Revolutionary Rants

Sorry, but I had to comment on this review in the Daily Mail of the new play at the Garrick Theatre, Treats (you all know who is starring in it, so I won’t bother mentioning her/them!). Before I continue, one thing; the reviewer himself titles the article after the famous star therefore perpetuating the very thing they scoff at (also, referring to her as a “girl” is a little odd). They know the title will bring in more readers than say, ‘Modern Twist Lacks Promised Treats’ would…

Lets us briefly, and in a A Level Sociology sort of way, give this article a quick feminist examination:

1. Journalists (and so forth) still refer to feminists as ‘bra-burners’, a deeply derogatory term if ever I heard one (and, of course, intended as such).

2. The main star takes off her shirt and looked ‘jolly pretty’. Is she a child? A painting? Of is he trying to be clever and turn the Daniel Radcliffe “phorrrr!” hysteria on its head? Probably…

3. Another reference to the female stars private life and whats more it is related to ‘puddles of tears’ - another rather derogatory term, intended as one…

4. The reviewer suggest that removing the play from its 1970s “feminist struggle” era is wrong and takes away its power, thereby suggesting the struggle is over and we’re alright now. After all, we can all take our shirts off and look jolly pretty without being pieces of meat now, can’t we?

5. Yet another reference to Ms. Piper’s fame, suggesting in one fell swoop that she can’t act (with which I will not argue) and that she is terrible working class. I will not even get in to the Marxist-feminist perspective on that.

6. “Poor Ann” and “poor Billie”. Little girls, struggling with the question dangerous man or boring one? Does it need to be either? Is it an either or, Quentin? If so, she is not that free, is she?

All of which leaves you thinking that Mr. Letts feels that feminism, rather like Daniel Randcliffe’s chest (had to get my kitsch, objectification in their, too, didn’t I?) was a lot of fuss over nothing… Anyhoo, rant over, it just really annoyed me!

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It is suddenly very cold again. Cold and breezy with lovely sunshine, but cold all the same. After the truly rotten weekend it has been a pretty nice week, so we can’t complain.

Apparently, Bournemouth is the ‘happiest’ place to live in Britain, based on a poll of people who were asked ‘are you happy to live here?’ about their home town. I must admit living nearer to the sea is great. Having lived in Mansfield, where the nearest we got to the sea without a two and a half hour drive was the wondrous Matlock Bath (and it is probably telling that my brother’s favourite place from childhood was there; mine was, equally tellingly, Whitby!). I still smile at the sound of the gulls around the house and I love walking on the beach and smelling the “clean” (ish) air… Ah well, maybe as the dearly departed Beautiful South said “maybe it’s the lure of the sea”!

There was something on the news this morning about women being better friends than men. It claimed that men talked about ‘philosophy and football’ (Mr C says I have both the female things - “hows their family?” - and the male bit, which sounds really scary). Apart from on my course, obviously, I can’t say I’ve ever heard men talk about philosophy, unless you count a long standing argument about which members of our group would dance on Thatchers grave and which would not…

Finally for today, Chicken and I have been watching the repeats of Who Do You Think You Are? on UKTV History, we enjoyed Stephen Fry’s on Wednesday but then we saw Julian Cleary yesterday and he is a bit ghastly! Firstly, his mother declared she didn’t want him to find any ‘foreign’ people as ’she wouldn’t like it’ (turned out her grandmother was German) and then he expressed the same reservations and also seemed horrified after the owner of a old family home kindly let the crew in to see it that he’d ‘have to make small talk’ with them.

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