There is no doubt that we live in a world that loves to publicise the extraordinary. Sometimes even the ordinary get a go in the spotlight. Think Big Brother contestants, or Z list celebs on I’m a Celebrity or one of the other myriad reality TV shows. Unfortunately these reality shows only bring home to us the reality that, if you’re prepared to sufficiently humiliate yourself for money and momentary recognition, you’re in with a good chance of being on the telly.
But the question is, where do we draw the line on this fascination with the absurd? BBC journalist Stephen Mulvey raised this question in the news yesterday when he asked whether it was in bad taste to have a “shortest man” record in the Guinness Book of Records. He asked how this was any different to the archetypal Victorian freak show and the parading of “Elephant Man” John Merrick before the British public. So are records like this demeaning? Are they in poor taste?
Well, for my part I would argue that it completely depends. Do Big Brother contestants have the right to make fools of themselves on live TV? Of course they do. Should we get a kick out of watching them do it? I think not, but hey, that’s just my view. Personally I think it’s boring and lazy television and would sooner sit in a dark room sniffing paint dry than bother to witness the asinine antics of a group of fame hungry talentless morons with a collective IQ of twelve. But the fact remains that they have the right to do it.
By the same token, does 27in tall Edward Nino Hernandez have the right to advertise the fact that he’s the world’s smallest man? Again of course. Should we find the images of him fascinating? Well, we can’t very well help that can we? We’re only human. Bob Bogdan, a professor in the Disability Studies department at Syracuse University has said that it’s “creepy” to champion medical problems like stunted growth. But surely if Mr Hernandez is prepared to advertise the fact that he’s the world’s smallest man and gain a moment of fleeting fame then the decision is entirely up to him.
We may live in what some have called an increasingly “Nanny” state, but the most important right we have is to make our own decisions. Surely it’s more patronising to Mr Hernandez if some professor thinks that he’s not capable of making this decision for himself.
Thursday 9 September 2010
Wednesday 25 August 2010
1984? If Only It Was As Good!
Does it sound too cliched to talk about our society becoming like Orwell’s 1984? Probably. Certainly it conjures up overblown pseudo-“liberal” articles like Zoe William’s latest guff (“If sex with HIV is a crime, so is swimming with verrucas” – okay, so there are two major problems here – one: HIV is a serious life threatening disease. Verrucas are not. Two: there is a cure for verrucas. Have you a cure for HIV Zoe? I thought not. So shut it and stop trying to make other sensible liberals look like complete morons.)
From a governmental point of view, it is obvious why politically aware Britons accuse our country of suffering from”1984” syndrome. In this country alone millions marched against the Iraq war with no result. All we got were embarrassing TV cameos from Blair moralising to the nation about how a war with Sadam was a righteous conflict. Okay, and nothing to do with sucking up to Bush or getting ourselves truck loads of oil then?
And it’s not as if we don’t fight all dictators is it? Apart from Thailand’s Thaksin Shinawatra, who was ousted in a coup by his own people in 2006 or Egypt’s Hosni Mubarak who puts anyone who opposes him in prison. Or Iran’s Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, under whose government: “respect for basic human rights in Iran, especially freedom of expression and assembly, deteriorated in 2006,” says Human Right Watch, adding: “the government routinely tortures and mistreats detained dissidents, including prolonged solitary confinement.”
Even closer to home we have Italy’s Silvio Berlusconi and Turkey’s Recep Tayyip Erdoğan. Berlusconi maybe considered a bit of a joke in this context, I agree, with his Dale Winton tan and “folksey-jokesy” local corruption. But Turkey have one of the worse human right’s records in the world, with children as young as twelve being prosecuted and imprisoned simply for taking part in demonstrations. Turkey, a founding member of the United Nations (how ironic) is now being assisted by us as it deals with its financial and economic problems. Of course, from a human perspective I understand that we need to help the ordinary people. But the government (particularly the judiciary system) still has a lot to answer for.
And so, with Iraq and Afghanistan, can we truly be honest and admit that we don’t give a fig about the politics? We only care because they’re taking something that we want. If they weren’t doing that we’d let them get on with it wouldn’t we? How else do you explain all the countries with similar problems but with fewer goodies that we ignore every day?
Moving on to a much more mundane topic. Why is it, that much like in 1984, the “proles” (i.e., those who actually buy into this sort of rubbish) are handed “lottery tickets” in the form of Hello and Okay and Look At Me I’m A Sort Of Celebrity, blah blah blah. These are ten a penny in the shops and almost always have the same torrid (or boring, depending on your point of view) headlines and the same pretty faces or fat tummies on the cover. Are we really that easily distracted? Apparently yes.
In October 2008, the newspapers and magazines had a heyday when comedians Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand made an insulting phone call to Andrew Sachs on Brand’s Radio 2 show. Only two complaints were made in the week after the show, but low and behold, the newspapers made a meal out of it and suddenly everyone was furious. Hey, they may not have actually heard it, but they all reserved the right to get righteously indignant about it! This led to the Controller of Radio 2, Lesley Douglas tendering her resignation and the two naughty boys being suspended.
