Out of This World: THE MOON Exhibition at Louisiana and First Man

When life on earth seems all too crazy, there’s nothing like a trip to the moon to give you perspective. With the upcoming 50th anniversary of the 1969 Apollo 11 moon landing, the lunar experience has never been so within reach.  In cinemas there’s the awe-inspiring yet sobering Neil Armstrong biopic First Man, and/or have another excuse to visit Denmark and head to THE MOON: From Inner Worlds to Outer Space exhibition at Louisiana Museum of Modern Art.

A scenic train ride just north of Copenhagen, Louisiana is worth a visit for its dreamy setting alone: a sea-side villa overlooking the Oresund Strait – Sweden lies just across the water – and whose back garden features a fairy-tale lake. It’s a place of calm and escape.

stars around the beautiful moon

hide back their luminous form

whenever all full she shines

on the earth

silvery

– Sappho

Take the anonymous back entrance to The Moon exhibition (Louisiana’s not big on signs) and you start with moon-inspired poetry (the finest from Sappho, Borges, Leopardi, Dickinson and Plath) and end being serenaded by a ghostly unmanned grand piano playing – what else? – Mozart’s Moonlight Sonata.

The museum presents “a multifaceted portrait of the Moon and its significance in modern culture” and it’s brilliant. With its 6 themes – Moonlight, Selenography, The Moon of Myth, The Moon Landing, The Colonisation of Space and Deep Time – the exhibition is almost guaranteed to re-ignite curiosity in a satellite that humans have perhaps come to take for granted, not least since we stuck a flag on it.

Deep Time explores the geology of the earth and moon with a plethora of fascinating facts. It reminds us that while the moon is moving away from the earth, the earth’s rotation is slowing down. More of a surprise was that the earth is technically pear-shaped.

In The Colonisation of Space, various architectural designs are on display for inhabiting the moon, the most attractive of which is China’s 3D-printed igloo. According to the Outer Space Treaty of 1967, no government can lay claim to any celestial body, not that it has stopped anyone from trying. Nor does it seem to have prevented the 100+ million pieces of space junk orbiting our planet. The seductive voices of musician Gruff Rhys and actress Sally Potter narrate two trippy short films on the subject.

The earth looked like a jewel floating in blackness.”

Video art features heavily throughout the exhibition and offers some of the most memorable experiences. Towards the end/beginning of the exhibition, an astronaut describes both the beauty of space and the physical challenges of returning to earth – thwarted balance and acceleration, heightened sensitivities and the sheer weight of everything: “My wristwatch felt like a bowling ball.” Adapting to earth, it turns out, is even harder than adapting to space.

Laurie Anderson’s virtual reality installation “To the Moon”

One way to avoid the massive come-down is to take a journey of a different kind and Louisiana offers that very thing. Artist Laurie Anderson’s virtual reality installation “To the Moon” is the absolute highlight of the exhibition. As if inhabiting a video-game, participants can walk on and float above the moon whilst extended arms allow for scrambling up craters. You have to trust where you are going for when you find yourself riding a donkey to the edge of a cosmic abyss or perched on the peak of a mountain, it’s a battle of the senses in order not to lose balance.

Both political and poetic, Anderson’s journey conjures feelings of wonder and loss. There is the sense of fragility of life on earth where images of dinosaurs and the word democracy become stardust. “I like stars,” Anderson says, “because we can’t harm them.”

The Moon Landing section offers stunning photographs by Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong as well as fascinating work by the artist Robert Rauschenberg who was invited by NASA to witness the launch of Apollo 11. Lithographs and collages produced for the unpublished Stoned Moon book capture the sublime imagination and the sheer enormity of the mission. The text in his collages offer an amusing and poetic take: “Fantastic things happen when destinies bump and interlock.” Artist Yves Klein, meanwhile, provides a healthy does of scepticism. Klein was against the superpowers’ space programmes. Space travel, he believed, should take the form of a spiritual journey.

The Moon Landing section with lithographs and collages by Rauschenberg (right)

Symbol of Longing

The Moon of Myth explores the role of the moon in our imaginations with stories from Danish folklore, surrealist art from Salvador Dalí, Max Ernst and Joseph Cornell and the world’s first sci-fi, Georges Méliès’ raucous hand-coloured A Trip to the Moon (1902) – a film that is very much out-there.

For the artists of Romanticism (the so-called “moon-light period” of 19th century European culture) the moon was a symbol of longing. “The sublime power of the moon lies in its distance from us: it is at once visible, accessible and yet at a distance and therefore unattainable.” In other words, the moon is the ultimate muse.

A still from George Melies’s `A Trip to the Moon’ (1902)

The Moonlight section features some gorgeous 19th century landscape paintings where “the frailty of human life is contrasted with the Moon’s eternal light.” It is somewhat ironic that artists were busy fetishising moonlight at a time when artificial light was fast taking over.

Moonlight nowadays has become an endangered species, an issue highlighted by Scottish artist Katie Paterson’s Light Bulb to Simulate Moonlight. It’s a work of art that does what it says on the tin – a single light bulb in a room. Outside, a set of 289 bulbs offer a lifetime’s supply of moonlight. After Laurie Anderson’s VR trip to the moon, the experience of sitting in a room with a single hanging light bulb was a tad underwhelming (but then I did the exhibition backwards). Paterson’s clinical work however encourages a renewed appreciation of the real thing.

Perhaps the most stunning images of the exhibition are NASA’S up close and personal photographs of the moon’s surface. Located in Selenography, this part of the exhibition tells the story of the mapping of the moon, an occupation that dates all the way back to Galileo in 1609, when, thanks to his improved telescope, he discovered that the surface of the moon was anything but perfect.

The NASA photographs are both beautiful and intriguing and include a shot of the mysterious dark side of the moon. Technically it’s not so dark (it’s officially called the far side of the moon) as the “dark side” receives just as much sunlight as its earth face.

Gleaming Lights of the Souls by Yayoi Kusama

A happy coincidence is the presence of the Yayoi Kusama installation, Gleaming Lights of the Souls. in the midst of THE MOON exhibition. In place since 2008, Gleaming Lights is a mirrored room full of tiny hanging lights that constantly change colour. With its 360° views of infinity, Gleaming Lights encourages a sense of wonder and embodies the spirit of THE MOON exhibition, a place where inner worlds and outer space collide.

