Search Results

Taylor Swift has once again set the world alight with the release of her double album The Tortured Poet's Department. This is her 11th studio album, and it has already broken Spotify records in being the most-streamed album in a single day after it reached 300 million streams! Three of which are from our rrramble writers. So what did they think? Read below to find out... Sabrina I was torn between excitement and trepidation for The Tortured Poets Department (TTPD), because Lover is still my favourite Taylor album, largely due to feeling so overjoyed that post-Reputation Taylor was so happy again with her – we thought – forever partner Joe. But alas. The ‘omg new album when?!’ tweets of April 2023 (when the Joe/Taylor split was confirmed) initially repulsed me – she’s a real person, not just here for our entertainment – but nevertheless, I’m glad she has her song writing to cope. The lead-up to TTPD was soured by news that the bonus tracks would be split individually into four physical versions of the album. I’ve loved Taylor’s music for over fifteen years, but I’m not buying a bunch of things I don’t even want just for a few extra songs that I’ll be listening to on my phone anyway! That’s why the The Anthology double album version was the best surprise – bleary eyed in the early morning, my heart sank to find yet another edition…of 31 songs?! With those four bonus tracks?! My heart was buoyed by the delicious satisfaction that I hadn't pre-ordered anything yet, though I feel bad for those dedicated Swifties who might have done. The going was good with the first ten or so songs. At the end of it all, though I hate to say it, I don’t think we needed 31 songs. They are mainly differentiated by their lyrics (the tortured poetry, I suppose), but due to some hearing loss in the high frequencies, I often struggle to comprehend lyrics unless I have them in front of me. Without them, a lot of TTPD’s songs just sonically blend into each other. Since the success of Taylor’s ‘From the Vault’ tracks, and the hyper-commercialisation of the music industry, is this 31-strong tracklist the unfortunate manifestation of the more is more mentality? Speaking of more is more, I’m all for soul-baring lyrics, but sometimes oversharing is just oversharing (looking at you, Guilty as Sin?)! Too often, I felt like the vocal melody was sacrificed for fitting all the words in (for example, The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived). Certain songs in folklore, evermore and Midnights share this issue, perhaps because the songs were ‘poetry’ first? However, isn’t that what edits are for? I guess I shouldn’t have expected an album of All Too Wells; Cruel Summers; augusts; Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ves (okay, I’ll stop building my ultimate Taylor album). But then again, why shouldn’t I? It’s not like Taylor doesn’t have a massive back catalogue that proves she can, time and time again, write poetic lyrics and pair it with captivating instrumentals. I don’t want to give the false impression that I didn’t enjoy TTPD, as there were certainly some standout tracks that I know I’ll go back to. The Albatross felt masterful with its almost mythical imagery and storytelling, conjuring up my favourite kind of folklore atmosphere. I Can Do It With A Broken Heart had a wildly different vibe, a deceptively upbeat instrumental with sardonic (and devastating) lyrics about Taylor successfully acting happier than ever in the immediate aftermath of a breakup. The relentless drive of the chorus and post-chorus, and the shimmering synth in the background only reinforced this. This song was also one of the odd occasions where Taylor’s swearing augments the song (unlike The Bolter). Despite its shortcomings, TTPD will still be welcomed into my daily Tortured Commuter listening experience going forward. Lover easily defended its title as my favourite album, but TTPD may very well still grow on me! Harriet Before I delve into this album, let’s get something out of the way: I am not a Swiftie. I fully appreciate how talented Taylor Swift is, and how her music has created seismic shifts in the musical landscape. She is undeniably a genius, but the music she produces just isn’t the sort of music I listen to. Therefore, I went into The Tortured Poets Department completely naïve to her previous eras or albums and no idea what this album would involve or who it would be about. Clearly this is an album by Taylor, for Taylor. Though I don’t know much about her or her career, I do know that she has always put her life into her music, like an audio diary. This is definitely the case for this album, as it does feel very personal. For the majority of the songs, I didn’t understand the context of the lyrics, but the words are lovely and heartfelt and sad. The focus is definitely on the lyrics of the songs as opposed to making ‘catchy’ pop anthems. I suppose this makes sense given the title of the album, but it does mean that the songs do sound quite similar to each other. We start with a collab with Post Malone for ‘Fortnight’, a chill song with sad lyrics and a slight electronic beat. I didn’t realise it then, but that sets the tone for the rest of the album. This electronic, synth backing is clear in Down Bad, So Long, London, and I Can Do It With A Broken Heart, adding an extra dimension that contrasts with the honesty of the lyrics. Some of the other songs, especially But Daddy I Love Him, Fresh Out The Slammer and I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can), seemed to be a homage to her early country music. I liked this, as it reflected how far she has come from those early days, to making this album. In terms of the other songs, I have mixed opinions. Floria!!! is probably my favourite on the album, but I am biased because I am a big fan of Florence and the Machine who collabs on this. It was a great combination between her and Taylor, and their voices blended beautifully together. Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me? is fun and dramatic, and is the least poetic of the album, channelling her feelings explicitly as opposed to through metaphors. On the other hand, loml is very ethereal and haunting, utilising tight harmonies to create an immersive ballad. Other than that, though, I don’t really have any strong opinions on the other songs. They were all good, but I found them forgettable once I had moved onto the next song in the list. Lyrically, they were great, but personally I think that if the value of a song is placed solely in its lyrical brilliance, it requires concentration to fully appreciate it. This is because you have to listen fully to the words, as opposed to just letting the music just wash over you. That’s not how I like to experience music. I am a big fan of singing along to songs I don’t really know the words to because I like the tune, and I don’t think I can do that with this album. To sum up, though the lyrics were great, no one song stood out for me and I probably won’t listen to this album again. At the risk of inciting the wrath of hardcore fans, I don’t think I understand what the fuss is about. Wayne Anyone else need a hug? Taylor Swift’s new double album that actually isn’t a double album (I’ll get to that) is an exhausting listen. Infinitely more so if you’re Matt Healy, Joe Alwyn or the mysterious subject of thanK you aIMee. I’m pretty sure releasing a record isn’t cheaper than therapy. While the joy of watching those who’ve wronged you squirm in public may be priceless. Whenever I push play on her latest album, I’m starting to feel like a counsellor questioning both our life choices. Mounting her past lovers’ heads (or perhaps something more south) to the wall has become tired. The self-masochism, the admittedly enjoyable laser precision put-downs we’d love to have come up with when burned by an ex. On one track even she sings “I know I’m just repeating myself”. As the saying goes, a mistake repeated more than once is a decision. But Swift has made her name by wistfully and publicly grieving for lost love. She’s the Slyvia Plath of pop. TTPD’s mostly melancholic aesthetic is fine for a while but becomes a dirge. When the up-tempo I Can Do It With A Broken Heart arrived 12 tracks in, I felt like a dog who’d learnt to fetch the newspaper, only for the remaining 19 tracks to then smack me across the nose with it for tearing a corner. Yes, I reviewed the two-plus hour long, 31-track, digital anthology. The things I do for rrramble! On that note. Special editions and stunt releases aren’t new. Given fans’ fervour for her albums, dropping three versions each with a different bonus song then the digital anthology version hours later seems exploitive. How cool would it have been to say “hey, thanks for being there all these years, here’s a dozen more songs on me”. Thematically TTPD reminded me of Red, lyrically of Folklore or Evermore, and stylistically of 1989, but it didn’t quite hit the heights of any of them. There’s a weird style change when you move from the synthy standard version to the more acoustic driven anthology tracks. The same happened with Midnights, which I also reviewed. So much for once bitten, twice shy. I’m glad Swift’s left the angry girl shit-talking to Olivia Rodrigo and gone for a more self-aware retrospective view of her recent misadventures in romance. (Not a bad title for her next record if she happens to chance upon this review!) Although her constant cussing makes her sound like a preschooler who knows how much of a rise it gets out of her parents. TTPD doesn’t break new ground, but it doesn’t try to. Swift knows what her Gossip Girl (and Boy) fans want. To revel round their digital water coolers to guess which song is about who. It’s become tediously exhausting and, in this case, unnecessary. Like any of their ancestors who happened to be in Massachusetts in 1775, April 19 was a bad day for Brits; Healy (a Poundland John Mayer) in particular, and part-time actor Alwyn. Reviewing this wasn’t quite torture, more an unsatisfactory wait for a duty solicitor. My question of what kind of album would a happy Swift write, will have to remain unanswered. The Tortured Poet's Department is now available to stream on all music platforms. Edited by Hamilton Brown

Everyone is talking about Ripley, and as the undisputed experts on things beginning with ‘R’, the gang at rrramble can’t help but share their thoughts. Patricia Highsmith’s classic novel about how you can’t trust poor people or gay people is on screen once again, and while it’s easy to cast Andrew Scott, it’s not so easy to add a new spin to an old story. Four of our writers are left with the question: did they pull off? Elena The umpteenth adaptation of the same source material usually elicits a sigh and a resigned “Do we really need another one?” from me. There are so many stories out there that are begging to be told and adapted, also by storytellers who have historically not been afforded the chance. And yet. I am a simple woman: I see the name Andrew Scott, I click. If I had any doubts, they were quickly assuaged. Capable hands can transform anything, and these are some very capable hands. Andrew Scott was made for this role in this particular adaptation. His performance is enigmatic, controlled, and magnetic. While I loved Anthony Minghella’s 1999 adaptation and Matt Damon’s version of the eponymous Tom Ripley, I was quickly spellbound by Scott and found his performance distinct enough to warrant another adaptation. As someone who was a teenager in the heyday of Tumblr, I am of course reminded of Scott’s portrayal of Sherlock Holmes’s most famous nemesis Moriarty. I remain in awe of his ability to go from psychopathic mastermind, to Fleabag’s kind and loving Hot Priest, to the lonely and depressed Adam in All of Us Strangers, and back to a Patrick Bateman-type character with Ripley. So while I could dedicate this whole review just to Andrew Scott, I probably should loose a few words about some other aspects of the limited series. Besides the performances, it is the black and white cinematography that really shines: Ripley is sleek and stylish, full of beautiful lingering shots of 1960s Italy with an evocative soundtrack that grounds the story. When I realised the cinematographer was responsible for almost every Paul Thomas Anderson film, including There Will Be Blood I wasn’t surprised. It’s stunning. The eight episodes of runtime leave enough breathing space for close-ups and side characters to furnish the world with great detail, as well as gradually increasing the tension. Some might find the pacing too slow, and I have to admit that my attention did wander at times. However, the moment Andrew Scott was back in the frame so was my gaze. At first, I also found myself missing some of the warmth, the occasional playful queerness and romance that Minghella brought to the 1999 version. Part of its appeal was the lush sunny Italian setting that lures you in deeper and deeper into Ripley’s state of mind as loving adoration and envy of Dickie battle it out within him. However, if you let it, this version will capture your attention by gradually and meticulously building the tension into something quite different. Scott’s Ripley is not motivated by passion but instead is characterised as a second-rate con man who is amoral and cold-blooded from the beginning. This Ripley seems to be closer to his characterisation in the source text. Other characters are also interpreted differently to the 1999 adaptation: Johnny Flynn’s Dickie is less cruel but also perhaps less charming than Jude Law’s Dickie and Dakota Fanning’s Marge is a lot more suspicious of Ripley from the beginning than Gwyneth Paltrow’s was. Ultimately, however, I love that both of these adaptations can exist side by side. The Ripley character personifies a