tag:theconversation.com,2011:/uk/topics/malthouse-15123/articlesMalthouse – The Conversation2019-02-19T12:47:49Ztag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1120772019-02-19T12:47:49Z2019-02-19T12:47:49ZBrexit: journalists must now focus on policy not personalities<p>Seven MPs <a href="https://theconversation.com/independent-group-why-seven-labour-mps-have-left-the-party-112038">leaving the Labour party</a> was always going to dominate the news cycle but, given that the UK currently stands to exit the EU without a deal, political journalists should be wary about getting sucked into <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2019/feb/18/labour-mps-split-a-clear-attempt-to-start-a-new-party">ongoing speculation</a> about further resignations and instead focus on the rapidly approaching cliff edge. </p>
<p>Inside the “Westminster bubble”, rumours of newly formed parties, conflicts between MPs and private meetings with rival politicians no doubt excite most journalists who closely follow the hustle and bustle of day-to-day parliamentary life. But as the UK edges closer to leaving the EU without a deal, these are atypical times and the media have an important role to play in the weeks to come. They help set the public and political agenda, influencing how people view and understand politics, which in turn puts pressure on politicians to respond to events and issues.</p>
<p>This is not to suggest the processes and personalities of politics are unimportant. They clearly are and the media are right to prominently report the MPs leaving Labour and to discuss the implications of their decisions.</p>
<p>But it is the <em>extent</em> to which these seven politicians continue to influence Brexit coverage that should be closely monitored. If a succession of MPs start to jump ship and join this new group of independent politicians then it should warrant prominent media attention. It could potentially change parliamentary arithmetic with a future vote on a Brexit deal or radically alter the political landscape if a snap election is called.</p>
<p>But, at the moment, it doesn’t look like a mass exodus of MPs is imminent. Instead, we may witness in the days and weeks to come a few MPs calling press conferences and making dramatic announcements about leaving their parties. Or we may hear thinly veiled threats from the usual political suspects about abandoning their parties if they do not see changes to their leaders’ Brexit positioning.</p>
<h2>Focus on issues</h2>
<p>But while political posturing and internal party strife may appeal to the news values of journalists on the ground, it risks overlooking the far bigger story about how the parties and leaders are responding to the challenge of reaching a Brexit deal or governing without one after March 29, 2019.</p>
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<p>That the media are often more preoccupied with personalities than policy is not necessarily a new or surprising observation at a key democratic moment. In my co-authored book, <a href="https://www.wiley.com/en-gb/Reporting+Elections%3A+Rethinking+the+Logic+of+Campaign+Coverage-p-9781509517503">Reporting Elections: Rethinking the Logic of Campaign Coverage</a>, we systematically reviewed more than 100 academic studies around the world in order to explore what stories typically make up the news agenda before people cast their vote.</p>
<p>Overall, we found that in many countries more than 40% of the TV news agenda – sometimes much more – was devoted to the processes of the campaign, rather than coverage of the issues, or the policy preferences of rival political parties. Longitudinal studies from the 20th century and into the 21st century suggest this trend may be increasing. </p>
<h2>Ideological impact</h2>
<p>The implications of focusing on the processes of politics rather than the policy choices of competing parties can be ideologically profound. It can shift public attention away from politicians resolving real-life issues and events and promote a more partisan or polarised culture of politics.</p>
<p>From Corbynistas against Blairites to the May loyalists versus Hard Brexiteers, the narrow Westminster lens can lead to broadcasters becoming fixated on party political conflict that pits big personalities against each other but does little to enlighten public understanding of complex issues.</p>
<p>The evidence has long shown most people do not closely follow the political news cycle. Moreover, <a href="http://downloads.bbc.co.uk/bbctrust/assets/files/pdf/our_work/stats_impartiality/report.pdf">studies have shown</a> that many do not accurately recall political events and issues – and this is all too often a result of being confused by the language of Westminster politicians and journalists.</p>
<p>So, for example, when it is reported that the “Malthouse compromise” could be the answer to the UK’s political impasse, it would be hard to imagine most people being able to articulate what this represents, let alone understand how it can unlock negotiations between the UK and EU.</p>
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<h2>Explaining Brexit</h2>
<p>As the clock continues to tick down on the UK exiting the EU, the media remain critical to the process. UK public service broadcasters, in particular, are legally obliged to report accurately and impartially, with a mission to raise public knowledge and understanding of politics and public affairs.</p>