First Man

For a blockbuster about space travel, First Man is surprisingly down-to-earth, subdued even. Director Damien Chazelle, whose previous films include La La Land and Whiplash, once again ventures behind the scenes of show business with a low-key biopic of Neil Armstrong,  the man who fronted one of the 20th century’s greatest spectacles.

First Man is as much about one man’s grief as it is about stepping foot on the moon and the film plays on the lines between life and death. Devastated after the death of his young daughter, Armstrong remains the consummate professional, confident in his ability to get the job done. Humble, conscientious and tactiturn, Armstrong (Ryan Gosling) is a welcome antidote to the more usual bravado of the on-screen American hero.

Ryan Gosling as Neil Armstrong in First Man (2018)

First man doesn’t glamourise space travel. In fact it does quite the opposite. As with the early days of aviation (see Mary S Lovell’s biography of aviation pioneer Amelia Earhart) space travel was an uncomfortable and perilous endeavour where the slightest error could result in tragedy; it required high-intelligence and nerves of steel. Armstrong, of course, had both and thus narrowly avoids catastrophe on several occasions.

Not only does Armstrong lose his daughter to illness, he also loses friends and colleagues (who themselves leave families behind) in the name of the space race. First Man doesn’t offer a fixed view however it does question the point of space travel. There are scenes of protests claiming that the money would be better spent fixing problems on earth and that space travel is a white man’s game. Armstrong’s long-suffering and otherwise stoic wife Janet (Claire Foy) lets loose at one point in the film calling NASA “a bunch of boys making models out of balsa wood.”

Claire Foy as Janet Armstrong

Whilst politicians vie for prestige and scientists advocate for research, at a press conference, Armstrong is more circumspect: “Leaving the planet, and seeing how thin the atmosphere is that keeps us alive… seeing, with one’s own eyes, just how fragile human life is… gives a different perspective.”

That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”

First Man culminates with Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin (shout out to Second Man) landing and walking on the moon. Not only does the film manage to convey the sheer enormity of the achievement, it maintains the suspense even though we know the mission was successful. And rather than highlighting the moon landing as an American achievement (the flag is shown but not the moment when the flag was placed), Chazelle focusses more on human endeavour.

For Armstrong the moon landing was deeply personal. In the film he takes a moment to himself where he walks to a nearby crater and leaves his daughter’s bracelet. (Whether or not Armstrong really left anything on the moon we may never know unless we go back, however he did stray from the official plan.) Moreover, that a man of so few words should come up with the quote of the century is remarkable.

I loved First Man. But it’s not really about going to the moon. It’s about a man so desperately sad that he‘d risk his life to go on a faraway rock where everything is dead, silent, and still forever. “Do you think I’m standing out here because I want to talk to somebody?” – Elena Lazic, film critic

First Man is a fitting tribute to a man of extraordinary courage and by extension, all astronauts and their families. Brilliantly acted – Ryan Gosling and Claire Foy are wonderful. My only gripe is that the formidable Janet Armstrong doesn’t get a role beyond being the long-suffering wife. A recent New York Times interview with the Armstrong sons revealed that Janet taught synchronised swimming. Further research reveals that she founded the El Lago Aquanauts in 1964, a team in which many astronaut families were involved. At the time of the Apollo 11 mission in 1969, the team were competing in the Nationals. Wouldn’t scenes of synchronised swimmers have contrasted beautifully with astronauts in space?

If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from THE MOON exhibition and First Man, it’s that, whilst space travel can take different forms, I never want to leave planet earth. And the moon? Best viewed from a distance.

THE MOON: From Inner Worlds to Outer Space exhibition poster

Haute Culture, or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Cinema in All Formats

It is hardly surprising that Netflix made the decision to pull its slate from Cannes following hostility from the world’s most prestigious film festival. Festival Director Thierry Frémaux eased the competition ban on streaming films only to reinstate it out of the blue. Not only, his way of letting Netflix know was via an interview with an online film magazine, at the same time taking the opportunity to ban selfies on the red carpet.

To expect Netflix to play ball after such haughty treatment was unrealistic, not to mention short-sighted. Cannes prides itself on championing avant-garde cinema yet it fails to recognise that streaming is today’s new wave. In a battle between tradition and innovation, the festival seems reluctant to change.

It is not however unusual for cultural organisations which pride themselves on the unconventional to trip up when it comes to their own backyard. Suddenly that free spirit they are so keen to be associated with becomes a threat. Ironically the 2017 Palme d’Or winner The Square tackles this very subject: a satire on the high-self regard of the art world.

The rise of Netflix has met with much hostility, not only from Cannes and its supporters but also film industry insiders. Whilst you might expect those with vested interests such as TV executives and film distributors to oppose Netflix (even if they claim to be fighting to protect cinema rather than their own finances) it is the film journalists and media in general who have jumped at the chance to find fault with the streaming service. Netflix has been portrayed as the greedy purveyor of trash entertainment out to destroy the big screen experience, one with dodgy algorithms and poor recommendations which invests in innovative cinema only to then go and hide it.

“It doesn’t matter if everyone can watch a movie if no one actually does,” complained one film critic, which would be fair to say if it wasn’t for the fact that Palme d’Or-winning films tend to get a limited theatrical release. Ironically streaming services give Palme d’Or winners a greater lifespan. The Square, for example, is currently available on – you guessed it – Netflix.

Maybe there are valid points within the criticism of Netflix. Surely as a fast-growing company chartering new territory there will be room for improvement. What makes Netflix different is that it is prepared to listen to criticism; it is surprisingly self-aware and not afraid to poke fun at itself.

Rather than congratulate Netflix however on its successful business model and willingness to invest in the industry critics seem all too keen to bash the newcomers simply because they saw an opportunity and took it. It’s almost as if Netflix forgot to ask permission before blind siding everyone with its success.

Only the Financial Times has given Netflix some kind of credit with its neutral but prolific coverage in recent weeks as the streaming platform announced a boom in international subscriptions and a doubling of its European content budget  – a timely response to the naysayers.

