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  • Killers of the Flower Moon: How the shocking Osage murders were nearly erased from US history

    Killers of the Flower Moon: How the shocking Osage murders were nearly erased from US history

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    (Image credit: Apple TV+)

    As Martin Scorsese’s latest epic Killers of the Flower Moon, which stars Leonardo DiCaprio, Robert De Niro and Lily Gladstone, is released this week, Caryn James explores the terrible true history that inspired the film.

    “They won’t remember”, Robert De Niro’s character says in Martin Scorsese’s Killers of the Flower Moon. As the real-life William Hale, a cattle baron in 1920s Oklahoma, he is deluded in thinking that the Osage Nation would move past the memory that dozens of their members who had become rich from oil rights were systematically killed for their money. But the line leaps out of the film as a reminder that much of the world did forget, until the events were restored to the mainstream in David Grann’s dynamic, deeply researched 2017 bestseller, Killers of the Flower Moon: The Osage Murders and the Birth of the FBI, which inspired the film. While he was writing the book and long after, Grann tells BBC Culture, “The most common comment I have received is: ‘I can’t believe I never learned about this’”, adding, “I think that is a reflection to some degree of the underlying force that led to these crimes, which was prejudice.”

    Spoiler alert: This article contains plot spoilers for Killers of the Flower Moon.

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    –       A shocking moment in Oscars history

    Those murders and their near-erasure from history go to the heart of US culture. “American democracy arose from the dispossession of American Indians”, the Yale University historian Ned Blackhawk writes in his recent book The Rediscovery of America: Native Peoples and the Unmaking of US History. “Scholars have recently come to view African American slavery as central to the making of America, but few have seen Native Americans in a similar light,” he writes. His work is part of a trend aiming to restore those injustices to their crucial place.

    Dozens of Osage people were systematically murdered for their money in the 1920s (Credit: Getty Images)

    Dozens of Osage people were systematically murdered for their money in the 1920s (Credit: Getty Images)

    At the centre of Killers of the Flower Moon, both the book and film, is Mollie Burkhart (Lily Gladstone) a modest, oil-rich Osage whose family was especially targeted, one sister shot to death, another’s house firebombed, their mother most likely poisoned. Later Mollie herself becomes mysteriously, gravely ill. Her true story offers a dramatic example of the cultural atmosphere that allowed what came to be called the “Reign of Terror” to happen, and then to be swept aside.

    The pattern of dispossession that began with Columbus continued for hundreds of years. In the 19th Century, the US government forced the Osage off their land in Kansas, so they moved to Oklahoma, where in the 20th Century oil made them fabulously rich, for a time the world’s richest people per capita. Even then, the US government labelled many Indigenous people “incompetent”, a designation that often depended simply on how much Native blood they had. Guardians, often corrupt, were put in place to oversee and restrict how those designated spent their own money. Early in Scorsese’s film we see Mollie meeting with a guardian, even though she is extremely intelligent and capable.

    Like the book, the film is extraordinary in the way it captures both Mollie’s intense personal story and the cultural prejudice that fostered the crimes. (Unlike the book, which unfolds like a detective story, the film reveals the killers’ identities early, and there are spoilers ahead for both accounts.) In the early 1920s, William Hale was a powerful force in Osage County, a venal man who regarded Native Americans as less than human while pretending to be the tribe’s friend and benefactor. Hale encourages his equally greedy nephew, the World War One veteran Ernest Burkhart (Leonardo DiCaprio) to marry Mollie. We are deliberately left guessing whether Ernest genuinely loves her, wants to marry for money, or some combination of the two, a question that slowly comes to haunt Mollie as well.

    Leonardo DiCaprio plays Ernest Burkhart, a greedy World War One veteran who marries the well-off Osage, Mollie (Lily Gladstone) (Credit: Apple TV+)

    Leonardo DiCaprio plays Ernest Burkhart, a greedy World War One veteran who marries the well-off Osage, Mollie (Lily Gladstone) (Credit: Apple TV+)

    Scorsese’s film, using mock archival newsreels, depicts the baffled resentment with which white society regarded the wealthy Osage being driven by chauffeurs, and Native women dressed in fashionable furs and jewels. Mollie herself wore a traditional blanket as a coat and lived a simple life even though she had a large house and servants. But Grann’s book cites a 1920 Harper’s Monthly Magazine article called “Lo, the Rich Indian!” which refers to the oddity of “red millionaires”. Another typical article in a 1922 travel magazine was called “Our Plutocratic Osage Indians”.

    Increased public awareness

    Despite the condescension, many white people married into the Osage tribe, with sinister motives. When the US government allotted parcels of Oklahoma land to the Osage, the tribe members kept the rights to profit from the oil, called headrights, which importantly could only be inherited, not sold. Marrying an Osage for the inheritance was a way white people could get their hands on the oil money. As Grann tells BBC Culture, “There was a particular diabolical nature to these [murder] plots because they involve people marrying into families pretending to love you while simultaneously plotting to kill you.” While planning murders in the film, Hale bluntly voices the opinion that the Osage are not worthy of their money and eventually not worthy of their lives.

    Hale was not alone. “The more I dug into it, the more I realised this was really about a culture of killing and a culture of complicity,” Grann says. “I found evidence of doctors who were administering poison. I found evidence of morticians who were covering up bullet wounds. Some of the guardians and the lawmen and the prosecutors were on the take and either not investigating these crimes or sometimes maybe even had a hand in them, and many others were complicit in their silence.”

    William Hale (Robert De Niro) was a cattle baron in 1920s Oklahoma who befriended the Osage, while covertly plotting to kill them (Credit: Apple TV+)

    William Hale (Robert De Niro) was a cattle baron in 1920s Oklahoma who befriended the Osage, while covertly plotting to kill them (Credit: Apple TV+)

    The film reflects that real-life culture of white supremacy. There is a glimpse of the nearby Tulsa Race Massacre in 1921, contemporaneous with the Osage murders, in which a prosperous black neighbourhood called Black Wall Street was burned to the ground by a white mob. The film depicts a parade on the main street of the Burkharts’ town, with robed and hooded Ku Klux Klan members marching in the parade just behind a group of women carrying a banner reading “Indian Mothers of Veterans”, a clear indication of how blatant and entrenched in society white supremacy was.

    As the Osage murders accumulated, the crimes became so alarming and so frequent that the FBI investigated. Soon the story was receiving national attention. When Hale was convicted of a single murder, it was reported in The New York Times, but the headline was telling in the way it focused on the white criminals and not their Native victim: ‘King of Osage Hills’ Guilty of Murder: Hale, Cattleman, and a Cowboy Are Convicted of Killing an Indian.

    Why did such a volatile story, skewed though it was, then virtually disappear? Tara Damron, program director at the White Hair Memorial, a repository of Osage history, and a member of the Osage Nation herself, tells BBC Culture that the erasure “goes to the overall treatment of Native Americans, and indigenous history not being taught, not being included and those voices being silenced”. Indigenous tribes, she says, “have a government to government relationship with the United States that goes back to treaties. What happened to the Osage People during this terrible time in our history is American history, and this story needs to be told.”

    At the centre of Killers of the Flower Moon is Mollie Burkhart (played by Lily Gladstone in the film) (Credit: Getty Images)

    At the centre of Killers of the Flower Moon is Mollie Burkhart (played by Lily Gladstone in the film) (Credit: Getty Images)

    Killers of the Flower Moon in both forms can now be seen as part of a larger cultural reclamation. In 2011, for $380 million, the US government settled a 12-year-long lawsuit the Osage Nation brought against it for mismanaging the tribe’s funds. In announcing it, a statement from the Department of the Interior said the settlement signalled “President Obama’s commitment to reconciliation and empowerment for American Indian nations”. Today’s Secretary of the Interior, Deb Haaland, is the first ever Native American cabinet secretary, another sign of change.

    But some injustices can never be redressed. Grann’s research uncovered many Osage murders that were not investigated and can likely never be solved. “Many killers went free,” Grann says, because the FBI “did not actually uncover this much deeper and darker conspiracy that existed.” The witnesses are now dead and the crimes were often not recorded. “Often you just can’t find the evidentiary material to even identify who the perpetrator was and resolve these cases”, Grann says. As the film and book remind us, though, they can be brought to light and remembered. Since the book was published, Damron has found increased public awareness of the murders. She says, “I hope that cultural attitudes have changed but the impact is yet to be seen”.

    Killers of the Flower Moon is released on 20 October.

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  • Drowning World: 12 striking photos of the climate in crisis

    Drowning World: 12 striking photos of the climate in crisis

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    (Image credit: Gideon Mendel)

    With a series of portraits of people in their flooded or burnt-out homes, Gideon Mendel is a “deep witness” to loss. He tells Fiona Macdonald how he captures images that show our shared vulnerability.

