The Aoife Files

 For a small island nation with a population of just 4.5 million people, Ireland’s cultural and political reach has spread remarkably far across the globe. This summer, May 22nd to be exact, the controversial marriage equality referendum will make an inestimable difference to the lives of millions-not just within this small nation but all over Europe and across the world. For some this may be straining the significance of the vote on same-sex marriage, but with each assertion of undeniable, legal equality there is a knock-on effect. Perhaps the  public decision of a once dogmatically restrictive country is even more influential. If a country so recently considered a church-run state, a nation which only decriminalised homosexuality in 1993, can legally redefine marriage to make it more inclusive, it will act as a catalyst for nations teetering on the brink of real equality to provide for all of its citizens. Yet  many of the leading voices in the Vote Yes campaign fear it will come dangerously close in the final outcome, despite promising polls illustrating 76% in favour. What, if anything, is holding back this generation from granting civil liberties to its minority citizens?   

Among leading voices in the Vote No campaign are the Iona Institute- an outspoken religious body-and the newly formed First Families First group which consists of a former politician, a columnist and an occupational psychologist. Despite the upcoming marriage equality referendum focusing soley on marriage rights, the Vote No campaigners have been accused by their critics for their dogged focus on children’s rights and issues surrounding surrogacy and adoption. For many critics, this is seen as a tactic to distract from the real cause, as gay couples already have the legal right to adopt or undergo surrogacy. 

 With the date looming closer, the seemingly unpopular Vote No campaigners have made a conspicuous decision to portray themselves as the underdogs, as can be clearly determined by the controversial political posters dotted around the capital and elsewhere, as well as self-reinventing headlines which paints the Yes campaign as bullies and the Vote No as brave moralists. In a leading national newspaper, The Irish Times, senior counsel Patrick Treacy asks voters to “ be brave and vote no” in order for same-sex couples to be “legally recognised and equally respected for what they truly are”. What is dangerous about such arguments is the cloaked language of dismissal, even hate. Statements such as “We seem to have entirely forgotten that a relationship between a male and a female, irrespective of whether they beget children or not, demands distinctive and separate recognition as it captures the wholeness of human nature – male and female – in a unique way” infers a unnaturalness about same sex relationships. The clash between Yes and No voters has never been more clearly delineated than during recent street protests during which the two came head to head. Met with their opponents, same-sex couples chose to protest with a sign of love-by kissing in front of the Vote No placards.

 Similarly, Vote No campaigners have made the argument for marriage equality a fight between heterosexual families and same-sex parents. In the eyes of the No campaigners, same-sex marriage will destroy heterosexual marriage, though there is no empirical reason given as to why it should be only one or the other that can exist. Extremist language used by the First Families First group issue a warning on the prejudiced conceptions behind their more palatable “family-oriented” image. At a recent press meeting, the founder John Waters called the move to legalise same-sex marriage “deadly to Irish society” which will cause “mayhem, heartbreak and grief beyond belief”. For Waters, the proposal is “madness [...] Sinister”. Surely statements such as this should call for the question what is sinister about equal relationship rights, irrespective of your sexuality, under the law?

Posters with images of young children accompanied by slogans such as “children deserve a mother and a father” and “surrogacy? She needs her mother for life, not just nine months”have created more of a backlash than a support for the Vote No group. See below for the spin-off posters that have since cropped up online.

Not only has it offended gay activists and members of the public, but single parents and parents of an adoptive/surrogate child, among others. In cases such as this, the power of the internet to encourage a bounty of humour and social action is evidently very powerful. Pop-up art, street art and online trends have shown a wave of support that has kept the Yes community buoyant, not to mention connected to an international audience online. One example of this is the #RingYourGranny Youtube video trend, which promotes open attitudes within families and the inclusion of older generations, as well as corporate and celebrity input with online videos promoting the Yes vote. Equality murals have visualised the simple message promoting love in the city centre of Dublin. Following a council decision to remove the largest mural, which depicts two men embracing, an online petition to keep it has garnered thousands of signatures.

http://imgur.com/r91gl4q

Even bestselling authors have posted online support such as Roddy Doyle-a writer celebrated for his distinctly Dublin narrative voice- who published a short fictional piece on the upcoming referendum which can be seen here-

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=844012949006587&set=a.102735466467676.5563.100001936684329&type=1&theater.  

A major player on the civil and gay rights front, Senator David Norris has shown his support for the marriage equality campaign in both the Senate, across media outlets and in fundraising events. He has been merited internationally for his near single-handed abolishment of the anti-homosexuality law which, as mentioned, reigned in Ireland until 1993. Speaking to us on his participation in the campaign, he  credits “a tiny minority of colleagues in the Senate such as Ronan Mullen and Jim Walsh” with helping him promote the legal change. Though he fears “it will be tight”, he recognises “there has been a remarkable change in the last few years. I think the decline in religious practice is regrettable but the shedding of some of the attitudes based on religious intolerance is certainly something very welcome.”  

