INTERVIEW: Barbara Hammer

My interview with the queen of queer cinema, Barbara Hammer, is in Wonderland.

First image from “Nitrate Kisses” (1992) and the second is a photo from Victorian photographer Alice Austen, who is explored in “The Female Closet” (1998).

Review of Looking For Eric + interview with Eric Cantona, Steve Evets and Ken Loach

Ken Loach –celebrated film director known for his left-wing politics and socialist realist films – is not generally described as an all-round crowd-pleaser. But with his latest film, Looking For Eric, he’s produced a masterpiece, and I don’t use that word often. It tells the story of a depressed , disfunctional postman with a problematic family that threatens to drag him into even deeper waters. An epiphanic apparition (probably the result of some heavy-duty dope smoking) in the form of 90’s cult French footballer Eric Cantona proves to be the emotional lift to get his life back on track. A heady mix of high comedy, gritty realism, and the nonlinear philosophy of Eric Cantona, this film is a kooky, clever and moving piece of cinema.

For all the high comedy, and football hallucinations, this is still a Ken Loach film, and thus the problems of gun crime, drug-taking and violence in working-class Manchester are explored, albeit in a way consistent with the axioms of class war and at least some version of Marxist ideology. “The issue of guns is a huge one,” Loach says. “We’ve made a society which is built on aggression, greed and acquisitiveness. We’ve destroyed the pattern of people becoming adults and we’re now surprised when kids with no visible future want all the things that we’re told we need and, of course, resort to violence and guns.”The main theme running through the film –the importance of solidarity in a working-class community- is carefully explored by Loach. “Individual glory”, Loach tells us, “is not as important as working with a team”, and this is clearly the undercurrent of the film. “Trust your teammates always” is a line of Cantona’s during the film, which eventually builds up to the collective revenge on the psychopathic drug dealer. Loach describes Looking For Eric as an Anti-Thatcherite film about “what we can do collectively”. Whether you find this attitude admirable or tiresome, it is hard to deny Loach’s technical artistry. The direction still retains all of the Loach techniques –working without scripts, and shooting in sequence. Evets praises this technique because “you as a person are going on the same journey as the character”. The complex story-line between little Eric and Lily (phenomenally played by Stephanie Bishop), with its flashbacks to the past and its realistic scenes in a rockabilly club, is moving to the core.

Eric Cantona –the cult French football legend and philosopher of such obscure lines as “When the seagulls follow a trawler, it is because they think sardines will be thrown into the sea. Thank you very much”, is a man who draws out intense devotion from many football-lovers. His presence in the film is nothing short of immense; it as if a god has appeared among humanity. And for all its undercurrent of socialist politics, and the importance of working-class solidarity, this is essentially a film about the Ultimate (Middle-Aged) Male Fantasy – getting stoned and having a beer with Eric Cantona. One of the very best concepts of the film has to be just that – watching little Eric (Steve Evets) and Cantona smoke a joint and philosophise about the meaning of life. One of the subtlest but most effective comedic moments of the film, the dialogue between the two retains its sharpness due to the fact that at no point in the film does little Eric surrender to Big Eric in adulation. As Loach explains, “On the one hand, we wanted to celebrate his artistry on the pitch, but we also want to puncture the idea of celebrity”. He adds, “We didn’t want to make any less of him. One false move, and we could somehow devalue him”. This is what is so effective about the Cantona persona –part mirage, part real- is his ability to take the piss out of himself without losing his dignity and cult status. In a classic scene in the film, little Eric turns round to Cantona, and tells him “sometimes we forget you’re just a man”, to which Cantona retorts, “I am not a man –I’m Cantona”. Rather than iconoclastic, the film reverses the icon, leading us to question the concept of celebrity, and the all too commercialised nature of modern football.

The mixture of proletarian grit and fantasy may not be to everyone’s taste, and the contrast between comedy and earthy Loachean realism can sometimes jar on the audience. The film is asking the audience to suspend their disbelief (as Cantona appears as if by magic throughout the film), and this can be tricky with the realistic subject matter involved –mental health, drug addiction, divorce, violence, poverty, and gun crime. In conversation, Steve Evets describes the Cantona mirage as “that tiny little spark of survival instinct” in his character’s mind. The appearance of Cantona, he explains, is part of “the body’s mechanism in order to survive”. I still retain my scepticism.