<p>Broadcasters can choose not to be distracted by party political shenanigans, and address the salient issues that concern most voters. They can independently explain to audiences the evidence about the impact of a no-deal Brexit, the possible options the UK has in reaching a settlement with the EU, or whether a second referendum is a realistic prospect.</p>
<p>Needless to say, none of this is necessarily easy or straightforward to explain. But unlike politicians caught up in internal party conflict or ideological dogma, journalists have the power to bring more light than heat on fast changing events and issues.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/112077/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Stephen Cushion has received funding from the ESRC and BBC Trust.</span></em></p>The media has a role to play in explaining what Brexit really means to ordinary people, but it’s getting lost in the politics – and time’s running out.Stephen Cushion, Reader, School of Journalism, Media and Cultural Studies, Cardiff UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/798302017-06-22T04:49:43Z2017-06-22T04:49:43Z‘Who knew the world could be so awful’: Alice Birch’s apocalyptic feminist theatre<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/175110/original/file-20170622-13668-2qk8ch.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Elizabeth Esguerra, Belinda McClory and Ming Zhu Hii in Revolt. She Said. Revolt Again. at Melbourne's Malthouse. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Pia Johnson</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Alice Birch’s production, <a href="http://malthousetheatre.com.au/whats-on/revolt-she-said-revolt-again">Revolt. She said. Revolt again.</a>, currently on at Melbourne’s Malthouse Theatre, has been staged before as part of the 2014 Midsummer Mischief festival at Royal Court in London. The play was a response to a famous feminist provocation, “well behaved women seldom make history”. The provocation belongs to the historian, <a href="https://history.fas.harvard.edu/people/laurel-thatcher-ulrich">Laurel Thatcher Ulrich</a>, who also adjudicated the plays to be included in London’s radical season.</p>
<p>It comes as no surprise that Birch’s feminist theatre caught Ulrich’s eye. As Professor at the Department of History at Harvard University, Ulrich’s writing unearths the lost voices of ordinary people, women in particular. In Revolt, women’s creative work, from the direction to the stage design, is centre stage.</p>
<p>The play begins with us staring into solid blackness, framed by a neon rectangle. This genius lighting design by Emma Valente gives the impression of staring into an abyss. Or is it a void? Slowly, the silhouette of a woman appears. She is striking a sexy pose. </p>
<p>As the lights come up to full, we see that the void is a room, a drab hotel, furnished with a beige bureau and two chairs. From here a series of four vignettes ensues in which different women jostle for bargaining power. One would like to centre her own pleasure during sex, another is desperate to avoid an unwanted marriage proposal, yet another simply wants Mondays off work. </p>
<p>The play is loosely divided into three parts, with a five person cast performing multiple roles. Almost all are women, Elizabeth Esguerra, Ming-Zhu Hii, Belinda McClory, and Sophie Ross with the exception of actor Gareth Reeves, who by default plays the “male” roles. Only rarely are the characters in the play assigned proper names.</p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/175113/original/file-20170622-13699-18jz927.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/175113/original/file-20170622-13699-18jz927.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/175113/original/file-20170622-13699-18jz927.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/175113/original/file-20170622-13699-18jz927.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/175113/original/file-20170622-13699-18jz927.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/175113/original/file-20170622-13699-18jz927.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/175113/original/file-20170622-13699-18jz927.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/175113/original/file-20170622-13699-18jz927.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">Ming Zhu Hii, Belinda McClory, and Sophie Ross.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Pia Johnson</span></span>
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<p>The opening section is funny; one woman likens a marriage proposal to being asked to participate in a terror attack, another diverts her boyfriend’s sex talk so that she might insert her own “organ”, as an active participant in their narratives about sex. These scenes are performed in the style of a comedy of errors. They present a comedic romp through misfiring conversations, but nothing of the political edginess promised in the promotion of the play. </p>
<p>Then the mood shifts; the play becomes darker, more surreal. The comedic opening had lured me into a false sense of security. In the next scene a woman has supposedly taken off her clothes in a supermarket in a gesture of excess. Two managers berate her using management speak combined with expletives. Trapped in this ritual of humiliation she sits with her back to us, faceless, and speechless. As she endures their jeers, the woman gets up. She unlocks a trapdoor in the ceiling and climbs to the roof. Is it a protest, a suicide, or is it a surrender? It is a surrender, of the most hopeless kind.</p>
