-at-home parent, an artist, a postman or a student from a local college.” But looking around at the team of beaming adults, they look like they share a sense of craic.

Sara acts as scrivener, typing and projecting ideas on a screen. Kim, an illustrator, gets ready to draw and Vinnie, one of the most enthusiastic guys possible, has the children in hysterics as they begin their class story. What started out as a murmur of quiet suggestion, has suddenly become a jumping frenzy.

“So we’ve got this cowgirl, Betty, but where should she be?”

“The desert!” “No, Texas!” “No, the Omni!”

screen. “You can’t start a sentence with the word ‘and’” All whirl around to Roddy Doyle, blocking his face with his hands in a look of mock shame. “Oh yes you can,” he mumbles. Whatever about his writing style, in the context of Fighting Words, he’s absolutely right. As Vinnie Quinn earlier explains, formal rules are irrelevant in this centre. “We don’t focus on correcting spelling or anything like that, it’s all about telling the story.” It’s beginning to sound like the antithesis of school and to Quinn that’s what makes volunteering so fun.

“It’s like being a grandparent or being an uncle or something, you get the kids, you have a laugh with them and you send them off again; you don’t have to be a teacher. You just get the kids into a great mood, no need to be a disciplinarian, to complain or anything.” But is he ever surprised by the sto-

There are anecdotes you know they don’t make up or see on TV. Nothing too serious, but poignant in another sense “Right everybody, we’re off to Santry!”

Within an hour we have a Western epic; that of Betty, a lonely cowgirl on a shopping spree. Leading her horse through her local shopping centre, she’s on the quest for some lipstick and a cowboy, if possible. Unfortunately she hasn’t accounted for the “fat and bald” shop manager, allergic to horses and appalled that she has “tracked over the carpet with muck”. But what will happen to poor, misguided Betty? Will she be spotted on the CCTV, get trapped in the lift (Into the West-style) or decide to “fall in love” with the manager? Each girl will give their story her own ending, this Dublin retelling of The Good the Bad and the Ugly following any direction she likes.

But wait, there’s an objection from the floor. “Stop!” shouts one girl, staring at the

ries the children invent? “Absolutely; it can be hilarious. But it can also be a reflection of what kids are going through themselves.

There are anecdotes you know they don’t make up or see on TV. Nothing too serious but poignant in another sense.”

From the roaring laughter around the room (the horse has eaten all the flowers at the Omni Centre fountain) it’s hard to tell who’s enjoying things the most. As even the most reticent kids shoot their hands in the air, the class becomes a confident literary bunch.

Vinnie elaborates: “You know we all want name badges, tags, recognition but I think this centre gives kids something of that. You might never get a good mark on a test, you might not be involved in sports, but writing is something anybody can do.”

What’s the key to this surge of creative energy? “We tell them to keep writing, if you don’t like what you’re writing, cut it out.

Just anything to keep them moving, keep them going.” Even the most proficient writers could benefit from that kind of advice, and I wonder about the effects of volunteering on the budding writer. As Sara explains, writers and artists often enjoy working with children. “They love the fact that they can come in for a few hours and work with the young. It’s fascinating to watch ideas click and develop.”

The stereotypical writer is an outsider figure, ragged, moody and disconnected from their social environment. Is this a way to bring them into touch with real life? Vinnie laughs. “Well it’s an interesting question but you know, I think the real benefit for the writer is the structure it gives them. The writer, Dave Eggers, when setting up the San Francisco centre, spoke about how, as a writer, he would spend the daytime walking around in a daze. But with this project, they can come in for a few hours, help for a while and go back for a few hours to write.”

Similarly, the centre is ideal for students.

In between essays, labs and frequent coffee, most of us can fit a few hours to chill.

Sara emphasises the flexibility of the programme, with no minimum or maximum commitment, interested students can slot a few hours into their timetable.

Leaving the centre, I’m tempted to skip.

Laughing to myself, somewhat embarrassingly, I have the misfortune to bump right into Roddy Doyle as I walk out the door.

Taking a moment to try to recover, I ask him the simple question, “Why?” Luckily, he answers the smile. “Because it’s fabulous, it’s about creativity, it’s about letting kids choose what goes on to the page but mostly, of course, it’s terrific fun.” Good to know Roddy’s got his priorities right.

See fightingwords.ie for more info on the project.

10 February – 23 February, 2009

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Child’s play?

Can we still enjoy children’s stories as we grow older? We pulled out the dog-eared copies of some of the classics from our shelves to see

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s fairies flitted about the screen and Kate Winslet waltzed towards the Neverland set up in her sitting room, I relaxed into prime Christmas-time telly viewing. Peter Pan, lost boys and a human-like dog: thanks to the producers of Finding Neverland, the innocence of childhood was coming back to life.

“To die, would be an awfully big adventure.” Wait a second, what? When did Peter Pan become so morbid? Come to think of it, why was an ageless green-clad figure abducting four children from their London home in the first place?

Blame cabin fever and a bored festive brain, but it was time to research the icon of youth. Apparently, Peter Pan’s deathly words were inspired by the fall of one of JM Barrie’s friends from the deck of the Lusitania. In fact, the author sanctioned their removal from a Christmas performance of the play to soldiers on leave from the killing-fields of the Great War. A war which had, in fact, killed one of Barrie’s adopted children, one of the four Llewelyn-Davies upon whom the play was based. Thanks to the dystoptian instrument that is Microsoft Internet Explorer, my enjoyment of Peter Pan will never be the same. But does looking at childhood tales with mature grown-up eyes have to kill childish fun?

The Fairytales of Oscar Wilde Oscar Wilde wrote his tales to entertain his own two sons, and they lack the usual contempt children’s writers show for the intelligence of infants. He preferred to stuff them full of fat prose instead of flat pap, feeding them descriptions of dead queens . “Once every month, the King, wrapped in a dark cloak and with a muffled lantern, went in and... would clutch at the pale, jewelled hands in a wild agony of grief, and try to wake by his mad kisses the cold, painted face”: a comment which would have later generations of young cherubs leaping for the black nail varnish. The Birthday of the Infanta is a sweetly harrowing fable, morally scalding like everything else he wrote. I can assure you , it made ragged shreds of me when I read it as a wee chiseller.

It tells the tale of an ugly dwarf who has never seen himself. Kidnapped from the woods, he is exhibited to amuse a Spanish medieval court on the birthday of their little darling – a spoilt princess, momentarily amused enough to lead him on by blowing kisses. He (naturally enough, the poor glugger) falls madly in love with her and with barely a pause for a frolic, sets off in quest of her royal playroom. What does he find?

What everyone finds in his innocence; a mirror in which to recognise himself. Our

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dwarf realises the impossibility of his dream and he dies (somewhat sappily of a broken heart), to be discovered by the Infanta. “For the future, let those who come to play with me have no hearts!” A fairly gut-twisting agony but a brilliant story, with a load of fruitily bizarre syntactical gems thrown in.

Conor Murray The Chronicles of Narnia CS Lewis’ description of his conversion is hardly a cheerful one: “In the Trinity term of 1929, I gave in and admitted that God was God… perhaps the most dejected and reluctant convert in all England.” But this experience helped him to comprehend not only apathy but unwillingness to accept. Taking his views on Christianity as a lens through which to examine The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, we begin to understand the novel’s darkness.

Lewis was aware of the tensions existing in a book clearly written for children, yet full of a deeper meaning they cannot access.

Dedicating his book to his god-daughter Lucy, he realises that she’s too old to read fairy tales but, ironically, she will one day be old enough to start reading them again.

Are fairytales, like religion, a matter of belief? Much of Lewis’ work deals with the chaos faith can play in human life and in Narnia, the children’s lives are disrupted by faith. Aslan is mysterious to the point of being mystifying. Where has he been for the last hundred years, through the winter which the witch has imposed on Narnia?

Does it all come down to theology?

Aslan sacrifices himself for Edmund, a boy who has betrayed and sinned against his brothers and sisters; sons of Adam and daughters of Eve. Giving himself up, he is resurrected by “deeper magic from before the dawn of time.” But is there meaning beyond the religious analogy?