Whilst hugely ambitious, Netflix is not without a sense of duty; the motto Freedom and Responsibility is key to its working culture. One wonders if Facebook might not have sold off users’ data to all and sundry had it shown a little more integrity in its quest for profit.

Behind the Scenes of the Completion of Orson Welles’ The Other Side of the Wind | Netflix

Whilst industry insiders will line up to defend the big screen experience (which isn’t necessarily under threat) you would be hard-pressed to find a filmmaker who has worked with Netflix and who is willing to criticise them. Not only does Netflix give them the money and creative control to make the film they want, it offers the capacity to reach a wide audience.

When critics equate Netflix with the death of cinema, they often fail to acknowledge that the films Netflix have funded might not otherwise have been made. Moreover Netflix makes non-mainstream films accessible to a huge audience, including people who can’t afford or don’t have access to cinemas. In this respect, Netflix is democratising the film industry.

Netflix is not the only streaming platform, it is simply the most successful. Other companies are falling over themselves to get in on the act whilst the BBC, ITV and Channel 4 are in talks to create a British streaming service.  Yet it is Netflix that attracts all the criticism. Its closest rival Amazon Prime has got off lightly, perhaps due to its support for theatrical releases. Netflix meanwhile has become shorthand for the entire streaming industry.

Streaming services are a low-commitment way of consuming films and TV. They give the consumer choice, which includes not using them at all. There’s no point blaming Netflix for your Netflix addiction when you’re the one in control; not only, it’s remarkably easy to unsubscribe.

Rather than signalling the death of the beloved theatrical experience, streaming simply offers an alternative viewing experience. The two formats are not mutually exclusive, rather they are complimentary. Curzon cinema, for example, simultaneously screens films in theatres and online.

If cinema has survived TV, it should also survive streaming. It is a question of adapting and finding new ways of working. Besides, if you love film, it’s likely you’ll want to consume it wherever and however you can.

Update – December 2018

End-of-year statistics show that not only is cinema attendance on the rise (Big-screen boom: UK cinemas on track for best year since 1971) but also people who consume streaming content go to the cinema more often (Streaming services aren’t killing movie theatres). Why have either/or when you can have both?

New Wave: Cannes vs Netflix

Whilst Cannes Film Festival is set to announce its line-up tomorrow, the big story is that Netflix is pulling all five of its films in response to the festival’s backtracking. It seems that the most prestigious of film festivals can’t make up its mind as to how to handle the film industry’s latest incomers.

After last year’s festival where the streaming platform Netflix presented two feature films in competition, Cannes subsequently banned streaming films from official competition only to go back on the decision and admit five Netflix films. Then in March 2018, in an interview with a French film website, Festival director Thierry Frémaux announced that Netflix films would only be screened out of competition. Word on the boulevard is that Netflix have in response pulled its films from the festival altogether.

All of which means that five potentially great films will be excluded: Alfonso Cuarón’s Mexico-set Roma, Jeremy Saulnier’s Alaskan thriller, Hold the Dark, starring Alexander Skarsgård, Paul Greengrass’ Norway, based on the white-supremacist killer Anders Breivik, and not one but two Orson Welles-related films (the documentary They’ll Love Me When I’m Dead and Welle’s unfinished final film The Other Side of the World – surely a coup for any festival).

Old School: Cannes Festival Director Thierry Frémaux

When new kid on the block Netflix debuted its first films at Cannes last year – Okja directed by Bong Joon-Ho and The Meyerowitz Stories directed by Noah Baumbach (both brilliant) – both were booed during the title credits. Critics literally couldn’t wait to judge the films on their own merit. Instead it was all about principal: the assumption that films funded by streaming services signalled the death of cinema itself.

But do they? While for many people the big screen experience is no match for watching a film on a laptop, streaming services are a reality for which there is huge demand (Netflix alone has over 100 million subscribers worldwide). As long as people still have an appetite for going to the cinema (in the UK at least, cinema admissions are on the up) there is no reason why the two formats can’t co-exist.

Secondly, and perhaps foremost, the single biggest barrier to getting a film made is money. Not only does Netflix have pots of it (its content budget this year alone is a hefty $8 billion), it is willing to invest in films and documentaries that otherwise would not have been made. Take the Welles restoration, for example. “There would be no movie without them (Netflix). Every studio and financier in town passed on this film, for years,” said producer Frank Marshall. Furthermore, Netflix gives directors what they most crave: creative control.

On The Money: Netflix CCO Ted Sarandos

Netflix is a company that can afford to take a risk where traditional studios might hold back. “There’s no mechanism to make a movie like Okja today outside of what we’re doing,” said Netflix Chief Content Officer Ted Sarandos last year. “No studio would take that risk on a Korean director on a film that barely has any English language in it. And in my opinion while that may sound risky, putting it in the hands of director Bong? Not very risky at all.” Film’s new financier is clearly a man of taste.

In an ideal world all great films would get a theatrical release whether or not they are also streamed, however a theatrical release is no guarantee of quality. Moreover theatrical releases can also have distribution issues, as was the case with Bong Joon-Ho’s previous film Snowpiercer – the blockbuster-that-never-was. (Harvey Weinstein didn’t like the director’s cut – he deemed it “too clever” for a theatre audience and thus sabotaged its theatrical release.)

Whilst criticism of Netflix might stem from a passion for film, it seems that Cannes Film Festival is, to a certain extent, shooting itself in the foot with its protectionist attitude. If the purists are so in love with the art of film, why demean talented filmmakers with an out of competition slot and a likely showering of boos? And if the big screen is so essential, wouldn’t Cannes be the perfect opportunity to showcase a streaming film in large format?

Locked out: Zazie in the Metro (1960)

It is ironic that the golden age of French filmmaking was the famous New Wave period of the 1950s and 1960s, famed for its out-with-the-old in-with-the-new attitude (see my post on Zazie in the Metro) where filmmakers rejected the conventional and conservative, breaking with tradition to produce experimental, radical films that addressed key social issues. To quote the website New Wave Film, “These filmmakers proved that they didn’t need the mainstream studios to produce successful films on their own terms.” Sound familiar?

