He Wishes For the Cloths of Heaven

Had I the heaven’s embroided cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I’ll spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

-William Butler Yeats
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If there’s a love poem that will capture my heart, it is this. Issues of sincerity aside, one has to admit that the octave is immediately captivating. Here ‘the blue and the dim and the dark’ firmaments are likened to ‘embroidered cloths’, upon which the diaphanous ‘golden’ sunlight and ‘silver’ moonbeams are weaved. Evoking images of wonderfully precious Persian tapestry, the narrator’s generous offer to lay such beauty at his lover’s feet is seductive; but when, on account of his poverty, he offers his dreams in place of such wonder, one cannot help but be filled with rapture. The smooth iambic pentameter of the poem contributes to its lucid beauty, enriching the idea of the narrator’s all encompassing, undying devotion. Even what would have been mundane repetitions are transformed into ardent reiteration of affection. Internal rhymes like ‘Of night and light and the half-light’ lend a sense of fantastical mystery that embodies the narrator’s unfading love. In particular, I am ensnared by the image of “half-light” which makes me think of an ever receding horizon that marks the interminable growth of adoration. With someone baring his soul and laying his love at your feet, I believe one must have a wooden heart not to have it melt before this poem.

This poems has been set to art song. Here's a sample - Cloths of Heaven

Anon.

The History Boys

Brilliant. The award winning play by Alan Bennett strikes gold with its talent cast and dry, school-boy wit. Set in a middle class English preparatory school, The History Boys describes the struggle of a class of gifted students in obtaining a place in Oxbridge via the noble art of deceit. This isn't the superficial deceit you find in cheating on tests, etc., rather, the boys spend months learning to fool the dons into thinking them remotely interesting people with fresh opinions, rather than the run-off-the-mill chaps from the other prep schools.

Hector pulls off the part of the stodgy, slightly perverted tutor beautifully, inculcating his love for unpretentious learning in the boys, while Irwin shades in the education system (and highlights its inherent shortcomings) with his New-Age techniques of essay-writing. Totty's character as the on-off feminist is rather cliché, being the only other woman on the cast (the other is a subsidiary character whose sole purpose is to be exploited for the plot line), and her role is played down as the competent but cynical female history teacher, certainly one of many across the globe. The boys characters are sometimes indistinct, all them forming one large voice, as it is, only spoken at different frequencies by different puppets. Individualism only comes into play with Posner's interactions with Irwin, and with Dakin's seduction of Irwin, a rather central character. Despite this lack of individualism, the camaraderie between the boys and their little in-class sketches of Brief Encounter, Now, Voyager, etc. are excellent, of course not as the characters within those films themselves but as re-enactors of the films.

The script itself contains many priceless one-liners that are telling of the prep-school environ as well as the acerbic English wit of the learned middle class. Bennett borrows from many old masters, including Whitman, Housman, and Hardy, whose poignant poetics lend a certain gravity to the theme of homosexuality and neatly balances the 'tosh' that is Gracie Fields and Brief Encounter. The parallel between Dakin's liberal giving of his body (to a multitude of adorers) and the boys' positively Faustian marketing of their personality to become part of the New Elect is a running motif, also reflected in Hector's and Irwin's sacrifice of their personal decency in caving to the temptation that is Dakin (amongst others). Rudge rescues in his own little way near the end when he reveals the system and society's subjugation of his self for their generic purposes.

Kudos to Stephen Campbell Moore for his sensitive portrayal of Irwin, as well as the rest of the cast for their nuanced performances that emote the unsaid with subtle grace.

Anon.

The Campaign to Confer the Public Service Star on JBJ

This play by Eleanor Wong was premiered last year during National Day, and tackles many national issues that are taboo to discuss in our paternalistic political climate. The diversity and plurality of the issues tackled is precisely what makes it lose it's initial sharpness; it is high plausible that the point is to mock generically rather than specifically, a blurring that this writer is biased against.

It begins with a good pace, and the parsing of Pam Oei's character was especially popular with the audience. While interest level is sustained for about the first ten minutes, the subsequent content was lukewarm at best, sprinked with slapstick comedy and cliched references. I say 'cliched' in the local context, i.e. issues that have been tackled over and over again but which may be unfamiliar to the many foreign faces in the audience. There was one particularly insufferable moment between 2DS and the elder_ly where momentum was completely ground to dust, perhaps an obscure parallel to the lack of dynamic in such interactions? I highly doubt. It was complete monotony at that point, neither thespian was able to shape the conversation occurring then. There were a few good sketches, such as the one between 2DS and the oh-so-obliging policeman, however, the rest of the material, no matter how acid they may be, seemed to be mere reiterations of insults to the system that have been already made. Recalcitrance at its zenith.