The final hurdle for the equality campaign is to overcome “the dishonesty of the No campaign who keep raising issues like surrogacy and adoption which have been dealt with and got out of the way by the Children and Family Relationships Bill.” Yet given how it has been placed on the table, Norris does not shy away from the subject of child-rearing, asserting “all the credible research shows that the welfare of the child is ensured not by the gender of the parents but by the emotional and financial stability and love provided..”   With the referendum’s outcome only shy a few weeks away, Senator Norris summarizes the accumulative positivity shown so far by saying “there are fewer prejudices all the time as more people particularly in the entertainment business and politics come out. My positive memories [of this campaign] are the strong support given by heterosexual people. With the passing of the Referendum pretty well full equality will have been reached in Ireland and we now have to continue to look overseas to the oppression of our brothers and sisters in other lands. We will join the growing number of countries that have accepted same sex marriage.”

For all of its audience-snaring big name stars, Suite Francaise will face the dilemma of being overlooked as a light romance chick-flick, notwithstanding its WWII setting, and unjustly so. The novel director Saul Dibb has adapted from was written by Irène Némirovsky, a Ukrainian Jew who spent most of her life in France and penned Suite Francaise during the war. She had aimed for it to be her greatest accomplishment, a classic like those written by her heroes Tolstoy and Dostoevky, but her mission was cut short when she was captured and killed by the Nazis in 1942. The unfinished masterpiece was discovered by her daughter and published as late as 2004. Keeping faithful to the novel, Dibb’s Suite Francaise is indicative of the intricacies both collaberating and staunch solitude give rise to during war.

What is remarkable about this film- a quality which has been collected and instated from the novel itself- is its ability to sympathetically portray a Nazi German soldier without amorally losing sight of war time atrocities. In tune with the aphorism “history is written by the victors”, the humanity and realism of war enemies can be overlooked by the overpowering image of their system’s ideology. Not only does Nemirovsky bravely express their humanity-the good and bad- but she even tries to encapture how individuals themselves become lost in communal power and how devastating the consequences can be when the governing ideals are as immoral as the German armies during WWII. This strong social commentary has been brilliantly translated by Saul Dibb. A lead character, commander Bruno von Falk, wavers from following his own judgement to shutting off his instinctual moral compass and following orders. Thinking about what those orders actually entail makes it too hard to survive, he explains to his love interest Lucile. In her he finds solace, which formulates the overriding message; Suite Francaise expresses best the unending craving we all seek for some form of love and mutual understanding regardless of the circumstances we are in.

While there are two clear leads, our love interests,the sideline narratives are intertwined with enough force to give the story the symphony of voices it needs, for it is not just the lovesong of Bruno and Lucile, but an operatic rendering of the suffocating effects of invasion and war.

The cinematography has the usual captivating traits of a Mediterranean period piece, from the glowing summer haze to the candy coloured French windowframes, but it works best when at its starkest. The overhead shot of the German forces marching into the village is quickly followed by a low-angle shot of the soldiers’ feet marching in synchrony. As the film progresses, the inimitably pompous and cold mother-in-law of Lucile, is unmasked by the camera. Lingering close-ups reveal a woman whose steely reserves are as evident on her heavily painted face and austere appearance as they are within. When we finally are allowed to see her break the defiant gentry act, she resembles Degas’ “Sad Woman”, or multiple other similitudes of that impressionist favourite-a lone gentile woman at a bar, wearing her finest and drinking hard liquor. She may be in a different setting but the pathos is the same.

The only drawback is the constant transitioning between three languages, albeit for the understandable reason of ensuring it reaches a wider audience and making it more commercially successful. Subtitles may be offputting for many people, and the actors may be from various different origins but it can be hard to get the balance right when attempting to maintain some French and German in the script. At times, the transitions are peaky in Suite Francaise, appearing unnatural or downright confusing.

Standout performances are produced from Michelle Williams, Kristen Scott Thomas, Matthias Schoenaerts and Ruth Wilson (though her accent wavers). In all, Suite Francaise voices the human errs and fortitude of those once written off as purely complicit in unspeakable situations.

As a first-time feature film director, it should come as no surprise that Daniel Wolfe’s upcoming debut Catch Me Daddy was preceded by experience in another form of visual storytelling – music videos. The new feature’s writer/director has instilled his experience in short video production in this release, as though it presents many faults it also is ferociously punchy and energetic for the duration of its plot.

Set in the midlands of England, Yorkshire to be exact, Laila (Sameena Jabeen Ahmed)- a British Asian teenager- and her white boyfriend Aaron (Conor McCarron) have eloped to a neighbouring small village to escape her overbearing paternal family. Yet as most star-crossed teen infatuations go, their humble aspirations are thwarted by Laila’s father and his unwavering disapproval for her decision to abandon the social mores of their traditional muslim community. From the film’s first building blocks we learn the young protagonist has crossed the rigid patriarchal boundaries and now faces the imperilling consequence of an honour killing. Thus, we begin the thriller to the hilt of fast-paced action and tension.