Whatever the answer, children have been reading The Chronicles of Narnia for generations. They love Aslan as a lion saving everyone from an evil witch, not because he’s a representation of Christ. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is about faith and religion, but also about the difficulty of understanding. Mostly, Lewis expresses the power of fairytales. Rebecca Long The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland The Alice books have always been my favourite, meaning that this review is a little biased, but I feel there is a need to redress the balance. Alice in Wonderland (along with Through the Looking Glass) is one of those classics of children’s literature which has lately been critically dissected by its more mature readers, not always benevolently.

Illustration by Michael Hague Suspicion surrounds its author Lewis Carroll (or, his real-life handle, Charles Dodgson) and, consequently, Alice’s adventures.

Serious accusations of paedophilia have been discussed, alongside the notion that these texts are simply too allusive and complex to appeal to the under-10s. In reference to the books , Martin Garndner wrote “I still think that the Alice books should not be read by children.”

The stories are admittedly complex: manifest layers of meaning, difficult puzzles, riddles and word games, the references to real friends and enemies of the author.

But the tales of Alice who fell down the rabbit-hole remain as beloved of children as they were when first published over a century ago. The nonsense verse of Carroll’s work is as entertaining to me now as it was when first read to me at bedtime. Any little understanding of the “darker side” of the text and its author that I may have gained over the years only adds to my fascination.

Caoimhe O’Gorman The Twilight Saga Its position in the children’s section in most bookshops suggests a young audience, but everyone, from pre-teens to their teachers, is reading the book. However, The Twilight Saga, encapsulating “the teenage feeling of sexual tension and alienation,” has given parents cause for concern. At first glance, the books’ darker subject matter may be unsuitable: murderous blood-sucking vampires and self-destructive love and lust.

However, parents’ fears are unfounded.

As the saga progresses, the books reveal a firm moral grounding which has a particularly Christian slant. Like most good stories it is a battle between good and evil, internal and external; good always triumphs and even a monster can overcome his fundamental nature. Whilst the book does have more than its fair share of teenage sexual frustration, the characters’ behaviour is exemplary and acceptable to conservative parents.

The Twilight Saga may appear dark and

potentially disturbing, but since it emphasises responsibility and Christian morals , there’s not a lot to worry about. Older readers be warned, though, you may find yourself agreeing with one 21 years old’s complaint: “There’s not enough sex in Twilight!”

Jennifer Emily May The Fairytales of Hans Christian Anderson “Her tender feet felt as if cut with sharp knives, but she cared not for it; a sharper pang had pierced through her heart.” It may come as a shock that these lines come from the familiar children’s tale, The Little Mermaid. The intense physical pain endured by the mute, forlorn sea creature as a part of the price for her human form is happily forgotten in adaptations of Hans Christian Anderson’s tale most people encounter in their youth. The tales of this Great Dane, from Thumbelina to The Princess and the Pea, are as much a part of childhood as losing teeth and usually considered as harmless.

However, the original versions, wrought with unfulfilled desire, are far from the “happily ever after” interpretations we’re used to. To the adult reader, the fantastical settings are transformed as the paradisical becomes suspect and fulfilment seems possible only in death. See the tragic fate of the Brave Tin Soldier. The possibility that his fictional ice queens and androgynous princes reflect Anderson’s own unfulfilled hetero-/homo-erotic desires has been suggested. He was an obsessive neurotic, plagued with phobias, and it’s not only the over-enthusiastic Freudian who might read into this insecurity and isolation. His “simple” yarns for children are infinitely more complex than history has allowed.

No doubt there are those refusing to have their precious childhood bedtime stories sullied by my claims, but peruse a copy of the original tales. See if you agree, upon discovering some of the not-so-happilyever-afters. As the Snow Queen laments, “Oh, how dark and weary the whole world appeared!” Lisa O’Hanlon

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Sticking together On the 125th anniversary of the GAA, Michael Armstrong went along to the IFI’s celebration of the historic links between the sporting association and the Irish Film Archive and spoke to GAA President Nickey Brennan

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iving, as we do, in an age where digital recording and the internet allows us to record and share the minutiae of our lives, we often forget just how incredible an asset the moving image can be in helping us understand and relate to the past. The Gaelic Athletic Association recently celebrated its 125th Anniversary and as part of the festivities, a night was held recognising the close ties between the GAA and the Irish Film Archive, who filmed the All Ireland Final for two decades between 1948 and 1968, archiving the footage with highlights from other finals in the pre-television era.

The anniversary provided an opportunity to screen two films that gave a flavour of hurling in previous generations: the 1955 Oscar-nominated short Three Kisses and the 1958 comedy Rooney. American collector Paul Balbirnie donated both prints to the archive, and they proved an invaluable source of material from that period. Kasandra O’Connell, head of the IFA, described him as an “avid” fan of Irish film, with a “huge collection of posters and stills.”

After an introduction by O’Connell and GAA President Nickey Brennan, the show began with Three Kisses, a ten minute short chronicling the fictional exploits of a young hurler from Ballykilly, County Cork, who plays for the county team. The film portrayed an idealised rural Ireland of the past,

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and demonstrated how Irish society and attitudes have changed over the past 50 years.

One shot of local priests overseeing the boy’s practice underlined how free of political baggage films of this era were. It would be impossible to portray that scene nowadays without recognition of the negative consequences of a church-dominated society.

Though this nescience sat rather uncomfortably, the film moved past such problems through an engaging storyline narrated by the protagonist. Avoiding cloying sentimen-

by getting him lodgings in the well-to-do Rathmines area with the O’Flynn family.

Through a comedy of errors, the O’Flynns believe Rooney to be a company official working for the “corporation” (slang for the waste disposal company). Soon romance develops between Rooney and the black sheep of the family, Mrs. O’Flynn’s niece Marie (Muriel Pavlow).

Much of the joy of the film is in seeing the Dublin of the 1950s come to life with shots of mostly horse-drawn traffic on O’Connell

Most of the joy of the film is in seeing the Dublin of the 1950s come to life with shots of mostly horse-drawn traffic on O’Connell Street and a gas-lit Ha’penny Bridge tality for the most part, the script was lifted by its cheeky sense of humour, in particular describing the boys’ “technical interest” in watching the girls in training.

Much less problematic was the main feature Rooney, directed by George Pollock.

Based on a Catherine Cookson novel, the film tells the story of James Ignatius Rooney (John Gregson), a Dublin binman who plays in the All Ireland Final through a chance encounter with a lawyer. The lawyer also sorts Rooney’s accommodation problems

Bridge and around College Green and one of a gas-lit Ha’penny Bridge, illustrating how different Dublin city was. The church near the O’Flynn household will be well known to any resident of Trinity Hall who has taken a slight detour on their way back from Tesco.

Rooney would fail to sustain the audience’s interest if this were all it had to offer.

Fortunately, performances and the plot are entertaining and engaging. Gregson is perfectly cast as the well-meaning leading man,

supported by a fine cast. In particular Barry Fitzgerald as Grandfather, the avuncular O’Flynn patriarch, Noel Purcell as Rooney’s best mate Tim Hennessy and Pauline Delany as his obsessive ex-landlady Mrs. Wall.

The film’s humour has a harmless innocence typical of the era but, through charming performances and witty lines, it manages to avoid feeling dated. I doubt the characterisation of Rathmines rubbish (“whiskey bottles and tea leaves”) has changed much with the increasing student population.

One moment in particular elicited knowing laughter from the audience when one of the binmen, leafing through the newspaper, remarks “ah the country is in an awful mess lads.” Times may change, but the stories stay the same.

In his introduction, Mr. Brennan focused on the match footage used for the supposed Dublin hurling side. To show up in the black and white footage, the striped kit of the 1947 Kilkenny hurlers was used. “Waterford were originally asked if John Gregson could play in their colours. They flatly refused, so the Kilkenny County Secretary Paddy Grace was asked. Paddy had no problem in Kilkenny sending them up. The spectators in Croke Park that day couldn’t understand why Kilkenny had sixteen people playing for the team, because John Gregson just ran in from the sideline. The following Saturday, all of the players were brought up to Dublin 10 February – 23 February, 2009

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to film a specific scene. Ironically, the players got five pounds each. I’m putting that down as the first time there was pay-forplay in the GAA.” The GAA President, a native of Kilkenny, also used the opportunity of introducing Three Kisses to have a slight dig at the current Cork side, claiming manager Gerald McCarthy could use the fictional player to give him “a team to work with.” In an interview before the screenings, he spoke fondly of the GAA’s history, and of his hopes for the future.