New Wave: Pierrot Le Fou (1965) on the Cannes 2018 poster

In fact, the official poster for Cannes features a still from the New Wave film Pierrot Le Fou by Jean-Luc Godard (1965). It’s a gorgeous poster yet somewhat ironic considering the attitude of Cannes towards streaming.

Rather than put up barriers, why not work together to help ensure the longevity of cinema in all formats? The Netflix-produced Welles restoration is a great example of how streaming services can contribute to the legacy of cinema. This is a situation where a little bit of goodwill could go a long way.

Streaming platforms and their role in filmmaking are only set to become stronger not least as Apple has now joined the field promising an initial investment of $1bn in TV and film production. Banning Netflix films from competing at Cannes will do nothing to stem the tide.

Whilst it appears that Netflix have until now been doing their best to woo Cannes, the retraction of its films from the festival indicates a significant shift in power. It’s easy to imagine that next year it will be Cannes wooing Netflix and not the other way round.

There’s a lesson to be taken from Zazie in the Metro. Zazie’s dream is to come to Paris and ride the Metro only when she arrives there’s a strike and she finds herself locked out. What does she do with all that energy and thirst for adventure? She sets out on foot and creates a whirlwind of her own. Cannes: be warned!

Success Story: Okja (Netflix)

Missing in Action: Oscars 2018

Faces Places

For weeks the French film director and Oscar nominee Agnès Varda has been doing the rounds of pre-Oscars engagements as a cardboard cut-out. It’s a genius move from the 89-year-old New Wave legend and her much younger co-director, the 35-year-old artist known as JR. Nominated for Best Documentary for Faces Places, the duo are hotly tipped to win what would be their first competitive Oscar. (Varda was awarded an Honorary Oscar last year.) It is a recognition that has been a long time coming.

Varda was the toast of Tinseltown at the pre-Oscars lunch and even managed to appear in the official nominees photograph alongside Greta Gerwig and Meryl Streep, whilst on a visit to San Francisco she cosied up to the hottest president on the planet, Justin Trudeau – all without leaving her sofa.  It’s a magnificent feat and one that will hopefully be rewarded tonight as both Varda and JR attend the Oscars in person.

All Change

The Oscars, 90 years old this year, rarely gets it right which is all the more reason to celebrate when it does. For all the film industry’s faults – and never have its flaws been so on display – the Academy Awards is a celebration of film and the role it plays in our culture.

The new level of political awareness is a great thing because it means that change is coming. There’s no point letting a pig like Weinstein ruin the party when in less than 6 months, his influence has been almost entirely eradicated whilst the #MeToo and Time’s Up movements have flourished. Similarly, the #OscarsSoWhite debacle has led to greater diversity in films and awards as well as an increased awareness of racial inequality. There is still a huge amount of inequality in the film industry but acknowledging it is the first step to taking action.

Viewing figures may be declining but the Academy Awards are still the most important visual platform in the film industry calendar. They are the perfect time to make a statement, whether that’s wearing all black in support of the Time’s Up movement or laying an egg whilst dressed as a swan à la Bjork in 2001 (right).

If the Academy wants more viewers, then I suggest that it gets the TV companies to stop charging audiences to watch. It might also be worth rescheduling the whole show to start at lunchtime rather than 8pm, that way Europeans can get their glitz fix whilst not losing any beauty sleep and  Americans can get to bed early. Sunday is a school night after all.

Small Wonders

Whilst not entirely unhappy with this year’s Oscars nominations (it’s been a great year for film) there are some performances and films that have gone under the radar: Kristen Stewart in Personal Shopper, Olivia Cooke in the Limehouse Golem and the entire casts of the Beguiled, The Handmaiden and The Party. The performances I’ve really loved however are not always leads. Often a small part well-acted can transform a film – so I’ve come up with a new category: Best Cameo.

Nominations as follows:

Chloe Sevigny in The Snowman. A horror turned farce, The Snowman contained gems such as Chloe Sevigny as a chicken-slayer and her twin sister, as well as Val Kilmer doing his best Knausgaard impression. Sevigny has a sharp intelligence, great comic timing and a game approach.

Michael Stuhlbarg in Call Me By Your Name. Stuhlbarg’s performance as the boy’s father, Professor Perlman is gorgeous. His character has gravitas, sensitivity and warmth and delivers the speech of the century to his heartbroken son. A performance that is perfectly pitched.

Betty Gabriel in Get Out> A small part as the maid in Get Out but a crucial one. Gabriel’s terrifying facial expressions show the cracks in the facade. And no, you’re not imagining it!

Caleb Landry Jones in Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. Whilst his colleagues garnered all the acting accolades and will no doubt take home a few gongs tonight, it was Jones who lit up the screen as an advertising clerk with integrity: the man who kept his cool whilst everyone else was going crazy. A necessary, sane influence without whom the film might have spun off its axis.

Michelle Pfeiffer in Murder on the Orient Express. Pfeiffer was electric in Kenneth Branagh’s film all about Kenneth Branagh. Pfeiffer however had the world asking, where have you been? Someone needs to write her an entire film quick.

Douglas Booth in the Limehouse Golem. Booth plays a cross-dressing cabaret performer in this Peter Ackroyd adaptation: a feminist take on the Jack the Ripper story. Outrageously camp and beautifully ambiguous, Booth keeps the audience guessing until the very end.

And the winner is… Michael Stuhlbarg.

Best Dad: Michael Stuhlbarg as Professor Perlman in Call Me By Your Name

Final Destination: The Driver’s Seat by Muriel Spark

Murder, she wrote

Whilst The Prime of Jean Brodie is by a long way Muriel Spark’s most famous book, it is another, lesser-known novel that could well be her masterpiece. The Driver’s Seat, the story of a young woman who plots her own death at the hands of a convicted sex maniac, is the preferred Spark novel of many, including Scotland’s First Minister Nicola Sturgeon.

Written in Rome and published in 1970, The Driver’s Seat was Spark’s own favourite of her 22 novels. The 88-page thriller is also the favourite of another notable Scottish writer, Ian Rankin who describes it as “an incredibly slim and surreal slice of modern gothic” while The New Yorker magazine called it “her spiny treacherous masterpiece.”