Wolfe’s debut promises a lot with the lyrical depiction of Laila’s story, though it does not always deliver. The elegaic opening of Laila’s Ted Hughes recitation is followed by beautiful if not desolate imagery of the Yorkshire moors. At it’s best the film is a song in mourning for the bleak urban towns of North England. The transition from impoverished mining towns to a new urban beast facing problems of assimilation and gang corruption is evident from the mix of traditional Yorkshire scenes to violent encounters and habitual drug use. Even the everyday provides potent and stark scenes such as when English gangsters, downtrodden middle-aged Tony (Gary Lewis) and his brutish partner Barry (Barry Nunney) collide with the Asian gang in the chipper in their joint search for the girl. The two groups both stop for fuel and though they both share so many similar experiences of the underclass, they cannot communicate even still. In the tiny space of the chip shop, the tension only increases with their closeness and the speaking of two tongues.

The comprehension of immigrants’ culture is called into question in Catch Me Daddy quite effectively. In one striking scene we see Junaid (Anwar Hussain), the leader of the Asian gang, in the shopping centre with his own baby daughter. Off the job, he is a caring and gentle father. But will his own daughters face the chokehold of extremism some day? While there is a lot of social realism stereotypes, this film does continually stress the alienation of humanity, which is emphasized by the contradictory setting of a small country village – something we usually view as warm and close-knit.

Both communities are at a loss here. The familial bond is broken in both, and almost every moment of the film is punctuated by a deep sense of loneliness, even when the young couple Laila and Tony are together. Protagonist Laila’s portrayal of her character has an explosively childlike quality to it, only furthering emphasizing the distance between familial happiness and their circumstances. Everything from her clothing to her giant eyes and excuberant love and appreciation of small things such as cake call out for the broken child in modern Britain. She even clings to her childhood nickname in the hopes it will salvage her bond with her father.

Newcomers Anwar Hussain and Barry Nunney give outstanding performances. Yet, the film lets itself down by following steretypical social realism plotpoints too often, making it somewhat melodramatic at times when it didn’t need to be; it should have had faith in its message, its cinematography and its actors. Perhaps in his next film Daniel Wolfe will have more faith in what he has to say and will excel far more. With Catch Me Daddy he has cast himself and his actors into the ring full force and they all deserve a hand for it.

Porn is perhaps one of the biggest, all-consuming conversation dividers of our age. Is it bad, good, healthy, distancing, dangerous, artistic, cheap, domineering, expressive or all of the above? Get a room of varied men and women together to discuss it and it will invariably end in an explosive polemical rant. Whether you love it, hate it or want to ignore its significance in modern society by treating it with indifference, one thing is very certain—porn is going nowhere. It is a vast umbrella industry filled with many genres and hundreds of millions of users. Content is available for every device you use and is becoming the first touchstone of sexual experience for adolescents in modern life. It goes without saying that mainstream porn has come under fire for misrepresentation and misogyny for years now, but is the increasing indie porn being produced going to elevate the status and reimagine the entire industry within this generation?

Across Europe and North America a host of young directors and writers are producing porn with a fresh perspective; porn that empowers women rather than debasing them. Focusing on the female preference for detailed storytelling character details and plot lines- rather than quick visual stimulus often preferred by men, these directors are opening the discourse to the other half. One such director is acclaimed filmmaker Erika Lust, a Swede based in Barcelona, who was drawn to the industry when she saw a gap in the market that needed to be filled (no pun intended).

She recalls “I shot my first movie, The Good Girl, in 2004 when I had to create a final short for the film direction course I was doing in Barcelona. It was a humorous statement of principles based on the classic “‘pizza guy’” porn. Having grown up in Sweden, I was well aware of the conversation about feminism and pornography having studied Political Sciences as well. Naturally, I had been involved in debates about the representation of women and the power struggle in movies, so I had always been disappointed by the mainstream porn I watched.”

When her film was released online for free, it was downloaded over 2 million times and won the prize for best short film at the International Erotic Film Festival in Barcelona. Since then, Erika Lust has started her own production company Lust Films, preferring to work with an all-female crew to best represent the female perspective. Besides directing, she also participates.

Yet many fear that in a film genre so strongly associated with objectification, there is little hope for female empowerment and the only result of wading in those waters is to be tainted.

Lust responds, “Porn, just as it is for men, is a way for women to explore their sexual desires, kinks and pleasures. It is a way to sexually liberate themselves and enjoy their sexuality with no doubts or worries. Let’s not forget that through female involvement in porn, women can regain the power of decision over the content they feel aroused and identify with.”

Her inspiration for creating this empowering sexually explorative form came from Linda Williams’ book Hard Core. As she recalls “[This] was my main source of advice as she found that porn is a discourse of human sexuality.” If Angela Carter could rework our history of fairy-tale literature into feminist reimagining in her book The Bloody Chamber, surely Erika Lust could do the same for pornography.