Passion and the need for freedom are strong threads both in the film’s ideas, and in conversation with the actors and director. Cantona explains that “When I retired from football, it was because I had lost passion for the game. I wanted to be honest with myself and the fans, so I retired”. Finding it hard to do anything else (“there is nothing more intense than football”),Cantona found a new passion, cinema. “Players should be prepared for a life after football. Football is so strong, that when it’s finished…,” he tails off thoughtfully, with a detectable air of nostalgia. Cantona has also taken up the trumpet, after being suspended for acts of spectacular violence against the crowd. A fantastic scene in the movie involves little Eric watching in admiration as Big Eric starts playing the trumpet on a grotty-looking housing estate. When asked in interview how his trumpet-playing is coming along, Cantona replies with majestic self-effacement, “It’s even worse today”.

The passion Cantona feels for football is reflected in both Loach’s direction and Evets’s acting. Evets recalls the Careers officer asking him which department of the local factory he wanted to work for. Acting is clearly his passion. “You’re born here. You die here. Let’s decorate the points in between. The day I lose passion for what I do, I’ll stop it too”. It’s clear that the philosophical footballer has got to Evets too. Cantona draws an interesting parallel between Alex Ferguson and Ken Loach. Both value freedom by allowing genius to flourish unfettered. Cantona becomes serious: “We need this freedom. Everybody needs this freedom”. So what we get is a look at the life of a postman, the presence of a demi-god, drugs and philosophy, veiled radical politics and some spectacular goals plus a tender line in romance. It is hard to imagine a modern Briton who will not engage with at least some of these themes.

This review appears in The Cherwell, www.cherwell.org

Dissocia Zine

Work has started on Jay and I’s new zine, Dissocia. Here’s our creative mess, below. Thou must follow us on Facebook, Twitter, the Dissocia blog, and whatever goddamn piece of technology we can master.
Contribute, contribute! We’re looking for prose, poetry, fashion writing, satire, comics, doodles, paintings, photography, one-page plays, jokes, essays, sketches, book reviews, film reviews, rants; write about politics, or art, or sport. And send in your stuff: dissocia @googlemail.com.

Randomly, while flyering around Cowley Road, Rosy and I came across this gem of a wall:

“DISSOCIA, DISSOCIA, WELCOME TO DISSOCIA!”
-Anthony Neilson, ‘The Wonderful World of Dissocia’ (2004)-

An Interview with Beau Burlington

Beau Burlington is a vaudevillian burlesque dancer, who’s just finished performing at the London Burlesque festival. I asked her a couple of questions about the history of burlesque, her performances and her inspirations.

Hi Beau. Firstly, how long have you been involved in burlesque?
I have been performing properly for about 2 years, though I did a few small performances when I was at university.

What is it about burlesque versus other dance forms that attracts you?
The individuality of the acts, and the limitlessness of the genre is what I love about burlesque. Burlesque doesn’t even have to involve dance, as each performer brings their own skills to their acts, and so one could never finally say what could be burlesque and what could not. I use a lot of dance because I am dance trained, but I also use clown and mime skills as well. Some performers sing, some are acrobatic, and some just explore a character to the music. Burlesque performers don’t all have the same skills, but each performer can be classed within the genre of burlesque.

Who or what inspires your routines and your stage persona?
I’ve always enjoyed the lavish traditional musicals with Doris Day and Marilyn Monroe and the like, and that’s why my acts are usually traditional, very light hearted and fun. Specifically though I am inspired by the English Victorian Music Hall era, and this influences my music choices, and fuels the parodist and clownish style my acts have. My persona is also influenced by music hall, and my name reflects your average middle-class Victorian girl, making her living with her own act on the stage, rather than a superstar showgirl.

How important do you find the history of burlesque in influencing your art?
For me it is essential. There has been a neo-burlesque movement, but traditional burlesque is still the popular I think. Contemporary acts would not be out of place on historical stages, and performers work hard to get the styling, fashioning and atmosphere a reflection of 19th an 20th century trends. Also, there is a lot of technical skill involved in burlesque as well, which hasn’t necessarily been handed down the generations. So along with popping down to your local burlesque academy, its great to look at old footage of fan dances, balloon dances and underwear peeling.