<p>The supermarket woman, played by actor Sophie Ross, tells of all the restrictions, prescriptions and unwanted interventions imposed onto her body by advertising, men, work, and life. Much hinges on the delivery of this scene, which is no longer in the style of an easy comedy of errors but deadly serious. It is both tender and cutting, a testament to her skill as an actor. Her pitch becomes fevered as she describes her complete surrender to the most violent of incursions; rape. With arms outstretched, she declares that she can’t possibly be raped if she “wants it”. </p>
<p>The woman’s radical surrender to the violence of misogyny is the play’s key gesture; it is the dizzying abyss that Birch has us staring at. Reminiscent of playwright <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sarah_Kane">Sarah Kane</a>’s writing style, Birch seems to be saying that this was a revolution that took too long, and if not already lost, it has been seriously derailed. </p>
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<span class="caption">Elizabeth Esguerra.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Pia Johnson</span></span>
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<p>The middle section of the play takes place outside of the frame, giving the impression of open space. Three figures occupy the set; who the three figures are is unclear. One sits on a log, wearing a fur that is reminiscent of an Indigenous elder’s ceremonial robe. Another wears a cocktail dress. The third figure, Agnes, is wearing a raincoat. She is the only one with a proper name. There seems to be hidden symbolism in this section making the relationship between them difficult to discern. The dialogue implies that the woman wearing the robe is the grandmother of Agnes.</p>
<p>The woman in the cocktail dress, played by Belinda McClory, attempts to reconcile the woman and the granddaughter. She is masterful in the role, delivering a series of vocal outbursts and repressions. She draws us deep into an uncomfortable revelation, which includes explicit details of being raped by her father. It’s too dark, I feel tears beginning to well up as McClory delivers these blows. The language is more poetic than realist, which leads me to the question: is this a metaphor about stolen lands, people, and sovereignty? A horror beyond reconciliation?</p>
<p>The feminist philosopher and theatre maker, <a href="https://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/cixous-helene">Hélène Cixous</a> famously said, “Write Yourself. Your body must be heard,” and, “Women should break out of the snare of silence”. </p>
<p>Even if only figuratively, inventive language offers a space of possibilities. It can offer refuge or it can imprison. Birch seems to be exploring the latter. In the final section of the play, the actors perform a series of furious costume changes, while chanting slogans. Belinda McClory stalks the stage, wearing a pair of bloodied underpants around her ankles and chanting, “I have choices, I have choices, I have choices.” Her delivery makes it sound like an empty platitude, or the mindless babble of social-media speak. It is altogether apocalyptic.</p>
<p>Revolutionary words in a male-dominated world do not resound. They fall on dead ground. The play concludes with actor Elizabeth Esguerra uttering, “who knew the world could be so awful”. </p>
<hr>
<p><em><a href="http://malthousetheatre.com.au/whats-on/revolt-she-said-revolt-again">Revolt. She said. Revolt again.</a> will be on at the Malthouse Theatre, Melbourne, until July 9.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/79830/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Sandra D'Urso is a research associate at the Australian Centre, The University of Melbourne. </span></em></p>‘Well behaved women seldom make history,’ wrote historian Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, and Revolt. She said. Revolt again. at Melbourne’s Malthouse Theatre takes the idea to its apocalyptic extremes.Sandra D'urso, Researcher, The Australian Centre, The University of MelbourneLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/659482016-09-23T04:58:09Z2016-09-23T04:58:09ZGonzo: we need to talk about young men and porn<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/138911/original/image-20160923-25454-1h8tzrf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Young actors give voice to what teenage boys think about porn – how often they watch it, who they watch it with and why. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Sol Rumbl, Ari Maza Long, Sam Salem and Jack Palit in Gonzo. Photo credit Sarah Walke.</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Young men’s use of pornography has been the focus of considerable debate, if not anxiety and moral panic, in recent years. Recent incidents such as the high school “<a href="http://www.news.com.au/lifestyle/real-life/news-life/students-from-70-australian-schools-targeted-by-sick-pornography-ring/news-story/53288536e0ce3bba7955e92c7f7fa8da">porn ring</a>” have in many respects fuelled these anxieties around the impacts that near-ubiquitous access to pornography has on boys and young men, particularly when it comes to issues regarding sexual violence and consent.</p>
<p>Yet, so often missing from these debates are the voices and experiences of young men themselves. Clare Watson’s new theatre production, <a href="http://malthousetheatre.com.au/whats-on/gonzo">Gonzo</a>, sets out to provide this often-absent perspective. </p>
