Damsels in Distress begins at New Students Orientation, where Violet (Greta Gerwin), Heather and
Rose spot Lily (Analeigh Tipton), a transfer student, and decide to take her under their wings and guide
her through university life at Seven Oaks – a roman-letter East Coast college, with a stench of male
perspiration still persisting from its single-sex days. The three girls constitute the self-designated
college rescue league, and after having rescued Lily from inevitable social failure she’s introduced to
the young women’s mission: To civilize the student body and rescue their fellows from griminess
(improving hygiene being the number one issue). Violet’s personal mission is to start a dance craze that
will chance the course of human history. Violet, Rose and Heather also run the suicide center, where
they offer free donuts and dance classes to anyone who’s clinically depressed. As Violet says, when it
comes to suicide, prevention is ten-tenths the cure.
As a first introduction to their group Lily is taken to the D.U. frat party, for what Violet calls “Youth
Outreach”, the frat house being a place with enough jobs for a lifetime of social work. At the party Lily
is introduced to Frank, Violet’s loser boyfriend, and his uneducated frat-brother Thor. Lily has a crush
of her own, Xavier – a handsome grad student – but is also courted by the slick dandy Charlie (Adam
Brody). As the young women become more entangled with the different boys, entailed distresses start
clouding the horizon.
Whit Stillman says the idea for the film came from stories of a group of girls who had revolutionized
university social life which, even after decades of coed, was still grungy and predominantly maledominated.
Whit Stillman: I never met this group of girls, I don’t know what their names are. But I heard a story,
you know, about what they accomplished. And I did a previous version of the script many years ago,
twelve year ago, it didn’t work out, I didn’t spend much time on it and the only thing that remained
from that was the idea of the group of girls with floral names – Lily, Violet, Heather, Rose. And this
kind of strange university environment that is sort of typical and untypical and the idea of the roman
letter university system and the roman letter fraternity system. Those are the ideas from the earlier
version. Then the idea was to have this sort of dynamic three and then the new girl and you think, you
know, you are are going to identify with her bla, bla, bla, but it turns out she’s not that nice; she’s kind
of the nemesis character – she causes a lot of problems for Violet. So that’s a problem for some people
in the audience because they are so used to having the mean girls and then the nice outsider girl, and
here that’s not really true, but it takes them so long to realize that’s what’s happening that they get
irritated.
EK: I liked that, it gets very cliché otherwise – I mean all theses college movies are the same.
Whit: Yeah, and also, I’ve had this experience so many times, that someone is in the function of
someone who should be your friend, like everything about them they should be your friend, but it
actually doesn’t work with them. They’re not that good friends… strange…very frustrating people who
seem like they should be there but they aren’t.
Having watched a unjustifiably large number of contemporary college films, I can safely say that
Damsels in Distress is the only one I have seen with a female protagonist that actually has a genuine
personality. It is not that all movies are bluntly sexist, but the fact remain that women are in general
completely personality-deprived in popular culture. Theses girls have lives and a personalities that are
not defined by the boys they date, these young men being instead presented in the opening credits as
“Their Distresses”. Damsels in Distress is a prime example that it is possible to make a comedy about
women and men without being a film about women determined by their men. Violet is not your averageclichéd dictionary definition of “a quirky girl” (for specific example insert name of any character
played by Amanda Bynes) who, when it boils down to it, serves no other purpose than to be the desire
of a popular hot guy who is actually really deep because he writes poetry (i.e. has just enough
familiarity with the English language to be able to rhyme). To finally see girls on screen dating young
men as a means of doing social work rather than to “become complete” is refreshing to say the least.
The scene bellow where Violet briefs Lily on the problems of contemporary social life is a perfect
example:
VIOLET
Take Frank, my friend – he’s not some cool, handsome “studly” macho-guy. No, not at
all – I can’t bear guys like that! Frank’s sort of a sad-sack really, wouldn’t you say?
Rose and Heather nod.
LILY
What’s a “sad-sack”?
ROSE
A loser!
LILY (to Violet)
You like losers?
VIOLET
Very much so. Do you know what’s the major problem in contemporary social life?
LILY
What?
VIOLET
The tendency, very widespread, to always seek someone “cooler” that yourself – always
a stretch, often a big stretch. Why not instead find someone who’s frankly inferior?
HEATHER
Someone like Frank.
VIOLET
Yes. It’s more rewarding and in fact quite reassuring.
LILY
You mean, someone you can really help? Not just thinking of yourself?
VIOLET