kind of lack and absence, his character and potential psychopathy difficult to pin down. Perhaps he becomes more of an archetype, a symptom of society like Patrick Bateman rather than a tragic anti-hero. Nothing made Tom Ripley the way he is. No tragic backstory. He just is who he is. And I can’t stop watching. Lois First, I really wish reviewers would stop calling this work “Hitchcockian”. When Hitchcock adapted Patricia Highsmith we got Strangers On a Train (1951), which popped, panicked and hurtled us towards the most terrifying merry-go-round ride in cinema history and it took 90 minutes for him to do it. If what I just saw was anything like Hitchcock, I wouldn’t be sitting here 3 hours in, so wholly devoid of inspiration that I’m not sure how I’ll get this piece to 500 words. My assignment was to watch the first two episodes but, had I left it there, there’d be nothing at all to submit except that there’s steps. Lots. I took this review because I wondered how the latest incarnation of the broke fledgling sociopath who gets obsessed with the rich boy he’s supposed to be bringing home from Italy at his dad’s behest would look in 2024. The source material is entrenched in the rhetoric of its era and Ripley’s inner monologue, which sets the tone and pace of the 1955 novel, is similarly afflicted. It reads like this mix of calculating cynicism and internalised homophobia that evolves into disturbing behaviour.  I don’t love the way sexual otherness gets woven into the manifestation of some wider criminal pathology and ends up dog whistling at me from the pattern in a silk dressing gown. Both Highsmith and Hitchcock lean into that stuff and, whilst I’m happy not to see it dusted off and wheeled out thus far, the fact remains that it’s the protagonist’s biggest motivator. With any motivation stripped away, it looks like a bunch of strangers who don’t like each other and are old enough to know better mumbling occasionally about refrigerators. Ripley’s insides – upon which the drama of the original story depended - have been replaced with over-engineered photographic sequences with a superfluous arse shot thrown in because – I don’t know why. This and the absence of any soundtrack until episode 3 also marks it rather definitively as not “Hitchcockian.” Furthermore, I feel as though the creator expects me to know its predecessors, and, knowing them, chuckle at how downplayed and superior everything is. What’s worse is I don’t know if that’s what it was aiming for, but it was so busy trying to be nuanced and above its audience that I eventually got bored wondering. The performances are strikingly engaging and what dialog there is can rightly be called evocative. There’s just so little ebb and flow. The IMDB interviews suggest it’s about interpreting the thoughts without hearing them, but that relies, again, on the viewer knowing the source material. Even with some prior knowledge, I still don’t connect with this Ripley – particularly since the grime and poverty he longs to escape looks more like “poverty chic” in high def black and white. The Guardian reviewer told me to persevere. I lasted three episodes; until the catalyst for the main action occurs and I’m certain one quarter of that was him figuring out how to deal with a motorboat. By the time they got round to it, my mind had drifted, and I didn’t look up until he fell in the water and the boat somehow acquired sentience. That sequence was hilarious, actually, but again so drawn out I lost interest. That sort of sums up my experience. I came to see these brilliant performers address this material and got a boat with comedy timing. I think I get what it’s doing but it’s not Hitchcockian. It seems too obsessed with its own artiness to be anything at all. Grace His neck, his beautiful neck. His little bomber jacket. His wonderful hair, slicked back in a wave. What a gorgeous, yet terrifying, man Mr. Ripley makes, in Andrew Scott’s form. I couldn’t stop watching him--- which is excellent, given that he dominates the screen in Ripley, the latest adaptation of Patricia Highsmith’s 1955 novel. In the first episodes of Steven Zillian’s series, there were so many moments where I felt personally tricked by Tom, charmed against my will: his puzzlement at rich folk, and their strange ways; his genius; and, of course, his beautiful neck again. Each time Ripley would make a face, or a witticism of some kind, I’d be there with him, strangely wishing his success with the Greenleaf family. And then the curtain would be pulled back, and I’d realise: Oh. Tom Ripley. Murderer. (Dickie’s death scene, in particular, is harrowing --- there is the sense that a switch has been flicked in Tom’s brain, that he has removed all access to feeling. Blank face, unseeing, psychopathic eyes --- the show gives us it all.) I know --- because I have read so many articles like this --- that people often call great performances ‘masterclasses in acting’. And I might be struck down for a lack of originality, here, but Andrew Scott’s talent is so great, so vast, that watching him in Ripley really is like paying for one of those hundred-pound online courses which glare at you in the YouTube ads. Ripley is a chameleon: he can imitate anyone, mimicking their tone, their pattern of speech. One awful moment (amongst so many) involves a long, one-man-show-style performance of Dickie and his girlfriend by Tom himself, who speaks like them to the empty room. It is insane. And it is later deeply, deeply embarrassing, as Tom turns around to find the person he is imitating (Dickie) staring at him in the hall. Of course, this would not be possible without Andrew Scott’s acting prowess, his ability to shift between all these modes. For Ripley is only as good an actor as Scott can be --- and both are ‘talented’ beyond belief (see what I did there). For anyone moulded to this fast-paced, dopamine-incentivised world, ‘Ripley’ can seem a little slow. In the beginning, this was the show’s greatest weakness: Do we need so many shots of the tables, another centred on his paperwork, the three coffees by the window? (The smart person in me says yes. The tired one, just trying to enjoy a show, says no.) During some moments, I watched episodes on 1.25 speech, which might be classified as a severe crime in some university film societies (I’m sorry, film bros --- I promise I love The Godfather). But, like Tom Ripley himself, the show has the incredible ability of growing on you. And all that Catholic imagery, paired with the shots of the Atrani coast, the cave-like villas, doused in greyish light, won me over, in the end. Sophie I’ll basically watch anything with Andrew Scott in it, so I didn’t need much convincing to start the latest adaptation of Patricia Highsmith’s 1955 crime novel: Netflix’s Ripley. The show has a kind of slow feel to it, but not in a bad way. The pacing is elegant and puts the viewer in the moment. It really lets you sit