Completely sick. In all the right ways.” – Tilda Swinton

Nicola Sturgeon and Ian Rankin came to an event at Edinburgh’s Usher Hall last week along with 2,000 others to celebrate the centenary of the birth of Muriel Spark. They talked about their admiration for Spark and read extracts from her life-long work. It turns out there is a lot of love for Edinburgh’s home-grown talent, even if she left the city that she felt didn’t really understand her to embark on a globe-trotting existence.

Muriel Spark exhibition poster

The event was part of the Muriel Spark 100 programme a year-long project to celebrate a writer who, despite her genius, risked disappearing into history, to become the hallowed secret of a select few. This resurrection has not only got people re-reading and re-evaluating Spark’s work in light of the current political climate, it has engaged a whole new audience.

The Muriel Spark exhibition at the National Library of Scotland is also part of the centenary programme. Organised by location rather than chronology, the exhibition conveys the extraordinary daring and self-possession in Spark’s life and work. Assisted by Spark’s meticulous archive –  “One thing I have always known about my well ordered archive is that it would stand by me. The silent objective evidence of truth, should I ever need it” – the exhibition presents a woman who, in spite of various difficulties, remained very much in the driver’s seat.

In my beginning, is my end” – TS Eliot

In The Driver’s Seat, Lise, a 34-year-old woman fed up of her office job, flies south on holiday in search of adventure. Much like the French bestseller Lullaby whose end lies in its beginning (“The baby is dead. It only took a few seconds.”), The Driver’s Seat is quick to tell the reader how it all ends: our heroine “will be found tomorrow morning dead from multiple stab wounds, her wrists bound with a silk scarf and her ankles bound with a man’s necktie”

Whilst the reader is at first led to believe that Lise has been murdered and that all the men she encounters on her journey are suspects, it eventually transpires that Lise has not been looking for a lover, but for a killer.

Elizabeth Taylor in a poster for the film adaptation of The Driver’s Seat

The Driver’s Seat is a profoundly feminist novel, one that makes the French film Elle (where a woman plays cat and mouse with her rapist) look tame by comparison. It’s a satire, one that mocks the patriarchy, highlights its absurdities and exposes the emptiness behind the bright facade of modern life.

Lise’s motivations are never fully explained and Spark plays on this: “Who knows her thoughts? Who can tell?” But there are clues. There’s a mysterious period of illness in Lise’s past, a job that Lise is literally sick to death of and erratic behaviour that both hides and highlights Lise’s true purpose.

Lise’s entire journey involves leaving a trail of evidence. She wants to be noticed and she wants her killer to be caught. Her tantrum over a stain-proof dress seems mad until it transpires that Lise wants fabric that will stain – evidence to help convict her murderer. Lise is not simply a woman hell-bent on self-destruction, she is intent upon taking others with her; and by persuading a convicted sex-attacker to do the dirty deed, she is taking a symbolic revenge.

You’ll get caught, but at least you’ll have the illusion of a chance to get away.”

The men Lise encounters on her trip are the worst. Take Bill, for example, the macrobiotic cult leader with his “need” for a daily orgasm, an entitled bore and archetypal mansplainer (decades before the term was even invented). Then there is the mechanic who mistakes Lise for a student protester, dismisses her cause then tells her to “go back to the brothel” among other insults.

There is the sense that Lise has been, not only held back at work by men but badly let down in her personal life. It is her conversations with would-be murderer Richard that are the most revealing. Written at the end of the swinging sixties, the novel seems to question the freedom that the decade supposedly brought: “It’s all right at the time and it’s all right before… but the problem is afterwards. That is, if you aren’t just an animal. Most of the time, afterwards is pretty sad.”

The men in the novel do little to appease her trust. Lise narrowly escapes rape – twice! – before in each case stealing the man’s car (a clever reminder of who is in control, albeit temporarily).

Spark’s breezy lightness and ready humour belie a much darker reality. By making Lise the author of her own death, Spark takes female sacrifice under patriarchy to the extreme. It’s a perverse joke, an exaggeration for comic effect.

Kill me,” she says and repeats it in four languages.

Like the film Elle, The Driver’s Seat only works as a fantasy. Both works play with notions of victimhood and revenge within the safe space of fiction. Ever generous, Spark likes to remind the reader of the book’s fictional status with Lise clutching a paperback, a kind of ID, at key moments. Her murder imminent, Lise gives the book away: “Would you like a book to read? I don’t need it anymore.” Of course she doesn’t.

It’s a dark joke too when Lise goads her killer:

‘”A lot of women get killed,” he says.

“Yes, I know, they look for it.”

Whilst exposing the absurdity of implicating victims in acts of violence, Spark implicates the murderer instead. Not only, Spark turns the traditional notion of the passive female victim on its head by giving her agency and making her the star of the show..

The Driver’s Seat in translation (Spanish edition)

Reading The Driver’s Seat is an unexpectedly liberating experience. Maybe it’s Spark’s clever skewering of patriarchy, or perhaps it’s Lise’s refusal to conform in any way; there’s a sense of freedom in Lise that’s intoxicating. Or maybe it’s feeling most alive when you’re closest to death.

There is a kind of freedom too in renunciation, in leaving it all behind (Spark herself was a consummate escape artist), but that doesn’t take away from Spark’s damning criticism of the status quo – where attempts to take control can mean giving it all away.

For more on The Driver’s Seat, see Quietly Loud: Muriel Spark’s Feminism.

French Letter: Sex and Freedom

Who would have thought that the #MeToo backlash would be led by a group of French women, including the doyenne of French cinema Catherine Deneuve?

No sooner had feminism triumphed at the Golden Globes with the all-black dress code (a display of solidarity against abuse and in support of equality) than Catherine Deneuve and about 100 other French professionals – mostly academics of some kind – signed an open letter in Le Monde criticising the #MeToo movement, comparing it to a witchhunt and advocating men’s freedom to hit on women.

Activist Rosa Clemente, actors Susan Sarandon and Michelle Williams and activist Tarana Burke  in all-black at the Golden Globes 2018 (Getty Images)

“Rape is a crime, but trying to seduce (lit: “bother”) someone in a persistent or clumsy way is not a crime. Nor is gentlemanly behaviour a macho attack,” the letter begins.