<p>Drawing on surveys and group discussions with teenage boys about their use of pornography – and interspersed with more mundane, everyday experiences – Gonzo provides a window into young men’s experiences with porno that is in equal parts funny, engaging, entertaining, and highly confronting. </p>
<p>Anyone with the misfortune of having seen the notorious “2 girls, 1 cup” clip will surely relate to the notion that with some porn, “what has been seen cannot be unseen”. At another point in the show, the current popularity of incest porn amongst young men is casually mentioned (for which we can apparently thank Game of Thrones).</p>
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<span class="caption">Sol Rumble, Ari Maza Long, Sam Salem, and Jack Palit in Gonzo.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Photo credit Sarah Walker</span></span>
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</figure>
<p>Pornographic images are an almost constant feature in the show, shadowing the cast on a large screen, yet unremarked upon. They speak to the infiltration of porn into our everyday lives, largely thanks to the Internet. The actors constantly look to their phones, highlighting the ease of access boys now have to this material. </p>
<p>It is easy to see how we have developed such collective anxiety about young people and porn. It is seemingly ever present and unavoidable. Yet, to its credit, Gonzo refreshingly resists making simplistic claims about the role that porn plays in the lives of young men.</p>
<p>Instead, Gonzo presents a highly complex and nuanced account of young mens’ use of porn. Delivered through the format of a casual conversation between a group of young school mates, the talented young cast seamlessly move between chat about everyday life to recounting young men’s encounters with porn – with this shift signified through sharp changes in lighting, music and projected imagery. </p>
<p>Pornography is neither an uncomplicated positive force, nor an <a href="https://theconversation.com/asking-whether-porn-causes-sexual-violence-is-the-wrong-question-heres-why-50685">oppressively negative one</a>. It can be a tool for sexual gratification, or used to <a href="https://theconversation.com/porn-doesnt-lead-to-rape-culture-10957">explore nascent sexual desires</a>, or a source of amusement, or of reassurance that one’s burgeoning sexuality is “normal”.</p>
<p>Yet, there are some uneasy tensions here. Although the role that pornography plays in promoting violence against women is <a href="https://theconversation.com/concerned-about-porn-heres-what-we-should-really-worry-about-61118">hotly debated</a>, undoubtedly at least some pornography contributes towards a culture that condones and supports <a href="https://theconversation.com/unless-we-face-up-to-our-own-pornography-habits-we-cant-tackle-our-childrens-39615">sexual violence against women</a>, and some within the pornography industry openly engage in the <a href="https://theconversation.com/facing-up-to-the-difficult-truth-about-how-porn-harms-women-11079">exploitation and abuse of women</a>. </p>
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<span class="caption">Ari Maza Long in Gonzo.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Photo credit Sarah Walker</span></span>
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<p>Consent is rarely discussed in pornography – everyone is always already wanting sex, open to everything that is on offer, and the negotiation of sexual encounters is non-existent. This is particularly concerning given that young women aged 16-24 are the <a href="http://www.abs.gov.au/ausstats/abs@.nsf/Latestproducts/4906.0Media%20Release12012?">most likely</a> to experience sexual assault.</p>
<p>However, it is also important to be mindful of which pornography we are talking about here. Those who argue that pornography is linked to sexual violence tend to lump a diverse canon of work together (while their opponents tend to downplay the extent to which <a href="https://theconversation.com/aggressive-and-debasing-the-real-issues-in-porn-debates-17169">mainstream pornography is violent</a>): for example, is it fair to argue that gay pornography, queer porn, or <a href="https://theconversation.com/porn-and-feminism-not-strange-bedfellows-after-all-1446">feminist porn</a>, all contribute towards this cultural backdrop?</p>
<p>Towards the end of the performance, Australian feminist and queer porn producer <a href="http://msgalavanting.com/">Gala Vanting</a> joins the cast onstage to discuss her own experiences of working in the porn industry. Vanting’s insights highlight the potential for porno to function as a political vehicle, and as a mechanism to challenge mainstream representations of sex.</p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/138933/original/image-20160923-25499-47rkut.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/138933/original/image-20160923-25499-47rkut.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/138933/original/image-20160923-25499-47rkut.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=383&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/138933/original/image-20160923-25499-47rkut.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=383&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/138933/original/image-20160923-25499-47rkut.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=383&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/138933/original/image-20160923-25499-47rkut.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=482&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/138933/original/image-20160923-25499-47rkut.