with the tension and awkwardness of the scene as it slowly builds the story and the stakes. It felt almost jarring in the first episode, but also a welcome break from fast paced, fill every second, don’t leave the audience guessing narratives that tend to dominate the streaming services. These first two episodes of Ripley are filled with languid Italian afternoons, stilted conversations, and a sense of emptiness. By the second episode I was really enjoying this aspect, soaking up these moments of quiet and awkwardness. The real-time feel that this pacing provides also instils a slightly ominous vibe, as the darker elements of the story gradually build. I found myself very drawn to the ambiguity of the antihero - is he a crafty yet somewhat inept con-artist, making mistakes and slipping up with details? Or, is that part of his intricately formed facade, lulling the Greenleafs and the audience into a false sense of security and sympathy. It is a truly enticing mix and I’m looking forward to seeing it play out through the rest of the series. Andrew Scott feels like the perfect casting choice - with his particular brand of understated yet undeniable charm. We know this character and this story - it’s based on a popular book, the 1999 film adaptation was a huge commercial success, and yet I found the way he plays the character is keeping me guessing and bringing an appealing sense of suspense to a story that I do actually already know. It’s a clever and subtle approach to a remake. He's keeping the audience guessing. We know we’re being conned, but we don’t know to what extent. Whether or not it’s genuine, the vulnerability of Andrew Scott’s Tom Ripley gives us a character that simultaneously has nothing and everything to lose. One moment that really stood out for me, and shows how to pack a lot of information in with zero exposition, is the dressing gown. Before going to Italy to find Dickie Greenleaf, Tom is sent to a ritzy department store by Dickie’s mother to get some clothes for her son. Tom chooses a dressing gown, despite the attendant’s attempt to dissuade him from his choice, he is adamant it’s the right one. However, Dickie is appalled by it and we briefly see Tom’s face - utterly crestfallen. In just this moment we are told everything about Tom’s motivations - it is not just money that he is after, but social status, class. This comes through heavily in the second episode where we see his suburb mimicry skills, and how effortlessly he can slip into character and accurately replicate a person’s voice, speaking style, and mannerisms (again, Andrew Scott is incredible and we must protect him at all costs) he wants to be someone else, and not just for a grift. Ripley is a beautiful example of how sometimes less is more and silences unfilled speak volumes.

Garlic necklaces and carabiners at the ready... it's everyone's favourite crossover: vampires, and lesbians! Last week, two of our writers attended the premiere of Lesbian Vampires From Outer Space, a queer horror-drama about two vampires and their struggle with supernatural impulse and addiction. Made by indie production company Psychic Visions, Lesbian Vampires From Outer Space is the second part of a queer-horror trilogy directed by Sam Rooke (and the first feature-length of the trilogy). We're asking: was it fang-tastic, or did it leave our writers with bad blood? Let's see what they had to say... Please note: this review contains mentions of blood, addiction, sexual assault, and spoilers. Florence Lesbian Vampires from Outer Space is the latest offering from up-and-coming director Sam Rooke, a queer horror-drama exploring themes of addiction, assault and revenge. Having loved Rooke’s short film Witches of the Waste (2022), I couldn’t wait to watch Rooke’s creativity run wild in a feature-length film. There’s a lot to praise about this film. The cast are strong, and bounce off each other seemingly effortlessly. The sound is carefully considered to provide a nauseatingly taut backdrop to scenes already fraught with tension, and the use of lighting is particularly impressive. In a scene where Maude (played by Zorsha Taylor Suich) stares at her reflection in the bathroom, the character is awash in a sickly, surgical green light, complementing the actor’s convincing portrayal of going through withdrawal. A man, having been harassing Maude in the previous scene, enters the bathroom. The mood shifts, and the lighting with it, startling the screen in an aggressive red blare as he assaults her. As the camera switches to Don (Rachel Simm) waiting nervously at the table for her partner to return, the scene cleverly transitions into Maude killing her attacker, subverting expectations as the man is forced into the role of subordinate. Later in the film, the vampiric duo stumble out into the dark with hopeful couple Rhonda (Dara Ellis-Jones) and Jane (Hanna Zaton), illuminated only by the headlights of the car that promises a chance of escape from a relentless barrage of harassment and assault. When the bloody mess of Rhonda’s neck comes into focus, the dim lighting and Rooke’s creative direction serve to heighten the reveal of (what is believed to be) the character’s murder and the devastation that follows. Despite the two couples only having met earlier that day, the connection between them is deeply felt, a testament to the chemistry between the four actors. Speaking of actors with great chemistry, I loved the dynamic of Officer Thompson (Leo Schrey-Yeats) and Officer Drew (Bex Goulding), bringing a comedic edge to the film with their spoofing of detective noir. The deadpan delivery of one-liners like Screy-Yeats’ "There’s no denying it, Drew. We need forensics." works brilliantly: it offers a moment of levity in the gritty world of Lesbian Vampires while still remaining tonally appropriate. Considering how short and snappy the detective scenes were, there was a real sense of depth to the relationship between these two. In a particularly notable scene, the detectives disagree on the focus of their investigation, with Thompson wanting to concentrate on catching the murderers whilst Drew, growing suspicious of a male eyewitness, urges him to consider if they might be missing something. It’s subtle, but the gender dynamics that divide their perspectives are laid bare as Thompson walks away, unwilling to consider this new aspect to the case. It’s an exciting time for fans of Rooke’s work, who confirmed that Lesbian Vampires is the second in a trilogy of queer-horror flick. Given this impressive display of talent and ambition, I’m looking forward to the final instalment. Georgia G The scariest part of queer indie horror film Lesbian Vampires from Outer Space isn’t the vampires – it’s the men. The film opens with vampires Don and Maude celebrating their anniversary when a man attempts to sexually assault Don, forcing the two vampires to kill everyone inside a local bar. Men continue