It’s an extraordinary letter. Militant in tone, it makes a passionate case against what it sees as puritanical and totalitarian elements of the feminist movement.

The letter makes some valid points, particularly with regards to a lack of tolerance within the “Me Too” movement for diversity of opinion and the shutting down of people who get it wrong. “Freedom of speech has become its opposite,” say the authors.

The letter calls out a lack of due process in denouncing men, puritanical attitudes to censorship in art and a culture that encourages women to see themselves as “eternal victims”. (One could argue that the “Me Too” movement has by and large empowered women, but still, these are all points for debate.)

The big problem with this letter is that it undermines its own arguments by blurring the lines of what constitutes sexual harassment, putting the onus on women for the behaviour of men, suggesting how they should respond (or not) to unwanted attention. Astonishingly, this is argued in the name of sexual freedom.

We defend a freedom to seduce, which is essential for sexual freedom.”

Acts such as a man persistently coming on to a woman, being forced into a kiss by a colleague or being groped on the metro are minimised. Women are encouraged not to overreact: women “shouldn’t feel traumatised for ever by a grope on the metro, even if it’s considered a crime,” says the letter. It’s dodgy territory because, not only does it fail to recognise the distress of such unwanted attention (the “Me Too” movement will attest to the enormity of that collective wound) the letter risks making excuses for this kind of behaviour.

Catherine Deneuve  (Shutterstock)

Women have agency, as this letter seeks to remind us, but it’s an odd kind of agency that it’s promoting. Take this quote, for example, “A woman can, in the same day, lead a professional team and enjoy being the sexual object of a man, without being called a slut or vile accomplice of the patriarchy.” It presents a rather limited view of women, one that is indicative of the authors’ social class.

What comes across in this letter is the authors’ fierce attachment to the(ir) idea of sexual liberation above all else. Could it be that the authors see this threat to sexual freedom as a threat to their own identities as members of the liberal bourgeoisie? (Even if the kind of sexual freedom they advocate, this “freedom to bother”, is not freedom for the many victims of harassment.)

Mixed messages: French Vogue (May 2011)

Despite the authors’ intellectual credentials, there seems to be a reluctance to let go of certain cultural stereotypes that arguably reduce women to the objects of male desire and a reinforcement of the idea that it should always be men who do the chasing.

Deneuve is very much a French not a Hollywood film star. It makes me wonder if there might also be an element of protectionism in the letter with regards to French culture. I refer to the long-standing culture war between France and America with on France’s part, a general resistance to change. (Last year at Cannes the big debate was about whether films funded by Amazon and Netflix should be eligible for competition bearing in mind they weren’t released in cinemas. The year before, women were banned from screenings because they weren’t wearing heels.)

Isabelle Huppert, star of Elle (Rex)

That’s not to say French cinema isn’t progressive. Far from it. The French have a wonderful talent for matching style with substance and producing ground-breaking, challenging work. Take Elle, for example, the recent psychological thriller starring Isabelle Huppert as a businesswoman who engages in a cat-and-mouse game with her rapist. It’s strong stuff but brilliant and I would argue feminist because it gives Huppert’s character agency whilst refusing to dictate how a woman should feel or react.

And I love the French film director Agnès Varda who is finally gaining the recognition she deserves. Her 1962 film Cléo from 5 to 7 charts the journey of a beautiful young singer who moves from a preoccupation with how she looks to seeing the world through her own eyes: from object to autonomous human being.

Any movement for equality isn’t without its ironies and French feminism is no different. The playwright Olympe de Gouges penned The Declaration of the Rights of Women back in 1791, mocking the famous Declaration of the Rights of Man and demanding equal rights for women.”Women have the right to mount the scaffold, they must also have the right to debate,” she declared. She got the the chop in 1793. Simone De Beauvoir, the famous pioneer of feminist thought and author of The Second Sex (1949) groomed young women as part of her open marriage with Sartre. And whilst women in France won the right to vote in 1945, it was technically illegal for women to wear trousers in Paris until 2013.

Deneuve et al’s letter is some ways a missed opportunity. Ironically its attempt to empower women has had the opposite effect: it wants women to be strong but only within the patriarchal mode – one where women remain objects and harassment is par for the course.

The “Me Too” movement does need to let people air their views in order to promote discussion (see my previous post on why the “MeToo” movement needs to allow for debate).  The authors of the letter have been widely criticised for blurring the lines of an issue that requires more clarity, not less. Letters like this keep the conversation moving, even if, or because, they are wide of the mark.

Dorothée Blanck (L) and Corinne Marchand (R) in Cleo from 5 to 7 (Agnes Varda, 1962)

Eternal Flame: Winter by Ali Smith

Winter is the second novel in Ali Smith’s state-of-the-nation quartet, and given the title (not to mention the theme) you might be forgiven for expecting a somewhat bleak output from the mistress of wordplay. But then Autumn was primarily a story of neighbourly love, one of reconciliation between young and old, as well as a lesson in ways of seeing. Winter, it turns out, brings clarity.

Smith continues to open readers’ eyes with a strong sense of playfulness, humour and a passion for all the joys in life however small (scrambled eggs in the middle of the night, anyone?). Rather than lead readers further into the dark, Smith lights a candle and, like the ghosts in Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, a key inspiration for the novel, hovers around illuminating her characters’ flawed beliefs.

The story centres around Sophia, a retired businesswoman who lives alone in a big house in Cornwall and whose family descend upon her for Christmas. Scrooge-like with her empty cupboards and anti-immigrant rhetoric, Sophia is treated with generosity not just by Smith but by those around her. Smith takes the time to explore how she came to be so insular and highlights her, at times, blinkered world view.

It would have been easy to make such characters one-dimensional, to turn Sophia into a figure of hate, but Smith knows better than to feed the sense of divide that the UK is currently experiencing. Come in Shakespeare’s Cymbeline, another inspiration for Winter: “a play about a kingdom subsumed in chaos, lies, powermongering, division and a great deal of poisoning and self-poisoning.” Smith uses opposites to great effect as she seeks to make links, to illuminate, to heal.