“The GAA over the last 125 years has been a lot more than just a sporting organisation.

It’s been an organisation that’s given an identity to people in communities around the country, and has helped to both revitalise communities and establish new ones.

We want that to continue. We certainly don’t want that to change. That won’t be simple either, because Ireland is changing and maybe the notion of communities is not the same as it was. The GAA will continue to play a role in ensuring the community ethos continues. In a way that’s really the most important thing; of course GAA will have its games and its music and its culture, but community is at the heart of what GAA is about.”

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but Mr. Brennan was quick to stress that GAA sports could be encouraged through a “process of reintroduction” in communities not traditionally linked with GAA sports. In particular he praised the work of GAA organisations encouraging cross-community initiatives in Northern Ireland: “A lot has happened there. I would’ve spoken to people during my term as President, which is nearly finished now, from a non-traditional GAA background. While there is clearly a long way to go, it is amazing

GAA wants to engage with communities in Northern Ireland, those who are new to Ireland and have come to make Ireland their home. If they want to be part of the new Ireland, being part of the GAA is part of that as well.”

With new opportunities, comes new challenges, in particular the recent phenomenon of top Gaelic footballers moving to Australia to play in the lucrative professional AFL league. While Brennan thought the financial appeal of Aussie rules football

The GAA over the last 125 years has been more than a sporting organisation. It’s helped to both revitalise communities and establish new ones − we want that to continue the progress that has been made. If someone were to say even five years ago that we would have a cross-community hurling team, the Belfast Cúchulainns, you wouldn’t have believed them.

“There are people from non-traditional areas coming to Croke Park to see games; you couldn’t have expected that to happen.

All of this is a lot of slow steps, but these steps get you to your destination. It may take many years and for some, it’s not likely ever to happen but that’s their choice. The

unfortunate, he was quick to put it in perspective.

“I don’t see that as a big issue at all. We will always have people who will choose to play professional sport, we occasionally see people leaving GAA to play soccer as well, but in terms of the AFL, the numbers involved are very small, and always will be small. But in the off-season, those sorts of things make great headlines.”

Given the distances and upheaval involved, Brennan saw it as no major threat to

the GAA’s future development. For him, the future was bright, and singled out university GAA organisations for praise in encouraging young talent.

“The GAA is very much involved in third level colleges, with clubs such as the GAA club in Trinity. Playing GAA and other sports is part of the whole college experience; it’s not just about studying your chosen course and cramming and all that, there are opportunities for sport, socialising and a whole plethora of things that makes up student life. We know from the numbers playing GAA at third level that we are an important part of that, and we’ve made a big investment in it through the coaches and, indeed, through scholarships and bursaries.”

While Brennan clearly had ideas for the future, the night at the IFI was about the GAA’s past, with some of those who attended the match featured in Rooney sitting in the audience. Brennan thanked the Irish Film Archive for their continued support for GAA sports and activities and hoped that, in the future, both institutions could work together to further inform people about this facet of Irish culture.

With such a rich and informative presentation of Irish sport in the 1950s made possible through cinema, it is humbling to think of how future generations will be able to understand today’s Ireland by the time of the GAA’s 250th Anniversary.

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Valentine’s night wardrobe Patrice Murphy guides us through the minefield of Valentine’s lingerie shopping with tips for both the girls and the boys

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hat time of year has rolled around again when women are filled with excitement, hope and anticipation of romance and men are filled with fear of getting the present wrong – or else they’re just forgetting it altogether. It’s Valentine’s Day. And if there’s one way for us girls to feel special without relying on a man – and one way to get men more interested in the holiday – it’s through lingerie.

Let’s start with the crème de la crème of lingerie, the brand that screams sex, class, expense and luxury: Agent Provocateur.

Available at Brown Thomas and House of Fraser, this is the designer underwear, and whilst €65 for baby pinks briefs (with cheeky cut-out heart-shape), albeit in French Chantilly lace, might seem excessive for even the most extravagant child of D4 in current times, compare it to the €560 Gretchen corset – decadent black lace over baby pink – and it seems like a bargain. And although hold-ups may conjure images of Nora Batty in some unimaginative minds, check out the €30 Europa hold-ups in fuchsia with classic back seams. These will never go out of style in the bedroom.

For those with a more limited budget, Ann Summers is the high street equivalent of Agent Provocateur – but be warned, it is not for the faint-hearted! Venture in with a close girlfriend to have a giggle at the wide range of accessories and, ahem, products on display; wonder aloud at the styles which one may as well not wear, for all the coverage they provide, and see that, in fact, there are a number of decent sets for all – from the most outrageous sex vixen to the more conservative, Sex and the City’s Charlotte-type.

For the former, we like the Phoenix Chemise at €54.25 (as, lovely though the various secretary/policewoman/maid outfits are, they do not suit the most romantic of nights), whilst the Florence range (beginning at €9.25) – string, bra, suspender belt and stockings – is more tasteful than it sounds and the Strawberries and Cream bra (€31) and brief (€15.50) set is pretty and girly enough for the most innocent amongst us.

Perhaps less intimidating and overly sexual, is other high street fave, La Senza, where you can find anything from control pants (well they’re very necessary for a tight datenight dress), to multiway bras, luxury silk sets and even basques, baby-dolls and bustiers. If you are one of those la-

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dies spending Valentine’s day with your girlfriends in front of the telly with some Ben and Jerry’s, La Senza’s classic Lullaby Lace collection, with brazilians or briefs available with matching bra in a wide selection of on-trend colours, will brighten your day and have you feeling flirty and fabulous – no boy required. And the new range of Pussycat Dolls lingerie will be appreciated by both males and females; sexy without being too try-hard, this collection takes its influences both from vintage glamour and modern influences to produce pieces which are not as explicit as the group but certainly will have you channelling your inner sex kitten! Our favourites are Shhh: Vintage Diamante in black and white stripe (bra and brief/ thong) and the Vintage Pintuck corset in pale pink with black detail – though there’s plenty of satin, bows and laceups for every taste!

For those of us who have unfortunately forgotten to budget for this occasion so close after Christmas, there is always the lifeline that is Penneys. Beware, though, for every adorable floral pattern you find, you will notice the thong is high-rise circa Baywatch (not flattering on Yasmine Bleeth, not flattering on us normal folk) o r

the bra is perfect – if you’re 34B and below, as that’s all they have left. Persevere, take your time, and don’t impulse buy here. Try on bras before you buy, and look closely at the sizes of panties, as some stretch too much and others have no give whatsoever.

Personally, I think Penneys is fantastic for bras, particularly the lacy gel-filled ones, as well as some pretty patterns such as black and white stripe, zebra print and black floral on bright silks. Watch out, though, for the materials used as some of the most pretty prints are on the cheapest polyester, which not only looks cheap and tacky, but can promote perspiration – not a great trait in undergar-

ments. Beware, also, of the underwear sold in sets in Penneys, as the pants are often an unflattering fit and stay away from those thongs.

Moving on to men – guys, listen up. It’s generally not a good idea to buy your girlfriend, and especially not the distant object of your affections, underwear – unless she has specifically left out a magazine/brochure with the appropriate big red circle and, conveniently, her sizes. The traditional flowers, chocolates, dinner, wine, or indeed a bag, shoes, CD or movie that you are positive she will love, is the way to a girl’s heart on Valentine’s day – let her worry about the wide range of lingerie available.

Agent Provocateur: the crème de la crème of lingerie

10 February – 23 February, 2009

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Knit-picking Tipperary-born designer Tim Ryan is doing miraculous things for knitwear says Cillian O’Connor

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et’s face it, shall we. Knitwear – in comparison to other garment groups – has never really been sexy.

Necessary for braving the wintertime chill, ideal for garment gifts for your Granny and, lest we forget, essential for warming beloved pots of tea, knits and their kin have their functions but being suitably seductive to be donned for a night on the town has never been one of said functions.

That was until Tim Ryan, of course.

Ryan, a native of Puckane, North Tipperary but now based in the creative hub for Irish emigrant designers that is London, has done for knitwear what our own extraordinary Philip Treacy did for millinery, having effectively revolutionised his chosen craft.