Irish sexologist, Emily Power Smith recognises the serious need for real representation in a male-dominated sexual form such as porn. She believes that porn is not just a form of entertainment, but a form of education that exercises significant influence on society.

She explains, “While using porn as a learning tool has historically been a more male practice, increasing numbers of women are turning to porn for education due to the Internet. Studies show that children and young people of all genders watch porn for education but they may wish to learn different things. For example males watch porn to learn what to do and females watch porn to learn how to look and act.”

She continues, “This may be in part due to how males and females are depicted in mainstream porn with the emphasis being on what the male is doing with his big hard penis to the woman, and how the woman is reacting to said phallus. Her job is to be visually pleasing in order to arouse him. He will then do things to her in order to sexually satisfy himself. Her satisfaction is derived from his pleasure and orgasm/ejaculation, rather than her own. The scenario gets played out in many ways within mainstream porn but the message is the same: women should look sexy and available and men should be hard and in charge.”

In her professional encounters with clients as a therapist and coach, Emily Power Smith has noticed that many of her clients need clarification around the reality of porn. She tells me that basing expectations on standards set by porn is increasingly causing body issues, performance anxiety, erectile difficulties and problems with orgasms.

In other words, the disparity between real-life experiences and mainstream porn is damaging to us all. Watching mainstream porn and thinking you now know how to be sexual in real life is as useful as watching The Fast and the Furious and thinking you are now ready to take to the roads in a high speed chase. The prevalence of relatable porn produced by increasing numbers of directors across the world means people are beginning to demand a more fulfilling experience and more ethical porn with real people having real orgasms.

“Have less of the orange, shaved, bleached vacant eyed women with fake nails that make any real sexual touch almost impossible. Women are more attracted to seeing how other women reach orgasm than seeing yet another ‘money shot’” says Smith.

For many people however, the concept of a liberated, inclusive form of porn is hard to imagine. How exactly can a filmmaker capture sexuality in such a raw form and can it ever be also considered art? If anyone can argue its benefits and possibilities, it is Lust. In her films, women are represented as equals to men with relatable characters and realistic situations, defining her porn as hedonistic, erotic and individual, unlike the chauvinism and repetition of mainstream porn films.

In terms of its artistic merits, she resolves “as far as cinematography goes, once you state that porn is not just a cheap product to make money with lonely guys who pay to jerk off, but a discourse on sexuality that can be creative and artistic, the consequence is that the pornographic image is re-dignified.”

But this is not to say that there is a binary between male and female directors. There are some great male indie porn filmmakers. It is rather to say that there is a gap between the new erotic wave and the mainstream industry, between story telling and the explicitness of genitals.

Everybody knows at least one couple that insists neither of them ever watch porn. But the out-dated belief by many couples who insist they never watch porn is that the partner should fulfil all their sexual needs without any outside influence. Can porn create distance in real, emotional relationships?

Smith believes “porn in itself will not make or break a relationship. How individuals and couples use or experience the use of porn is the crucial factor. If a relationship is already lacking in intimacy and sexual connectedness, adding the use of porn will probably only serve to enforce the distance. The only way to build intimacy is to be intimate.”

In other words, the potential impact of porn in a relationship is the responsibility of the user—to be abused or to help fortify an already strong relationship.

For those in unsteady relationships, the potential damage of porn overuse is evident, as it is with singles suffering from shyness and lacking in confidence given the problems, that arise in the digital age. Smith furthers this, saying “porn, online dating and chat rooms provide a person who may feel isolated with an outlet where they can be whoever they want. They don’t have to risk being vulnerable or having to perform sexually. The problem is that if you add excessive porn use to social isolation, it can lead to depression, anxiety, symptoms that mimic OCD, or ADHD, sleep problems and general health problems as well as shame and secrecy. It also creates sexual difficulties such as erectile problems and performance anxiety (for all genders).”

Perhaps porn could even be a useful tool for discovering and exploring one’s sexual orientation and gender. Ireland’s sole sexologist makes an insightful point on this question. According to her, “how we identify does not always equate with what we enjoy viewing or fantasising about, or even who we are sexual with. I think it’s more helpful to focus on our pleasure and less on trying to label it. Gender and orientation are best understood on a continuum rather than as binary systems. If we could let go of the need to label we might find it easier to focus on our attraction for the person in front of us rather than their gender. That would be a wonderful world to live in,” Smith says.

But stigmatization still exists with the persistent slut label that may make a performer feel regret. It’s a little hypocritical when those who consume porn criticize performers who play a key role in production. But the new wave of porn is challenging this by treating sexuality with more naturalness.

As Erika Lust says, “of course porn can be art. Is lovemaking not one of the most beautiful and primal things we can engage in as human beings? So why can it not be portrayed in an artistic way to get that across, as well as all the kinks and dirtiness in between?”