It’s poor Douglas that I feel sorry for because almost instantly Satanic Slut Georgina Baillie (who by the way had already sold her sordid story about Brand to The Sun months before), represented by none other than Satan himself Max Clifford, was heard to remark in a weekly mag a few days after she had stalwartly said that Brand and Ross were a disgrace and should be sacked, that actually it wasn’t so bad and that they shouldn’t be sacked really. Great thinks Douglas, thanks for sharing. Bit late now though isn’t it?
But nobody seems to notice when a Z list celeb changes their tune from Monday to Tuesday. After all, it’s just candy floss for the masses isn’t it? Just something to distract you from what’s really going on. No, no, nothing terribly exciting; not a Welles stunt like War of the Worlds or anything. Come on people! We all love a bit of nonsense, but doesn’t it get a bit sickening when it’s constantly the same boring “I’ve done nothing but have big boobs and possibly an on -off relationship with my Z-list boyfriend” crap?
It’s not that I expect everyone to care about what’s going on in the wider world. I would be hypocrite even to suggest that. After all, although I do care about it, I don’t do a lot to change it. And admittedly I do love a bit of candyfloss now and again. But can we at least enjoy candyfloss that is fictional and has decent writers? If you are interested in real life, be interested in REAL LIFE, not whether Jordan is being insignificant with one man or another. These magazines and reality shows are so blatantly manipulative, I’d bet my friend’s two year old niece Ava would turn the page.
Honestly. It might sound like a rant (and okay it is) but can’t you see my point? Since (and probably even before) the influx of reality nonsense, people actually care more about whether Big Tits No Talent McGee is shagging Six Pack Nobody McKenzie, more than they care about millions of people dying in poverty and squalor on a daily basis. Is this 1984? Bloody hell I wish it was! If so, then I’d only be a one year old and as such wouldn’t have had to put up with this ridiculous twaddle. Or even more importantly, would have the good sense to turn it off.
From a governmental point of view, it is obvious why politically aware Britons accuse our country of suffering from”1984” syndrome. In this country alone millions marched against the Iraq war with no result. All we got were embarrassing TV cameos from Blair moralising to the nation about how a war with Sadam was a righteous conflict. Okay, and nothing to do with sucking up to Bush or getting ourselves truck loads of oil then?
And it’s not as if we don’t fight all dictators is it? Apart from Thailand’s Thaksin Shinawatra, who was ousted in a coup by his own people in 2006 or Egypt’s Hosni Mubarak who puts anyone who opposes him in prison. Or Iran’s Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, under whose government: “respect for basic human rights in Iran, especially freedom of expression and assembly, deteriorated in 2006,” says Human Right Watch, adding: “the government routinely tortures and mistreats detained dissidents, including prolonged solitary confinement.”
Even closer to home we have Italy’s Silvio Berlusconi and Turkey’s Recep Tayyip Erdoğan. Berlusconi maybe considered a bit of a joke in this context, I agree, with his Dale Winton tan and “folksey-jokesy” local corruption. But Turkey have one of the worse human right’s records in the world, with children as young as twelve being prosecuted and imprisoned simply for taking part in demonstrations. Turkey, a founding member of the United Nations (how ironic) is now being assisted by us as it deals with its financial and economic problems. Of course, from a human perspective I understand that we need to help the ordinary people. But the government (particularly the judiciary system) still has a lot to answer for.
And so, with Iraq and Afghanistan, can we truly be honest and admit that we don’t give a fig about the politics? We only care because they’re taking something that we want. If they weren’t doing that we’d let them get on with it wouldn’t we? How else do you explain all the countries with similar problems but with fewer goodies that we ignore every day?
Moving on to a much more mundane topic. Why is it, that much like in 1984, the “proles” (i.e., those who actually buy into this sort of rubbish) are handed “lottery tickets” in the form of Hello and Okay and Look At Me I’m A Sort Of Celebrity, blah blah blah. These are ten a penny in the shops and almost always have the same torrid (or boring, depending on your point of view) headlines and the same pretty faces or fat tummies on the cover. Are we really that easily distracted? Apparently yes.
In October 2008, the newspapers and magazines had a heyday when comedians Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand made an insulting phone call to Andrew Sachs on Brand’s Radio 2 show. Only two complaints were made in the week after the show, but low and behold, the newspapers made a meal out of it and suddenly everyone was furious. Hey, they may not have actually heard it, but they all reserved the right to get righteously indignant about it! This led to the Controller of Radio 2, Lesley Douglas tendering her resignation and the two naughty boys being suspended.
It’s poor Douglas that I feel sorry for because almost instantly Satanic Slut Georgina Baillie (who by the way had already sold her sordid story about Brand to The Sun months before), represented by none other than Satan himself Max Clifford, was heard to remark in a weekly mag a few days after she had stalwartly said that Brand and Ross were a disgrace and should be sacked, that actually it wasn’t so bad and that they shouldn’t be sacked really. Great thinks Douglas, thanks for sharing. Bit late now though isn’t it?