Exactly! That’s it. Precisely! But without the goody-goody implications – our aspiration
is pretty basic: take a guy who hasn’t realized his full potential, or doesn’t have much,
then help him realize it – or find more.
This scene also illustrates of how the very acute and literary dialogue throughout Damsels beautifully
brings out an atmosphere of nonchalance to strangeness and eccentricities, which is depressingly absent
at Trinity. One should think people would have outgrown being pubescently allergic to anything
abnormal by the time they leave secondary school; instead the “alternatives” are a mob of social clones
called “hipsters”. EK: How do you get inspiration when you write your script? Do you listen to how people talk?
WS: The thing is, there are all kinds different ways people can be and in my day there would be people
who’d be very eccentric and speak in a very arid way and be very verbal, and I think that still exists
today there are still people like that. But the thing I find is you have to use what comes out of your
head, you don’t go around with a tape recorder and hear actual conversations. The girl who dumped
me in college, she stayed a friend and she says she gets very upset when people in the articles about
the film says no one talks this way, and she say “no, no we all talked way! Yes we did talk that way!
That’s how we talked!” She made a memorable comment when she saw last days of disco she said “I
used to want you to make a college comedy, but after seeing this one I don’t want you to make one
anymore” because I probably touched on some things that were too personal!
EK: Has she seen Damsels in Distress?
WS: Yeah she likes it.
EK: What do you think about youth culture now, do you think it has declined?
WS: There are some troubling aspects of it, I mean there are some subgroups that get into things that
are very depressing…but I think they’ll also probably get out of those very quickly. But I think there are
certain things that are very likable now and we kind of had a youth cult in making of our film since
nearly everyone was 27 or under and there were a lot of 22-year-olds, 23-year-olds working on the
film. They were very good so we had a very good crew. But I think it is good that there are more
alternatives that people can lash onto and I love making the films in the hopes that they can be a refuge
for some people who want to escape kind of mass youth-culture. I think Damsels in Distress is kind of
a utopian positive version of things in certain ways, but I think that still can exist – there are still
people sort of like this in worlds like this.
EK: Your daughter went to Trinity, how does it seem to be different from when you went to college?
WS: There is the reassuring continuity, I went to college actually in a very modern radical period, I
started there in the last months of the 60s and it was very disoriented since things were so radical and
then they got better as time went on. So I think there’s a lot of overlap and I see, I have one daughter at
university now and one who just graduated, and so I got to see their world and there are many different
subgroups and currents within the student body but their student experience wasn’t much different than
mine. But I naturally gravitated to the most social group and they’re less social. And so, I was much
more into the damsels-in-distress world, I was hyper hyper social.
EK: Social dancing is a very prominent element in Damsels in Distress, did they have a lot of dancing
when you were in college?
WS: Yeah, yeah I mean I think it got better later but it was a time of overlap. There were still things
from that past that continued and hadn’t died yet. At Harvard we had what they called them the
Cambridge boathouse dances. There were various boathouses along the river for the people who did
rowing, that sort of thing, the Harvard boathouse, the Cambridge boathouse; and the Cambridge
boathouse had these dances that everyone would go to and it was very much this kind of scene. but that
was a blast from the past. EK: They have a dancing society at Trinity where they have ballroom dancing.
WS: That’s a thing my youngest daughter mentioned, her friends at Columbia do ballroom dancing.
That wasn’t around in our day. If you came from a certain background you were supposed to have
learned how to dance and so I’m really glad that that’s continued. I hope the sambola will be a national
dance craze.
Swing dancing is seeing a revival, especially in Berlin which hopefully can find its way over to
Dublin’s greater club scene within a few years. Maybe by that time the sambola will have become an
international dance craze.
Damsels in Distress does offer a great utopian university environment, and it is a beautifully detailed
picture of what I wished college to be like. Every aspect of the film – sound, cinematography, script,
costume – blend handsomely together to create the pleasing nostalgic environment. Damsels is also
refreshing in its unhurried pace and subtleness; Whit Stillman manages to accent the characters’
personalities without explicitly having to explain them. Don’t judge the film by its deceptively indie
poster, reminiscent more of Juno or 500 Days of Summer, which does not do Damsels in Distress
justice. I really enjoyed the film and I feel it is a movie that takes being watched several times.
E.K. Norden