    Muhammad Chuttal, Khaipur Nathan Shah, Sindh Province, Pakistan, October 2022, from the series Drowning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    Muhammad Chuttal, Khaipur Nathan Shah, Sindh Province, Pakistan, October 2022, from the series Drowning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    The people in Gideon Mendel’s portraits stare back at us, not quite defiant. They appear serene, composed – and in many cases, submerged in the water that has flooded their homes. “The gaze, where people engage with the camera, is the visual focus, the emotional centre of each of these images,” Mendel tells BBC Culture. “A lot of people have asked me: ‘What are people saying, what is the gaze?’ And I think it’s strangely enigmatic. It’s not necessarily accusing. I don’t think it’s saying: ‘Look, this is your responsibility’. I think that it’s saying, ‘Take a look at what’s happened to me’. And it’s inviting us to witness their lives at this moment.”

    Joy Christian, Dorca Executive Apartments Otuoke, Ogbia Municipality Bayelsa State, Nigeria, November 2022, from the series Drowning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    Joy Christian, Dorca Executive Apartments Otuoke, Ogbia Municipality Bayelsa State, Nigeria, November 2022, from the series Drowning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    The South African photographer started work on his Drowning World and Burning World series in 2007, after images he’d taken that year of flood victims in India and the UK were published side by side. “It was the first sense I got of a way we could establish a global conversation,” he says. “I realised that the people I’d photographed in the UK and the people I’d photographed in India, although their circumstances were so different in terms of wealth and poverty and social support and help they might get after a flood, they had a kind of shared vulnerability – being in the water united them. What I did with that series which I called Submerged Portraits was almost establish a typology, a way I’d photograph different kinds of people.”

    João Pereira de Araújo, Taquari District, Rio Branco, Brazil, March 2015, from the series Drowning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    João Pereira de Araújo, Taquari District, Rio Branco, Brazil, March 2015, from the series Drowning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    Mendel’s work – currently showing at the Soho Photography Quarter in London – is focused on the aftermath of flooding or wildfires. “It seems counterintuitive to be making a portrait in that context, but actually it’s something which my subjects say felt like the right thing, it felt like the natural, obvious thing to do. It’s not as if this is a moment when people are fleeing. I’m not asking people who are running away from the onrush of water to stop. I’m going back to flooded communities.”

    Shirley Armitage, Moorland Village, Somerset, UK, February 2014, from the series Drowning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    Shirley Armitage, Moorland Village, Somerset, UK, February 2014, from the series Drowning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    Capturing his images is an intensely moving process. “I followed Shirley into her home, which was flooded, and she was very shocked because when she’d left initially, the water had been at ankle height, and when we returned it was at chest height. Having followed her into that environment, I’m always somehow connected to her.”

    Rhonda Rossbach, Derek Briem and Autumn Briem, Killiney Beach, British Columbia, Canada, 16 October 2021, from the series Burning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    Rhonda Rossbach, Derek Briem and Autumn Briem, Killiney Beach, British Columbia, Canada, 16 October 2021, from the series Burning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    The portraits can echo photos of homeowners proudly posing next to their properties – a resemblance that Mendel acknowledges. “When making my video pieces, I often film people moving through their homes, through their properties and I don’t direct them, I just see what happens, but filming people going through their burnt houses, what a lot of people instinctively do is give me the house tour – ‘This is the bathroom.’ Or they’ll say: ‘Well that was the bathroom, if you look three stories up you can see the remains’. People try to figure out what was where in their homes, yet it’s very much the house-proud home tour.”

    Jenni Bruce, Upper Brogo, New South Wales, Australia, 15 January 2020, from the series Burning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    Jenni Bruce, Upper Brogo, New South Wales, Australia, 15 January 2020, from the series Burning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    Mendel is keen to show his subjects on the same level as the viewer. “What’s very important to me in the portraiture is that people don’t come across as victims – that they have agency, that they are showing us what’s happened to them but not as victims.”

    Florence Abraham, Igbogene, Bayelsa State, Nigeria, November 2012, from the series Drowning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    Florence Abraham, Igbogene, Bayelsa State, Nigeria, November 2012, from the series Drowning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    “I was photographing in Nigeria in 2012,” says Mendel. “Florence Abraham showed me her business and home. She was a baker, and she had a whole bakery – she said she employed 24 people. And then a lot of people made a living from taking her bread on bicycles and distributing it – so there were a lot of people economically dependent on her and it was all destroyed. The flour, mixing machines and bread ovens – it was all completely destroyed by the flood, in a situation where there’s no culture of insurance, or of state compensation or anything, so she’d basically just lost everything.

    “At the end of photographing Florence, I tried to give her compensation for her time. She responded in a way which has just really impacted me ever since – she said to me, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t want to be rude, but I don’t want your money. I just want you to show the world what’s happened.’ And that just really resonated. And I know I’m not an NGO, I have no power to really help people in any physical way. But what I can offer people is a kind of deep witnessing of what’s happened to them.”

    Gurjeet Dhanoa, Rock Creek, Superior, Colorado, USA March 2022, from the series Burning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    Gurjeet Dhanoa, Rock Creek, Superior, Colorado, USA March 2022, from the series Burning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    “It’s now 16 years since I began doing the work and it’s been a journey for me – when I began, I was much more of a traditional photojournalist,” he says. “My approach to photography has become in a way more conceptual, and I feel like I’m more influenced by contemporary art than contemporary journalism in the way that I work. I’m not sure if I’ve evicted myself or whether I’ve been evicted from photojournalism. It’s a very different kind of way of working, although I do use all of those skills.”

    Amjad Ali Laghari, Goth Bawal Khan village, Sindh Province, Pakistan, September 2022, from the series Drowning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    Amjad Ali Laghari, Goth Bawal Khan village, Sindh Province, Pakistan, September 2022, from the series Drowning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    Camera technology has also evolved since Mendel began his project. “For the first years of working in flooding, I was working in an analogue way, I was on old Rolleiflex cameras, which was both beautiful and crazy, working in the most difficult circumstances you can imagine with these old cameras which would jam – after many failures in that area, I did eventually move across to working with digital cameras. But what I really miss about the analogue period is less the technical side, it’s more the theatre. And I think the people I was photographing responded really well to the theatre of working in film.”

    Kevin Goss, Greenville, California, USA, October 2021, from the series Burning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    Kevin Goss, Greenville, California, USA, October 2021, from the series Burning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    As well as a shared vulnerability that connects the subjects of Mendel’s photos with the viewer, there’s a sense of our global vulnerability. “We have a shared landscape,” he says. “I think there’s always the danger that people feel this is something that happens ‘over there’. I was very struck when I photographed the aftermath of the floods in Germany in 2021. A lot of people died, it caused huge damage, and a lot of people said: ‘This doesn’t happen in Germany. This happens in Bangladesh and Africa, this doesn’t happen here’. There is the sense that it’s all going to happen to other people ‘over there’. But the velocity of horrific climate things happening all over the world, in unexpected places, is making us reassess.”

    Abdul Ghafoor, Mohd Yousof Naich School, Sindh Province, Pakistan, October 2022, from the series Drowning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    Abdul Ghafoor, Mohd Yousof Naich School, Sindh Province, Pakistan, October 2022, from the series Drowning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    “I work in floods where the water tends to sit, where it waits,” says Mendel. “People often think all floods are the same, but the geography of floods in different contexts are very different. I’m from South Africa and the kind of floods you get in South Africa tend to be very sudden and very violent and very dramatic, where the water comes down a river or a creek and pulls cars, it’s tsunami-like. And then there are also floods which you often get, which I’ve photographed in West Africa, in Asia, and often in Europe as well, in America, where the water sits around for a long time – for days, weeks, sometimes even months. When I photographed the floods in Pakistan last year, I was working in places that still had a lot of water six weeks after the floods had arrived.”

    Uncle Noel Butler and Trish Butler, Nura Gunyu Indigenous Education Centre, New South Wales, Australia, 28 February 2020, from the series Burning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    Uncle Noel Butler and Trish Butler, Nura Gunyu Indigenous Education Centre, New South Wales, Australia, 28 February 2020, from the series Burning World (Credit: Gideon Mendel)

    When Mendel started his project, he was trying to find a way to respond to climate change that might challenge preconceptions. “I spent time looking at photo archives, looking at Flickr, looking at the way climate change was being represented. And it’s not the case now, but at that point, if you were searching for an image of climate change, you’d immediately get 100 pictures of polar bears and glaciers,” he says. “I just felt that was really problematic and it felt so far away and so distant, and I wanted to make images that were visceral, make images that were direct. I wanted climate change and all the impacts of climate change to be looking directly into the eyes of the viewer.”

    Gideon Mendel: Fire / Flood is on show at Soho Photography Quarter next to The Photographers’ Gallery, London until 22 October.

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  • What the Celebration tour reveals about ‘my spirit guide’ Madonna

    What the Celebration tour reveals about ‘my spirit guide’ Madonna

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    (Image credit: Getty Images)

    With her current tour, the Queen of Pop is finally celebrating her legacy – and showing her vulnerability. Lifelong fan and author Matt Cain reflects on the star’s extraordinary influence.

    S

    She’s the biggest-selling female recording artist of all time, a woman who’s made an indelible mark on our culture, and contributed to lasting social change. But, for a long time, Madonna sustained public interest by refusing to look back on her career, insisting on maintaining a focus on present and future projects. Now – finally – she’s ready to celebrate her cultural legacy. And, perhaps most importantly, to show her vulnerability.