to cause problems throughout the film, with the vampires and runaway lesbians Rhonda and Jane (Dara Ellis-Jones and Hanna Zaton) having to deal with near constant harassment from a group of men. Jane nearly dies as a result – until the two girls are turned into vampires, giving them the freedom they’ve been searching for. This thread continues with Officers Thompson and Drew, the police officers investigating Don and Maude’s crimes. Upon discovering the bodies of Rhonda and Jane, they argue on the best way to approach the crime. For Thompson (the male police officer), the solution is obvious – keep looking for the two women. For Drew (the female police officer), the situation seems more complex: “There’s something more going on here,” she implores Thompson, but her suggestion to investigate the men responsible for attacking Jane is neglected. This argument causes the two police officers to split up, leading to my personal favourite shot - where the camera follows Drew into a building as she discovers Thompson’s dead body. As if dealing with men wasn’t enough, Don and Maude also spend the film trying to cope with a growing addiction to blood. Vampirism has often been used as a metaphor for addiction, but I loved the care and compassion in which addiction is portrayed in this film. It’s very easy to frame addiction as a character flaw, but in Lesbian Vampires, the onus is never placed on the vampires. The nuance of this portrayal of addiction is a real credit to the writing of this film. It's also a credit to the acting. There were so many amazing actors in this film, but Don and Maude were absolutely incredible to watch. It’s clear that this is a complex relationship tinged with history, and actors Rachel Simm and Zorsha Taylor Suich portrayed that expertly. From the beginning of the film, there’s a clear love and affection between the two characters and, while their relationship goes through a lot, that stays consistent until the end. One of the most beautifully acted scenes in the film is towards the end, as Don explains to Maude what happened to Jane. The two vampires begin facing away from one another, and as Don talks, there is genuine agony in her voice. Maude slowly turns to her, as her anger becomes compassion. Lesbian Vampires from Outer Space is the second film of a trilogy, and seeing the massive step up in scale at every level speaks to Sam Rooke’s capabilities as a director. As this film begins to be entered into festivals, I’m looking forward to seeing what’s next – both for this film, and the next one. Keep up to date with Lesbian Vampires From Outer Space on their Instagram channel, @lesbianvampiresfilm. Edited by Abs Reeve

Travel back 40 years to the time of Walkmans and leg warmers. It is 1984 and Purple Rain has been released, a rock musical film starring Prince. The accompanying album, also titled Purple Rain, decimated the music charts and transformed Prince into an icon. Although Purple Rain was Prince's sixth studio release, it was his first album to reach number one on the Billboard 200. And boy did it stay in that number one spot for a loonngg time. Decades later, can we still understand why this album took pop culture by storm, or is it no more than a light drizzle from the past? Monica Prince. Prince of air-guitar solos to ‘Purple Rain’. Prince of your aunties dancing to ‘Kiss’ at the family wedding. Prince of the sexy 80’s pop that may have confused and excited you when you were young (just me?). His music has permeated and contributed to the cultural landscapes of pop music, fashion and 20th century artistry. He defies musical genre, constructs of gender and his discography spans decades. This is all true when examining Prince as an artist, however Prince the person always seems to remain unreachable and a mystery to me. Despite what he has woven into our shared cultural fabric, the word I find most fitting for Prince could still be “enigma”. By 1984, Prince had made five albums worth of genre-bending music, noted for the explicit sexual lyrics and intricate musical arrangements that would define a lot of his work. Similar to artists such as David Bowie, it seems that Prince was thriving off of keeping listeners on their toes and dodging categorisation, like a cat avoiding the garden hose. “Am I black or white? Am I straight or gay?” Prince sings in 1981’s single Controversy. It’s a thrill to hear these lyrical themes and bold characteristics continued in his sixth album Purple Rain, which was his most commercial venture to date. Made as a soundtrack to an accompanying movie, the album went to number one and made Prince a household name and face in the 80’s. The album houses hits such as ‘When Doves Cry’, ‘Let’s Go Crazy’ and ‘Purple Rain’ and is, possibly, the most 80’s sounding album I’ve ever heard. It’s bright, it’s spangly, it’s experimental and sentimental at the same time: it's artful pop music that still sounds fresh. As a queer listener in 2024, 40 years later, it is incredible and affirming to hear him sing lyrics such as “I’m not a woman. I’m not a man. I am something that you’ll never understand” (‘I Would Die 4 U’). In terms of innovation, creativity and pushing the boundaries of pop music, Purple Rain definitely carved out its space in pop history. Ever an agent of controversy in his lyrics, the track ‘Darling Nikki’ contributed to the implementation of Parental Advisory warning stickers on albums (!). Listening again, the freshness and unexpectedness of the music on Purple Rain still strikes me. When I was little, ‘When Doves Cry’ and the tense atmosphere it creates even used to scare me. Prince carving the weirder path in his music makes me think of contemporary artists such as Lady Gaga, and how grateful I am for artists who actively defy expectations in pop music with each album. If I could hold a banner for my passion on this subject it would read: KEEP POP MUSIC WEIRD. I suppose that Prince was deliberately elusive in his career and liked to provoke more questions than he ever answered. When he appeared in New Girl alongside Zooey Deschanel, one of the reasons it’s funny is because of how bizarre it is to see Prince in a “normal” and situational context (a UK equivalent would be like seeing David Bowie appear in Gavin & Stacey?). Remembering his career, and remembering Purple Rain, is to tip our hats to an aloof genius. My first memory of Prince is seeing Concert for George on television aged 10, when songwriting, guitar-wielding legends all gathered to pay tribute to the late George Harrison. During a performance of ‘While My Guitar Gently Weeps’, all of a sudden a delicate creature in a top hat and scarf appears from the crowd of aging celeb rockers to give a FACE MELTING guitar solo - the kind that Jack Black talks about in School of Rock. It’s mind-blowing. It’s sexy. Who is this? “That’s Prince”, says my dad. “Woah”. Sabrina Before this review, I knew of Prince and