His designs challenge the common perception of what knitwear should be and in what

20 ways to update your look for under a fiver Ana Kinsella offers some advice to the cash-strapped

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10 February – 23 February, 2009

forms it should be fashioned. Like his progressive peers Sandra Backlund and Louise Goldin, Ryan urges his audience to consider knitwear not as a specific clothing genre with inherent restrictive boundaries, but as any other versatile type of clothing: limitless in its possibilities. His previous collections boast fluid and rigid fits, muted and audacious colouring and an abundance of subtle details unique to his commendable craftsmanship.

Having started in Limerick as a student of fashion, Ryan yielded to his calling to sculpture and spent two years studying the discipline in the 90s. Later, he progressed to knitwear, the sculpture experience leading to his adoption of an innovative approach to the medium which has aided him in making his unmistakable mark on the industry.

Ryan doesn’t do the generic, oversize cardies which seem, in recent years, to have achieved ubiquity but crafts inimitably structured garments which aren’t commonly produced through knitting: a belted coat in ashen grey with exaggerated collar and simplistic shifts with provocatively high hemlines. Lumpish, dull Aran sweaters these pieces are not.

What seems to be intriguing fans is Ryan’s nonpareil juxtaposition of the unmistakably modern – fashion-forward shapes, colours and adornments – with traditional techniques. The perfect evidence for this is provided by his latest collection for S/S ‘09, which features sumptuous pieces in a range of knitting stitches and periwinkle and cream shades. Construction and shape, Ryan has stated, are his primary interests

when designing, which calls for intense brainstorming on colour and fit before the knitting commences. This specialized method conceived by Ryan has seen his work wholly embraced by the industry.

And how. Ryan’s work has twice served as inspirational material for revered bloggess Susie Bubble of Style Bubble and is regularly featured in some of the most respected publications at home, in Ireland (including Image magazine), and abroad. Additionally, Ryan was last year invited to judge the work of finalists in the Nokia Young Fashion Designer competition. This year sees increased involvement as he mentors the finalists of the competition.

Tim Ryan is stocked in Elaine Curtis in Carlow, Juju in Greystones, Les Jumelles in Galway and Samui in Cork.

1. Slick your hair back. Expose that forehead!

2. Red lipstick. The cheaper and brighter the better 3. Shred your jeans. Simply cut a series of horizontal lines from mid-thigh to ankle. This look was seen at Alexander Wang, Balmain and Martin Margiela, but it’d be a bit ridiculous to buy destroyed jeans when you can do it yourself.

4. Even better, shred a tee-shirt. All you need is a plain oversized t-shirt or vest, scissors and something pointy – it’s the same as laddering tights. Do it in patches, lines or panels and, if done well, the effect is like something from Rodarte or Jil Sander.

5. Sick of lugging a backpack full of books to college each day? Buy a reusable cotton shoulder bag from any random shop, be it Hodges Figgis, Fallon & Byrne etc. and then you can carry your favourite handbag in place of that rucksack.

6. Whichever way you wear your scarf – wrapped, looped, tossed or knotted – change it now. For instance, tie a bow (at the neck or superlow) for a preppy accent.

7. Too many pairs of ripped tights? Cut them up and use them as hairbands, or combine different colours and make a crafty Marni-esque bracelet or necklace by plaiting and knotting them.

8. Dress down your nighttime separates with a plain black knit sweater. This works great for bright coloured satin

skirts.

9. Nail varnish is the simplest and cheapest way to update a tired look. Search for reds, oranges, grey or deep purples - just don’t let it match your outfit 10. Curl your hair overnight with hairpins for a hit of 1920s glamour.

11. Dye a white t-shirt. Yellow, red, blue, orange: whatever colour you want so long as it’s bright.

12. Bored of your winter coat? Go buttonhunting, and replace your plain plastic with something brassy and bold 13. Swap your jewellery for a week with a friend whose taste is different. Jewellery is a rut that can be difficult to get out of.

14. Slap on some black, winged eyeliner for day or night. This is striking and eye-catching, especially worn with an all-black outfit.

15. Grow out your eyebrows.

The Brooke Shields look is in this year.

16. Steal your boyfriend’s plain white button-down, and wear it with b l a c k

tights and red lips for nighttime 17. Belt anything and everything, either tightly at the smallest part of your torso, or slouchy just above your bum, if what you’re wearing’s long enough. Use belts, scarves, tights – whatever you have.

18. Make like Prada and stop ironing your clothes. Crumpled skirts and tops make for a great undone look.

19. Get over being afraid of clashing colours – pink and red can sometimes work, and navy and black can be classic together 20. Above all, break all your rules, don’t be afraid of embracing something new and have fun with your wardrobe.

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Indecent exposure 16

The real world seems like a very bleak place these days, especially for soonto-be drama graduates. Some, however, remain unperturbed – Kathy Clarke talks to Dan Bergin, co-founder of Daguerreotype theatre company

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hose most affected by economic downturn, it would seem, are drama graduates – aren’t we a sorry lot?

Jobs disappear, Arts Council funding dissolves and we are left holding our tails between our legs, having to listen to our fathers singing along to the “I told you so” dance.

Faced with the obvious option of working in Asda – now that they’re creating more jobs for people exactly like us – what do we do? Do we give up our theatrical ambitions and head down to the job centre, or do we face the music and make

some ghetto theatre in whatever space we can get our grimy little mitts on? We should opt for the latter, according to Dan Bergin, one of the founders of Daguerreotype, Trinity’s latest home-grown theatre company.

Daguerreotype is not the first company to emerge from Trinity’s well renowned drama department. Many successful Irish companies have roots in the Samuel Beckett Centre, including Randolph SD, the company recently responsible for the wonderful Everybody Loves Sylvia at the Project – the director Wayne Jordan having been nominated for an Irish Times Theatre Award. Promising possibilities for Daguerreotype, then.

“As children of the Celtic tiger, as cheesy as that inevitably sounds,’’ Bergin says, “we have an interesting perspective and things to say.

We’ve seen Ireland’s economic surge and witnessed its sudden downturn. With access to new forms of communication and technology, what are we passionate about and how does our generation present theatrical work?” It’s time to find out.

Having first worked together in first year on a Players production, founders Colm McNally, Dan Bergin and Mary Sheehan collaborated once again (along with Daguerreotype’s producer, Ed Collins) on a Player’s seventyfifth anniversary production of Infernal Machine. A reworking of the Oedipus myth, it was

during this show that the founders discovered a shared love of the steampunk and cyberpunk aesthetics, the set being suggestive of a techno-futurist wasteland with loose computer parts and junkyard leftovers dominating the stage space.

For those of us who aren’t au fait with these terms, “steampunk” is a subgenre of fantasy and speculative fiction that came into prominence in the 1980s and early 1990s. The term denotes works set in an era or world where steam power is still widely used – usually the nineteenth century, and often set in Victorian

era England – but with prominent elements of either science fiction or fantasy, such as fictional technological inventions like those found in the works of H. G. Wells and Jules Verne or real technological developments like the computer occurring at an earlier date. Steampunk is often associated with cyberpunk and shares a similar fan fol-

graph, developed by Louis Daguerre, in which the image is exposed directly onto a mirrorpolished surface of silver bearing a coating of silver halide particles deposited by iodine vapour. In later developments, bromine and chlorine vapours were also used, resulting in shorter exposure times. The daguerreotype is a negative image, but the mirrored surface of the metal plate reflects the image and makes it appear positive in the proper light. Thus, daguerreotype, most famously used to photograph erotic images and Edgar Allan Poe, is a direct photographic process without the capacity for duplication, much like a theatrical event, which is always completely original and of the moment.

Thus, using modern technology with a modern aesthetic, Dageurreotype put their first project into action, Wozzeck – currently being rehearsed around college. Without giving too much away, the play, set in an accountancy firm, is based on the play Woyzeck by Georg Buchner, and deals with issues of paranoia and surveillance. After a performance in Players in week one of Trinity term, the company hope to take the show to the Dublin Fringe Festival.

Behold, as they say, the most splendid theatrical conniptions are soon to be at your fingertips. The curious need only fear their own

As children of the Celtic Tiger, as cheesy as that inevitably sounds, we have an interesting perspective. We’ve seen Ireland’s economic surge and downturn. With access to new forms of communication and technology, how does our generation present theatrical work? lowing and theme of rebellion, but developed as a separate movement (though both have considerable influence over each other).