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    I watched, transfixed, as Madonna performed Open Your Heart. Wearing a bustier, fishnets, and writhing around a chair, she reprised her role as a dancer from the famous 1986 video, in which she danced for an audience of gay men and a lesbian drag king. On stage she danced with gender-nonconforming performers.

    Writer Matt Cain first saw Madonna live in 1987 when he was aged 12 – it was a formative experience (Credit: Getty Images)

    Writer Matt Cain first saw Madonna live in 1987 when he was aged 12 – it was a formative experience (Credit: Getty Images)

    It’s a key moment in Madonna’s Celebration tour, a sumptuous, emotive and self-referential show that not only celebrates Madonna’s cultural legacy but proves that her fire is still burning, her drive is undimmed, and her rebel heart is still beating.

    I saw the show in London’s O2 Arena on Sunday night, but it took me back to Roundhay Park, Leeds, when Open Your Heart was the opening number in Madonna’s first ever world tour, in 1987. Twelve years old, I was in the audience, a bullied gay kid struggling to find his place in the world. But I felt emboldened by the energy and attitude of the invincible warrior on stage. This was only bolstered when I saw the Blond Ambition tour in 1990, when Madonna’s costumes resembled armour, and her signature look of steely defiance reached its zenith.

    Madonna saved my life. She inspired me to follow my own creative dream, drawing on my experiences in my debut novel The Madonna of Bolton. It’s about a boy growing up in the 1980s who clings on to Madonna to help him survive the trauma of growing up gay – but who then needs to let go of his obsession in order to find his own voice as a writer.

    Changing role

    But the past 10 years have been a difficult time to be a Madonna fan. There were signs that my spirit guide was struggling to accept her changing role in the cultural landscape. When she announced her new show, I – like many fans – invested a lot of hope and emotion. And Madonna has delivered a dazzling show that succeeds on the level of spectacle, stagecraft, reflection and political bite.

    With the 1990 tour Blond Ambition, Madonna reinvented the traditional notion of the concert tour (Credit: Getty Images)

    With the 1990 tour Blond Ambition, Madonna reinvented the traditional notion of the concert tour (Credit: Getty Images)

    It opens with Nothing Really Matters, a song saying that love – and motherhood – are more important than fame. There are no distracting theatrics, just Madonna, her image and her voice – which has never sounded better. She’s beautifully lit, raised on an altar and wearing a crown, offered up to the audience as a goddess. After that, the crown comes off. Madonna appears more human – and more vulnerable – than ever before.

    On past tours, she moved with machine-like precision, showcasing her stamina and athleticism, never deviating from the show as rehearsed. In this show, her vulnerability could only ever be front and centre. In June, the opening North American leg of the Celebration tour was postponed when she was hospitalised with a serious bacterial infection – a brush with death that seems to have had a profound impact on her. On opening night, she commented that “the angels were protecting me”. During an acoustic cover of Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive, she paused after the line “Did you think I’d lay down and die?” to ask the audience, “Well, did you?”

    And who can forget her famous fall on stage at the Brits in 2015? She may have picked herself up, made it through the number, and ended with a triumphant fist in the air, but no-one would ever see her as invincible again.

    On the new Celebration tour, Madonna opens with a heartfelt rendition of Nothing Really Matters (Credit: Getty Images)

    On the new Celebration tour, Madonna opens with a heartfelt rendition of Nothing Really Matters (Credit: Getty Images)

    At the age of 65, Madonna still moves – more than artists half her age – but within a limited repertoire. In the show I saw, she wore a bandage on her knee, and at one point had to stop singing when she had a coughing fit.

    But what we lost in choreography, we gained in fun. Gone was the steely defiance, replaced by smiles and even laughter. In between numbers, Madonna was chatty and reflective, discussing her struggle as an artist but also her love for her children – several of whom joined her on stage. And it was great to see a warmth towards her fans coming from a star who’s so often had to switch into warrior mode that she’s sometimes come across as abrasive. After brutalising experiences at the hands of the press and the patriarchy – many of which are documented in this show – her barriers went up. Now she was basking in the audience’s love.

    And this show has much more of a narrative than past ones, beginning with her move to New York in 1978, it told the story of her life and career through music, dance, design and social activism.

    Past glories

    Her costumes nodded to past glories, and replicas of her classic costumes were worn by dancers playing her younger self. These imitators sometimes interacted with Madonna – at one point one of them on the same red velvet bed performing in the infamous masturbation scene in Blond Ambition.

    The current tour references past glories, with dancers performing as Madonna’s younger self (Credit: Getty Images)

    The current tour references past glories, with dancers performing as Madonna’s younger self (Credit: Getty Images)

    There was a sharp focus on her social activism in the show, such as her support for gay men in the 1980s. Live to Tell was performed in memory of all the men lost to Aids, beginning with her close friends, the dance teacher who inspired her to be an artist, and so many of her collaborators.

    But Madonna’s greatest contribution to society has to be fighting against the double standard that allowed men to express their sexual desires but forbade women to do so. And it is a treat to hear songs like Erotica, Justify My Love and Bad Girl, and see her reclaiming that chapter of her career from the early 90s, when she became the most vilified woman in the world.

    The boxers from the 1993 Girlie Show tour reappeared to remind us why she became a fighter. Perhaps the strongest political point she can make now is about ageism. Her messaging on this front hasn’t always been clear enough to hit home; not so here. An interlude revisits a speech she made in 2016, proclaiming “The most controversial thing I have ever done is to stick around”.

    Madonna has, it seems, reached the point where she is unafraid to show her vulnerability (Credit: Getty Images)

    Madonna has, it seems, reached the point where she is unafraid to show her vulnerability (Credit: Getty Images)

    Ultimately, though, the most important component of the show could only ever be the music. For the first time on a Madonna tour, there was no live band – according to musical director Stuart Price, this is to let the original recordings shine. But this is Madonna. She doesn’t play by the rules. And – following the collapse of her self-directed biopic just before the Celebration tour was conceived – she was clearly determined to tell her story, her way. But maybe we all have our own Madonna: we all see her as representing something different, based on what we wanted or needed when we first encountered her work.

    That 12-year-old boy could never have imagined the journey Madonna’s career would follow for the next few decades. As a man, I can’t imagine where it will take her next. But now that she’s been brave enough to show her vulnerability, I’m excited to find out.

    The Madonna of Bolton by Matt Cain is published by Unbound.

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  • The Essential List: Get the best of the BBC in your inbox, weekly

    The Essential List: Get the best of the BBC in your inbox, weekly

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    Your inbox is crowded. Every publication, brand and creator offers a newsletter, and we don’t take our place among them lightly.

    That’s why we’re re-inventing our offering to make it even more, well, essential: one newsletter, all of the BBC, just once a week.

    The Essential List, our Friday dispatch, has had an upgrade. If you’ve already subscribed, you’re used to seeing a selection of our long-read features that are perfect for weekend reading.

    Those aren’t going away, but our world-class editors are handpicking them alongside podcast soundbites, news bullet points, and must-see documentary clips to recap everything you might’ve missed.

    This isn’t a nonstop news feed (we have another newsletter for that) or a targeted delivery all about one specific topic (sport, the Royal Family – we have those too).

    The Essential List is the one-stop shop for a busy reader who just wants the best of it all, in a format that’s as digestible in a quick scroll as it is entertaining enough for a whole commute. Glance at it between meetings or find a hammock to read it in; that’s up to you.

    For a new way to find can’t-miss news, quick videos and our favourite long reads of the week, sign up for The Essential List here.

    The Essential List is just one of a growing slate of newsletters from the BBC on topics ranging from the Royal Family to sport and, of course, breaking news. Explore all those available to you here.

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    Executive Managing Editor, Global Features

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  • In History: How Tommie Smith and John Carlos’s protest at the 1968 Mexico City Olympics shook the world

    In History: How Tommie Smith and John Carlos’s protest at the 1968 Mexico City Olympics shook the world

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    In the wake of the protest, Smith and Carlos were vilified by much of the media and shunned by the US sporting establishment. In the years that followed, they were subjected to abuse and death threats. Smith attributed the break-up of his marriage to the stress of dealing with the fallout. When he should have been at the peak of his career, the US Olympic committee banned him from national and international competitions. By 1972, instead of preparing for the Munich Olympics, Smith, who was still the fastest man in the world, was reduced to training schoolchildren in Wakefield in northern England to earn a living.

    Sport was one of the few areas where the ability of the individual could triumph over the barriers faced by black Americans, Smith explains in this BBC archive video. “The black athlete… has grown to know that the body could be a springboard to success. I think he works doubly hard at that as he would at anything else. Because in athletics, especially track and field, nobody can say you are no good. The only person who can say that is that clock,” he says.

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  • Story 4 – Could I Be To Blame?

    Story 4 – Could I Be To Blame?

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    I’ve been following up with a guy on social media for months without him noticing me. It was on a Wednesday, 20th April 2017 when he buzzed me. I was so surprised and eager to reply, so we got to talk and know each other better. We hooked up, not once, not twice. I liked this guy a lot, maybe because I never get the kind of attention he gave me.