his legendary status, but his lack of overlap with the style (and time period) of my comfort songs meant I was never particularly inclined to give his music my undivided attention. Enter the March rrramble review callout, and the rest is history. rrramble rrretrospectives are some of my favourite reviews to do because they always push me to try something new, especially things that seem commonplace for people growing up in the West (I grew up in Hong Kong). With lyrics to hand and the opening track ‘Let’s Go Crazy’ queued up, I was finally going to see what all the fuss was about! ‘Let’s Go Crazy’ was a bop, unexpectedly conjuring up a 90’s rom-com shopping montage in my head, specifically with a Clueless vibe. Even more surprisingly, this is actually a very Christian song. This religious theme came up again more obviously on a later track, ‘I Would Die 4 U’, which had a particularly nice bridge (a tragically dying breed these days!). Given the Christian opener, there was interestingly a very saucy song later on called ‘Darling Nikki’. From the title, I had been unconsciously expecting a tribute to a loved one, à la ‘marjorie’ by modern icon Taylor Swift, but ‘Darling Nikki’ swiftly slapped that idea out of me. With Prince, I should expect the unexpected. The 90’s rom-com montage returned with angsty third track, ‘The Beautiful Ones’, swapping to a sad scene this time. I was chilling in my melodramatic feels, which took an abrupt and heart-pounding turn when Prince started screaming! I understand that this is an emotional song, but all I can say is that if I was the subject of this song, I would be RUNNING. I'd give it a top score for eliciting a reaction from the listener, though. The intro music of ‘Computer Blue’ also sparked strong visuals for me. While the title sounds like an Essie nail polish colour, the drumbeats and scratchy wails had me feeling lost in a blue forest, with hidden people sending secret (and somewhat threatening) birdcalls to each other. Oddly, this linked pretty well to Prince asking, “Where is my love life?” in his first line. I was by far the most excited to listen to the album’s closer ‘Purple Rain’, as Prince and ‘Purple Rain’ seem to go hand-in-hand. As this album precedes the age of TikTok-ready, 2-minute-and-change songs, I had to wait over half an hour to finally get to ‘Purple Rain’ (plus ads, Spotify Premium who?) and it paid off. This is a wonderful song. The outro is soul-stirring, and…  was that Prince singing falsetto? Beautiful! I can imagine this song playing over the end credits of a movie – though I haven’t seen the movie Purple Rain, so perhaps it does. It would also make an epic concert outro; I can already hear the masses cheering far before the end. ‘Purple Rain’ is a long song at 8 minutes and 40 seconds, but I didn’t get bored at all. This reflects how I feel about the album as a whole. While I’m not sure I’d listen to any of these songs again, aside from ‘Purple Rain’ and ‘I Would Die 4 U’, this first listening experience was certainly always entertaining. At times my intrigue was purely because of the novelty of Prince’s sound, at other times, it was due to the arresting combination of vivid lyricism and evocative instrumentals. One question remains – how did Prince scream like that throughout this album and still possess a throat? You can listen to Purple Rain on Spotify here. Edited by Harriet

This week, three rrramble writers don their red-carpet best and lean into the Awards Season™ hype to review Oscar's Best Picture nom, Past Lives. A debut for Canadian-Korean director Celine Song, Past Lives is semi-autobiographical and follows two childhood friends over the course of 24 years as they consider the nature of their relationship as they grow apart. At rrramble, we don't believe that critical acclaim necessarily equals success - so we sent in our reviewers to see what they made of it. Without further ado... Elena When the credits rolled after watching Past Lives for the first time in my local cosy retro cinema, I looked at my friend and gurgled something along the lines of “I’m not okay”. By the sniffling and choked-up voices in our screening, I could tell we weren’t the only ones who were put through the emotional ringer. When I watched it the second time in the comforts of my own home, I cried just as much. The beautiful thing about this tender, intimate love story is, however, that it didn’t feel tragically soul-sucking even though it could have been. I didn’t leave the cinema feeling dejected about life but rather appreciative and pensive in that familiar post-cinema screening daze. Past Lives’ beginning is just as gentle as its end. Before we even see any characters on screen, we hear bar chatter and an observer of Nora, Arthur and Hae Sung saying, “Who do you think they are to each other?” It is a question the film continues to ask us, the audience, and the characters themselves. This opening scene invites us to ponder who these three people are and what brought them here, and this wandering, meditative quality is woven throughout the whole film in many quiet moments. Nora’s and Arthur’s beginning relationship feels sketched out, letting the audience fill in the long gaps. It opens up space for furnishing the world with a tactility through shots like curtains moving in the wind. Celine Song uses all the tools in her filmmaking toolbox with understated precision, letting the story unfold, most significantly perhaps through the cinematography. The film is full of beautiful compositions with slow camera movements instead of a reliance on flashy lighting, giving the viewer time to let their eyes wander and take in the whole mise-en-scéne. In scenes where Nora and Hae Sung are physically together, the camera is often at a distance, and yet we don’t lose any intimacy. I loved how their relationship is depicted through space, two roads diverged, running in parallel, meeting virtually and physically in twelve-year intervals. Despite these huge time jumps, they don’t feel abrupt: everything flows into one another like an enjambement from one line of poetry to the next. A beautifully calming score flows underneath, providing more of a soundscape than distinctive musical motifs. This tranquil quality doesn’t mean that Past Lives is devoid of big feelings and heavy topics. While I found the dialogue to be subtle, it was also refreshingly direct: characters didn’t dance around their feelings but expressed them with emotional honesty. Many lines resonated in particular with me as somebody who moved to another country and left behind family and friends whom I miss constantly. I felt their frustrations of being in a long-distance relationship (Friendship? Situationship?), battling grainy, lagging images, slow internet, and time zone differences. And yet, as Nora’s mother says, “If you leave something behind, you gain something, too.” You lose and gain different versions of