The vision of the company stems from a desire to make original and fresh theatrical work, and a freedom to experiment outside the confines of professional theatre. The name “Daguerreotype” emerges from this notion, referencing an early type of photo-

sense of amazement at this, the latest of mutations growing from the fine arts or the land.

Daguerreotype a new theatre project birthed with much screaming, sweat, and sparks this very year 2009.

Look out for fundraising events related to the company – they’ll need all the funds they can get. www.daguerreotypetheatre.com 10 February – 23 February, 2009

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The name’s Kairo...

Jack Kairo The Bewleys Café Theatre provides a very entertaining way to spend your lunch break, says Frances Beatty

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or those of you that spend lunch times eating stale, over-priced sandwiches and listening to classmates’ tales of romantic woe and alcoholic excess, this article will change your life – or at least an hour of it.

The Bewleys Café Theatre has become as much of an institution as the coffee itself.

Located in what used to be the Oriental Room, this intimate venue is an escape from the humdrum of the café and the crowds of Grafton Street. Fairy lights adorn the beams and thick velvet curtains block out any guilt you may feel at not pursuing mundane, practical activities during the hours of daylight.

The atmosphere is one of shabby luxury, a left-bank café style; the sort of place where you might fall in love with a poet, be inspired to write the first chapter of your third novel or decide to leave Dublin for a life of decadence and debauchery in Paris…

As I drifted on flights of fantasy, the sniff of soup and soda bread brought me back to reality. This light, tasty and undeniably Irish lunch is included in the price of the ticket.

Not quite the same as a glass of red wine and moules frites but it certainly keeps you going for the rest of the day.

The play that I almost forgot I was going to see was The Friends of Jack Kairo, a oneman show written and acted by the incredible Simon Toal. He has toured Edinburgh and Prague and was invited to perform at the International Theatre Festival in Romatn2

10 February – 23 February, 2009

nia, where he received a standing ovation from a packed house. He was nominated for Best Male Actor at the Dublin Fringe, Best Writer by The List in Edinburgh and Best Actor by The Herald in Dublin. Not only is he phenomenally talented, both as a writer and an actor, but he has a secret supply of energy.

The script could only have been comfortably played by somebody who wouldn’t be let out: it demands hyperactivity, a schizo-

Toal’s creation of hard-drinking low-life and work-dodging private eye Jack Kairo is an enthusiastic homage to the hard-boiled creations of Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler (the villain of Dashiell Hammett’s 40s thriller The Maltese Falcon is called Joel Cairo, so to say that Hammett is merely an influence is an understatement). Toal’s Kairo is called to duty when ex-squeeze (I think that’s 50s rather than

Toal’s Kairo is called to duty when an exsqueeze, femme fatale and perpetually pirouetting Elizabeth Rumsfeld asks him to solve the the murder of her uncle and recover a supremely powerful cold fusion device phrenic turn of phrase and multiple personalities. Oh, and a knowledge of dance moves from samba to swing and everything in between – including Morris dancing!

Toal pulls it off with style with his spells of temporary insanity and his extraordinarily malleable features that can transform from alcoholic reverie to coy female cunning in a fraction of a second.

Taking its tone from 1940s film noir, The Friends of Jack Kairo combines surreal pastiche and clumsy political satire – think The Maltese Falcon meets Monty Python.

40s slang but it’s the best I can do), femme fatale and perpetually pirouetting Elizabeth Rumsfeld asks him to solve the murder of her uncle General Rumsfeld and recover a supremely powerful cold-fusion device.

This is as much detail as I gathered concerning the plot. The dialogue was deliberately speeded-up for comic effect and this, combined with the utterly bizarre sequence of events, meant that any logical sequence there may have been was lost or at least besides the point. The play became a series of set-pieces, each one a (thoroughly enter-

taining) showcase of Toal’s talent.

The characters and caricatures he pulls out of his prop-wardrobe to solve the murder include Dick Cheney who stars as the devil butler, Donald Rumsfeld as Dr. Evil and Hans Blix as a power hungry psychopath. Was there meant to be a subversively clever and complex analogy with the Iraq war? If so it was lost on me. The only benefit an analogy with the ex-government of the United States conferred on the play was some funny voices and funny voices are well, just funny whomever they are attributed to.

The funniest aspects of the play were those in which Toal had clearly let his wonderfully weird and unique imagination run riot. The interrogation and confession of Freddy the Flea, a real flea that Kairo traps in a Bourbon glass, is comic genius – the flea that is, not Toal. The astonishing power, moving sincerity and incredible range of Freddy’s performance is breathtaking. Not only is Freddy hilarious but he is the only character that shows genuine remorse for his part in the murder of General Rumsfeld. Toal does morality too: sometimes the smallest bodies hold the biggest hearts. The life and death of Freddy the Flea is surely a lesson for our times.

The Friends of Jack Kairo runs until 14 February. Doors open at 12.50 and the performance starts at 13.10. Don’t miss out, it’s a treat.

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Free lunch?

Rory O’Connor recently talked to Christian conservative journalist Peter Hitchens and was left with a bad taste in his mouth

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osters are up around College for a series of talks organised by the College Chaplaincy called “Thinking Allowed.” It begs the question: who said it wasn’t?

The talks take place on Sunday, the day of rest, so the terrible trick is that we are allowed think on the day when most of us would rather take it easy. One day when the College Chaplaincy would certainly rather we didn’t think is each Tuesday, when it provocatively offers a “free lunch for students” from half-twelve to two. It doesn’t take much thought to realise that a free lunch is a greater mystery than transubstantiation, and could even be used as a Buddhist riddle for meditation, like “the sound of one hand clapping.” I have lived my life in accordance with the principle that there might be such a thing, but it is evident after bitter experience that it does not have the mandate of the Supreme Being. There is no free lunch.

Christians are often led into such illogicalities. If they are understandably not overjoyed by the fact of mortality, it’s best to leave them to it. But I recently had a sad

fact that morality is often what you do when everybody’s looking. But in saying so, he effectively denies moral freedom to believers, who always have God looking over their shoulders.

For the moral stakes are the true stakes for him. What Peter Hitchens and other moralistically-minded fundamentalists are looking for is not faith, strictly speaking, but a guarantee: “But if there are no ultimate, absolute principles of right and wrong, derived from the maker of the universe, then what do the words so often used by atheists to describe their own behaviour - ‘decent’, ‘good’, ‘moral’, etc. actually mean?”

Stirring stuff, and the materialist answer has always been correspondingly modest. It goes like this: we can try to judge “ultimate, absolute principles” by judging what kind of animals we are. It is wrong to assault somebody, because it causes physical and emotional pain to that person (sorry to sound like your mother). If we were made of metal, perhaps it would be acceptable to strike another person hard. An objective morality is intimately connected with our material ex-

What Peter Hitchens and other, moralistically-minded fundamentalists are looking for is not faith, but a guarantee piece of to-and-fro on the internet with the Christian conservative journalist Peter Hitchens (brother of the famous atheist Christopher), because he believes in God purely to keep the rest of us, and no doubt himself, in place.

Meditate on this for maybe 10 seconds.

“Actually, my argument is not that ‘because it would be problematic if there are no absolute principles of right and wrong, then it can’t be so.’ It is that I may choose to believe what I wish, and I prefer to believe that we are governed by absolute principles because I prefer the moral and other consequences of that.”

This is free-lunch logic, in two sentences that directly contradict each other. He is not free to believe as he wishes, if he is fearful of the “moral and other consequences” of unbelief. Instead, God is (and I am not free in not believing in God; it is simply the way I experience the world).

I would like to hear more about the “other consequences” he fears, but Hitchens can expect no sympathy as long as he treats God as simply an almighty Chief Constable. At another stage he said: “morality is what you do when you’re sure nobody’s looking”. It’s a prurient way of putting it, leaving out the

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istence.

And yet, and yet… this isn’t enough for those who want a guarantee. How can we be sure of that pain, and that it will be punished? This can get to the stage where God is needed in order for one to believe in one’s wife and kids! Atheists instead don’t need the guarantee, and believe directly in the weight of their actions in the world. They fully take on their belief. And they are aware that it is a belief, with the doubt that sometimes implies. So, though it might shock Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens just as much as Peter Hitchens, we should say: only atheists can fully believe.