    We often met at his friend’s house and most times I just can’t hold back my admiration for him. Most times I went home dripping in my pants, I’m not a fan of touching myself so I just sleep it off and wait to see him again. On the 6th of July 2017. He invited me over to his house. I got funny advice from my friend to learn to be seductive with my dressings, so I went with a short gown. I got to his apartment, he offered me a soft drink and meat pie. Then he sat close to me, touched my thigh, I turned and looked at him, he smiled at me and drew close to kiss me. It was deep and sensitive. I wanted more of that and as he pleased my envy, he became more touchy, and gave me a look ‘if it was cool with me’.

    I wanted more added to his touch. I left that day fulfilled, I had gotten what I wanted to. It always played back, he was so good. I turned it to an almost everyday thing. I meet him every time I had a chance to. I don’t know who thinks sex keeps a man, but it was what I thought, so I saw someone I like, I went for it. A couple of months went and I’d found out I’ve missed my period, I didn’t want to tell him so I kept it for a little longer.

    Three months went, I saw signs of pregnancy, it then dawned on me that I was pregnant. I had to tell him. I met him at the mall, even in this situation I was dripping once again in my panties. I told him after we talked about his business trips and all that. He looked me straight in the eyes and said: “Rose, I’m not ready for a child yet”. I know he’s not ready but what would do you have me do, I am four months gone. I couldn’t yell but I need us to talk. I’m just a student, soon enough my parents will find out. I expected more from him, but he said he’d see me the next day, and that was how we ended the conversation.

    Immediately he left, I called my friend, she agreed to meet up so I waited. It wasn’t long when Jessica got to the mall, I was in tears, she was someone I told everything. I wanted to get the burden of having a child. I knew someone who’d do it cheaply, so I had Jessica join me at the clinic. The doctor there told me it was difficult for a four-month-old, he added: “ If you want me to continue it will hurt a lot”.

    I signed up for an abortion for the first time in my life, Jessica was there with the comforting words so I was okay to do this. It wasn’t long, we were done. I was hurting a lot more than he explained it would. The pains were not just from the termination, my heart spoke in volumes. My body couldn’t carry a much greater burden. Nonetheless, I had Jessica see me home and tell my mum that I was suffering from menstrual cramps. I know you wonder how she believed. She trusts me a lot to not let her down. But I did the opposite.

    He called, the next day, I told him what I had done already, he was very angry. He went on to say he wanted to let his family know first and come back to meet mine, I screwed it all up. I should have just waited, but I didn’t, I moved too fast. I was foolish enough to continue seeing him, after all, that happened, this was a fresh year so I was thinking he’d ask me to be his girlfriend because we got a lot serious. One day, I visited unannounced, I don’t usually do this but I did because I thought we are in a relationship already. I knocked and waited for his response but he didn’t respond so I knocked a little harder before I heard keys jiggle from the other end, he opened the door and I noticed something.

    He was not happy to see me, he unlocked the door and I came in, I could hear a lady’s voice coming from his sitting room, could be his sister so I calmed myself. This lady sat on the other couch chewing gum, in my favorite polo of him. I said hi and sat down. He came in to introduce me as his friend to his girlfriend. I was dumbfounded, speechless. It was hard for me, it felt like I’ve wasted my life with him, only to find out he loves someone that is not me, you are allowed to feel my pain and anger. I left grieving, this was a lot more to bare, here I was thinking he was mine, with all the things we’ve done and gone through. I just vowed not to ever cross path with him again. He called a couple of times to apologize, he kept saying he wanted to tell me about her and all that, but I was thought she was better at it than me, that was why he didn’t choose me. Love is the true key to anyone. With all that had happened, I moved on this time trying to find a partner.

    I took ill on the 30th of January, 2020. I had pneumonia, but before that, I went for check-up and was advised by my doctor to go through a series of tests to know about my blood type. I came back to him with all results and the first question he asked me was if I’ve heard of the rhesus factor, it was something new to me. He went on to explain the Rhesus factor is an inherited protein found on the surface of red blood cells. If your blood has the protein, you’re Rh-positive. If your blood lacks the protein, you’re Rh-negative. Now he said I’m O negative and if at any point I get pregnant and give birth I’d have to take an injection called Anti-D administration to aid me to take in for the next child.

    This was too much for me to take in as he went on to explain if the baby turns negative then there is a chance but if the baby is positive it is advised to use the injections. I left his office with hate in my heart because I remembered my actions a few years back. I took twins out, who was I going to tell, I needed to talk to someone, I called him and told him everything, he was only apologetic, it was his fault. I had just ruined my future by my own hands, who do I start that family I’ve always dreamed about?

    He called once in a while to check on me. How do you do that when you clearly choose someone over me and still put me in a big mess. I stopped replying his messages, I was done with everything I had for him, I’ll just pick myself up and look forward, he was never for me, I just let myself ruin me and I have me to be blamed.

    This is a lesson I learned the hard way that I am to be blamed for the decisions I make. And to be responsible for my actions. As young adults, we should also know everything concerning our health including blood type. Don’t make drastic decisions that will hurt others.

    About the Writer:

    Onyekaba Chidimma Amarachi is a young Igbo girl, residing in Abia state, Nigeria. Also a student of Abia state university from the discipline of History and International Relations. She enjoys writing, going out, and making new friends.

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  • The 300-year-old Japanese method of upcyling

    The 300-year-old Japanese method of upcyling

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    (Image credit: Alexander Trowbridge)

    Sashiko is easy, practical and beautiful – and gaining fans around the world. Bel Jacobs speaks to practitioners to find out more.

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    Earlier this year, visitors to the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Kimono Style would have been treated to a stunning example of Japanese craftsmanship. Made in the late 1800s, the Meiji Period, the fisherman’s jacket or donza featured indigo-dyed sleeves and tunic delicately sewn over with white geometric patterns using sashiko, a quilting technique of simple running stitches used to reinforce or patch textiles – or, as in this jacket, join layers of cloth together, in a technique known as boro. The piece had a particular flourish: the yarns were dyed with small geometric patterns before being used to sew and stitch. 

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    –          Why ‘wear, wash, repeat’ makes sense

    –          How to dye clothes at home – naturally

    –          The stories hidden in an ancient Indian craft

    This luxurious adjunct aside, the jacket’s makers would have been astonished at the sight of it hanging on the wall of one of the world’s most prestigious museums. Sashiko emerged through necessity, particularly in poor rural areas, during the Edo period. “Cotton came late to the north of Japan,” explains craft and design writer Katie Treggiden. “So the only way people could get hold of it was as tiny rags of fabrics, that were either passed around or bought from tradesmen from the south. Sashiko – literally, ‘little stabs’ – was a way of connecting all those little pieces into a quilted fabric, known as boro, that would keep them warm.”    

    A fisherman's jacket – or donza – created in the Meji Period is a stunning example of sashiko craftsmanship (Credit: Metropolitan Museum of Art)

    A fisherman’s jacket – or donza – created in the Meji Period is a stunning example of sashiko craftsmanship (Credit: Metropolitan Museum of Art)

    Katie Treggiden is among the guest panellists at this year’s Design for Planet Festival, along with Madeleine Michell of British slow-fashion brand Toast, who are keen advocates of clothes repair and visible mending. The festival takes place this year at the Enterprise Centre, University of East Anglia, UK, one of the world’s most sustainable buildings, from 17 to 18 October, and under the theme of Collaborate, it aims to mobilise the UK’s design community to unite efforts in addressing the twin climate and ecological crises. Guests will hear from leading voices in sustainability and design today on topics ranging from food systems to fashion, and next-practice materials (innovative materials) to future mobility needs.

    It’s perhaps no surprise that sashiko has become a wider trend in the West – it is simple to do, and beautiful as well as practical. Today, that rich aesthetic of patchwork swatches in a hundred shades of indigo, carefully worked over with white stitches, can be found – like the Met’s donza – in art galleries, demonstrated in small craft workshops, and across thousands of posts on TikTok and Instagram.

    Sashiko tips

    –          Sashiko thread comes in different weights, bleached or unbleached, and also in red and blue. Use a thread that is slightly thicker than the fabric you are sewing on to. 

    –          Make sure your patching fabric is the same weight or even slightly thinner than the fabric you’re mending. “You don’t want it to rub or to feel stuff,” says Jessica Smulders Cohen.

    –          Sashiko needles are longer for a reason – so that, if you want, you can do more than one stitch at a time. 

    London’s V&A and the Hove Museum of Creativity are among the UK venues to offer sashiko workshops recently. Participants in last years’ Great British Sewing Bee were challenged to upcycle denim pieces, using sashiko – Rob Jones of Romor Designs was among those whose sashiko and boro work featured in the semi-final in 2022, and Jones runs workshops in person in London and online. In the US, Atsushi Futatsuya of Upcycle Stiches has been running an in-person sashiko workshop. In the fashion world, luxury Japanese brand Kenzo employs the technique liberally, using it to enliven hoodies and sweatshirts, even on the lining of its Target parka.   