But nobody seems to notice when a Z list celeb changes their tune from Monday to Tuesday. After all, it’s just candy floss for the masses isn’t it? Just something to distract you from what’s really going on. No, no, nothing terribly exciting; not a Welles stunt like War of the Worlds or anything. Come on people! We all love a bit of nonsense, but doesn’t it get a bit sickening when it’s constantly the same boring “I’ve done nothing but have big boobs and possibly an on -off relationship with my Z-list boyfriend” crap?
It’s not that I expect everyone to care about what’s going on in the wider world. I would be hypocrite even to suggest that. After all, although I do care about it, I don’t do a lot to change it. And admittedly I do love a bit of candyfloss now and again. But can we at least enjoy candyfloss that is fictional and has decent writers? If you are interested in real life, be interested in REAL LIFE, not whether Jordan is being insignificant with one man or another. These magazines and reality shows are so blatantly manipulative, I’d bet my friend’s two year old niece Ava would turn the page.
Honestly. It might sound like a rant (and okay it is) but can’t you see my point? Since (and probably even before) the influx of reality nonsense, people actually care more about whether Big Tits No Talent McGee is shagging Six Pack Nobody McKenzie, more than they care about millions of people dying in poverty and squalor on a daily basis. Is this 1984? Bloody hell I wish it was! If so, then I’d only be a one year old and as such wouldn’t have had to put up with this ridiculous twaddle. Or even more importantly, would have the good sense to turn it off.
Monday 23 August 2010
A Touch of Magic or a Touch of Meh? Rah reviews The Tempest at the Old Vic
When I heard that Sam Mendes was returning to the English stage to direct The Tempest at The Old Vic, both my boyfriend and I were instantly champing at the bit. Me mostly because Mendes is a huge Hollywood name, and Harry because The Tempest is his favourite Shakespeare play.
Unfortunately Stephen Dillane's Prospero was relatively disappointing. His voice didn’t carry and he had the “hand-in-his-pockets” look of someone who would be better suited to addressing a sitting room rather than a theatre. I was expecting a bit more “sturm und drang” and instead Prospero seemed no more than a nice old man, which diluted the effect of his journey from betrayed castaway to magnanimous lord.
Miranda (Juliet Rylance) and Ferdinand (Edward Bennett) were suitably smitten as the lovers, although a touch too generic to be really convincing. However, Rylance does have a wonderful voice for the stage and she was one of the few cast members whose every line was crystal clear.
Ariel (Christian Camargo) and his antithesis Caliban (Ron Cephas Jones) were both appropriately otherworldly, although as with Prospero, there was a general want of feeling. Ariel, apart from one outburst at the opening, spends the rest of the play sulkily awaiting his freedom. Caliban, after a wonderfully terrifying entrance through a hole in the ground, moodily plots against his erstwhile lord, without demonstrating any truly monstrous anger.
Fortunately, the jewels of the piece were the two drunkards, Stephano (Thomas Sadoski) and Trinculo (Anthony O’Donnell), whose inebriated antics and slapstick comedy really brightened up the whole performance.
Set designer Tom Piper’s minimalist approach, with a stark backdrop and traditional circle in the middle of the stage worked well and was beautifully offset by Paul Pyant’s ethereal lighting.
So, to sum up, an enjoyable show, but a little too tame for my liking. Perfectly watchable but lacking in that intangible touch of magic.
Unfortunately Stephen Dillane's Prospero was relatively disappointing. His voice didn’t carry and he had the “hand-in-his-pockets” look of someone who would be better suited to addressing a sitting room rather than a theatre. I was expecting a bit more “sturm und drang” and instead Prospero seemed no more than a nice old man, which diluted the effect of his journey from betrayed castaway to magnanimous lord.
Miranda (Juliet Rylance) and Ferdinand (Edward Bennett) were suitably smitten as the lovers, although a touch too generic to be really convincing. However, Rylance does have a wonderful voice for the stage and she was one of the few cast members whose every line was crystal clear.
Ariel (Christian Camargo) and his antithesis Caliban (Ron Cephas Jones) were both appropriately otherworldly, although as with Prospero, there was a general want of feeling. Ariel, apart from one outburst at the opening, spends the rest of the play sulkily awaiting his freedom. Caliban, after a wonderfully terrifying entrance through a hole in the ground, moodily plots against his erstwhile lord, without demonstrating any truly monstrous anger.
Fortunately, the jewels of the piece were the two drunkards, Stephano (Thomas Sadoski) and Trinculo (Anthony O’Donnell), whose inebriated antics and slapstick comedy really brightened up the whole performance.
Set designer Tom Piper’s minimalist approach, with a stark backdrop and traditional circle in the middle of the stage worked well and was beautifully offset by Paul Pyant’s ethereal lighting.
So, to sum up, an enjoyable show, but a little too tame for my liking. Perfectly watchable but lacking in that intangible touch of magic.
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