Damsels In Distress premiers April 27 at the IFI and Cineworld.

Patrick Reevell interviews Russian feminist punk outfit Pussy Riot before their arrest during the Russian Presidential Elections.

“Holy Shit, Putin’s pissed himself!” Three slim figures in bright summer dresses, electric leggings and balaclavas made from fluorescent bobble-hats are alternating in prostrating themselves and jumping up and down at the altar of Moscow’s principal cathedral; in an asp, four more are furiously scratching their guitars; all of them are screaming “Holy Mother of God, chuck Putin out!”. This is Pussy Riot- the Russian feminist punk group who have launched a campaign of foul-mouthed and fluorescent-coloured actions against the regime of Vladimir Putin.

Pussy Riot are a feminist punk-protest band based in Moscow and dedicated to “preparing the Russian people for battle with a corrupt regime which is an enemy to all free people”. The group specialise in guerrilla punk concerts in provocative places- since their formation the band have sprung up atop unsuspecting buses, in boutique stores; in one memorable performance (although they’re all memorable), the band opened up on a roof overlooking a prison, doing guitar windmills and setting off flares while the inmates chanted “Go on lads!”.

The group formed in the autumn of 2011, and came to the world’s attention with their performance of “Suck it Putin!” opposite the Kremlin which became a viral hit. But the group have only really achieved serious recognition within Russia following what they call their “punk prayer service” in the church of Christ the Saviour. This action, according to Russian radio, prompted “You-Know-Who” (a.k.a. Vladimir Putin) to personally order the creation a “special interagency staff” for the apprehension of Pussy Riot. It was one week after this, that the group agreed to speak to TN2.

Pussy Riot’s members operate according to a principle of strict anonymity and agreed to be interviewed only as a collective, refusing to give any biographical information beyond their average age (25) and that their background included “art, theatre, music, rock climbing and philology”. Among their influences, the group listed Suffragette Emmeline Pankhurst, the Stonewall Rioters, post-colonial theorist Gayatri Spivak and the ancient female philosopher Hypatia, who was torn apart by fanatical Christians in the 4th Century.

“Tolerance and patience are in short supply in Russian society,” the group tells me. “We promote gender equality and LGBT rights. Our goal is political change and the development of a protest culture.” In pursuit of this “tolerance and patience”, Pussy Riot sing clever, rhyming songs with titles such as “Dicks to the Sexists”. Authorities encountering the group are usually too stunned to react at first. The band tell of one occasion where, approached by police, they screamed so hard the officers ran-off backwards.

But the group’s latest stunt was a scandal in Russia, with one opposition leader labelling it “idiotic”. The group defended their position to TN2: “If someone is offended by our actions it shows that he is not yet versed in the world of modern art, music and protest activism. If the state education system, which leaves people slow and conformist, won’t do this, then we’ll have to.”

The group applied the same logic to Putin and the Patriarch of the Orthodox Church, saying the two men had reacted childishly to their “prayer service”. They also condemned the hunt for them as an “ordinary case of political persecution, which is only cloaking itself in faith and mystery so as to legitimise itself.”

Two days after we spoke to them, on the eve of the Russian presidential elections, two members of Pussy Riot were snatched by plain-clothed police as they exited the metro. Three more members were picked up on polling day. A day later, the first two members appeared before a court, revealed as Nadezhda Tolokonnikova and Maria Alyokhin, and accused of hooliganism and inciting religious hatred, a charge which could carry a 7-year prison sentence. The two women have begun a hunger-strike in protest.

The past six months have seen the largest mass protests in Russia since the fall of the Soviet Union, with an estimated hundred thousand people assembling in Moscow in December to protest against abuses under Putin’s rule. Despite these demonstrations and talk of a “Russian Spring”, Putin secured his return to the Kremlin comfortably, employing tricks new and old to rig a ballot that he would almost certainly have won in any case. Following the elections and the arrests, a member of Pussy Riot still at large, told me: “The elections made us vomit”.

That sentiment is shared by many Russians and 20,000 turned out the day after polling to express it. But this was small compared to earlier demonstrations and already the wind seemed to have dropped, the talk became of consolidation and patience, rather than of revolution. Putin’s words at his victory party seemed to have a disheartening finality: “We have won.”