The acting was average. Perhaps the play has been overdone, although i was under the impression that actors get better with more practice. Pam Oei was much more convincing than Rodney Oliveiro, perhaps due to the divide in experience - not merely in articulation, but in the naturalness of her actions. Oliveiro took quite a significant time to warm up, during which he gradually unstuck his arms from the sides of his torso and decided to loosen up. After which he proceeded to over-act, a mistake commonly committed by amateurs and well, students. His dynamic range is severely limited, and so are his facial expressions. It is true that he can take on a variety of persona, but i believe that kind of diversity was injected largely due to the script. Part of the play's momentum was lost during his longer dialogues/soliloquies as the words just bounced back and forth within the very narrow spectrum of his emotive speech. Articulation is good all around, but that is a basic requirement for a production.

The only track chosen that was remotely appropriate was Bohemian Rhapsody, a few lines of which was printed in the programme. The rest of the music was cheesy, bordering on lame, and a perfect reflection of the level of music exposure and appreciation in our society. I did enjoy some of the pop music references, such as "I Gotta Get a Message To You" (there were some other similarly lame puns) and, well, just that one I guess. The rest of the music was over-dramatic which heightened the expressiveness of the play, but not in a good way. It was like taking a physically attractive male and dressing him up in drag - too garish, too vulgar, too desperate. The only redeeming parts were the long, intense silences, during which the audience for today decided to practise a little theatre etiquette, not emitting any of their noisy bodily discharges. Tis rare, I tell you. Classical concert audiences are seldom that polite.

On the whole, I suppose it's passable. A good attempt. At least the thespians didn't murder the script, and neither did the script get overqualified thespians. Both script and executioners were on par in terms of quality.

Anon.

Twenty Something

This book by Iain Hollingshead is a good laugh. (Not in the bad sense..) His debut novel, Twenty Something is about an unfulfilled twenty-something who's had it with his dead end job (as a banker) and wants to have it out with the world. Male 'chick lit' has been an up-and-coming genre, especially in the comedic circuits, and while it doesn't quite compare with Mike Gayle and Matt Dunn, it is after all a good attempt at converting journalistic experience to humour writing.

The book starts off a tad desperate, with Hollingshead trying too hard to evoke comic effect. Most debut novels do, after all. (Apart from Best Man, Matt Dunn) Hollingshead gets into the swing of things and novel-writing in the second half of the book, the considerably better half, where he starts writing in a letter-email medium, as compared to the diary medium in the first half (a shameless rip off bridget jones and adrian mole, non?). The main problem with the initial chapters lies in the fact that Hollingshead has not fully established his characters, and immediately jumps into their personal lives, expecting the reader to catch up as an accidental observer who happened into Jack Lancaster's life. A good novel should always have some buildup into the main plotline (assuming there's one), but one can't overdo it too, like in To Kill A Mockingbird where the initial chapters seem to exist chiefly for soporific effect.

The rude letters and emails and the rampant anti-establishment vibe is a huge cliche, but at least they are well-crafted - if nothing else, the packaging of a load of bollocks is important, to disguise the said load of bollocks. And he does it well too, being rude seems to be a huge talent. The plot turn at the end seems to be taking the cliche a tad too far, where young Lancaster takes over his father's job at a prep school in England, teaching French to ten year olds. The new academic, boys school atmosphere has been cooked to carbon, in Dead Poets' Society, in Dahl's Boy, in the Freedom Writers, etc.

Favourite characters include the wiley Mr. Cox, whose use of Latin in every two sentences (primitive Latin, should I say) builds him up as the stuck-up, ostentatious bourgeoisie who buys his way into anything and everything. His son's learning of Latin vulgarities (chip off the old block) is a good parallel, especially in the prep school setting. All in all, it is a feel-good book, one that reiterates social norms for seemingly no reason at all. If the humour isn't lost on you, you might enjoy it very much. (I did.)

Anon.

L'Auberge Espagnole

The Spanish apartment is a lovely cosmopolitan movie about the interaction between a group of young adults of different nationalities. In order to afford the high rent of an apartment in Barcelona, seven students share a tiny, cramped living area (which could probably be qualified as a hovel) and are forced to adapt to each other's cultures and living habits. Their differences have serious implications on the state of cleanliness of the apartment, fridge spaces, diets, etc., and minor conflicts usually break out with the great overlap in living space.