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=482&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/138933/original/image-20160923-25499-47rkut.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=482&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Gala Vanting, an ‘erotic imaginist’ who is outspoken about the need for better sexual education.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Instagram</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Gonzo also asks us to consider the role that popular culture plays in shaping our sexual practices, and in contributing towards rape culture. It deftly suggests a complex interplay between mainstream culture, pornography, sexual practices and violence against women. While pornography may be an influential factor here, it cannot be isolated from the broader cultural context in which it is situated.</p>
<p>A commonly <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/8961010/Pornography-is-replacing-sex-education.html">expressed concern</a> is that young people lack the “real life” sexual experience required to contextualise or make sense of <a href="https://theconversation.com/why-public-health-scholars-should-study-pornography-58482">what they see</a> in pornography. </p>
<p>This fear appears somewhat unwarranted, as the young men quoted show a refined, reflexive engagement with porn: they are acutely aware that it is not “real life”, and often does not reflect the types of sexual practices they want to engage in with partners. They are critical, media-literate consumers. </p>
<p>Simultaneously, these young men appear cognisant of the influence that porn does have on their sexual encounters. One anecdote recalls an experience of a sexual partner moaning loudly in imitation of porn actors. This echoes the recent Australian research of <a href="https://theconversation.com/aggressive-and-debasing-the-real-issues-in-porn-debates-17169">Maree Crabbe and David Corlett</a>.</p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/EfVlMDyinJ8?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<p>Even if young people’s sexual practices are being unduly influenced, we might question why adolescents lack the skills to make sense of what they see in porn. This speaks to the general failure of our culture to talk to young people openly and honestly about sex across their life, and a denial of young people’s sexual subjectivities. </p>
<p>Indeed, research consistently tells us that young people find school sex education a <a href="http://www.latrobe.edu.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0004/576661/ARCSHS-SSASH-2013.pdf">disappointing experience</a>, with topics such as consent and <a href="https://theconversation.com/forget-the-pick-up-lines-heres-how-to-talk-about-your-sexual-desires-and-boundaries-53291">how to talk to a sexual partner</a> routinely left off the curriculum – an experience which is mirrored in the young people’s stories in Gonzo.</p>
<p>While there are some sound arguments for reforming aspects of the pornography industry (particularly towards developing more “ethical” practices), perhaps the key take-away message from Gonzo is the need to shift our <a href="https://theconversation.com/why-we-must-discuss-sex-rape-and-porn-in-the-classroom-39610">pedagogical practices</a> (both at school and in the home) when it comes to talking to young men (and women) about <a href="https://theconversation.com/it-may-be-awkward-but-we-need-to-talk-to-kids-about-porn-43066">sex and relationships</a>.</p>
<p>In this respect, if there is anything “perverse” about Gonzo, it is that the show has been recommended to an 18+ audience. That young men are unable to watch a performance that covers their own lived experiences is surely part of the problem here. </p>
<p>It is a missed opportunity to be able to initiate a nuanced and informed conversation with young men <a href="http://www.itstimewetalked.com.au/young-people/">about pornography</a>, and contributes towards the broader social and cultural silence about sex that renders porn such a powerful influence in young people’s lives in the first place. </p>
<p>As the dialogue on stage fades out to the sounds of music, Gonzo tells us that this conversation is unfinished and must continue.</p>
<p><br></p>
<hr>
<p><em><a href="http://malthousetheatre.com.au/whats-on/gonzo">Gonzo</a> is showing at the Malthouse Theatre until October 1.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/65948/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Bianca Fileborn does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Drawing on surveys and group discussions with teenage boys about their use of pornography, Gonzo provides a window into young men’s experiences that’s in equal parts funny, engaging, and confronting.Bianca Fileborn, Research Fellow at the Australian Research Centre for Sex, Health & Society, La Trobe UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/461362015-08-18T20:32:41Z2015-08-18T20:32:41ZAntigone now: Greek tragedy is the debate we have to have<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/92204/original/image-20150818-5095-yyc0d9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Greek tragedy remains the most modern form of drama, unafraid to question everything we value. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Sarah Walker. Photo: Jane Montgomery Griffiths as The Leader and Aaron Orzech as Haemon.</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>When you hear the words Greek tragedy, you might think of white masks, or even the ongoing economic crisis – ancient drama and modern depravity in its most enticing form. These first impressions may seem simple, but within them lays a theatrical form that refuses to die. </p>