For many, Berlin may provoke images of division and fallen empires, but laced within the nation’s capital are far more rewarding experiences for both the modern traveller and native city dwellers alike. Having been there myself nearly half a dozen times, I can say without hesitation it is a place that has a pull you may not expect, given I was a reluctant visitor the first time. Some of the famous sayings on Berlin may elucidate why that is. A former French minister compared it to its European counterparts, saying “Paris is always Paris and Berlin is never Berlin.” Similarly, a German author wrote “Berlin is a city condemned forever to becoming and never to being.” While the writer’s critique is meant to be somewhat disparaging, how many capital cities can say they are forever new?

It’s often argued that adversity can lead to artistic abundance, and so it should not be surprising that the splitting of a nation’s capital – both physically and ideologically – would breed new forms of expression. Yet even long before the televised destruction of the Berlin Wall in 1989 and the horrors of WWII decades before, Berlin was known for being a city of underground creativity and nightlife. In the ’20s it was known for its scandalous cabaret culture, which included burlesque, drag acts and political satire wrapped in sexual innuendo. As one of my favorite Berlin sayings goes, “you are crazy my child, you must go to Berlin.” Since the turn of last century, at least, Berlin has dared to explore alternative lifestyles in a way that has proved subversive to the popular understanding of what it means to be a “good citizen.”

Founded as the nation’s capital in 1871, and known before Germany’s unification as the capital of Prussia, Berlin has been a major player on the European continent for quite some time it is fair to say. As the home of the Reichstag, it has been at the centre of its people’s fate and the fate of many worldwide given its role in the World Wars. It was here that it was decided to go to war in 1914 with an overwhelming majority vote from politicians and also where the national socialists marched down past Brandenburg Gate to the Reichstag for Hitler’s appropriation of power. It has been the brutal hand that perpetrated genocide, and in turn it has been ravaged itself.

Following the ineffible brutality of WWII, a period of lawlessness terrorized the surviving citizens, mainly made up of the elderly, women and children. What followed was not much better for half the city, as the communist block seized East Berlin and used it as a model of defiance against the West for fifty-five years. For the people living within the walled city however, everyday acts of self-expression were dangerous acts of defiance against the state. As Felix Denk and Sven von Thülen’s “Der Klang Der Familie” outlines, the Stasi (state security in the East) regulated what was accepted to wear as well as to eat, buy and work on among other things. Dressing differently unequivocally led to being attacked by the law, literally. From beatniks to hippies and punks, difference was outlawed.

As a result of the tight-fisted stance the Stasi took on the public, the fall of the wall (or Mauerfall as Germans have titled the historical event) led to an open space in every sense within the East and West; now they were reunited. In their book, Denk and von Thülen argue the “temporary autonomous zone” created by the reunification was the catalyst for techno’s surge in popularity as not only were people in search of music once shut off from them, but the sites once abandoned by the state were claimed by the public as party zones: WWII bunkers, decommissioned factories, panzer chambers and power stations. The physical remains of a difficult history the citizens were once told to forget could be no longer be shushed. So many of the characteristics associated with techno’s party scene are interconnected with the city’s history. For example, the prevalence of MDMA coincides with its explosion on the scene following the wall’s collapse as its empathy-enhancing qualities were said to promote better relations between the easterners and westerners in the city.

This attitude translates to the modern day experience of Berlin. A quick walk down the streets of East Berlin will immediately highlight the far more relaxed attitude this city has towards “soft” drug use such as cannabis, as well as “party drugs” such as MDMA in comparison to many other major cities in the west. Cannabis is not decriminalized as such, but a person found with ten grams of cannabis for personal use will not have charges brought against them.

From a more positive perspective, excessive alcohol consumption has plummeted. There is a certain amount of responsibility entrusted upon the public to consume as safely as possible, and from this trust to treat the public like adults comes a mutual respect that can be felt even as a traveller. For one, walking down the street with a bottle of beer midday is not met with stares or any hassle like my hometown of Dublin, where most people would assume you were an alcoholic. While this is partially due to their less shaky relationship with drink, it has to be questioned whether having strict bans and penalties on drugs such as alcohol and cannabis drives people to use it far more irresponsibly. Make something forbidden and what happens? Parental attitudes of governments are often met with childlike reactions. The Berliners’ blasè attitude towards predominantly soft drugs and alcohol consumption in public is an attitude that feeds into its street, dance and art culture to a large degree.

Aside from Detroit, Berlin is practically the birthplace and home to techno. Like other urban techno hotspots, the dance culture was formed originally in gay clubs homed in industrial abandoned spaces as Berghain once was. From there is has flourished into something incomparable to anywhere else in the world, retaining its celebration of the minorities in public as well as luring in a wide range of people. Its top club, Berghain, began as a gay club and still has a large gay following who attend every week (as well as the annual gay night). The infamous Berghain may still retain its shockingly strict door code but it is not based purely on how alternative you look, as many people. My first visit to the club this year led me to wake at seven in the morning (well, after a quick catnap in the shower) to walk through block after block of flats, with the only directional aid being the deep vibrational sounds coming from somewhere in the near distance. Yes, that it an ungodly hour to go to a club, but also a time most of the tourists don’t try and as a result a time you are most likely to get in given the people left dancing inside are usually locals.