    Sashiko workshops – including one by Rob Jones of Romor Designs – are increasing in popularity (Credit: Romor)

    Sashiko workshops – including one by Rob Jones of Romor Designs – are increasing in popularity (Credit: Romor)

    Why now? “Now, more than ever, there’s a real focus on mending,” says knitwear designer Hannah Porter. “People are becoming more conscious when it comes to caring for their clothes. Sustainability applies to various facets of the clothing industry, from considering the materials, to where your clothing is made and who has made them. Japanese mending is such a beautiful ancient craft and people want to learn these techniques to make their clothing more bespoke and interesting. Sashiko is also very beginner friendly so it’s a great skill to learn within the atmosphere of a workshop, and meet like-minded people.”

    It is, agrees Jessica Smulders Cohen, ideal for those who are only just starting their journey into repair; the designer and weaver now runs sashiko courses for slow-fashion brand Toast, and will be running a workshop at the Design for Planet Festival. “It’s the most basic form of stitching,” she smiles. “You can just literally pull it through to the back of the fabric from the front and up again. And, if you create a row and then come back and fill in the gaps, you can create a strong ‘brick wall’ of stitches, making it ideal for denim repair.” But it’s not just denim. “As long as you use appropriate matching thread, you can use sashiko across all woven fabrics. As a technique, it’s very versatile.”

    Video: Japanese sashiko – the art of stitching stories

    All you need to start is a water-soluble marking pen, or pencil, to draw patterns on the cloth; a pattern to trace; sashiko needles and a sashiko thimble on the middle finger to support the needle in continuing the running stitch for the technique to work. Some menders give a slight twist to the yarn to give it extra strength; others, like Smulders Cohen, may wax the yarn with tailor’s beeswax, to make it stronger. Complete beginners, however, can use two-ply embroidery thread. But it’s not just the simplicity of the technique that appeals. “I like that the patch isn’t the most prominent feature; the stitches are,” says Smulders Cohen. 

    “And stitching is like handwriting; everyone’s technique is slightly different,” she continues. “As you gain in confidence, you can start trying cross stitches or turn the running stitches into little boxes.” Traditionally, according to Japan Objects website, there are four types of geometric pattern. Moyozashi uses running stitches to create linear designs, while in hitomezashi, structures emerge from the alignment of many single stitches made on a grid. Kogin, meaning small cloth, uses short horizontal running stitches to create geometric patterns, and shonai features straight lines that cross each other. 

    The V&A is among the venues to have offered sashiko courses recently (Credit: V&A, London)

    The V&A is among the venues to have offered sashiko courses recently (Credit: V&A, London)

    Playfulness, however, is key, as is making your embroidery your own. Atsushi Futatsuya of Upcycle Stitches is one of a new generation of Japanese practitioners (see video, above). “I know people think there should be rules in sashiko – that the stitch sizes are always equal, the spaces between the stitches have to be a certain percentage of the actual stitches,” he says. “Because of these rules, the stitching tends to be very slow – and there’s a beauty in that. [But] I don’t follow those rules. In the 19th Century, the stitching was supposed to be speedy; otherwise, people would suffer in the cold. Each community develops its own culture.”

    Design for Planet Festival is a free online event organised by the UK Design Council, and takes place on 17 and 18 October.

    If you liked this story, sign up for the weekly bbc.com features newsletter, called The Essential List. A handpicked selection of stories from BBC Future, Culture, Worklife and Travel, delivered to your inbox every Friday.

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  • The Curse review: Emma Stone comes up trumps again in this brilliantly unsettling new television comedy

    The Curse review: Emma Stone comes up trumps again in this brilliantly unsettling new television comedy

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    In the show’s very first scene, we look through a window into a house where a mother and son are being interviewed, creating a voyeuristic sense that subtly creeps through the next episodes, with views through a mysterious peephole and on video monitors. A myriad of subplots weave in and out. There are jokes about small penises. Asher attempts to get incriminating evidence from a casino where he used to work, hoping to barter it with a local television reporter for better coverage. And he and Whitney try to co-opt her friend, a Native American artist, to be their unpaid consultant, because they don’t want to seem to be exploiting the local Native population.  

    Overriding it all is the curse. Asher gives a little girl selling cans of soda in a parking lot $100 so he will look philanthropic for Dougie’s cameras, only to snatch it back when he thinks the cameras are off. The girl says “I curse you”, although at first no one knows whether that is a TikTok meme or a genuine blight on their lives.

    By episode three, the series has turned darker and deeper. Why is Dougie crying alone? And it becomes even more self-aware about race, prejudice and thoughtless condescension. Early on, the show evokes a queasy feeling about how it might regard Native Americans and the black child who pronounces the curse, but the subject of race later erupts in a volatile argument between Asher and Whitney. However the next seven unpredictable episodes unfold, The Curse is already one of the most richly imagined and acted shows of the year.

    ★★★★★

    The Curse premieres on Paramount+ with Showtime on 10 November in the US and on Paramount+ on 11 November in the UK.

    Love film and TV? Join BBC Culture Film and TV Club on Facebook, a community for cinephiles all over the world.

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  • Hip-hop tracks that changed the world

    Hip-hop tracks that changed the world

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    (Image credit: Getty Images)

    In its 50 years the genre has helped bring awareness, social change and empowerment. Candace McDuffie explores the ground-breaking records that have made a difference.

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    As the world reflects on the cultural significance of hip-hop in the year of its 50th anniversary, the power of its origins are more significant than ever. Chuck D has famously stated that “rap is black America’s CNN”. Despite being subjected to centuries of injustice – including slavery, segregation and systemic racism – black people still found the courage to not just tell their story – but to confront inequality head on. 

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    Even though the genre has become synonymous with ferocity and resilience, its start was light-hearted. While DJing a sibling’s birthday party in New York City in August 1973, DJ Kool Herc made the ingenious decision to extend instrumental breaks from other songs, including James Brown’s Give It Up or Turnit a Loose. While the crowd breakdanced, the DJ and his friends got on the mic over various beats and engaged in stage banter that would ultimately evolve into cadenced rhymes. 

    The Message

    He was only 18 years old at the time, but his innovation would make the world pay attention to how racism and bigotry stifled the wellbeing of black people. Initially, hip-hop music was well received by the mainstream due to the immense popularity of Sugarhill Gang’s Rapper’s Delight, which eased unfamiliar audiences in with a whimsical style. Sugarhill Gang recorded the track in a single take, with the full-length version more than 14 minutes long.

    In 1980, Rapper’s Delight peaked at number 36 on the Billboard Hot 100, making it the first rap song to become a commercial hit. Founded by Sylvia and Joe Robinson, Sugarhill Records, which housed Sugarhill Gang, also produced other hits, including The Message by Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. While Rapper’s Delight showcased the light-hearted nature of the culture, The Message stood in contrast as a sobering wakeup call about the plight of black America. 

    Roxanne’s Revenge

    The song was released in 1982, a year where the national poverty rate was 35.6% for black people – three times more than the white population. Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five’s signature track explicitly revealed this harrowing reality, with lines that detailed New York at its absolute worst. From streets riddled with broken glass and the smell of urine to individuals being forced to scour bins for food, The Message was considered rap’s first conspicuous political anthem. 

    Not only was the track lauded as one of the most important songs in the history of rap, it helped Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five become the first hip-hop group to be inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Audiences were interested in what these storytellers had to say, but despite the song’s undeniable impact and acclaim, rap was noticeably male-centric. In 1984, a 14-year-old girl named Roxanne Shante hailing from Queensbridge projects in Long Island City not only challenged this, but completely flipped it on its head. 

    Queens of rap

    Entitled Roxanne’s Revenge, the seven-minute freestyle was recorded in just one take, and was a rebuttal to male rap trio UTFO’s track Roxanne, Roxanne. Shante’s Roxanne’s Revenge dominated New York radio, made it to number 22 on the Billboard R&B singles charts, and sparked the “Roxanne Wars” in which her rap peers concocted answer records to Shante’s hit. Those songs, which were released in droves, revealed the sexism that plagued rap music. 

    Other women in hip-hop worked diligently to change that, and Shante’s robust presence inspired a new crop of female talent including the illustrious Queen Latifah, whose 1989 single Ladies First was considered hip hop’s first feminist anthem. On the track, which also features British rapper Monie Love, the New Jersey native sings the praises of women – specifically women in rap who were just as talented as their male peers. Queen Latifah’s discography would become synonymous with women’s empowerment, leading her to become the first female rapper to have her music inducted into the Library of Congress’s National Recording Registry.

    Roxanne Shante and Queen Latifah would pave the way for groups like Salt N’ Pepa, who showed that black women could be skilled lyricists while wholeheartedly embracing their sexuality. The boldness of other acts like JJ Fad, Monie Love, and MC Lyte would trickle down to other black women rappers, like Lil’ Kim, Missy Elliott and Megan Thee Stallion. When rap wasn’t reconciling with misogyny, it was affronting oppressive societal structures.