<p>Maybe we have never truly progressed beyond this classical period; maybe we just have no other way to express ourselves; but regardless of reasoning and the plethora of scholarship that exists, Greek tragedy remains the most modern form of drama. It is unafraid to question everything we value. </p>
<p>There has been a surge of modern translations, adaptations and everything in-between of Greek plays in both Australia and the UK. This is indicative of our times, where we are beginning to question the ethics of democracy, something Greek tragedy was born to do. </p>
<p>This week, those in Melbourne will have a chance to see another modern interpretation of Greek tragedy, when the Malthouse Theatre stages Sophocles’ <a href="http://classics.mit.edu/Sophocles/antigone.html">Antigone</a> (442BC), adapted by <a href="http://profiles.arts.monash.edu.au/jane-griffiths/">Jane Montgomery Griffiths</a> and directed by Adena Jacobs. Unlike most adapters and performers of classical drama, Griffiths is a Classical Studies scholar who is fluent in Ancient Greek.</p>
<p>That allows her to translate and adapt the nuances of Greek verse into a convincing modern Australian context, with the intellectual rigour of an academic as well as the vigour of a performer. In Griffiths’ 2015 version, the lines between translation and adaptation are blurred. She uncovers the blanket of silence that covers the voices of the dead and dying in Australian society, bravely deconstructing the doublethink surrounding recent asylum seeker and terrorism policies. </p>
<p>This is reminiscent of Aeschylus’ <a href="http://classics.mit.edu/Aeschylus/persians.html">The Persians</a> (472BC), through which Athenian audiences were asked thousands of years ago to sympathise with characters that were responsible for the death of their friends and family members. Could any theatre maker in Australia dare do this? Portray a terrorist sympathetically? We struggle to portray ourselves on stage, let alone our so-called enemies. </p>
<p>Lucky then we have Greek tragedy, the mask we can still put on to face the identity crisis existing within our own culture. </p>
<p>Greek tragedy, like all things Greek, has been migrating around the world since its conception in 5th century Athens. Back then it was a religious festival, known as the <a href="http://www.britannica.com/topic/Great-Dionysia">City Dionysia</a>, and it was a civic responsibility for Athenian citizens (male and white) to attend the theatre where they saw competing adaptations of well-known myths. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/92207/original/image-20150818-5121-xlsxk9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/92207/original/image-20150818-5121-xlsxk9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/92207/original/image-20150818-5121-xlsxk9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/92207/original/image-20150818-5121-xlsxk9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/92207/original/image-20150818-5121-xlsxk9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/92207/original/image-20150818-5121-xlsxk9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/92207/original/image-20150818-5121-xlsxk9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/92207/original/image-20150818-5121-xlsxk9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Adean Jacobs (director) and Samara Hersch (assistant director).</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Sarah Walker</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The playwrights were usually financially backed by politicians whose primal aim was to indoctrinate citizens into the ideology of democracy that celebrated debate. </p>
<p>Sophocles’ Antigone puts these two loyalties (religion and state) against one another and questions whether the political realm can control personal faiths. In Griffiths’ adaptation, the political figure is no longer the authoritarian Creon, Anouilh and Brecht adapted post-WW2, but a Julie Bishop-like Leader whose supreme convictions are executed with the type of order and precision Australian citizens would admire. </p>
<p>She has both style and grace and she is even unafraid to do dirty man’s work – the perfect female politician in all its beauty and gore. On the other hand, there’s Antigone, not the glorified freedom fighter, but the self-indulgent idealist who is just too young and naïve to realise that the state knows best. </p>
<p>Who wins? State or religion? Creon or Antigone? Old or young? In Greek tragedy there is never a winner, just a set of competing answers, striving to prove their worth. </p>
<p>For that reason, Greek tragedy remains the perfect vehicle for philosophers, from Hegel to Butler, as it can be appropriated to suit any episteme, from dialectics to gender performativity. What other dramatic form has been appropriated and re-appropriated into many art forms for thousands of years? </p>
<p>Greek tragedy can fit into any time and place and yet it still seems to evolve and change, reflecting our public concerns in the most private ways. </p>
<p>This is how Plato defined all art forms: a reflection of life <a href="https://sites.google.com/site/nmeictproject/home/plato-s-theory-of-mimesis-and-aristotle-s-defence">known as mimesis</a>. This new adaptation of Antigone bravely reflects not the self, but the abject other, epitomised by the corpses that dominate and resonate on the stage. Plato exiled poetry from his ideal republic and now Griffiths takes the violence out of the backstage and makes us smell it. </p>
