Musings on art and modern audiences

Elvis and Priscilla Elvis and Priscilla are two films released suspiciously close to one another, so much so that I think it’s become quite difficult to mention one without the other cropping up at the same time. If you’ve seen one, the usual question is have you seen the other? The two films both concern the same people (roughly) and relationships (more or less) but they tell very different stories. However, rather than pitting them against one another, as is possibly very tempting, balancing them is a much more interesting exercise. The release of these two films so close to each other tells us something about the psychology of the characters as separate and yet interconnected people, of the filmmakers who constructed these stories for the screen, and of the audiences who go to see them. Firstly, these two films have obviously made starkly different decisions about whose story they tell. More than that, those decisions don’t just dictate who the main protagonist is but the very stor

  Bridgerton : Escaping reality Frivolity does not culturally have great connotations. It is, however, sometimes necessary for our sanity to descend to such depths of misbehaviour and scandal. In the height of lockdown, what could be more welcome than Bridgerton ? An escape from the disconnected social lives we’d be leading online and at a distance, respite from depressing news reports and eye-roll-worthy government statements. Replacing all that with the burst of colour, romance, drama and excitement that we were all missing in our lives. In a world when nothing seemed certain but confinement and isolation, Bridgerton offered its audiences something to latch onto that was a safe bet, happy ending guaranteed, with garden parties and lavish balls to boot. Of course, it was and continues to be a stunning success.  Everyone loves gossip, but nothing is so satisfying (but also infuriating) as knowing all, where others know only snippets. What is curious about Bridgerton is its ability to

  Shardlake : Historical fiction and the real world C. J. Samson’s Shardlake novel series has been hugely popular amongst fans of historical fiction so it’s about time someone produced an adaptation for screen. Set in Henry VIII’s England during the dissolution of the monasteries, Shardlake follows its eponymous hero. Matthew Shardlake a lawyer in service to the Crown and to Cromwell as he investigates a murder at a Sussex monastery whilst also being tasked with uncovering evidence for its dissolution. Shardlake is a character who could stray into the very boring but, done right, he is a character who continues to surprise and impress us. This is a man doing his job, trying to keep his head firmly attached (literally and figuratively) whilst navigating delicate and dangerous circumstances as a disabled man, no less.  Arthur Hughes (who plays Shardlake himself) has expressed his excitement that his character is much more than his disability alone, but also that his disability isn’t ign

American Fiction : One size fits all? Stereotyping sells. It’s a harsh truth that modern racism is still present in the media we consume all the time, internalised or blatant. Marketing race is not new, nor is it something consumers have really been critical of. It’s always a big deal when a novelist like R. F. Kuang releases a book like Yellowface because that’s easy to market: a young Asian-American author writes a novel about a white woman stealing an Asian-American competitor’s unpublished manuscript and publishing it as her own work. The premise is shocking, but it’s unsubtle.  Why does race have to figure so prominently in book and media marketing? And does it have to be that way? Is it truly a good thing to promote and laud creatives whilst placing their race front and centre, as if race is a determining factor which trumps all others? When the first Black Panther film was released in 2018, one of its main selling points was that it had a predominantly black cast and was conce