It’s my favourite time of year again: Autumn. The air is crisp and carries the musky scent of falling leaves. The academics are working away at their studies. Many of us are plotting which costumes we will we wear for Halloween or which scary films we’ll watch to get in the Hallows Eve Spirit. There are a plethora of frightening activities and films to enjoy, but there are some real-life woes that are even more frightening. Want to feel truly spooked? Boo-shemia invites you to look no further than the psychological thrill of reality setting in on you like a serial murderer in your basic Halloween flick.
Cole Sprouse may be known to you as Cody from Disney’s The Suite Life of Zack and Cody, he may be known to you as the kid from Adam Sandler’s Big Daddy, or even, most recently never-takes-his-hat-off Jughead from Netflix’s Riverdale.
I too enjoyed his introverted character and, admittedly, his face in Riverdale, but after following his instagram account I was surprised by the nuance of his photography and poetic captions. There’s a lot of rubbish on social media; I don’t particularly care for a standard selfie, nor am I especially riveted by what you ate for lunch, and I’m certainly not interested in 17 post fails so awkward they’ll make me cringe, even if number 11 will surprise me.
However, Cole Sprouse’s instagram is a social media page that I enjoy following and religiously read. It is one of a few successful transfers of art from page to screen that I have seen. Even as our online lives become increasingly ephemeral, I go back again and again to this page.
Instagram is an interesting medium for art. The standard structure of instagram captions is free-verse and you can’t control line breaks—the transfer from typing the caption to its presentation on the app is idiosyncratic, and can change again if you’re reading from the computer site. But this complements the streaming narratives of Sprouse’s longer captions which tangent, then return to the image content, with linguistic elegance.
Yes, yes, I know – floods, Nazis, everything is terrible right now. But you’d be forgiven for not being entirely in the loop; as I’m sure you all know, there’s been a recent major international event that’s been permeating our consciousness.
GLOW opens on Ruth Wilder (Alison Brie), reading for a part in an audition. She emotively delivers a powerful and dramatic monologue, at the end of which the casting director informs her that she had been reading the wrong part—the man’s part. They reset. The casting director leads her in. Ruth performs the women’s audition part:
(knock knock) Sorry to interrupt, your wife is on line two.
This opening scene sets the flavour for GLOW perfectly; the show is a delightfully nostalgia-hazed and also critical and shrewdly observant portrayal of the real-life women’s wrestling circuit of the same name—The Gorgeous Ladies Of Wrestling.
In continuation of our ongoing Girls of Summermusic series, E reviews Lana Del Rey’s latest album, Lust for Life.
Beloved dream pop queen Lana Del Rey signaled a shift in her music and mystique with the release of her newest album last weekend. Produced byPolydor/Interscope Records, Lust for Life is presents an evolution of Lana’s ‘awakening,’ both personal and political, and dripping with flower-child pastiche.
Eve Jones examines Lorde’s latest album, Melodrama. Eve is a 19-year-old writer and waitress from Plymouth. Obsessive by nature, she’s always in pursuit of some delicious syntax. This is her first article for Boshemia.
Lorde: explorations of youth and power
In 2013, Lorde, aka Ella Yelich-O’Connor, released her debut album Pure Heroine. Its popularity was hailed by Clash as proof that ‘there’s still an intellectual, polished and important place for pop [music]’. She was 16 at the time. Four years on, Lorde launches back into our minds with Melodrama, which still buzzes with that potential energy—though it hasn’t all been plain-sailing. In a recent interview with The Guardian, she likened her fame-riddled celebrity friendships to ‘having a friend with an autoimmune disease’—‘there are certain places you can’t go together. Certain things you can’t do’. The insensitive analogy received backlash from fans, prompting Lorde to apologise on Twitter. While her conduct has been controversial, her music continues to question youth and power in a dynamic habitat of scorched harmonies, flinty 80s keyboard and lyrical wit.