<p>This is what <a href="http://www.iep.utm.edu/aris-poe/#H3">Aristotelian catharsis</a> is all about: purging out our inner fears and pities. Freud used Greek tragedy to illustrate unconscious desire; Lacan also used it to portray desire in its purist form, then Zizek revealed how it can be politically dangerous. </p>
<p>The “danger” in this production, however, is not actually the blood or vomit, but the mundanely apathetic manner the business of death and ruling are portrayed. </p>
<p>This truly is an illustration of what the political philosopher Hannah Arendt termed <a href="http://www.iep.utm.edu/arendt/">the banality of evil</a>. The Leader is not an inhumane monster, just a woman who is very good at her job. The Leader is not a murdering psychopath, just a bureaucrat doing her duty. It is the political system itself that remains elusive and God-like, controlling everything, but never appearing precisely anywhere, not unlike the form of Greek tragedy. </p>
<p>It presents you with a seemingly neat binary, only to rip it apart and destroy it with ongoing critical questioning, all the while you are wondering, what was that? </p>
<p>Earlier this year, <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/jan/30/guardian-view-greek-tragedy-someting-old-new">The Guardian reported</a> that the Greek Prime Minister, Alexis Tsipras, justified taking any measure to save the Euro:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Because Greece is the country of Sophocles, who taught us with his Antigone that there are moments in which the supreme law is justice.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Sophocles also taught us to question supreme law as well as justice. Greek tragedy is a debate, not a recession that we have to have. </p>
<p><br>
<em>Antigone is at the Malthouse, Melbourne, from August 21 to September 13. Details <a href="http://malthousetheatre.com.au/whats-on/antigone">here</a>.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/46136/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Christine Lambrianidis does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Regardless of reasoning and the plethora of scholarship that exists, Greek tragedy remains the most modern form of drama. It is unafraid to question everything we value.Christine Lambrianidis, Playwright and theatre researcher , Monash UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/378902015-02-25T19:30:47Z2015-02-25T19:30:47ZTheatre reviewing is a responsible job – and it requires care<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/72723/original/image-20150223-21887-14epy2j.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Theatre critics are a vital point of mediation between the stage and the audience – and they must do their job with care and discernment. Tom E. Lewis onstage at the Malthouse in 2014.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">AAP Image/Jeff Busby</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Is there any job other than theatre critic where so little knowledge can carry so much weight? If you are a bad artist, the evidence is there in the bad art you create. Everyone who sees your work will have a view and, unless they’re your mum, tell you about it. There’s nowhere to hide, especially in theatre. Our worst nightmares have us naked on stage. No wonder. It’s the ultimate test. Either you’ve got it, or you haven’t.</p>
<p>By contrast, it can take years to realise that a theatre critic has no idea what they are talking about. The opinion game, as Socrates discerned, is different from the knowledge game, and the mark of the fool is not ignorance but blustering self-confidence. “At least I am greater than he to this small extent,” he threw back at his Athenian prosecutor, “that I do not think I know what I do not know”.</p>
<p>The first <em>bona fide</em> theatre reviewers were <a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/leigh-hunt">Leigh Hunt</a> and <a href="http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/257955/William-Hazlitt">William Hazlitt</a>, writing for the Examiner and the Morning Chronicle in the early 19th century. No doubt there was plenty of opinion before this time, but these two men established a vein of reflection that in integrity, scope and passion for the medium constituted the beginning of modern theatre criticism. </p>
<p>Hazlitt’s combination of expansiveness of spirit and acute intelligence is particularly compelling. He observed:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>The stage is an arduous profession, requiring so many essential excellences and accidental advantages that though it is an honour and a happiness to succeed in it, it is only a misfortune and not a disgrace to fail in it. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>Hazlitt saw that theatre is more than a form of animated literature. Through his reviews we can retrospectively appreciate the genius of actors such as Edmund Kean, Mary Siddons and the Kembles. </p>
<p>The critics of note who came after Hunt and Hazlitt – George Bernard Shaw, Max Beerbom and Kenneth Tynan in the UK; George Nathan, Stark Young and Eric Bentley in the US – took theatre criticism further away from the crude assignment of praise and blame, in effect creating a new mode of public consciousness.</p>