Those easily shocked shouldn’t attend. As the club and its frequenters take a very hard line on people discussing exactly what goes on in the club (taking photos and phone use is strictly banned), I won’t say too much other than visiting the techno mecca makes you reevaluate what a club experience should offer, and how to experience music live. Climbing the stairs of the abandoned power plant, the music vibrations can be felt in every muscle and is at first almost overpowering. Many of the locals come for a quick dance on Sunday to start their day, rather than a wild nightlife experience. Clearly, it offers many an extreme. As we left hours later, a guy who looked like he had been lost inside the windowless building for days limped ahead of us, one of his shoes missing. Rough night(s).

As already mentioned, the underground ‘whatever goes’ attitude is not confined to music and clubbing. Walk down nearly any avenue or street in the East and you will find a little art or cafe squat, where locals have renovated an abandoned space and made it a hub of creativity. In Kreuzberg and Friedrichschain, there are endless examples of these squats. Even little bars full of character, and strangely welcomed by young and old alike, have been established in squat buildings. They are not the dangerous or raucous dwellings that first come to mind when you think of an abandoned building turned into a bar.

Street art such as graffiti and carvings reimagine what was once a rundown, impoverished area under communist Russian control. A raw and evolving form of second-hand art also populates the city. Old and unused everyday objects litter every city, but in Berlin these stock objects have been given a new life as reshaped art pieces, carvings and statues.

In Berlin, the mundane presents an opportunity for reinvention. Normal things such as underground stations and burger joints are made into something that at first seem disjointed, then innovative. Burgermeister, an underground toilet facility renovated into an outdoor burger bar, can definitely feel a bit unsettling at first.

The city of Berlin’s (in particular the East) reputation as “poor but sexy” evokes the defiant and resilient character it possesses. This character presents endless opportunities for reinvention and constant creative renewal. New mediums such as electronic music, graffiti and urban second-hand art are the expression of a people who have for so long been suppressed into categories. Whereas once these people had to crawl through tunnels along dirt-ridden ground to find a space in which they could openly express themselves (such as many of the early music clubs) they now boisterously hail their difference and celebrate their subcultures in a society that once struggled with freedom for so long.

“We may be twenty-five year old, independent working women, but if I had an unplanned pregnancy now, I’d react the same as if I was sixteen. I hate to admit it but my immediate reaction would be one based on shame that’s not really mine, but my family’s and how everyone else would think of me.” This opinion of Maire’s* was shared by many of my female friends while we chatted casually about pregnancy and sex outside a long-term relationship.

It’s 2014, and the sexual liberation of women—at least in the western world—was heralded decades ago with the proliferation of birth control in the 1960s, the option of abortion in many countries across the world and the increase of women in the workforce. Yes, we have moved forward with great bounds in terms of the legal emancipation of women, but in many countries such as my own home, Ireland, the social constructions fortified generations back are still in place. It is as if we have been told by a higher voice that we can move forward, but we are reluctant ourselves to take that step.

Even in the modern capital of Dublin, our sexual mores are still molded to a degree by our long historical battle with religion, given that the Catholic Church was the unspoken head of state in many ways up until the late 90s. To call Ireland a theocracy just a few decades ago would not have been entirely incorrect. However, now with the recent sex scandals relating to the church—such as in 2010 when Cardinal Seán Brady admitted to participation in the cover-up on behalf of Father Smyth by pressuring child victims to sign an oath of silence— coupled with a larger landing of immigration than previously experienced, the Irish are moving away from formal religion en masse (excuse the pun).

As another female friend in her mid-twenties, Aine* pointed out, “I don’t even believe in organized religion, and yet I guess I follow some of its edicts, especially when I’m home with my family, who don’t even believe it either! Like I live with my boyfriend and yet when I go home with him, it’s an unspoken rule he stays in a separate bedroom […] and when I was single I would enjoy the occasional casual fling but there was always the feeling deep down that I was doing something wrong. I was slut shaming myself”.

Aside from the two major events of immigration and sex scandals, and the growing distance from the paternal hand of the church, why do so many young Irish people give credence to the burden of sexual sin? With many of same lifestyle choices of other western and English-speaking countries such as Canada, Britain and America, is that seed of doubt still rooted in many of us that births sexual uncertainty? Certainly, anthropologist Scheper-Hughes believes we are “troubled by sexuality”.

What has a small Island nation with a population of approximately four million people got to do with far larger communities continents apart? For one, Irish sexuality has changed partly due to the influence of larger western nations. Hardly more than two decades ago, the pill was illegal and women were forced to quit work once married, a practice which only ended in the 1970s. Institutions run by religious orders for “fallen women”, know as Magdalene Laundries, forced unmarried pregnant women into slave labour or worse. Oftentimes the children were forcibly removed from the mother and essentially sold to adoptive parents in countries such as the US and Canada. These were functioning until 1996. In short, the inextricable link between church and state royally fucked us over as a nation.