    NWA‘s Fuck Tha Police, released in 1988, grappled with the disturbing regularity of police brutality that threatened black youth daily. Its incendiary nature, which included skits of racist run-ins with cops, called out the police. Another one of rap’s most famous and explosive rallying cries is Public Enemy’s Fight the Power. It was written for Spike Lee’s classic 1989 film Do The Right Thing, and quickly became the standout on the movie’s soundtrack. When the group released their third album Fear of a Black Planeta year later, it would feature an extended version of the song.

    Public Enemy’s Chuck D, who co-founded the group, was known for lyrically doling out black history lessons while inspiring political consciousness. Fight the Power was inspired by a 1975 Isley Brothers song of the same name and follows this pattern, as the rapper’s indelible baritone recites powerful lines like: “Cause I’m black and I’m proud/ I’m ready and hyped plus I’m amped/ Most of my heroes don’t appear on no stamps”. Like Do the Right Thing, the track encapsulates the insidiousness of US racism while also serving as a incentivising call to arms. 

    Following the 2020 murder of George Floyd at the hands of Minneapolis police officers, the US would find itself in a series of uprisings that would span the globe. Fight the Power was remixed this same year with artists including Nas, Black Thought, Rapsody, YG and Jahi. Like the 1989 original, the song’s sequel tapped the pulse of a country in peril. And 50 years after its inception, it continues to be the soundtrack of a generation.

    Hip-hop culture has permeated every facet of US culture for half a century, and continues to be used as a vehicle for overt and radical expression. Kendrick Lamar’s poetic prowess and descriptive rhymes garnered him a Pulitzer Prize, Cardi B’s unapologetic audacity has made her a household name, and Jay Z rose up from the Brooklyn projects to become rap’s first billionaire. As the art form continues to grow and evolve, rap music will always set trends and be a barometer for what is happening in marginalised communities. But most importantly, it will continue to give its artists the opportunity to speak to the uniqueness of the black experience.

    Candace McDuffies 50 Rappers Who Changed the World is published by Hardie Grant.

    If you liked this story, sign up for the weekly bbc.com features newsletter, called The Essential List. A handpicked selection of stories from BBC Future, Culture, Worklife and Travel, delivered to your inbox every Friday.

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  • From Wolf Creek to The Royal Hotel: Why the Australian outback is so terrifying

    From Wolf Creek to The Royal Hotel: Why the Australian outback is so terrifying

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    Initially, at least, the film was not popular in Australia – box office and reviews were both disappointing – but its reputation has grown significantly since it was restored in 2009.

    Nevertheless in the 1970s, the floodgates were opening. Young Australians began making films about – and not just in – Australia. A “New Wave”, they called it. And for several decades since then, outback Australia has been the canvas for many of those films – disturbing, unnerving, sometimes terrifying. Occasionally, just plain weird. A lot of them also fall under the banner of “Ozploitation” – referring to the out-there exploitation films that really peaked in Australia in the 1970s and 1980s.

    One such Ozploitation movie was Peter Weir’s early comedy/horror The Cars That Ate Paris (1974). It told the bizarre and twisted story of an outback town whose townspeople deliberately cause fatal motor accidents in order to repurpose the vehicles into wild pre-punk (and pre-Mad Max) stylised four-wheeled creations.

    Weir then followed that up in 1975 with the more quietly creepy Picnic at Hanging Rock (based on a 1967 novel), about the disappearance of a group of Victorian schoolgirls in which the outback landscape seemed to be the source of the unsolved mystery itself.

    Since then, the Australian outback has been used countless times as a location for either horror, thriller or supernatural mystery stories – sometimes all three. So why does the outback continue to have such a hold over filmmakers?

    A place of multiple threats

    It starts with extremes, according to Jason Di Rosso, the film critic for Australia’s ABC network: “It’s all relative, but to non-indigenous Australians, and perhaps more so to non-Australians, it’s viewed as a location of extreme heat, extreme distances, extreme isolation, so it’s not surprising when filmmakers create characters who are either overwhelmed by it, like in Walkabout, or who become somehow perverted and embittered by it, like many of the townspeople in Wake in Fright, or worse.”

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  • The greatest reality TV show never made

    The greatest reality TV show never made

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    Here, it is impossible not to be reminded of today’s news cycle, where viral stories often include an element of public shaming. Like Fyre Festival, where the internet celebrated influencers being publicly humiliated. Or Netflix’s The Tinder Swindler, where a common reaction was to insist the victims of romance scammer Simon Leviev should have known better. Daniel says the experience has taught him not to judge people until you’re in their shoes. “If you want something to be real, you’ll find ways to make it real and to dismiss any of the red flags.”

    This story would be unlikely to happen today, where so much of our personal information is on the internet and our first instinct is to Google something if it doesn’t feel right. At the heart of the documentary is working out what really drove “Nik,” now N Quentin Woolf, to deceive people in an era where the average person was more trusting.

    The documentary suggests he had a troubled childhood and genuinely hoped to make the show into a success. “He is a damaged person who’s had a tough life,” Francis-Roy says. “He’s now able to look back and it’s complicated for him. It’s still not easy for him to process.” Dalton says he had “everything except the contacts” to make the show a reality, while even the contestants think he had the makings of a great TV producer. Two decades on, he seems scarred by what happened and haunted by guilt. But it’s never fully clear whether he’s genuinely sorry for his actions, or merely sorry for his own downfall.

    A second chance

    The Greatest Show Never Made is a full-circle moment. For Nik, it’s about realising that he didn’t ruin the contestants’ lives, and that they don’t harbour any ill will against him. Jane is finally experiencing the TV fame she always aspired to. “It feels like all my plans in 2002 are finally happening right now,” she says. Lucie has now let go of the shame she harboured after being duped. “The word ‘wannabe’ used to make me cringe, but there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be someone or something,” she says. “I feel proud of it – and I didn’t say that before.” Similarly, the series has helped Tim to “completely reappraise” what happened.

    The group were brought together by shared ambitions of fame and money, but they ended up finding their dreams in the ordinary. Lucie had twins at 45. Jane started working as a TV extra. Rosy moved to Spain and became an olive oil farmer. “Nik” published a book of poetry. Daniel and John are living contently in the corporate world. Tim, who still works as an entertainer, has done very well financially out of the footage he shot. “I’m just really glad that I carried on filming,” he says.

    Even though it didn’t work out as planned, there is a hopefulness in these people having a dream and following it. They are forever bonded by what happened. But there is also a lingering sadness in how some of them didn’t think their lives were special enough without fame. How much they were willing to risk for it. How brutal the reality medium turned out to be. Not just for them, but for so many others – on the shows that were actually made.

    The Greatest Show Never Made is out now on Prime Video.

    If you liked this story, sign up for the weekly bbc.com features newsletter, called The Essential List. A handpicked selection of stories from BBC Future, Culture, Worklife and Travel, delivered to your inbox every Friday.

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  • The difficulties facing Hollywood super-producer Ryan Murphy’s TV empire

    The difficulties facing Hollywood super-producer Ryan Murphy’s TV empire

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    While that might have been a relief for Murphy, he could have had greater difficulties to contend with in recent weeks. Angelica Ross – who previously appeared in two series of American Horror Story and another Murphy series, Pose – used her platform on X (formerly known as Twitter) to complain about Murphy and his shows. First she claimed that she had been ignored by Murphy after he said he wanted to go ahead with her idea for an American Horror Story season starring black women. She then followed up by claiming this had potentially cost her an opportunity working on a Marvel production.

    Ross also made allegations about what happened on the set of American Horror Story: 1984. In an in-depth interview with the Hollywood Reporter, she claimed that she had to leave the set due to a crew member who was operating the vehicle she had to drive on camera “wearing a racist T-shirt” every day. She further claimed that after she tweeted “It’s a shame that I do all this work out in the world on anti-blackness and racism and have to come to a set and do the same work”, she was told by producer Tanase Popa that Murphy wanted her to take the tweet down.

    Next, Ross alleged, Murphy himself rang her and angrily took issue with her feeling of being silenced, pointing to his advocacy for black trans women. In a statement to The Hollywood Reporter, however, Popa countered Ross’s account, saying that he overheard the phone call in question and what Murphy “basically” said was “I don’t understand why you would go to Twitter instead of coming to us”. BBC Culture contacted Murphy with regards to Ross’ allegations about her interaction with him and the behaviour on the American Horror Story set, but he has not responded.

    This was surely not the publicity Murphy would have wanted for his longest-running series. But these events are just the most recent difficult headlines related to the TV empire of the industry’s golden boy, who was said to have secured one of the biggest ever deals for a TV producer in 2018 when he moved from Fox and FX over to Netflix in a contract reported to be worth as much as $300 million.

    During the summer, amid the Hollywood writers’ strike, filming of the new season of American Horror Story was picketed by members of the Writers Guild of America (WGA) and Screen Actors Guild-American Federation of Television and Radio Artists (SAG-AFRA) as it was one of the few productions still up and running despite the strike, on the basis that the scripts had been submitted prior to the union action. “[Murphy is] a member [of the writers’ guild] and it just feels like keeping these things up and running is counterproductive to our overall mission,” WGA strike captain T Cooper said to the New York Times.