But here enter Pussy Riot. Noise is something the band can do and in the strange, flat atmosphere of the post-election anti-climax, the band’s trial, and its free members’ calls to protest it, have crashed out to remind Russia and the world that, yes, in many ways still, “Putin Sucks!”.

Russian observers largely agree that the group has been singled out for harsh treatment as a signal to the Kremlin’s critics to expect business as usual. But in doing so, Putin has inadvertently turned the band, which previously infuriated many in the opposition, into a cause célèbre, a focal point for a movement which had appeared to be drifting.

Pussy Riot are brave and the foolhardiness of their actions is their defence. Undoubtedly, the “prayer service” was distressing for many who otherwise share the group’s goals, but the purpose of it was not to preach hate, but to dispel fear. As the group say, their aim is to create “a protest environment”, and this is achieved by showing people not to fear the State, by performing outrageous acts and getting away with it. Or, if not, then taking the consequences lightly: on the day of their arrest, Pussy Riot tweeted: “No harm done.”

Prior to their arrest, many accused the band of playing into the hands of the regime by giving it grounds for dismissing its critics as anti-social anarchists. Pussy Riot reject this, saying: “We don’t represent the whole opposition and people know this very well. But if we must now be silent and not speak out for our rights and interests, then we will never be heard. Even after a changeover in power.”

Pussy Riot were disappointed by th

e relatively small protests following the elections; they had hoped the people who attended the peaceful protests might have “grown teeth to begin demanding political change in a more aggressive key.” Many Russians appear, at the crisis, to have felt the risks too high. This is understandable. But Pussy Riot refuse to accept the arguments of stability, the argument that things could be worse. In a moment of defeat, a statement by the band, made to us before their arrest, marks Pussy Riot out as much as their multi-coloured masks:

“You need to put yourself in history’s way and now’s our time. Wait, we cannot.”

Patrick Reevell

The Academy, 3^rd March 2012

2012 has seen Brighton’s The Maccabees explode onto the wider public consciousness with the release of their third album, Given To the Wild. A packed out Academy provided an intimate environment for the gig, and the crowd waited expectantly as the support act, Dublin’s We Cut Corners, gently roused the audience.

Not known for their ‘rock and roll’ antics, true to form The Maccabees glided onto the stage at a respectable 9pm to palpable excitement and rapturous applause. Their notoriously shy front man Orlando Weekes did little to work the crowd but part of The Maccabees charm is their understatement and they opened the night with two of the stronger songs from their new album; the moving Child and the more fast paced Feel to Follow served to whipped the crowd into a frenzy. The audience’s energy held as a number of older tracks from 2007’s Colour it In and 2009’s Wall of Arms were showcased, with No Kind Words and Can You Give it provoking large swathes of the audience to join in with the choruses.

The Maccabees are renowned for their strong live performances and in this respect they did not disappoint their passionate Dublin audience, with Weekes’ clarity of voice a joy to behold. However it was hard not to sense the drop in excitement and passion within the audience when some of the newer tracks were played. Although described by one NME critic as entering the ‘prime of their musical lives,’ it was hard not to sense the contrast between magnificent songs from Colour It In such as Precious Time and some of their more recent offerings, including Grew Up At Midnight, which made them sound like a low budget Coldplay post A Rush of Blood to The Head.

The Maccabees are still amongst the best Indie-Pop bands around, but one is left wishing that they received exposure when they were at the peak of their powers in the Indie/Rock saturated late Noughties. Nonetheless their recognition and praise is long overdue and well deserved – just give their older stuff a listen.