Yet even in these restricted times, connections to North America and Britain thrived, on the basis of shared beliefs to a degree. How’s that now? If ever in doubt of a connection between North America and Ireland, think of comedian Tommy Tiernan’s ever so self-deprecating and wholly true quip, that rather than invade a country, the Irish slowly infest it. Wherever you live, trust me, we are there. On the one hand this means we have swallowed other belief systems, other cultures and exported them home. On the other, the worst of our beliefs have been wound into the very fabric of far-flung communities. What is the total weight of catholic guilt that impregnates you, regardless of your background?

The demand for unrestricted lifestyle choices is still to be completely met by the law in the land of “saints and scholars”, abortion still illegal, leaving those who desperately want one by any means necessary to secretively travel most commonly to Britain. Gay marriage has also not been legalized despite frequent referendums and mass uproar. Only straight men have neither hang-ups nor legislation against their body and its sexuality.

Rory O’Neill AKA Panti, a drag Queen and gay rights activist based in Dublin, gave an overwhelmingly revealing speech on his experiences with homophobia and self-hate recently that trended on social media. Despite saying he always found work in his “chosen field of gender discombobulation”, he also expresses the “oppressive” need to “check myself to find out what gave the gay away” when strangers verbally abused him on the street for being gay, or the oppression of “a reasoned debate on what rights you deserve or don’t deserve” follows your identity in all aspects of media. This inhibiting need to check oneself is something that could be labeled inherently Irish, in that it has become virtually traditional to repress, perhaps far less than a few decades ago, but nonetheless it has not vanished. But are we the only ones caught up in this sexual tangle of feeling so close to complete liberation and having a biased Jiminy Cricket on our shoulder? Just like everything else Irish, it’s most likely been exported to somewhere near you.

*Name Changed For Anonymity

 The deceivingly good cast may make you venture out to see The Gunman, but try to resist the urge. Sean Penn stars in the lead role, as well as signing off as a co-writer and a producer, with a littany of lauded actors such as Javier Bardem, Idris Elba, Ray Winstone (OK, a minor indicator of what could come), and even Mark Rylance, who makes a disorienting move from acclaimed thespian performances to treading the boards of a seriously staid thriller.

 Moving swiftly onwards, The Gunman comes from director Pierre Morel, the man behind District B13, which hit all the marks of a knockout urban thriller advocating for something more than a quick fix of action. He also gave us the blockbuster hit Taken. This, my friends, is no Taken. It’s not even Taken 2 or Taken 3. If it was a sequal of the Taken franchise it would surely be called something pithy like ‘Taken-and Given Back Immediately’. At the beginning of the film, having been alerted we are based in The Democratic Republic of Congo where a whole post-colonialisation lapse into political unrest type of shit is going down, we are introduced to Jim Terrier. Let’s just stop here and ask, is meant to signify he is one fiesty old dog? I already don’t like where this is going...He enters a bar filled with feverish westerners, making his way over to his girlfriend Annie (Jasmine Trinca). They stare goofy eyed at one  another, draped over each other lovingly, while everyone else around them discusses serious matters for a solid ten minutes. At this point we already know during the course of the film, Annie will be bundled into a van and kidnapped by some mercenaries working on behalf of some evil white guy who has a history with Terrier. It’s just a given. Call it intuitive, but the action/thriller rehash alarm bells go off once more once Felix (Javiar Bardem) looks at Annie like he wants to lick her face. He will,in the next two hours, try to creepily possess her. Terrier is the good guy here, that only leaves the face licker creep role for you Bardem, with those lustful eyes.

 The severly backward and sexist portrayal of women in The Gunman typifies the bleakest forms of this genre. For a doctor working in atrocious conditions in an impoverished nation, Anna has a serious predilection for mewling at men to rescue her. It is just one of the hypocrises within the film. From one watch of the film (please, no more) the exacerbatingly erratic plot suggests Penn has a pious affront to making just a run-of-the-mill action film,  and so has superimposed humanitarian crises on the script. How ill fitting when you consider all he ends up with is a run-of-the-mill action with prentions. It is a film that plausibly began with the best intentions in the world –to focus our attention on the failed relief work system in developing countries- but was muddled right from its conception in its approach.

 What we do come away with from The Gunman are some serious “don’t do this at home” tips from the sickly sweet couple that is Jim and Anna. Wrapping yourself in a wet blanket does not help as much as Jim makes out if you need to run through fire. You would at least partially melt. Also, building wells in the Congo does not cancel out assassinating the mining minister of the Congo, Jim. Also, I didn’t want to have to go there but surfing on the beach outside your closed compound doesn’t make you an enviable rebel Jim, it just makes you a try-hard. Just in case Penn hadn’t sold us on his ‘full package’ self-promoting image as a humanitarian with a six pack, we get to see him at least a dozen more times than necessary with his shirt off. Though, in saying that the highlight of the film was the unintentional hilarity of seeing Penn wearing a bullet proof vest with no shirt underneath.  I think we were meant to get goosebumps. I nearly got sick.