    Murphy was then forced to deny an allegation on X, formerly known as Twitter, from WGA strike captain Warren Leight, who wrote that crew members for AHS would “be blackballed in Murphy-land” if they observed the picket. A spokesperson for Murphy told Variety this claim was “absolute nonsense. Categorically false” and then Leight did a follow-up post apologising and retracting his claim as “unsubstantiated” and “completely false and inaccurate”.

    The rise of a super-showrunner

    Murphy has had a remarkable rise to the top in Hollywood: having started off as an entertainment journalist writing for publications like the Los Angeles Times and Entertainment Weekly, he moved into screenwriting in the late 1990s, co-creating the teen drama, Popular, in 1999 for The WB. It was cancelled after two series, but he then went on to create the hit plastic surgery drama Nip/Tuck for FX, which ran from 2003 to 2010. Its watercooler success opened doors for Murphy, marking him out as someone who would begin to lead the TV zeitgeist.

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  • Doctor Who: Six of the most stylish Doctors through the decades

    Doctor Who: Six of the most stylish Doctors through the decades

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    6. Jodie Whittaker (2018-2022)

    The camera follows a figure in a masculine great coat, hooded top, and heavy boots, walking through a wood. The mystery character turns, and lifts the hood – to reveal not a man but a woman. Jodie Whittaker’s debut as the 13th Doctor, and the first woman to play the role, was probably the show’s most sensational “reveal”, or intro to the incoming Time Lord. Its play on androgynous attire was deliberate, costume designer Ray Holman tells BBC Culture – Whittaker “was never going to be the first woman doctor who would suddenly start wearing a dress”. She and Holman devised an image distinct from all previous Docs: a hooded coat of fine fabric in pale grey, and a pink T-shirt with rainbow stripes, the rainbow said to reference a Coldplay album cover (possibly 2015’s A Headful of Dreams): “Jodie wanted her costumes to reflect all the colours of the sky,” says Holman.  

    If her pale floaty coat seemed in opposition to Capaldi’s dark Crombie, she also had a dark blue coat, to signify her going into an alternative universe. And she wore braces, sturdy boots and cropped, wide trousers in petrol blue that were properly boyish – a look “men and women, and kids were recreating”, says Holman. Her Doctor also dressed in dinner jackets and bow ties – a nod to predecessor, Matt Smith (whose costumes Holman also designed), and his intellectual Doctor vibe.

    At the start of her tenure, Whittaker said she found the prospect of the role “overwhelming, as a feminist”. But going into the second series, in 2019, she reflected: “Being a woman is who I am… And with this part, being a woman has less relevance than any other part I’ve played, except for that monumental historical moment of being the first woman Doctor.”

    Three hour-long Doctor Who 60th anniversary specials will air in November, streaming on Disney+ internationally and on BBC iPlayer in the UK. The specials will be followed by a new season which airs in 2024. Earlier seasons of the rebooted Doctor Who are available on Max in the US and on BBC iPlayer in the UK.

    If you liked this story, sign up for the weekly bbc.com features newsletter, called The Essential List. A handpicked selection of stories from BBC Future, Culture, Worklife and Travel, delivered to your inbox every Friday.

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  • Frasier review: This reboot of the classic 90s sitcom is ‘fun but creaky’

    Frasier review: This reboot of the classic 90s sitcom is ‘fun but creaky’

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    The reboot, which picks up two decades later, is more of a pleasant throwback than a reinvention, and that seems to be the point. This new series does everything possible to echo the old, including replacing its missing characters ­with facsimiles.

    Frasier is back in Boston, where he was the unlikely regular at the bar in Cheers before he got his own spin-off series. Mahoney died in 2018, so filling the working-class slot, we have Frasier’s son, Freddy (Jack Cutmore-Scott), who has dropped out of Harvard to become a fire fighter, as if salt-of-the-earthiness skipped a generation.

    Hyde Pierce chose not to be in the reboot, but instead there is Niles’s son, David. He is played by Anders Keith, a newcomer with expert comic timing, who enlivens every scene he is in. He makes David a delightful echo of Niles, as a nervous, socially inept Harvard student, almost as grandiloquent in his speech as his uncle.  

    But with the exception of David, the new characters never take off. There is a Cheers-like bar where Frasier hangs out with his one-note old Oxford classmate, Alan (Nicholas Lyndhurst), a psychology professor at Harvard who loves Scotch whisky and hates to work. They also meet there with Olivia (Toks Olagundoye), the ambitious head of the university’s psychology department. She is desperate to recruit Frasier, who in the years between series has become rich and famous doing a television version of his old radio call-in show; this fictional Harvard is relentlessly silly. And Freddy’s roommate, Eve (Jess Salgueiro), is a waitress at the same bar (really, Boston isn’t that small) and vaguely echoes the common-sensical Carla from Cheers. 

    Grammer, as always, has impeccably sharp delivery and timing, and the show has fun skewering Frasier’s elitism. In a pompous tone, he tells the sleep-deprived mother of a crying baby, “Cherish these times. They disappear with a cruel swiftness”, only to find that the sound of his voice puts the infant to sleep. That’s funny once. That the joke is repeated gives Frasier its creaky sitcom feel. The reboot is full of such obvious tropes.

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  • What Swedish reality TV can teach us

    What Swedish reality TV can teach us

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    “I think that to a big extent, people like GVFÖ because they feel that the programme is real,” viewer Casper Törnblom tells BBC Culture. He discusses the programme both with his colleagues at work, where a separate messaging channel is dedicated to the show, and on a popular Facebook thread that garners 700-1,000 comments every season. “The programme becomes a bit of a mirror or canvas for people to use to look at how relationships work,” he says. “I know that it is TV, which means that you can’t ignore the dramatic aspects, you have to make matches where there can be tension. But the experts and those who are behind it – when I have spoken to them [through work], I feel that they are actually motivated to succeed. They are serious people.”

    Another GVFÖ fan is Jenny Eriksson from Malmö, an educator focussing on culture. “I’ve watched a little bit of Love is Blind, but it is a bit like The Bachelor, the men are so masculine and the women so feminine,”, she tells BBC Culture. “That is often very far from the world I live in.” Eriksson talks a lot with friends about personal relationships, and programmes like GVFÖ give her new angles to discuss. “I am very interested in attachment theory and other types of relational theories, and read up on those things. So it’s interesting to analyse the series both from the perspective of my own experiences and from the perspective of the conversation that is happening in society right now about how relationships work. And also to see how the participants are affected by that conversation.”

    As an example, she mentions groom Alex from this year’s GVFÖ programme, who said he would start asking his new wife questions, something he had never done in previous relationships. “Maybe he meant more that he has been told that he doesn’t ask enough questions – I doubt that he has not asked anything,” she says. “That is something that is discussed a lot in various relationship forums.” It is also something she can relate to herself. “There are men who I have dated who think they are [being] interviewed for a job, and then they don’t remember they are supposed to ask questions, because they are so busy telling me how good they are themselves,” she says. “I once dated someone who, already in the queue to order our beers, went: ‘Well, I have studied this, and I am now working on this… my mum has coronary disease…’. I was like: ‘Uhm, yes, should we sit down?’”

    Mattias Lindholm and Elis Larsson work at equality and anti-violence organisation MÄN, which was chosen by US indie band Bon Iver as their collaboration partner for a Swedish gig earlier this year. Over the past few years, MÄN has arranged two discussion evenings for people of all genders about GVFÖ, covering communication, gender norms and relationships.

    “The first event was in 2021,” Lindholm says. “That particular season in Sweden caused a lot of debate about relationships and gender roles. We wanted to capture that.” Even though both discussion evenings covered themes from GVFÖ, with on-air expert Kalle Norwald coming along as well, that was just the starting point. “This year, we found that the men were generally better at the emotional work than in previous seasons,” Larsson says. “So one of the questions we had [to the expert] was: ‘How can you do that type of work, how do you practise it?’” adds Lindholm.

    New conversations

    But Swedish MAFS still battles some of the same issues as its reality programme siblings. “[GVFÖ] is a sadistic experiment,” said a prominent author and sociologist in a comment article in the country’s biggest daily paper earlier this year. “Marrying strangers to each other under the pretext that they have been scientifically matched by experts will never be done ethically.”

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  • Why Martin Scorsese fears for the future of cinema

    Why Martin Scorsese fears for the future of cinema

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    “I’m not sure, I hope it can,” he says. “I may be wrong on this, but the problem is that [the film landscape] is fragmented. Films are made for a certain group… you have films made for different groups of different gender, different sexuality etc. They should be films, all together.”

    His mission to ‘save’ film history

    With the fate of moviegoing uncertain, Scorsese is more invested than ever in preserving our celluloid history, and restoring it. In 1990, he helped create The Film Foundation as an organisation dedicated to film preservation; since it was founded, it has been involved in the restoration of more than 1,000 works. Among its recent triumphs is the restoration, with the BFI National Archive, of Pressure, Britain’s first ever black feature film, which was released in 1976 and directed by Sir Horace Ové, who died last month. The world premiere of the Pressure restoration will be screened at both the London and New York Film Festivals on 11 October.

    Comparing old movies to ancient books, Scorsese believes they need to be preserved. “The picture it gives us … [the] representation of who we are or who we were, how we’ve shifted, the good things, the shameful things – these can’t be swept under the rug.”