Akash Sikka

Brilliant. Bloody brilliant… With emphasis on the bloody. Written and Directed by Gareth Evans, ‘The Raid’ or Serbuan Maut is one of the most brutal visual feasts of recent years. The film tells the story of a Jakarta SWAT team that are apparently ordered to enter the dominion of a violent gang-lord, Jaka (Joe Taslim). His impenetrable fortress is a thirty story slum apartment block in a no-go area of the city; a safe haven for the murderers, junkies and gang members trying to escape the law, leaving the elite force to be picked off one by one, pursued by the dregs of the earth and Jaka’s minions ‘Mad Dog’ (Yayan Ruhian) and Tama. To make it worse, half the SWAT team are rookies, this being their first major operation. Iko Uwais plays the lead rookie, Rama, with mad, bad fighting skills, and the fight scenes are all choreographed by him too. He mixes a traditional form of Indonesian martial arts called Pencak Silat, with guns and seriously impressive improvisation.
Well for starters, you can’t go wrong with a Rocky-style training montage.  Knife fights, fist fights, torture, gangsters, bit of a plot twist, what more can you want in an action film?
Despite the ever-so-unoriginal storyline, Gareth Evans has managed to make it a thrill from start to finish. The bright moments of humour are never lost in translation, which lightens the mood somewhat. Calling ‘The Raid’ a thriller doesn’t even do it justice. The film has already, unavoidably it seems, been usurped by Hollywood for an inevitably poor remake for 2013 that won’t do the original justice and will no doubt involve a heavy watering down and family friendly Hollywood celebrities. Nevertheless, ‘The Raid’ deserves the rave reviews it received at the Toronto International film festival and will no doubt prove a hit in cinemas. This film gets a PhD for it’s contribution to the action genre, no questions asked.

“Let us be your First Aid Kit… ” Klara, the younger, silken-haired half of the (eponymous) Swedish sister folk duo whispered to fans at the Workman’s Club a couple of weekends ago. It was their first gig in Dublin since a fleeting appearance in the Button Factory when Klara was just fifteen, yet one which they managed to sell out to a crowd of mainly under 30s, and a scattering of over 45s for good measure, their sound firmly rooted in an easy listening,  “Oh, what lovely harmonies” sort of category. This it may be, yet the pair’s simple melodies and storybook lyrics seemed to leave most in the, dare-I-say-it, “intimate” surroundings in a state of somewhat intoxication. And no, it wasn’t just the effects of the five euro cocktails. Samantha Crain, the rather unassuming American support act’s Norah Jones-esque (edgier, mind) vocals and instantly engaging folk-tinged songs merited the fifteen euro admission alone.

The thirty minute set was not chalked up as a mere window to down a few drinks or catch a natter with friends, and the crowd were unusually receptive overall. That said, the Söderberg girls did manage to steal the limelight outright, opening with “This Old Routine”, their distinctive brand of weary, yet ardent yearning (for something nobody is quite certain of) gradually descending upon the room. “That’s What’s Going to Save Me”, was particularly drenched in emotion. As well as that, an entirely acoustic (yes, as in, without microphones!) version of “Ghost Town” seemed composed especially for us in our very own ghost town, as we sang along with the girls, who, used to singing in the woods, (see the video which made them famous here – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HMrqBldlqzA) were completely unphased by the lack of amplification. In fact, vocal performances throughout from both outshone those of previous recordings, including their latest release. Klara, as usual, dominated, yet the vision of Johanna passing into an almost trance-like state each moment her deeper, yet perhaps even more transfixing voice tumbled out, scratched at the surface of what may really lie beneath their soft, Swedish veneer. It wasn’t all introspective doom and gloom either, with hair thrashing seeming to constitute the primary  source of competition between the pair. Their possession of impossibly long manes, almost as long as their impossibly long legs, hints at a potential future career with L’Oréal. The brandishing of an auto-harp, affectionately played by Johanna, represented a nod to the Carter family, already alluded to in a rendition of “Emmylou”,  their tribute to country music’s most beloved pairings. Samantha Crain was ushered out again for the final song, “King of the World”, a three minute portal into a kind of 4-in-the-morning sitting room sing-song.

The blurting out of the announcement by Crain of her engagement just minutes before, added to the gaiety and mirth of it all. Having pondered it for a couple of years, I was finally left, by the end of the night, with an understanding of the band’s name. Along with plasters and thermometers, these girls definitely belong in my, and any folk-lover’s, first aid kit.

 - 25 February 2012

Fiona Dunkin

Russians protest return of Vladimir Putin to as President, Moscow. Photo. Laura Gozzi

Patrick Reevell talks to journalist Angus Roxburgh about his new book The Stongman, tv series, Russia Putin and the West, and his take on the Russian elections.

 
Two Sundays ago, Russia witnessed Vladimir Putin secure a return to the Kremlin as president in elections described by  international monitors described as “skewed”, and by one Belorussian official, who should know about these things, as “elegant.” Putin’s victory puts him on course to become one of Russia’s longest serving leaders, if he completes his six year term he will have matched Brezhnev’s 18 year reign.