 Nobody could deny Sean Penn is a leading actor, powerful director and an admirable human rights activist but that isn’t conveyed at all in The Gunman.  With this film, Penn has slapped together a convoluted and empty plot that rests on its falsly geopolitical front. It defies us not to rate it good, resting on the defence that if we don’t like it we are too trivial, too shallow. In reality, it is not us that is the problem, it is the hard to navigate plot, which if we ever managed to extricate would discover its unbound vacuity .

  In his animation follow up to Waltz with Bashir, Ari Folman has submerged the already abnormal reality of Hollywood under a psychedelic sci-fi lens, to extraordinary effect. In this surreal part-animated film, Robin Wright returns to the big screen to play a version of herself and an ode to the underestimated, underused and drained actress too often discarded by the studios once past a certain age. Immediately drawing from Wright’s real biography, the story begins twenty years after her breakthrough success in Princess Bride.

  In Folman’s version of Wright’s story- and the story of aging actresses in ever-evolving cinematics- the big wigs of Miramount Studios (go figure) have called a meeting with their ‘star’ to discuss her future. Jeff the studio head (Danny Huston) and Wright’s longterm agent, Al (played by Harvey Keitel), sit down with her to explain the drastic change that is to come in cinema. Actors will consent to making a digital copy of themselves in order to preseve an ageless version for the studio’s unlimited use. This copywrighted likeness can be used in anything by the studio, without further consent from the individual. Oh, and the star can never act in anything again once they sign on the dotted line. When Wright seems rightfully hesistant to sell “this thing called Robin Wright” as Al calls it, Jeff berates her for her choices throughout the years that have left her with a number of flops and gaps in her career. Her agent and friend Al coaxes her into agreeing, presenting it as a ‘take the money and run’ scenario which would only help her and her two children, one of whom is sick. Worn out and desperate to help her son Aaron (Kodi Smit-McPhee) who suffers from visual and hearing difficuties.

 Perhaps the most outstanding scene in this hectic and elaborate, but beautiful, film is the relatively digitally simple scene depicting Wright undergoing the copy. Wearing a sad little nude bodystocking, Wright must give her final performance under the bright lights of a technician, with only an audience of one- her agent. An orchestry of synchronous acting is borne as Al recalls the emotive perils of enduring the Hollywood actor lifestyle and the host of phobias will leave behind. For both it is an incredible showcase. 

 Skipping ahead another two decades, the fluidity of the real world and film has become even more enhanced. Wright is returning to Miramount after a twenty-year-long estrangment, having received an invitation to The Congress convention. She is to be celebrated for her digital persona’s success in the business of futuristic film. Her invitation, she is all too aware, is purely to use her once more, as an advertisement for the wonders of digital copies. Driving a booted-up version of a classic Hollywood car, Wright halts her silver Cadallic-copy at a seemingly random border in the middle of the desert. As she is let through by a lone security man to the invisible conference, the world turns from real-life to animation in trippy 60’s colours. The madness has hardly yet begun. 

 This is a world in which the fantasy of film was transgressed into something far more unsettling. The film industry has developed hallucinogenic pills that enable the user to become whoever they want, and be with whoever they wish. By emitting poweful pheremones into the air, those around them using also view this projected image. The studio heads have called on Robin Wright to demonstrate the selling points- people like Wright are for sale. Her individuality has been dissected and given out to the masses, and she must agree to the greatness of such a concept. Needless to say, Wright has had enough and has an outburst of moral outrage. Chaos ensues and Wright is propelled into the animated land of ever-changing laws of nature, if we can call it that. Breaking so many walls its hard to keep track, she meets her animator, Dylan (Jon Hamm) and falls in live with him. A kaleidoscope of dreamlike creatures and scenery thrust the audience into an engrossing, intense viewing experience. So enriched is this world with variations of recognisable characters and concepts (The Beatles, Jesus, Cyndi Lauper, Grace Jones, John Travolta, cult culture, naturism, synesthesia, futuristic flying mobiles- the list goes on and on) mixed with new ones that one viewing is hardly enough to take it in. In a sense this is the film’s strength and weakness as it can feel a sensory overload quite frequently, but it is this extensive detailing in the image of future Hollywood that makes it also highly impressive and artistically beautiful. 

 The one thing that is understated in The Congress is Robin Wright’s performance, in live action and as the voice artist in animation. If this film doesnt prove how under-appreciated she has been since her early days, something is very wrong in what we expect from our actresses. Keitel too delivers a more than commendable performance for the short amount he is on screen. Once more he proves how swiftly he can demonstrate his leading actor capabilities without being fixed in that role. The utopia of film’s imaginative world is narcotized into a dystopia of commodification and dehumanization. There are so many reasons to go see The Congress, the outstanding acting showcased and the unique perspective on the industry’s future to name but a few.