yourself. Nora’s younger version, full of what-ifs, remains safe with Hae Sung and they will always have a connection because of that, which doesn’t take away from Nora’s current life and relationship with her husband Arthur. Despite the hurt egos, heartbreak, and confusion all three go through, I adored how much grace they had for each other. Watching Past Lives feels like the comforting hug of somebody you know you will have to say goodbye to but for the moment, you’re just happy that you’re here in their arms. Florence I know I’ll be in the minority saying this, but Song’s Past Lives did not move me as much as I expected it to. That’s not to say that I didn’t enjoy it or that aspects of the film didn’t resonate for me, but as the credits rolled I found myself a little underwhelmed which did surprise me. I’d assumed from the synopsis I would love this film, and whilst it’s undeniably beautiful, it didn’t quite deliver. Past Lives’ set-up is undeniably excellent. Beginning with Nora/Na Young, Arthur and Hae Sung sitting at a bar, an off-screen observer wonders aloud “Who are they to each other?”, the question gnawing at the centre of Nora and Hae Sung’s relationship. I loved the scenes showing their childhood together in South Korea. Song has an incredible ability to express the significance we find in our everyday lives; there is something almost impossible to express about the sadness of childhood and yet Song translates this for us into her visual language. Young Na Young and Hae Sung’s walk home from school is the most memorable example of this; the hill they climb each day is ridiculously steep but they never mention this, it’s part of their everyday mundane, not at all significant - until, suddenly, it is. Na Young is emigrating and her final climb with Hae Sung happens in silence, her having to run to keep up with him as he fails to match her pace and already, in a quiet way, they start to disconnect. They reach the point where their paths diverge, with only a “Bye” between them as Hae Sung continues along his straight path home, whilst Na Young ascends further still to a view he won’t see, despite their shared climb. I loved how quietly dramatic this scene was. The last ever walk home from school before you move to a new country and never see your crush again? That’s huge! But, as children with no perspective of what’s next, there’s no words for the enormity of this. So, they walk up an enormous hill. And at no point did it feel contrived. Loved it. It was the characters’ later years where I found my attention began to lapse. After not one, but two1'2 Years Later' interludes I didn’t have nearly the same level of investment in the relationship between the adult Nora and Hae Sung. The world of Past Lives is a quiet one, it does veer dangerously close to being boring at times. It’s a tricky one to navigate, showing these unremarkable people with fairly boring lives and making an audience understand why they’re significant to each other. The film spans 30-odd years and the characters still can’t really define what they are to each other by the end… I understand why this is moving for many, but I find it hard to invest in relationships that largely feel humourless and - sometimes - forced. There are a lot of memorable lines, but they seem to be in the film for the purpose of being “quotable” rather than revealing new depths to the characters. An example of character depth that has to be acknowledged, though, is Arthur; the man’s novel is called “Boner” yet he navigates Nora’s emotional almost-affair with a level of maturity I wouldn’t have expected. There’s a lot to enjoy in Past Lives and I can’t stress that enough. Especially considering this is Song’s debut, I’m excited to see her future work and how her style evolves from here. Sasha A poignant film in which the blurry distinctions between romance, friendship and fate are brought into focus by the immigrant experience; Past Lives is a romance that lingers rather than soars. Na Young and Hae Sung are classmates and childhood friends in South Korea, and share one charming date together before Na Young abruptly tells her class that she is emigrating to the U.S. She changes her name to Nora Moon, pursues an ambitious career as an author, and they lose contact for twelve years. Onto the spoilers… After finding each other on social media, they establish a connection again, before Nora breaks things off in order to concentrate on establishing her life in New York. They meet again after a further twelve years, and reflect on how their lives have unfolded, and their significance to each other. Romances often veer on formulaic, relying on a certain lazy heterosexuality à la Avril Lavigne’s classic “he was a boy, she was a girl, can I make it any more obvious?”. At the same time, some cult classics like The Notebook have left me hiccup-crying surrounded by tissues. There is a simplicity to the dialogue of this script in Past Lives, but it creates a frankness between characters that suggests their ease with each other, even in awkward moments. Of course, the dialogue is layered in the sense that Na Young/Nora moves between Korean and English, presenting shifting dynamics of distance and closeness with different characters, and a certain access to different sides to her experience. Past Lives drew me in, from the very first few minutes, with its beautiful framing. The close shots portray both intimacy and mystery, as we are left waiting for contextual clues. Yes, it’s been done before, but it is done very well.  Unfolding at a slower pace allows a breathing room for the different chronologies to seep into each other, which I loved. The scenes of childhood are full of colour - soft primary colours - and fall into picture-postcard moments at each turn. It perfectly demonstrates the strange duality of seeing through your own past self’s eyes, while also seeing it retrospectively from afar. It’s a visually delicious way to explore the impact of distant memories. This is definitely a story that may resonate in a variety of ways for different viewers. Alongside the yearning, for me it highlighted the way in which a good friendship contains a little romance. Making each other feel special, putting each other at ease. And a good romantic relationship sits on a bedrock of friendship. The inside jokes, lack of performance, and caring check-ins.  As a tight portrait of three characters, there was nowhere to hide. In this minimal cast, I was especially taken by the child actors, Seung Ah Moon and Seung Min Yim. So much of the narrative relies on the importance of their feelings for each other, and they moved with seeming effortlessness between playfulness, belly laughs, and the disconnected seriousness with which children explore ideas of marriage and loss. I also admired Teo Yoo’s attention to detail in the videochat scenes, and Greta Lee’s code-switching throughout her role. Past Lives poses love next to in love, old love, true love. And ultimately, it doesn’t rank them. All of the love shared between Na Young/Nora Moon and her two romantic interests is honoured, and in this way, it moves beyond being a ‘what if’ narrative. I see Celine Song’s directorial debut becoming a classic of the genre, and I will be watching out for anything else with her name on it. In addition to her impact on cinema, she has caused a serious dent in my box of tissues. You can watch Past Lives on Netflix Edited by Abs Reeve