In light of Putin’s extended stay, TN2 talked to Angus Roxburgh, a former Moscow correspondent for the Sunday Times and BBC, who reported firsthand on the collapse of the Soviet Union. In late 2011 he published “The Strongman” and in January was the principal consultant for “Russia, Putin and the West”, a landmark BBC series on Putin’s Russia. If these weren’t qualifications enough, Roxburgh is one of the only foreigners to have worked within Putin’s personal staff, having served as a public relations advisor to the president’s office.

The last 6 months have seen massive demonstrations in Moscow of unprecedented scale, expressing discontent with Putin’s rule. Russia’s young middle-class appeared to have awoken politically- tens of thousands assembled repeatedly in freezing temperatures calling for an end to Putin’s 12-year domination. But on polling-day, Putin still won with a comfortable majority (60%), albeit suitably inflated by dirty tricks. As Roxburgh comments, “The fact is, Putin won, and he would certainly have won even if there had been no fraud or manipulation at all.”

More than the tricks, as Roxburgh’s book suggests, Putin’s victory was assured by his centralised system, the “power-vertical” which narrows the political arena to a straight shaft around the president. Quite simply, despite the presence of four other candidates (most of which had previously run), there was no one else to vote for.

“The opposition is still waiting for an electable leader,” says Roxburgh. “Usually in Russia change comes from above, not from street leaders, so i think Russians may have to wait for a reformer to emerge from within, rather than expect to find one among the “non-systemic” opposition…”

In other words, a palace-coup, that mechanism of change favoured under Communism. In Roxburgh’s view, such a “reformer” almost emerged in the last year in the form of Russia’s current president, Dmitri Medvedev. Four years ago, Medvedev was installed as a “modernising” seat-warmer while Putin acted as prime minister skirting a constitutional rule barring a president from more than two term in office.

Roxburgh believes that “Medvedev got to like being president and wanted to stay on. He made speeches, appealed to his core of support, and openly criticised Putin over certain things, like Libya… but he was not able to persuade Putin to let him stand again. His ratings would have had to soar much higher before he would have had the authority to oppose Putin.”

Roxburgh’s book and the BBC series are portraits of Putin which look back over his rule, based on remarkable interviews with a strikingly impressive list of leading political figures, including Condelizza Rice, Colin Powell, and Putin’s closest advisers. Few, if any, documentaries give such a striking flavour of everyday diplomatic practice in the course of remarkable events. The productions also make use of fascinating archive- particularly memorable is early footage of a newly-appointed president-Putin, still unsure how to walk on camera.

But when it was shown in February. “Russia, Putin and the West” came under attack from Russian dissident circles and the British press  The Daily Telegraph accused the documentary of a pro-Putin bias, pointing to Roxburgh’s time with the Kremlin as evidence. Roxburgh is brisk in dismissing such claims: “It’s nonsense – no right-minded viewer sees them as such. Those who said this have an axe to grind, including against the BBC. The films are scrupulously fair. For my own part, I should say I actually tried hard to steer the producers AWAY from being too Kremlin-friendly – the opposite of what is said about me.”

Certainly, the criticisms are curious: the picture of Putin presented in the four-part series is hardly positive; the Russian leaders successes are shown in detail but Putin’s brutality over Chechnya, his enslavement of Russian television, the corruption, his chauvinism are all present: Putin the bully, the eternal secret policeman is very much still with us.

But this is not why Russia, Putin and the West or The Strongman are interesting. Putin is already a byword for rigged elections, political persecution and Soviet revanchism. His rule is more complex than this, and the two works show this, but with each passing year it’s face, like Putin’s own, becomes flatter, cruder. Roxburgh insists on recognising Putin’s achievements- he’s right to- but Putin’s time has passed, he has failed in much and what is broken he cannot fix.

“Nobody criticises Putin – even, I think, behind closed doors,” says Roxburgh. “He has created a top-down system which instills fear in his subordinates. His personal hold is almost unassailable. Putin will probably make cosmetic changes, but not real change.”

The hundreds of thousands who protested this spring knew this, although the small size of post-election protests suggests many have been quickly disillusioned. Putin’s continued presence is stifling, his system only narrows.  But stagnant waters sometimes breed life.