Art is seeing things”

Winter lights upon some heavy topics but its moralising touch is light. It reminds me  of the Kubrick film Barry Lyndon where every scene is lit by natural light – all candles and daylight and the effect is stunning. In a similar fashion, Smith uses nature to highlight artifice. Sophia’s son, Art, is a nature writer whose blog “Art in Nature” is a largely fabricated endeavour which leads to some amusing musings. And amid all the metaphors such as the disembodied head, I can’t help but wonder if Sophia’s lamp sale is also symbolic (other than showing a woman keen to make a profit).

Kubrick on the set of Barry Lyndon (1975)

Metaphors aside, it is the aptly named Lux, a visitor and immigrant, who provides the greatest light and joy; even Sophia can’t resist her charms. She’s clear-sighted and resourceful (and a big reader) and reminds me of another fictional character – Purity in the book of the same name by Jonathan Franzen (another Dickens-inspired tome). Like Daniel in Autumn, Lux is a shining example of the best kind of human being: warm and authentic – fictional characters that are the real deal.

Both Autumn and Winter offer an artful exploration of current affairs. They are novels of their time whilst the lessons they contain are in a sense timeless. They are a welcome reminder that there are other ways of being and seeing, and that change is possible, whether by protest or desire or more simply the passing of time. I can’t wait ’til Spring.

Army of #MeToo: Why Feminism Needs to Allow for Debate

It is perhaps no surprise that both TIME magazine and the Financial Times have chosen the women who have spoken out against sexual harassment as their people of the year. From snowball effect to avalanche, 2017 has been the year in which women have individually and collectively spoken out on the abuse that has become so ingrained, and worse, accepted in our society for so long.

Whereas the UK’s Financial Times focuses on Susan Fowler, “the software engineer who lifted the lid on sexual harassment at Uber” back in February and “inspired women to speak out” (long before the Weinstein allegations came to the fore), TIME magazine in the US collectively nominates all the women who have spoken out against harassment and abuse – from Hollywood actresses to farm workers. Both articles offer comprehensive coverage of the “Me Too” movement and how it has created a cultural shift.

The “Me Too” movement has gained extraordinary momentum this year however it was founded a decade ago by activist Tarana Burke. As with any political movement, real change takes time. It’s a movement that has (forgive the pun) touched everybody. There are few, if any adult women who haven’t experienced some form of sexual harassment. What is so shocking is not just the scale of the abuse but the way in which it has been become so normalised and how women have frequently been implicated as somehow responsible for the actions of abusive men.

2017 has been a massive wake-up call. Perhaps the greatest impact of the “Me Too” movement has been to highlight the hypocrisies in all of us. We have been encouraged to consider, not just what constitutes sexual harassment or abuse and how we should confront it, but also how we view and treat each other; and, even more uncomfortably, our complicity in perpetuating a culture in which harassment has in many cases gone unchecked.

It is important and necessary that women come together to speak out. Women’s voices need to be heard, not just as catharsis for long-suppressed pain and anger, but also to help create long-lasting social change. While women are rightly taking the lead, harassment is a collective issue which is why everyone needs to be on board.

The actor Matt Damon recently came under fire for his arguably unwise comments regarding sexual harassment with actress Minnie Driver speaking out to correct him in the Guardian. “Men simply cannot understand what abuse is like on a daily level,” she says “and should not therefore attempt to differentiate or explain sexual misconduct against women.” It’s a valid point and Driver goes on to explain the nuances of sexual harassment. But she then goes on to say, “The time right now is for men just to listen and not have an opinion about it for once.” Given the context, I can understand Driver’s frustration and I agree that men (moreover everyone) needs to listen, however denying men an opinion is simply another form of oppression.

Journalists have lined up to tell Matt Damon to shut up and go away because they disagree with what he is saying, rather than seeing it as a golden opportunity to enlighten all genders on the reality of abuse. Damon’s somewhat banal comments have shown a lack of understanding but at least he is engaging with the subject; it seems more that he is trying to make sense of an unprecedented situation (as we all are).  Like it or not, his misguided comments have helped to further the debate.

Opinion within the “Me Too” movement is moving so fast that it can feel both overwhelming and hard to know what is the right way to respond. Take, for example, the Royal Court theatre’s recent decision to cancel its production of Rita, Sue and Bob Too (due to sexual abuse claims surrounding its director) only to reinstate it as a result of public outcry: the theatre was accused of suppressing a working-class female voice and by the same token, punishing women for the acts of men.  It could be seen as hypocritical and cowardly for a so-called avant-garde theatre to drop a play the minute it gets too close for comfort, suddenly desperate not to offend.  But perhaps the Royal Court deserves some credit for listening to the public and subsequently reversing its decision. Rita, Sue and Bob Too couldn’t be more timely in its subject matter, and whilst the circumstances may be uncomfortable, it is nonetheless an opportunity to further the conversation.

I don’t agree that everybody should have the same opinion. As the writer Nell Zink said at Edinburgh International Book Festival earlier this year (her latest novel Nicotine is about protest), “Oppression brings people together where otherwise they would have nothing else in common.”

Nor do I think people shouldn’t be allowed to make mistakes, especially so given the complexity of the subject. Labelling other women as bad feminists or shunning men with questionable opinions is not particularly helpful. People like Lena Dunham don’t deserve to be vilified for their seemingly hypocritical actions when they are prepared to acknowledge their fallibility. Ironically, perhaps Dunham’s greatest achievement has been to show women as imperfect beings in the drama series Girls, to make it OK for women to make mistakes.

The “Me Too” movement has opened our eyes and forced us to confront some uncomfortable truths. I’m glad TIME magazine chose to put a group of women on the cover as it emphasises the collective spirit of the movement – one that spans all classes and backgrounds. If the “Me Too” movement is going to continue to flourish, it needs to be inclusive and to allow space for debate.

Pussy power: Missoni’s Women’s March dolls

Choose Your Own Adventure? Patti Smith and Rebecca Miller

Patti Smith giving it some welly at Glastonbury 2015

“You can decide your own fate. Are you going to let it all fall apart? Or are you going to own it?” So said musician Patti Smith in a recent Guardian interview with regards to falling over on-stage. Now compare Smith’s stance to that of film director Rebecca Miller on the subject of fate in an interview with the same newspaper:

It’s very hard to leave your destiny to destiny … You must trust life more. You must just let go.