But many atheists don’t believe in the world at all, as we have seen from the disgraceful Atheist Bus Campaign launched in London. The slogan on the buses is “There’s probably no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life.” It’s tempting, in annoyance, to rephrase it, “There’s definitely no God. Now start worrying and change your life.”

Of course, there’s no certainty. But in the midst of rising unemployment and vicious wars, is this the best the organisers Richard Dawkins and Polly Toynbee can do? “As you were!” they’re saying. Oh God! 10 February – 23 February, 2009

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Restaurant reviews

(01) 6767200

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10 February – 23 February, 2009

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Fire is, let’s face it, a bad name for a restaurant. In fact it’s a bad name for anything unless it’s a dodgy nightclub that plays a lot of happy hardcore and has a light-up dance floor, and even then it’s still pretty bad. Still, overlooking the name, I gave it the benefit of the doubt and, against my better judgement, chose to spend an evening in such an establishment. Big mistake. Huge.

Admittedly the catalyst for such a bad decision was the pre-theatre menu which lured me in with its promise of three courses for €28.95, which let’s face it, for Dublin prices seemed like a steal.

The first thing you notice about Fire (other than its terrible name and neon sign) is its colossal size; it has a capacity for roughly two hundred and fifty covers. This is a moot point because it means that invariably the restaurant will never be full as it’s simply too large a space. When we arrived, there was a total of two people sitting on the other side of the room, and when we left three hours later, there were just four more specs in the distance. With very little sense of buzz around us, even conversation became stilted, as it was hard to fully relax when everything you said reverberated loudly around the hollow room.

Still, hoping the food might be better than the décor we optimistically chose our meal from a relatively comprehensive set-menu. To start we had duo smoked haddock and cod fish cakes served with a sweet chilli sauce and rocket salad, and the Ardsallah goats cheese bruschetta with a pistachio nut crust and chestnut honey dressing. The fish cakes came sitting on rather a sad pile of dying rocket and were entirely insipid, com-

pletely overpowered by the sweet chilli sauce. However, the goat’s cheese was rather more successful, beautifully presented on a base of crushed bruschetta with a trickle of honey giving the soft cheese a hint of sweetness and depth.

For the main course, we had cod fillet with pea puree served with a crispy wafer of pancetta and scallion mash, and a char-grilled fillet steak served with chunky chips and tobacco onion rings. The fish dish looked beautiful, but didn’t taste of anything at all, with the pea puree merely adding to its chalky blandness rather than giving it any added flavour. And even the pancetta was served in too measly a portion to give the dish the helping hand it so desperately needed. Although the steak was by all means tastier and perfectly cooked, the chips were raw in the middle and the onion rings cold and greasy. So far, not so good.

To be completely honest, we were by this point rather dreading dessert so we shared a rhubarb and mixed berry lattice with butterscotch sauce and homemade ice cream. Although the pastry was well cooked and the fruit filling was a perfect sweetness, it was rather disappointingly served cold on the outside and lukewarm in the middle.

Considering the chef was only cooking for eight people throughout the entire evening, our meal was inexcusably bad, terrible in fact. Needless to say, I suggest you give the whole thing a miss.

The perfect example of a great space and opportunity, being totally wasted in true Celtic Tiger fashion which will now suffer under the credit crunch. And rightly so. Jo Monk

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La Peniche

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La Peniche is probably the most unique restaurant in Dublin. Borrowing dining concepts from the plethora of riverboats adorning the Seine, it provides an “original and romantic dining experience on Dublin’s Grand Canal.”

I, however, was initially cynical. I have had my own “river boat” experiences.

My boyfriend has a dwarf of a canal boat that he inherited from his grandparents.

Whilst it has been responsible for many a fun weekend, my culinary experiences on board have not been what I would consider a gastronomic success.

However, having read such complimentary reviews of La Peniche, I was curious to see how they would pull off such a feat of culinary triumph. I must say I was pleasantly surprised – La Peniche is the canal boat equivalent of a country mansion. It is all glossy wood and rich reds with old-fashioned oil lamps illuminating the tables. The waitress and the Maître d’, are eccentrically kitted out in some kind of nautical uniform and are suitably punctilious, making it very much an occasion. The dinner is a set menu. You can chose two course for €27.50, or three for €35. The restaurant is French/Italian cuisine and the menu is resplendent with heartily rich, classic French dishes such slow-cooked shank of lamb with mixed bean cassoulet and the vol-au-vont of mushroom. The Italian influence announces its presence with the starter of buffalo mozzarella and baked tomatoes, and the cêpe tortellini vegetarian main.

I ordered said buffalo mozzarella to start, followed by the confit leg of duck which came with puy lentil, roast pear, mashed potato and burgundy jus. The

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buffalo mozzarella dish was generously sized, the tomatoes deliciously sweet and the garlic and tomato purée garnish (which resembled red pesto) added gusto to the dish whilst the basil delivered a fresh edge. The confit was beautifully flavoured, the pear complimenting the taste of the duck and the burgundy jus as its sweetness sliced through them. The duck was cooked to perfection, sliding off the bone in the desired lose chunks.

However, the lentils, were slightly overcooked and sadly the mashed potato was a bit bland and (quelle horreur!) lumpy, which did detract marginally from the overall experience of the dish.

The dessert menu was less varied with only two choices. I grudgingly forwent the “rich textured chocolate,” for the mango and passionfruit mousse with vanilla langue de chat, having been told that it was a more interesting dish.

The mousse was velvety and creamy and the fruit flavours were delicately infused through the mousse giving it an interesting amalgamation of flavours. Topped with a tangy mango layer resembling hardened jelly, with the remains of the passion fruit in the form of pips the finished result was a minor let down with the garish flavours of the topping usurping the delicate infusions of the mousse.

All in all, it was a pleasant dining experience. However, a memorable downside was unquestionably the music, which was a bizarre mixture of rambunctious Spanish cheese with a few dodgy re-mixes of pop songs thrown in for good measure. This might grate the more sensitive diner, though the older neighbouring couples seemed to thoroughly enjoy it. Gabrielle Hales

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CD Reviews

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There are many routes to getting noticed in the music industry and most of them include abandoning your credibility.

Not so for Justin Vernon, the main man behind Bon Iver. The careful crafting of a folk-hero persona is working for Vernon and success has not hollowed him out yet. Of course, it also helps that he has delivered the goods in last year’s magical debut For Emma, Forever Ago, a lo-fi, high-impact album that left his newly-won fans waiting for more.

Now Bon Iver have returned with the Blood Bank EP, a 4 track collection that Vernon hopes will plug the gap before their next full-length offering. For this collection Bon Iver have fleshed out into a full group but the results are not necessarily evident in the songs. The EP stays, for the most, in comfortable old territory.

Opener “Blood Bank” could easily have slotted into Bon Iver’s debut album.

The melody and texture are familiar, like a pair of favourite old shoes.

The second track “Beach Baby” is so short it feels almost like a mini bridge between “Blood Bank” and third track “Babys”. It is a simple acoustic guitar number with some added lap steel for

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spice. It is inoffensive, but ultimately dull.

The third track “Babys” is really just more of the same. It is an easy companion to the opener “Blood Bank”, with a similar feel. In fact, playing them back to back seems a better combination and really leads the listener to wonder why “Beach Baby” was included at all.

In reality, these first three tracks feel like a protracted, if lovely, reminder of what Bon Iver was/is about. A wellplaced reminder because the final track “Woods” takes things off in a different enough direction to be refreshing.

Making use here of ever-controversial Auto-Tune, Vernon manages to avoid sounding like Cher and, instead, kindles human warmth in the processed vocals.

If tracks one to three are an outro for For Emma, Forever Ago, “Woods” feels like the beginning of something new.

It is the destination that makes a slightly dull earlier three-track journey worthwhile. Its climax hints vaguely at a barber-shop quartet or group of acapella singers, which sounds awful on the page, but works wonderfully in reality.

It is just bizarre, slightly uncomfortable and all the more worthy for it.