<p>But the danger of theatre reviews lapsing back into product endorsement – what American critic <a href="http://www.robertbrustein.com/">Robert Brustein</a> dubbed “Himalaya criticism” after Danny Kaye’s famous rejoinder about the eponymous mountain range (“loved him, hated her”) – is a constant one. </p>
<p>In a situation of cultural surplus, with media outlets only a click of a finger away, opinion can trump knowledge by making the critic’s personality, not the art form, the centre of attention. </p>
<p>It’s a delicate balance. Critics have tastes, and tastes are what theatre caters for. Yet good criticism also embodies deeply-considered values, and it is these which can erode in an age of garish self-display and disposable everything. </p>
<p>Peter Craven’s <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/comment/we-might-see-firstclass-plays-at-the-malthouse-now-20150122-12vmxv.html">cruel attack</a> last month on Marion Potts, the departing director of the Malthouse Theatre, Melbourne, is an example of criticism going off the rails. Craven accused Potts of turning the Malthouse into an “eclectic circus tent for showing every variety of progressivist, avant-garde, meta theatre of the kind that tilts in the direction of post-modern song and dance.”</p>
<p>I offer my judgement of his judgement based on two qualifications. First, as I have been <a href="https://currencyhouse.org.au/node/326">publicly critical</a> of the Malthouse program myself, I can hardly be regarded as a company claquer. Second, as a theatre historian I have to read hundreds of old reviews – including many by Peter Craven.</p>
<p>Behind the cranky Anglophone we get today was once a younger, finer mind. Always culturally conservative, but intelligent and sharp-eyed. The 1980s are some time ago, however, and over the last few years Craven has been a wayward figure, obeisant in front of overseas stars (his <a href="http://www.theage.com.au/news/arts/all-hail-the-king/2005/10/20/1129775895470.html">2005 review</a> of Kevin Spacey’s Richard III was so over-the-top at first I thought it was a joke), while kicking the talent closer to home like a horse with a gammy leg.</p>
<p>But why should we care what Peter Craven writes? It’s a free country, a free press. Don’t read his column if you don’t like what he’s got to say. Or read it and forget about it. Either way, stop complaining. He’s entitled to his opinion just like anyone else etc. </p>
<p>What crap. Theatre reviewing is a responsible job. It is not simply a view among views. It is a public judgement pronounced with discernment and care. That’s the Hunt-Hazlitt tradition. </p>
<p>For what happens when this power is misused you can watch Burt Lancaster in <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0051036/">The Sweet Smell of Success</a> where, as New York columnist JJ Hunsecker, he demolishes hopes and careers like a Greek deity sinking boats in the Aegean. It is appropriate we hold critics to account, that we ask what social benefit they are supposed to provide and whether, individually, they actually provide it. </p>
<p>Craven’s description of Pott’s regime at the Malthouse was neither fair nor illuminating. It was a serve of prejudice and peeve, reflecting the confusion of someone faced with a theatrical sensibility he neither likes nor understands. </p>
<p>Anyone can pick out individual productions, as Craven does, to create a discrediting impression. It’s like recording your bad days and screening them as a film of your whole life. More than 70 shows were presented during the four years Potts was Artistic Director. Many won awards and/ or attracted audiences. </p>
<p>Furthermore, the Malthouse is a company committed to staging new work. It isn’t supposed to succeed the whole time. It is supposed to take risks and, dare I say it, piss off people like Craven who cleave to a conventional vision of the art form. </p>
<p>It is ten years since Michael Kantor rebranded Playbox Theatre as the Malthouse, moving away from a programming style that Craven clearly misses but which sent the company broke. Different kinds of artists appear in its program than formerly.</p>
<p>Is that a problem? Not really. It can cause problems, but that’s another matter. The playwrights Craven identifies with his signature chalky flourish as excluded from the Malthouse’s seasons are important. But they are a sin of omission, not commission. They demand proper critical consideration, insight into both what the company is trying to do, and what it should be trying to do.</p>
<p>What is not required, and Marion Potts does not merit, is a reduction of the company’s promise and problems down to a single personality who is then verbally flogged. This is a failed response to a complex situation, insulting both to the artist in question and to artists in general.</p>
<p>Does it make the situation worse that Potts is one of the few female artistic directors of a major performing arts organisation? As an equal opportunity vituperator no doubt Craven would find the question sexist. So let’s just say it doesn’t make it any better.</p>
<p>Australian theatre, Australian audiences and Australian theatre criticism deserve more.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/37890/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Julian Meyrick does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Theatre reviewing should be a public judgement pronounced with discernment. So what are we to make of those who do it badly?Julian Meyrick, Professor of Creative Arts, Flinders UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.