Do you have a favourite routine?
My favourite routine at the moment is ‘The Shrinking Fan Dance’. Its a 1920s styled Charleston swing dance, Fan dances are traditionally balletic, but I went for hot step footwork, while safe behind my twirling ostrich feather fans. I’m soon fleeced by the mysterious shrinking properties of the fans though, have an argument with the stagehand, and finally give into making do with a couple of well-placed feathers.

Who are your current favourite burlesque performers?
I recently saw an amazing act by Miss Leed’em, called ‘Lady Garden’. It’s a superbly funny act, involving a very prim and proper housewife getting into all sorts of trouble with a rose bush. It’s a fantastic example of a narrative character act. Also I love Gwendoline L’amour’s fan dance. She has these two 6ft ‘Sally Rand’ fans, and the performance is just mesmerising.

Do you prefer American or English burlesque?
English definitely. American burlesque is much more of the ‘bump and grind’ version, which has the emphasis on being sexy and on the strip, and less on the exploration of a character or narrative.

What do you make of the link between the music and the dance performance? Do you have any particular music you like to perform to?
I think the music choice is as important as the act, and needs to be as individual. After coming up with an act idea, the music is the next thing I decide on, before anything else. I like to think that I’ve got a specific type of music I perform to, but thinking about it, its extremely varied. I’ve used French café music, jazz and rag-time songs a lot, but then I’ve also used rock music and even The Prodigy in some acts. I think its good not to box those kind of choices in, but choose the music that will work for the act, even if it’s a surprising choice to you, or not what you thought you would use. I generally like to use two songs, the first being one a can interpret with comedy or parody, and the second being a bit sexier and with a big finish!

In her book Burlesque and the Art of the Tease/ Fetish and the Art of the Tease, Dita Von Teese describes feminism as “being as feminine as possible”. What does feminism mean to you as a burlesque performer? Can you be a feminist and a burlesque dancer?
I suppose feminism in the burlesque world is personified in the fact that my audiences and fans and mainly women. If you’ve ever hears the expression that women dress for other women instead of men, then this is what I think is going on with burlesque. It’s the women that enjoy the fur, feathers, the hairstyles, the exploration of feminine characters, and appreciate all the effort and detail I put into my acts! I think you have to be a feminist to be a burlesque performer, as you have to be proud of, and willing to share your femininity, in whatever shape or form it comes in.

In particular, what do you make of the claim that burlesque, like stripping, is an exploitative art form- that it encourages, rather than parodies, female sexual stereotypes?

I see burlesque in its traditional form. The definition of which is ‘grotesque exaggeration. I always employ my clown training and commedia dell’arte skills, and so my acts are always very parodical, of not just sexual stereotypes, but of every theme my act addresses. I start with a character, and then ask myself, “right, what are all the things that could go wrong in this?” am those are the ideas with which I develop my act, often exposing my character as a fool. For me, the parody is the essence of burlesque.

What do you make of the difference between burlesque dancing and stripping? Is there much of a difference?
Burlesque is a whole act, like any act, where you show off your skills and one of them is likely to be stripping (N.B. there are plenty of burlesque acts that involve no stripping at all). If you are stripping then that is all you are doing. I could never go up on to sage, and expect the audience to be impressed with me just being sexy and seductive, which the form of stripping, and arguably some burlesque acts do. And to be honest I can think of sexier things to put on my boobs than sticking nipple tassels on them and twirling them about! Most importantly, as said before, burlesque employs parody where stripping does not. There is so much creation, theatre and comedy present in the burlesque, which makes it rightfully a genre of its own, and infinitely different to stripping.

What do you make of burlesque’s recent move to the mainstream? Do you think its increasing popularity has negatively affected the form or given it a new vitality?

Well, everyone like to think of themselves as part of something quirky and underground, so with its move to the mainstream, and many opportunities for amateurs to perform, sometimes burlesque can feel diluted. But then, if its your job, you can’t work unless you have an eager audience, and a mainstream interest obviously gives you more scope for performances and continuing popularity of the art form, and therefore the development of it as well.

Thanks Beau! And good luck with everything. By the way, how did your performance in The London Festival of Burlesque go?
It was great! I performed in the UK Showcase at Madame Jo Jos, and it was packed with audience members. I’d just had a beautiful new set of fans made as well, so they had their debut. Its so nice to have a whole festival, and to see the professional talent gathered up together.