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It’s hardly surprising that everyone loves Antony and the Johnsons. There is such a disparate range of influences woven into their work, both musically, with their elaborate, almost orchestral compositions, and also conceptually, with each album staying true to a different theme that is at once complex and fascinating. The cover of their last album, I Am a Bird Now, which won the 2005 Mercury Music Prize, featured an image of Candy Darling, one of Warhol’s tragic superstars. There was further reference to Warhol’s Factory with Lou Reed of the Velvet Underground providing guest vocals on “Fistful of Love”.

Indeed, Antony Hegarty’s androgynous voice is almost akin to Nico’s with his ability to fall between the masculine and feminine registers. Critics often comment on Hegarty’s vocal resemblance to another well-known songstress, Nina Simone. On the track “Aeon” in particular, Hegarty’s vocals take on an incredible duality, sounding uncannily like a female gospel singer, especially when he repeatedly belts out the phrase “hold that man I love so much.”

According to Hegarty, the inspiration for The Crying Light came from Japanese butoh dancer Kazuo Ohno, whose eye-

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catching image appears on the cover. As a dance form, butoh explores grotesque imagery and taboo topics. It has no set rules, but rather exists as a purely conceptual form of dance. The parallels between Kazuo Ohno and the album itself are clear: the album covers a myriad of topics that range from the taboo to the surreal, constantly straying from the expected path.

Although the album works best listened to as a whole, highlights include “Epilepsy is Dancing” with its delicate accompaniment of piano and percussion lending the song the air of an off-beat waltz (although its video has recently been banned from YouTube, for being supposedly “indecent”). Other standout songs are “Another World”, a melancholy lament for the world in general, at times evocative of Lennon’s “Imagine,” and the aforementioned “Aeon.”

Although the follow-up to I Am a Bird Now was always going to be difficult, Antony and the Johnsons have nevertheless produced another interesting and highly original album, full of beautiful instrumentals, strange lyrics and haunting melodies that linger in your mind long after the song ends. Catriona Gray

10 February – 23 February, 2009

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“Am I Ulysses?” asks Alex Kapranos on the first song of Franz Ferdinand’s new album, Tonight: Franz Ferdinand. It’s a fitting allusion. Ulysses single handedly defeated Troy, only to get lost and spend the next ten years trying to find his way home. Scarcely four years ago, Franz Ferdinand were probably the biggest name in British indie rock, venerated by critics and fans alike.

Their eponymous, Mercury Prizewinning debut was a collection of punchy indie anthems that combined the jagged syncopated guitars of postpunk bands Gang of Four and The Fall, with the songcraft and hooks of Brit Pop acts like Blur and Oasis. They quickly followed with another album, but then, like Ulysses, they just seemed to… disappear. Now, almost four years later, they’re back. But have they still got it?

Stylistically, there’s been a definite shift from the guitar driven post-punk than characterized their earlier material. While still maintaining (for the most part), a rock sound, the Glaswegian foursome have upped the synth and have consigned the guitars to a mainly rhythmic role while slinky baselines help Tonight keep some of the drive that Franz Ferdinand had in spades.

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10 February – 23 February, 2009

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Years of Refusal

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Tonight is an album of two halves. The first half is more rock orientated, and takes its cue more from classic rock than indie. “Send Him Away” sounds oddly reminiscent of the Doors’ “Whiskey Bar”. “Twilight Omens” is Franz Ferdinand’s attempt at a glam-rock anthem.

The second half is far more electronic. This change in direction has fairly mixed results. The eight-minute “Lucid Dreams” starts off as dance rock, but then halfway through makes an uncomfortable switch to the sort of third-rate electro that’s become ubiquitous in the last year or so.

There’s a lot to like about this album.

Franz Ferdinand show they can still write anthemic rock songs with “Ulysses” and “What She Came For”, which combines a ridiculously sexy baseline with robot rock synth before finally joyously collapsing into a distorted garage rock guitar solo.

At the end of the day, however, Tonight lacks the effortless catchiness of the band’s earlier songs and the disparate influences leave an album significantly lacking in cohesion. It’s a decent album, but after such a long absence, you have to wonder if it was really worth the wait. Dan Kennedy

The album cover strikes you immediately. Morrissey with a baby? Everyone seems baffled. Wikipedia claims that the child is his assistant tour manager’s baby, although apparently Morrissey said that the baby was his during a recent publicity event in London, according to the review in The Guardian. Either way it’s a strange image, there’s something incongruous about the notoriously solitary singer defiantly cradling an infant.

Years of Refusal is Morrissey’s ninth solo album and, while not significantly different to his earlier solo work, still contains a good collection of tracks.

The album opens with “Something is Squeezing My Skull”, which is reminiscent of classic Morrissey, the sound occupying the space between pop and punk, while the song gathers momentum until it reaches a finale of crashing drums, accompanied by Morrissey repeatedly belting out “hey!”, lending the close an almost military insistency.

The first single from the album, “I’m Throwing My Arms Around Paris” sees Morrissey singing, somewhat predictably, about his lack of emotional fulfilment and how “only stone and steel accept my love”, a theme which appears throughout the entire album.

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What is noticeable is that the songs get progressively longer towards the end of the album, the last four tracks ranging from between four to over five minutes each. As a result the album starts to drag a bit.

Morrissey has also been quite economical with the track listing, since the tracks “All You Need Is Me” and “That’s How People Grow Up” already made an appearance on last year’s Greatest Hits album.

The snippets of lyrics that leap out from various songs are priceless – “the motion of taxis excites me” and “the smiling children tell you that you smell”, were two particular stand-out phrases.

Morrissey’s incredible ability to enunciate phrases and make even the strangest lyrics seem profound is quite remarkable. His voice is so compelling that the listener forgives him anything – whether it is the occasional lyrical peculiarity, the flamenco-style accompaniment to “When I Last Saw Carol”, or even the choice of album cover.

Morrissey’s voice is still superb, and Years of Refusal provides him with yet another opportunity to showcase it. Long live Morrissey. Catriona Gray

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Film reviews

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David Fincher

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Brad Pitt, Cate Blanchett, Tilda Swinton

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166 minutes

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The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is one of those films that is so extravagantly advertised, so abundantly awarded and so keenly anticipated that it has the unfortunate pressure of having to be seriously sterling stuff in order to avoid anticlimax.

Loosely based on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s short story, the film starts with Daisy (Cate Blanchett) on her deathbed in New Orleans. She is saying her farewells to her only daughter Caroline (Julia Ormond) and begins to tell her a story. The film mistily goes back to the 1930s and tells the whimsical story of a blind clockmaker called Gateau who was commissioned to make a clock for the train station in New Orleans. Deeply shaken by the loss of his son in World War I, Gateau decides to make the clock run backwards as a tribute to the young boys who were sacrificed in the war. In the tragic gesture, he suggests that as the as the clock ticks backwards, time will re-trace its steps until the boys can be resurrected and restored to their homes and their families.

Switching back to the hospital bed, Daisy asks Caroline to read to her from a well-thumbed leather diary. The film jolts back to 1918 and the euphoric celebrations of the end of WWI. A baby is born with the appearance and mentality of a man who is 86 years old. His skin is gnarled and knotted and his father dumps him ignominiously on the porch of a nursing home.

Queenie and Tizzy, a magnanimous couple who work at the home, take in the baby and bring him up as their own child, surrounded by pensioners who accept him as one of their own.

The plot rolls sedulously through each landmark in Benjamin’s life. Reared by the sanguine couple he is able to live a relatively fulfilling ‘childhood’, in all the eccentric glory of the nursing home. He eventually befriends Daisy, his first friend who is arithmetically his age and she inspires some sort of worldly curiosity in him. When he is ‘young’ enough, he goes exploring and watches boats at the dock, finally taking work on a tugboat with the scurrilous but charming Captain Mike.

Endearing himself to the Captain with his guileless charm, he is introduced to the illicit world of brothels and bars and swept into the sailors’ life with aplomb.

He goes to Russia and has an affair with Elizabeth Abbot (Tilda Swinton) a curt and complicated English woman living in Russia with her spy-husband. As time rolls by, Benjamin gets inexorably younger, experiencing love, caviar, vodka, Pearl Harbour, and eventually the United States Navy during WWII. Younger and wiser, he finally goes to stake his claim for Daisy, now a successful ballet dancer in New York. Finding she is in love with a colleague, he withdraws again to New Orleans until he hears that Daisy has been tragically paralysed in a car accident in Paris. They eventually move in together and assume a vaguely normal life. Though clearly, Benjamin is still getting younger.

