Editor's Letter 09 - January 28th 2008

Winter doesn't seem to end does it? Although saying that it seems like it took forever to arrive in the first place! The next logical step would be for me to break into a 300 word rant about the effect of industry on global warming and the erratic reaction to this by Mother Nature. But that would just be predictable now wouldn't it?

Instead, the first thing that jumped into my possibly clinically damaged brain was the plight of the average joe throughout the never-ending academic discussion on climate change. Endless lectures, broadsheet articles and television dissections have been devoted to the subject and how we can 'make a difference' but no-one seems to have thought about the effect that it is having on regular folk. Folk like the humble milkman for instance...

Every morning they wake up while its still dark in order to keep our bones growing big and strong. For as long as I could remember a smiling bloke with a huge ginger beard and a rosy smile (think full-time Father Christmas) would leave 2 glistening bottles of semi-skimmed milk on the doorstep of my house. Postmen are undeniably more visible, and it is taken for granted that Train Drivers are more useful in the commuter driven world but come on! Strikes that occurs every other week, causing havoc to our daily rituals and the capitalist workings of society? How dare they refuse to work! Do you ever see a Milkman strike? Correct that, do you ever see a Milkman?!

Milkmen are the cornerstone of British society, the silent worker and the loyal soldier, forever fighting for the strengthening of teeth and the lengthening of bones. Now I am as bad as the next lazy student when my alarm goes off at 8am, but how do you think one of these bastions of social tradition feels when they have already been up for 5 hours? Traveling from house to house, delivering milk to the masses? They sleep irregular hours, they wake up when it is dark, they go to sleep when it is dark. The poor bastards!

They are, in my humble opinion, some of the hardest working and least acknowledged members of the service industry. So the next time that you are complaining about an early morning lecture or some strike or other that is effecting your life stop for a minute. Think about the millions of individuals who work for no media glory, dedicating their life to holding up the ideals of British society: hard work and little reward or recognition.

Saying that enjoy this fortnights issue of The Orbital. I want to take this opportunity to thank all of the guys behind that scenes that made this issue and all issues possible - if you think that you can help in any way with this magazine then get in touch with me using orbital@su.rhul.ac.uk.

Editor's Letter 08 - January 14th 2008

Having emerged from Christmas with a little less weight put on than expected it was with trepidation that I was forced to approach my 21st birthday. The mass media will have you believe that you will feel totally different the day after, granted this is usually to entice the unsuspecting public into purchasing yet more anti-ageing cream, but the question I ask the students of Royal Holloway is this: Does your age actually make a blind bit of difference to you? 

  Granted you may be able to shag/drink/drive/vote [delete as applicable] but can you honestly tell me that celebrating the day that you first broke free of your mothers uterus is worthy of note? Why? Of course your parents may wish to celebrate 9 months of swelling feet and random food cravings being ‘over’ but why should you, the birthee, dedicate a whole day to toasting your existence? But that is exactly it - a birthday is a day to celebrate your existence. A day to have your ego massaged by those around you who feel the need to shower you with gifts and alcohol to ensure that their birthday in turn is just as egomaniacal.

This may sound like a very cynical outlook on life but I assure you that it is merely an observation! I genuinely enjoy having my ego expanded on a yearly basis - it is an excellent excuse to have a good time with your mates and to feel great that people actually care that you are around. But how do you tell someone this? How do we attempt to express our feelings of pleasure at their presence? ‘Happy Birthday’ is the preferred method. Any other way? Not really… How many times do we receive birthday messages that say 

the same thing over and over again?  

Is there a limit to the number of times that a friend or relative can say ‘Happy Birthday’ before it becomes meaningless? Despite the obvious good intention that surrounds it can get a bit tiresome. Incidentally I am very grateful for all of my messages – the most imaginative of which was a poem sent via facebook:

 

It’s the day of your birth,

and for what it is worth:  

Should you get accosted by an old lady tramp,  

Don’t hit her in the face, or smack her with a lamp.  

Say ‘it’s my birthday’ and simply reassure her

You’ll have a great day, ‘cos you’re Mario Creatura.

 

And on that note, enjoy this issue which is chock full of January goodies and don’t forget that you too can contribute to The Orbital simply by sending your content in to orbital@su.rhul.ac.uk!

I'm Not There - Review

- Dir. Todd Hayes

After the multitude of biopics that have saturated the filmic calendar in recent years it was with trepidation that the critical community approached the news of a Bob Dylan inspired flick. However with controversial director Todd Haynes at the helm and the well that is Dylan’s life and work to delve into the actual movie happens to be a phenomenally wry and interesting look at the role of music in popular culture.

Writing the screenplay based on arguably one of the most influential musical artists in recent times would be a humongous task for most, but having taken the decision to split his character between 6 actors, Haynes tangentially forgoes all filmic conditioning and creates a work of art that truly astounds the viewer.

Although difficult to follow in parts, I’m not there nevertheless is an entertaining journey through the eclectic wealth of material that Dylan has produced. Unless you are a die hard Dylanite then it may be very difficult to totally comprehend the fragmented dialogue and abstract cinematography. Rapidly flicking between colourless drug fuelled escapades with Cate Blanchett and the glossy family man’s traumatic foray into promiscuity with Heath Ledger leaves a very clear image of what this film is trying to achieve: absolutely nothing.

Six actors play six characters, each with a different name, who represent different facets or incarnations of Dylan. The philosophical point of every scene is that ultimately nothing happens! The film comments on everything and nothing. It is remarkably pretentious and yet totally grounded. Dylan’s life is presented as lacking intention but with hidden desires and meaning behind everything that the various characters portray.

The movie is exquisitely subtle in every conceivable way. Although this may seem a dire reason to spend your hard earned pennies, the random scenes should at best encourage questions about societies dependence on ’the celebrity’ and at worst leave you tapping your feet to the multitude of songs chosen by Haynes. These qualities combined with sublime performances from the likes of Christian Bale, Marcus Carl Franklin and Bruce Greenwood have set the bar extremely high for films in 2008.

As vague as his film, Haynes commented that “this idea of Dylan is somebody as a kind of shape-shifter - somebody for whom change is the only constant.” A perfect summation of a movie that is incredibly hard to decipher and yet immensely enjoyable at the numerous attempts to do so with the ultimate answer being that no-one will ever be able to pin down Bob Dylan’s personality, so don’t even try.