Patrick Reevell

It is now almost exactly a year since the assembled forces of the IMF/EU/ECB troika marched into Dublin to relieve the nation of its economic sovereignty. Since then, the nation has been putting itself through a relentless cycle of self-examination over the radio waves, in the Sunday papers or under the lights of the Tonight with Vincent Browne studio. It was only a matter of time before a complete history of Ireland’s financial Armageddon made its way onto the Current Affairs shelves. Few people are in as good a position as Matt Cooper however, to narrate that story. How Ireland Really Went Bust is a definitive work, drawing on the fact that Cooper is incredibly well connected in what is the ostensibly small and tightly knit Irish political establishment and is able to call on an extensive database of quotes, statistics and insider knowledge to provide a detailed verbal portrait of the incidents that began with the bank guarantee and culminated in the arrival of the troika.

That said, the book has clearly been put together in haste and at times it seems a little clumsy or aimless as it struggles to annotate every detail in Cooper’s memory. Describing Brian Cowen’s reluctance to aggressively promote the importance of our 12.5% corporate tax rate to the EU when they were complimenting our country (just weeks before they hoisted a ‘bail-out’ upon the nation), he writes “Instead [Cowen] inhaled the bullshit and gagged.” Hardly John Kenneth Galbraith talking us through the Wall Street Crash, but Cooper’s strength lies elsewhere. He is harsh, not seeking to promote solutions to the problems, simply illustrating how they came about and how they could have been prevented, but he is essentially fair. He identifies that Brian Cowen had a drinking problem, even if it was hyped up by the media, criticises him in no uncertain terms for his naive belief in the power of the Irish economy to expand perpetually, laments his aggressive manner in Dáil Éireann, yet also gives him credit for not bearing any grudges and for genuinely (as misguided as he was) trying to help the country out of the disaster it was in, for which he felt great personal responsibility.

Europe comes out worst in Cooper’s reasoning – he describes their misunderstanding (and indeed apathy) towards Ireland’s problems, in their forcing through of the troika bail-out, their compelling NAMA to purchase loans at the market rate (rather than their actual, lower value over many years due to concerns about competition practices) and their insistence on Ireland’s alteration of the corporation tax rate. Even if Cooper shies away from a final prognosis he concludes with a sentiment that is at the heart of all attempts to restructure the country; “Ireland really has gone bust and is now dependent on the kindness of strangers.” How Ireland Really Went Bust simply is the most definitive and readable firsthand account of Ireland’s slide into economic oblivion and a must-read for anyone struggling to comprehend the story behind Ireland’s current woes.

Declan Johnston

“No money” is the daily refrain of the humble college student. The hierarchy of student priorities begins with rent and utilities, followed by transport and food, and concluded with the necessary luxury of alcohol. But where does culture figure in this hierarchy? It is well-known that the Friday-night date haunts of college students, like the cinema (Screen and the Savoy), run special deals on mid-week showings. The art galleries (National Gallery and the Hugh Lane) actually cost nothing. And the parks are free to roam at will. But an average ticket to the Gate theatre will set you back €25. The prices in the Abbey are only marginally less, and the other city-centre theatres are circling that same price bracket.  So where does the average student budget figure in the theatre industry?

This is the most common misconception about theatre in Dublin. But you can easily enjoy the theatre on a budget, and quite often too. Here are five fail-safe ways of seeing theatre that won’t have you scrimping and saving for tickets.

1. Student Theatre: Student-run theatres are cheap, on-campus and focus on writers that focus on you. If you’re a member of DU Players an afternoon show only will set you back two euro, and with evening shows a mere three euro fifty. DCU, DIT and UCD all house similar theatres with deals all around the city.

2. All Access Abbey: The All Access Abbey card costs ten euro, which may initially seem like a deterrent. But for your ten euro you can get ‘Standby Tickets’ in both the Abbey and the Peacock for only €10 half an hour before the show. As well as this you get updates about upcoming talks that are now free to you and other special offers run by the theatre.

3. Student Cards: The Phil card offers €10 tickets to Monday and Tuesday night shows at the Project Arts Centre. The Hist card runs a €13 ticket at the Abbey. These offers will not be freely available after college so make sure you avail of them now!

4. Free Theatre: Yes, you read that right. FREE. During June, the Shakespeare Festival stages work in open air across the city free of charge, and visible to passers-by. During Fresher’s Week Players showcases previous works for free. The recently opened New Theatre puts on free play readings on the first Saturday of each month. Special events during theatre festivals often put forward works that are ‘in development’ without a cover-charge, as long as you are willing to give our honest opinion at the end.