If my description of the plot seems protracted, then it is a reflection of the circumlocutory nature of the film. An indulgent two and a half hours long, it painstakingly goes through the rigmarole of describing a life backwards, spanning a period encompassing two world wars;

ambitious, to say the least. But there are so many aspects of this film that are hugely imaginative and creative. Eric Roth (the screen writer) only used Fitzgerald’s short story as the backbone of the film, the body of the plot was born out of his own imagination. The script is profound, witty and humorous. Queenie’s risible nature mollifies the intensity of Benjamin’s childhood, her quips and retorts are important for endowing Benjamin with a sense of humour and providing the audience with a bit of relief. The characters are all convincing, an aspect which is particularly impressive considering their number. Captain Mike’s banter and bravado is refreshing in a naughty, bawdy kind of way; and Elizabeth (Swinton) adds an interesting dimension to the plot.

The make up and special effects which both age and revive Benjamin and Daisy are absolutely incredible; aged Daisy is almost unrecognisable as Blanchett, and it took me minutes to register Pitt as Benjamin in the first scenes. The make up

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and visuals used to contort Pitt’s face are complimented by his dwarfed, delicate body - it is fascinating to see the reversal of time and the subtle effects it has on both his physique and his face. The cinematography is wonderful, the hospital seeming bright and rickety whilst the New Orleans of Benjamin’s childhood is misty and ethereal.

The casting is faultless. Cate Blanchett perfectly captures the brittle and curt facet of Daisy’s personality in her youth, whilst teasing out a tender sadness as she matures. Pitt delivers a restrained and sensitive performance; ‘young’ Benjamin is watchful and vulnerable, his character betrayed through a discreet twinkle of a facial expression, whilst old Benjamin is confident and cheerfully appreciative of his new-found youth.

Swinton could quite possibly have had her character tailor-made. She proudly cultivates a haughty exterior, with a rare, fleeting glance of the lonely woman inside.

However, it is difficult for such an allencompassing film to cultivate a variety of emotional intensity. The audience is relentlessly bombarded with ‘profound’ moments; each of which would have been more poignant had they peppered, rather than drowned the film. I found myself impatiently anticipating Brad (sorry Benjamin’s) youth, and when he finally emerged, I was so struck by his looks that I felt apathetic about the rest of the plot.

But, there is nothing tangible that I could say that I disliked, and in so many ways I would love to have loved it.

If there is one thing I think I did treasure, it was the way that it captured Benjamin’s unadulterated innocence. Children and teenagers today are so precocious. We read, watch, witness and talk about everything before we have had the opportunity to experience it ourselves. We pre-empt what it will be like, and project how we would like it to be, so that it becomes an impersonal, generic experience.

For Benjamin, new experiences are fresh and unexpected. He has not been exposed to the gossip and the media therefore each experience is uniquely natural and intimate, and perfectly captured in Pitt and his wondrous gaze. Gabrielle Hales

10 February – 23 February, 2009

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Emma Roberts, Jake T Austin, Don Cheadle

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Poor Don Cheadle. Just a few short years ago the talented actor was the toast of Hollywood, with roles in Crash, The Assassination of Richard Nixon and Hotel Rwanda. Nowadays he has gone the way of another once-lauded AfricanAmerican actor, Cuba Gooding Jr., by making irritating family-friendly films likely to lobotomize children and bore the rest of us to death.

Perhaps it was the mention of ‘Hotel’ in the title that prompted Cheadle to sign up for this one. Perhaps he needed the money for a nice new beach house.

Whatever the reason, it couldn’t have been the central premise that excited him: a bunch of sappy child actors overcome their orphan issues by kidnapping stray dogs and taking them to a dilapidated hotel. I doubt he was waiting by the phone for the Oscar nomination.

Other than taking up a full hundred minutes of my life that I’ll never get back, I could forgive Hotel for Dogs if it managed to be a passable, forgettable kids movie. After all, not every film can be as good as Wall-E, Enchanted or Finding Nemo. But Hotel for Dogs fails even in this regard, as it is a shoddy mess of a film. The central brother-sister pairing of Andi (Emma Roberts) and Bruce (Jake T. Austin) not only have to contend with the seemingly endless supply of cute, apparently rabies-free stray dogs in their city, they also seem to attract coconspirators without much in the way of explanation. The introduction of asexual love interest Dave (Johnny Simons)

makes sense, but soon after two further characters (the token black kid and fat kid) arrive without any prior exposition, leaving the viewer slightly embarrassed at being confused by a children’s film.

Lisa Kudrow and Kevin Dillon (who?) provide some respite from the caninerelated schmaltz as malicious foster parents, but for the most part we are stuck with the kids, the dogs, and the ‘amazing’ inventions Bruce creates out of scrap to cater for the dogs’ needs. Other than the strangely absent robotic trouser leg for humping, we get extended scenes showing the dog’s use of feeding mechanisms, lamppost simulators, and a conveyer belt that wraps and disposes of their faeces. Suffice it to say the film aims low in terms of humour, even by children’s standards. Meanwhile, Cheadle pops up now and again as their social services liaison, reminding us that there is a flimsy plot behind the shenanigans.

For his part, he gets the only funny line of the film, and responsibility for the emotional speech at the film’s climax.

His impassioned plea to the assembled authorities misses the mark, however, as its message seems to be that the only way for orphaned kids to find their place in the world is to kidnap a bunch of dogs.

I hope such nonsense marks the nadir of Cheadle’s career, and, with an upcoming role in Ironman 2, perhaps he can showcase his talents in decent films again. But even more than that, I hope his beach house was worth making this drivel. Michael Armstrong

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The Secret of Moonacre

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103 minutes

e, adapted from “The Little White Horse,” Elizabeth Goudge’s children’s novel, is a story set in the 1840s of a recently orphaned thirteen-year-old girl named Maria Merryweather (Dakota Blue Richards). Immediately after her father’s death, Maria is sent to live with her estranged uncle, along with her dithery but devoted minder Miss Heliotrope (Juliet Stevenson). Maria’s sole inheritance from her father is a musty and mysterious old book, “The Chronicles of Moonacre Valley”.

Upon her unwelcome arrival at Moonacre Manor, Maria is greeted by her gruff uncle, Sir Benjamin Merryweather (Ioann Gruffudd) and undoubtedly made to feel uninvited.

Soon after her arrival Maria discovers, with the help of the enchanted book and a magical chef called Marmaduke (Andy Linden), that Moonacre Valley is a place charged with magical history and is deteriorating under the ancient curse of a moon princess. When her curiosity gets the better of her Maria wanders into the forbidden forest and encounters Lady Loveday (Natascha McElhone).

At once, the fantasy becomes a reality for Maria; she soon discovers that she too is a moon princess. With the help of her new friends, Maria realises her destiny: to lift the curse of Moonacre and resolve the pride-fuelled feud that has engulfed the Merryweathers and the De Noirs for centuries. The curse and feud will inevitably lead to the destruction of the valley, if they are not stopped.

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The feud has raged between the Merryweathers and the evil De Noirs, led by the scurrilous Coeur De Noir (Tim Curry), over the right to the magical moon pearls bestowed upon a moon princess centuries ago.

Maria must make the families realise the folly of their ways and understand that “it is not the pearls but the greed in our hearts that bring us grief” in order to lift the curse before the 5000th moon rises.

The 5000th moon happens to be the very next moonrise. This impending event serves as the only source of suspense in an otherwise sluggish tale. The plot develops slowly with some intermittent catchpenny comic relief from the belching Miss Heliotrope and the clumsy Marmaduke without ever attaining any real momentum.

With a musical motif reminiscent of the haunting lullaby of Pan’s Labyrinth, a set of pearls with the power to corrupt the hearts of men, a magical chef, a foray of extraordinary creatures, a princess and a magical curse, this adaptation has all the ingredients of a tenable fantasy but lacks the cogency to make it stick and appeal to a more mature audience.

Whilst the film probably does enough to keep the attention of young Harry Potter fans, it lacks sufficient character and plot depth to be taken seriously as a credible fantasy tale, especially by those not dazzled by a unicorn and a belching nanny. Andrew Grant

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