Which should it be? Should you try to take control wherever possible or should you let life happen? Or is it simply a matter of context? By all means pick yourself up if you fall over but when it comes to long-term plans, leave the door a little open?

Miller’s latest film, Maggie’s Plan, is a great example of a woman attempting to control her own fate.  A screwball comedy, Maggie’s Plan stars Greta Gerwig as a 30-something New Yorker looking to have a child with a sperm donor who then gets involved with a married man, played by Ethan Hawke. With a dazzling turn by Julianne Moore as Hawke’s wife (Maggie steals her husband then tries to give him back), it’s a lively, clever film that explores how relationships might be handled in the absence of traditional constraints and notably, how financially independent women might best navigate their freedom.

Greta Gerwig as Maggie and Julianne Moore as Georgette in “Maggie’s Plan.” Credit: John Pack, Hall Monitor, Inc., courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics

Maggie is determined to have a child, with or in this case without a partner and she sees a sperm donor as the most efficient way of doing so. Pregnant, she finds love with someone else’s man and for a while everything is great. But as the chemistry wears off, Maggie starts to wonder whether she has done the right thing. Perhaps it would be better to be a single mother after all? So, with the help of her lover’s initially hostile ex-wife, she concocts a plan to give him back, gaining a new friend in the process.

With more choice comes more possibilities but also the idea of being able to control outcomes. Maggie certainly believes she can makes things happen. On the one hand, it’s not just empowering but necessary to believe that you can control your own life. On the other hand, the idea that everything rests on making the right decisions can be a heavy burden to bear. Whilst Maggie’s Plan shows imaginative life choices, breaking the patriarchal mode you could say, it is also according to The Guardian, “a cautionary fable about the fallacy of trying to cheat fate.”

In the interview, Miller recalls the character of Ivan the art forger in F (a novel) by Daniel Kehlmann when she talks about 18th-century ideas of the individual: “Once you are convinced of the importance of the individual and their path, that person starts to acquire a sense of inevitability.”

Is individual destiny therefore a modern affliction? Both F (a novel) and Purity by Jonathan Franzen would seem to suggest so, novels where the onus of fate rests on the shoulders of the non-believer. Incidentally, when Miller describes Maggie, it is uncanny that she could also be talking about Purity’s Pip: “her desire to do the right thing, for purity. She’s ethically motivated.”

Perhaps this is the key to making decisions: sticking to your values. Inevitably Maggie’s Plan doesn’t quite go to plan (“The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft a-gley“) but it does work out pretty well for her all the same (whilst the film has a suitably open ending). So make your decisions in good faith, be imaginative, give it some welly but don’t hold on to the outcome. Whatever happens, one thing’s for certain: there will always be more decisions to be made.

Salvador and Gala: Artists in Love

“Soulmates” is how Samantha Morton describes Salvador Dali and Gala Eluard in a recent Sky Arts documentary, part of the series Artists in Love. Morton is a passionate and empathetic narrator. She might be a little in love with love but she also doesn’t shy away from describing the pain and sadness of affairs gone awry. Whilst not exactly an advert for falling in love, it’s a fascinating series in which we learn that Dora Maar was not only Picasso’s muse but an artist in her own right, how Aristotle Onassis became Maria Callas’ Achilles heel and how Dali’s life was inextricably dependent on his wife of over 50 years, a woman even more eccentric than himself.

“It couple” Salvador and Gala in New York (1952)

Gala Eluard, Dali’s lifelong muse was considered “weird beyond belief,” so weird and mysterious that, as yet, there is no biography of her. “It’s too hard to capture what she was really like,” says Dali’s biographer in episode 3. What we do know is that Gala was Russian, a little older than Dali and no stranger to a ménage à trois. Originally married to the poet Paul Eluard, this arrangement soon became a three-way with the painter Max Ernst.

Gala was popular with the young surrealist artists and poets.”Determined to live life according to her passions and instincts,” Gala embodied the kind of individualism and rebellion promoted by the surrealists. When she became involved with Dali, she encouraged him to produce surrealist work.

Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee Around a Pomegranate a Second Before Awakening (1944)

For Dali it was love at first sight, but it took him a whole week and a good dose of fish oil (on his hair) to seduce Gala. From then on they were inseparable, except when Gala was off sleeping with other people. Gala was loyal to Dali in that sex was “not the main aspect of that loyalty.” Whilst they had an open relationship, it was only Gala who meandered. According to Dali, Gala was the only person that he ever slept with (discounting two previous failed attempts with the poet Lorca).

There’s some great footage of Dali in the documentary, an interview where he calls himself “très catholique,” and another where he talks about the lifelong shadow cast by his dead brother which, he explains, led to his eccentric personality – a coping mechanism.

Dali’s Chupa Chups logo (1969)

Gala was Dali’s “everything,” his confidante, champion and muse who also appeared in his art, frequently naked. Together they conquered America. Not only did Dali’s art sell well, they became a celebrity couple and a global brand – the Kim and Kanye of their day. Dali took commissions for commercial work, both designing and appearing in advertising campaigns, such as the TV ad for Lanvin chocolate. His artwork notwithstanding, one of his greatest achievements could well be designing the Chupa Chups logo.

Dali and Gala lived for the most part in the village of Port Lligat, Catalonia in a converted fisherman’s cottage. Wealthy and reclusive, they lived in their own dream world; so much so that the neighbours assumed they were drug-dealers not artists.

Knight errant: Salvador and Gala at Castell de Pubol

After 50 years of marriage, the relationship took a fairytale turn. Gala decided she wanted more independence and went off to live in a nearby castle. Dali needed her written permission to visit and thus courted her like a medieval knight until her death in 1982.

Dali never recovered. He retreated from public life and mourned her until his own death in 1989. (Incidentally, Dali died whilst listening to his favourite music, Wagner’s Tristan and Isolde – Wagner’s own romantic life is the subject of episode 4.)

This episode offers a short but fascinating insight into the largely unknown world of Salvador and Gala. If a traditional biography of Gala is truly impossible, then surely she is a ripe subject for a fictionalised biography or film.