5. Ask about discounts: Most theatres are willing to make themselves more accessible to the struggling student. The Gate sells any left-over tickets for only fifteen euro an hour before the curtains go up. The Abbey does a similar deal for twelve euro. Even if there are no student discounts, preview shows are often half the price of regular ones and have the added excitement of seeing a piece before the critics define your opinion.

 Katherine Murphy

A father separated from his daughter, a seductive widow, an innocent child – The Woman in the Fifth (or La femme du Vème) has all the ingredients necessary for a great tragedy yet seems incomplete in its finale. Ethan Hawke plays Tom Ricks, a college lecturer and writer who has come to Paris to see his six-year-old daughter. This is complicated by the fact that his wife has a restraining order filed against him. Soon after arriving in France, all of Tom’s professions are stolen and he is forced to take residence in Paris. Seeing his daughter becomes his sole objective but he becomes distracted once he meets Margit (Kristin Scott Thomas), a widow who lives in the fifth arrondissement of Paris.

Polish director Pawel Pawlikowski gives great attention to style in his film, and right from the opening shots, the photography and camerawork are striking, surreal, and stunning. Rather than magical or romantic, Paris is portrayed here as gritty, isolating and barely recognisable- the only time we see the Eiffel Tower is when Tom meets Margit for the first time. A sense of intimacy is immediately established between the audience and the protagonist and Ethan Hawke gives a great performance as the suffering father/writer. Max de Wardener’s music is also wonderful, its bittersweet melodies making a significant contribution to the emotion of the film.

However, The Woman in the Fifth is greatly damaged by its ending. Though the outcome is appropriately tragic, a sense of sympathy or dismay is lost with the viewer because the final events occur with such speed that it is hard to keep up. Rather than feeling sorry for Tom, as the audience has felt throughout, one is left a little confused and unfeeling after the whole experience. Many may find the numerous unanswered questions in the plot frustrating and that the character of Margit is not given enough attention to justify the film’s conclusion. The Woman in the Fifth takes its time in revealing Tom’s character and evenly paces the plot’s events. Unfortunately, the final act is so rushed that, instead of generating excitement, Pawlikowski ends up disappointing.

Rating: 2.2

Deirdre Molumby

With his debut novel, Open City, Teju Cole proves himself a talented writer fully attuned to the loneliness, the vicissitudes and the serendipity of modern urban life. Set largely in New York City, we are guided through the metropolis by Julius, an African-born psychiatrist ruminating his way through the streets of Manhattan and the landscapes of his memories.  Reflecting on relationships past and present, life, death, love, art and everything in between, Julius emerges as cosmopolitan in every sense of the word.

As its title suggests, Open City is a novel of blurred boundaries in which an almost bewildering array of characters move in and out of focus through Julius’s everyday life. His magpie-like erudition and ever-changing narrative tone parallel the kaleidoscopic quality of his personal relations. Modulating from the high-flown language of the cultural commentator to the down-to-earth directness of American slang, Julius alights on topics ranging from the history of Brussels architecture to Yoruba mythology, to his opinions on The Last King of Scotland.  In so doing, he strikes at the heart of what it is to live in an age when information is so easily accessible to us and most people unknown. Every corner of our own familiar surroundings – like every stranger we pass by unseeing and unseen – has its own hidden history, its own story to tell.

This delicate balance of interwoven narratives is both the greatest strength and the greatest weakness of Open City. Faced with the sheer multitude of stories told and untold, we begin to lose any sense of who Julius is underneath his subtle perceptions of intersecting lives and spaces. As we share in his tangled experiences, we come to realise how deeply our lives are implicit in the lives of others; how much we are defined by who and what we know.  Unfortunately, the polyphony of the novel – while revelatory at its best – occasionally unravels into something closer to a message-board for canvassing every contemporary “hot-topic” there is: race and ethnicity, 9/11, multiculturalism, the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict and much besides, with Julius’s and his interlocutor’s voice coming off a tad contrived, overshadowed by the polemics of the subject-matter

Nevertheless, Cole does much to direct our attention to the complex, protean nature of city-life today.  Open City is a work of admirable craftsmanship which confronts us with a uniquely modern problem: how to locate a sense of self in a world in which our single selves are more tightly linked, yet paradoxically more estranged from each other (and from our very own selves), than ever before.

 Yui Fujita

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