    What next for him?

    Scorsese will turn 81 in November, and there are films he would still like to make. In deciding where to devote his energies, he remembers the advice of legendary Iranian filmmaker Abbas Kiarostami: “He looked at me and he said, ‘Don’t do anything you don’t want to do. Just don’t.’ And I know what he meant.”

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  • The Exorcist and why demonic possession taps into our darkest fears

    The Exorcist and why demonic possession taps into our darkest fears

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    However, when it comes to demonic possession in modern pop culture, there is one ur-text: the late, great William Friedkin’s film The Exorcist, which turns 50 in December. One of the undisputed masterpieces of cinema, horror or otherwise, it is based on the 1971 novel by William Peter Blatty. Like the book, it tells the story of Regan, a young girl in Washington DC who is possessed by a demon and saved by Catholic priests. Alongside its anniversary celebrations, meanwhile, comes this week’s release of David Gordon Green’s The Exorcist: Believer, the latest in a line of legacy sequels (or requels) seeking to restart a powerful horror property afresh (Gordon Green has experience in this area, having previously rebooted the Halloween franchise with great commercial success).

    The Exorcist: Believer shares little with its predecessor, bar the name and Hollywood legend Ellen Burstyn’s brief reprisal of her role as Chris MacNeil, the mother of Regan in the original, who is now a celebrated author and exorcism expert. It follows the distraught families of two girls, Angela and Katherine, who dabble with spiritualism and become possessed by an unnamed demon (maybe the franchise’s on-running demon Pazuzu, maybe not). Angela’s father, played by Leslie Odom Jr, carries most of the film, his anguish at the suffering he observes in his daughter mirroring that of Chris watching Regan’s thrashing and suffering.  

    A truly shocking phenomenon

    When it was released in the US in 1973, The Exorcist was more than a film, it was a true cultural phenomenon. Perhaps that was because of the society it was born into, one where religious faith was on the downslide, and there was distrust in a government plagued with scandals like Watergate. There was a collective crisis of faith and an anguished desire to find a culprit, and the devil was as great a scapegoat as any. What’s more, with the advent of the hippie movement of the 60s and early 70s, there was a real cultural divide between generations opening up – so the idea of a young person possessed by dark forces would have resonated with many older audience members who saw their children become alien to them.

    “It’s very easy to underestimate how something so novel could capture the zeitgeist,” filmmaker Alexandre O Phillippe, director of Leap of Faith: William Friedkin on The Exorcist (2019) tells BBC Culture. “It’s a film about love, guilt and very powerful human emotions. What do you do when your child becomes possessed by something you do not understand, and your’e helpless in the face of that.”

    When the film opened in the US on Boxing Day 1973, there were huge queues of patrons, with one New York Times article reporting that in New York scalpers were selling tickets for $50, and a security guard was receiving offers of $110 (that’s around $768 in today’s money) to skip to the front of the queue. It reported, too, that there had been audience members vomiting, passing out, experiencing convulsions and even, allegedly, suffering a miscarriage. 

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  • Saltburn film review: ‘Lurid’ comedy skewers Britain’s super-rich

    Saltburn film review: ‘Lurid’ comedy skewers Britain’s super-rich

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    Fennell loves to show off her characters’ ghastly eccentricities almost as much as she loves to show off their gleaming, sweaty skin, so it may be a while before you notice that nothing much is actually happening. There is some intrigue as to whether Oliver should be afraid of the family or vice versa. There are also some sexual shenanigans which suggest that while Oliver would really like to sleep with Felix, he’ll make do with any substitute he can find. But the film has a structural problem, which is that most of its plotting is saved for the final stretch. For much of the running time, Fennell is vague about everyone’s motivations and actions, so the film drifts along. And then she suddenly hurries through several major revelations with the speed of someone who wants to reach the end of an anecdote before their phone battery runs out.

    Some of these revelations are more ingenious than others. For someone who loves big final twists so much, Fennell is prone to fumble them. And for someone who knows quite a bit about the super-rich (she even played Camilla Parker Bowles in The Crown), she has little to say about class divisions that hasn’t been said more pithily in several recent films. When you remember the sly plotting of Knives Out and the explosive horrors of Triangle of Sadness, Saltburn does seem a bit half-hearted. For that matter, it also lacks the focused anger of Promising Young Woman.

    Still, if you see it as a lurid pulp fantasy rather than a penetrating satire, then Saltburn is deliriously enjoyable. It’s the dialogue and the performances that clinch it. Oliver is awestruck when he sees the priceless Old Masters on the house’s oak-panelled walls. Every scene in which Pike, Grant and Mulligan compete to be the most obnoxious may prompt the same reaction in the viewer.

    ★★★★☆

    Saltburn is released on 17 November.

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  • The Iliad: The ultimate story about war

    The Iliad: The ultimate story about war

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    Why The Iliad is about what it is to be a man

    NH: I’ve thought for a long time now and argued that the poem is all about what it means to be a man and different kinds of masculinity, and models of those different kinds of masculinity are available throughout the poem, kind of every moment in a man’s life – it’s like the seven ages of man doesn’t come close. The rage of Achilles; the toxicity of Agamemnon; the caring, the healing of Patroclus; the devotion of Hector; the wit and cleverness of Odysseus; the ageing, fearful patriarch of Priam. Do you think that’s part of why the poem still resonates so strongly – it does have a huge amount to tell us actually about masculinity?

    EW: I think it has a lot to tell us about masculinity, and as you say about the varieties of masculinity and the varieties of ways that masculinity can be tied up with all these kinds of vulnerability. I mean, the desire to be ‘the best man’ when there were so many ways to be a man, and there were so many different social compulsions on men.

    There’s a famous line about teaching Achilles to be ‘both an artful speaker and a skilful warrior’, and to be a man in this poem, you have to be the best at least two completely different kinds of characteristics, and then you also have to be the best like Agamemnon at gathering the most forces, gathering the most wealth, and you have to be the best at droning on in the council meetings like Nestor – there are so many different categories of it.

    And yet there’s also so much awareness that being a man is tied up with a kind of pride and sense of self that can isolate you, and being the best means being out ahead of all the others. And this question, which is at the heart of the poem, about can there be a community of men? If masculinity is all about being better than every other man, then how can men be together without killing each other? The poem’s exploring that possibility of whether men could ever be in a community that didn’t involve slicing each other’s eyeballs out.

    And we get some little glimpse of what that might look like in the funeral games, where the men are still skilful in totally different areas. One man is good at chariot racing and another man is good at the foot race, but there are enough prizes to go around so they don’t end up killing each other when they don’t win.

    So much of the poem is focused on that – in the Greek, the terms which I really struggled with are cognate with the word ‘man’ but suggest an excess of masculinity, and the poem is exploring, ‘can you be too much of a man?’ Is that what kills Hector, that he’s so much of a man that he’s always going out ahead of others, and is that what drives the rage of Achilles, being so much of a man that he’s got an almost more-than-human desire to cause damage and to replicate his honour to an infinite degree?

    It’s also so smart, this poem, about the intertwining of mockery and fear of shame with honour culture. They’re always intertwined. The battlefield is a place where you win honour, but it’s also a place where people hurl insults at each other – I mean, even gentle Patroclus who we like to think of as the kind one, he’s so vicious on the battlefield, and also so great at coming up with the best trash-talking. What it is to be the best in the battlefield is not just throwing the spears, but also coming up with the most biting insults – ‘you might be good at gymnastics, but I’ve just speared you’.

    Emily Wilson’s translation of The Iliad and Divine Might by Natalie Haynes are both out now.

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  • The Exorcist: Believer review: ‘A cheesy rip-off’

    The Exorcist: Believer review: ‘A cheesy rip-off’

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    Even if you aren’t a fan of Friedkin’s film, there is no denying the power of its iconic sequences: the arrival of Father Merrin (Max von Sydow) at Chris’s house on a foggy night; Regan’s head twisting around; the aforementioned swearing, vomiting, and crucifix misuse. Green’s film offers nothing to compare with these. There are no images you might put on a poster or a T-shirt, no scenes you might lampoon in a parody. I don’t know whether a new film could ever be as upsetting and transgressive as The Exorcist was, but it would have been nice if Green had had a crack at it, instead of serving up imitations of what Friedkin created all those years ago. It was startling to see Blair encased in pale, puffy, scar-streaked prosthetic make-up in the 1973 film. Sticking the same make-up on two young actresses today is about as startling as a trip to a high-street fancy-dress shop.

    The rushed, unscary and frankly silly climax has Victor putting together a squad of multi-faith demon-busters, as if he is assembling the Avengers or picking a team for an action-packed heist movie. “Anyone else wanna leave, better leave now,” he says, looking and sounding far too badass to be an anxious dad in a horror drama. “Once we start, we’re not stopping.” And so it is that a film that was shaping up to be an intelligent and respectful homage to The Exorcist descends to the depths of a cheesy, straight-to-streaming rip-off. Viewers should do what Victor advises, and leave.

    ★★☆☆☆

    The Exorcist: Believer is released on 6 October.

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