Part B

Arts and Culture reviews, previews, and comment pieces.

JHS: The Hero’s Journey

Human change and transformation doesn’t just occur on screen… Choke! Choke! Choke! Choke! Stop being so fucking weak! You’re a bum. A rapper. A ballet dancer. A boxer. While very different in many respects, the protagonists of ‘8-Mile’, ‘Black Swan’…

JHS: The Art of the Double Reversal

When the antagonist and hero learn from each other, we get a work of exceptional quality and powerful message… Two warriors enter the clifftop edge, bruised and broken from their climactic fight. Killmonger and T’challa. This is the end of…

JHS: Warrior vs King

Exploring conflict through archetype in Damien Chazelle’s ‘Whiplash’ Many seek power over others. Others seek power over themselves. These values aren’t separate. They fuel and propagate each other. And in Damien Chazelle’s scintillating 2014 drama ‘Whiplash’, they collide. ‘Whiplash’ is…

Wednesday Washing

On Wednesdays I do my washing; In my basket is routine. As the machine gently spins And gurgles satisfaction I do some work at the table Or read a book on the sofa And quietly pretend that I’m living with…

Upon Waking Up Too Early

Gaaah. What? Hrrrrnf. Stir weightless against inkblack and mist. I’ll go, I’ll go. But pushed down into mush by warm slop. Do I do this every time when this rock whips round the hot and the clock clicks this time?…

Untitled

                                                                    How we go round in earth’s…

Gwenno review: ‘Le Kov’

Gwenno’s newest album, Le Kov, sounds like the place she describes. Rugged yet soft, with hints of traditional Cornish folk, but echoed in synthesisers, and layered with sound in a way that gives it an aura of simplicity. Through the…

Falling asleep

The drowsiness takes over and I sink back It calls and I cannot fight back Slumber has dug its claws and pulls I sleepily resist, but the world dulls.   Just as I give in, it is out of reach…

Watching Weirdo

I watched a man waiting at a bus stop. He was smoking a cigarette. With one hand in his coat pocket he blew clouds into the cold evening air. His cigarette between his first two fingers glowed at its tip…

The Many Colours of Snow: An Immigrant Experience

First, snow was colourless – a seemingly impossible pigment of the imagination, rising in aimless reverie as the mind remarked upon the waxing nights and waning days through double-glazed windows. The immigrant, before s/he departs to become one, is bestowed…