Xavier, the main character, has been looking like a place like this all his life - a place to meet heterogenous but close-knit characters, a place to learn about different cultures, sexual orientations, and beliefs. An interesting storyline twist pulls each incoherent strand of the plot together in the very manner each unique character (hailing from Spain, the UK, France, Italy, and Germany) is tied to the identity of the group.

While various stereotypes are applied in the portrayal of representatives from each European culture, the movie is high on humour value. This is largely built upon the differences between cultures, countries, and languages - this sometimes tends to the more serious angle of bringing out the bigotry that afflicts our subconscious. There is some interesting wordplay and an undercurrent of romance through the film, although this is somewhat trivial.

On the whole, this movie has the unavoidable effect of broadening one's worldview by splicing various cultures together in a single condensed experience. Archetypical perspectives of various European cultures are highlighted, making the experience especially enjoyable for the Asian viewer. Romain Duris (De battre mon coeur s'est arrêté, 2005) delivers a convincing, ultra-French dialogue and is supported by a stellar cast that strikes a perfect balance between cross-cultural tension and student identity.

Anon.

Thank You For Smoking

“If it’s your job to be right, then you’re never wrong.” – So goes the most politically incorrect movie ‘Thank You For Smoking’ which leaves one sympathizing with the devil. We follow chief spokesman of The Academy of Tobacco Studies Nick Taylor (Aaron Eckhart) as he spins webs of lies to promote smoking. But when he incurs the wrath of the health-conscious and senator Finistirre, his persuasive skills and role as a parent to his 12-year-old son Joey (Cameron Bright) are put to severe test.

Kudos to Jason Reitman for his immensely witty screenplay (based on the novel by Christopher Buckley) and fantastic direction in this film about deceit, Machiavellianism and, above all, choice. Filled with wonderfully eccentric rhetoric and gleefully twisted moralities, ‘Thank You For Smoking’ simply makes one turn round with bellyaching laughter. Its relentless satire also puts into sharp relief the nature of industries producing typically harmful products (like cigarettes and fast food) and questions if American consumers are taking enough responsibility for their own health. Amazingly, there is not a single smoking scene in the entire movie!

Leading a charismatic cast, Aaron Eckert is irresistible – a sexy smile and clever grin is all it takes to sweep you off your feet. Add to that his knack for persuasive gestures, which perfectly complements his lines, I am not surprise if one is convinced to smoke by him! Special mention also goes to William H. Macy for portraying so well the typically high-strung loser-politician. It is a wonderful joy watching the cast fit like socks into the institutional stereotypes they portray.

‘Thank You For Smoking’ is fiendishly addictive and beats nicotine any day. So pop down to your local video store and get your dose of ‘Thank You For Smoking’ that guarantees to leave you wanting more! Cold turkey!

Anon

Self-Made Man

What shall become of the eternal battle between the sexes? In this controversial monograph, Norah Vincent crosses gender boundaries delineated in culture to discover how exactly it feels to be a white American male. Going a year and half under the persona of Ned, Vincent infiltrated the inner circles of masculinity by passing off in strip clubs, bowling leagues and even in a monastery.

The end product is a compelling account of her journey from the day she first put on her synthetic stubble to her eventual psychological break down. Told in a humorous and casual manner, the reader is quickly absorbed into her adventure – not simply because of the novelty, but also because of the intimacy involved.

Although her experiences were for the most part singular (and she admits it), many of her observations are in fact ubiquitous. “I passed in a man’s world not because my mask was so real, but because the world of men was a masked ball,” noted Vincent in retrospect; and, indeed, who can deny that much of male interaction is subdued by a psyche steeped in egoistic pride? But more important than the observations were the questions brought about. Beyond examining masculinity, Vincent also looks at gender as a whole. Ruminating over how many individuals are beleaguered by unnecessary gender stereotypes, she questions “whether is isn’t almost as impossible for any of us to treat each other gender neutrally as it is to conceptualize language without grammar.”

Ultimately, even Vincent admits that she will never know how it feels to be a man; but her experience has taught her to accept men’s idiosyncrasies with understanding and sympathy, and to appreciate being comfortable with her own gender. Call it immoral, call it a publicity stunt, still one cannot deny the contribution Norah Vincent has made to gender studies by disinterring the sensitive, and often politically incorrect, issues she did.

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Watch the ABC news report here.

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Anon