Imagine, it's 2009 and you're watching David Tennant -- I mean Hamlet -- speak to the Ghost of his Father (Patrick Stewart) who says Hamlet's uncle (also Patrick Stewart) murdered him and wants Hamlet to enact revenge! And in response, Hamlet's uncle (Patrick Stewart) plots to kill Hamlet in order to cover up his previous murder of his brother, the King (Patrick Stewart). I don't know how Hamlet was meant to keep his head on straight when his father and his uncle are both Patrick Stewart! The Royal Shakespeare Company really leaned into the theatre camp for this filmed-for-television production. Using a modern spin on the fictional Danish monarchy (note David Tennant's outfits in particular) with some creepy CCTV elements within the castle... Is this still considered a classic modern remake of Hamlet? Let's see what our writers say... Sasha This star-studded cast intended to produce a cinema relay for their Hamlet run. When this fell through, they partnered with the BBC to produce this film instead. I appreciated the minimalism of the set: very limited locations, and pared-back designs. The mirrored surfaces were such a simple and yet yielding way to add ambiguity to Elsinore. It could be timeless, except David Tennant is in skinny jeans. In appearing stage-like in these conventions, it retained an intimacy with the audience; I could almost have been watching a live-stream. One clear departure however was the incorporation of CCTV cameras, acting as props and also providing an eerie perspective of the unfolding events. I loved this choice, as it cast suspicion over who was revealing the narrative. Battling the audience’s expectations is a huge task with a play so renowned. The blurred line of Prince Hamlet’s facade of madness sustains a volatility that evades inevitability. David Tennant brings such dexterity to this complex role; he plays with age regression in Prince Hamlet’s torment, then at other times leans into regality. We watch his character delight in running rings around the others with sneaky wordplay, playing with power, and acting aggressively righteous. At other times he is warm and loving. He is more synergistic with Horatio than anyone else. Instead of getting lost in Prince Hamlet as the philosopher, Tennant’s physicality keeps it grounded. Appearing as both Claudius and the Ghost of King Hamlet, Patrick Stewart perfectly encompassed the threat hidden in plain sight. Having primarily seen Stewart in Star Trek, I wanted to feel fond of him, to see him as a warm, insightful father figure like I've been used to. He succeeds in overcoming any perceptions of familiarity, and instead provides a convincing villain. Even when performing as the Ghost, his performance contains a thread of evil, drawing Hamlet in to avenge him despite the consequences. I found his performance as the Ghost to be somewhat undermined by the heavy use of faux fog and voice distortion; it was unnecessary, and one of the few elements that caused this production to feel dated. Although the plot of Hamlet most closely centres the leading male characters, Ophelia and Queen Gertrude are layered, complex roles. Penny Downie blew me away with her performance, particularly in the moments after the death of Polonius, and her own knowing death. Her performance was embodied in Queen Gurtrude's fear and frustration, yet nuanced at the same time. She readily gave plenty of steely looks befitting the changing relations she had between other characters. Unfortunately, the dynamic between Laertes and Ophelia was too syrupy for me, even bordering on incestuous in the opening scenes where they discuss each other's virginity. Undeniably, Hamlet is a three hour exploration of an impossible demand: avenge your father when you know that he is burning in brimstone fires for his own immoral deeds. Caught between conflicting ideals of Catholicism and folklore, it spotlights mortality - and what could be more enduring than that? Watching this production of Hamlet reaffirmed for me that it is one of my favourite texts of all time (I even watched it with subtitles on). Possibly even a desert island pick, although that would be quite morbid. You could argue that with multiple versions of the script to cherry-pick from, and its considerable length, of course it should hold impactful moments. But it goes further than that; each time I encounter it I find something new. This time? David Tennant in a muscle t-shirt. Alec Revisiting this version of Hamlet really took me back to an odd point in my teen years. I had been slowly getting more into 60s American folk music, was exclusively seeking out foreign films about sad old men, and I had a weird, short-lived Hamlet obsession. I don’t like thinking I was more culturally inclined as a teenager, but the truth hurts sometimes (I’m working on it). Hamlet isn’t even my favourite Shakespeare play (that goes to King Lear) but it’s one that very much resonated with me at the time. This adaptation is very good. I can’t say I’ve seen all the film adaptations as I mostly just sought out youtube videos or nearby, amateur theatre productions—something about local actors playing Sardines on a small stage, delivering flowery dialogue whilst smacking each other with wooden swords really just hit different. One thing that remains fundamental in my Hamlet headcanon is Hamlet’s casting needs to be very particular. To me, Hamlet’s story is an iconic depiction of angsty, chaotic teenage rebellion, complete with a dead parent, emotional trauma, catharsis and violence. Hamlet is the original bad boy, surrounded by wealth, no real interest in his royal duties, and way too cool for sex. I think David Tennant is a very good choice here—an emotive heartthrob, funny, energetic and has probably made a lot of us under 30 cry at least once. I still think a young Hamlet should be the casting age; mid life crisis or or geriatric Hamlet just doesn’t work. I feel BBC movies, even in their cinema-released productions, often can’t escape their televisual roots. A lot of projects just don’t feel very dynamic and are a bit perfunctory in their storytelling. Not to say this adaptation jumps high beyond the confines of its budget, but it still finds moments of cinematic flair. The lighting and set design look good, though I do wonder if a lot of Shakespeare adaptations that go down the contemporary route come from financial compromise. The film does try to be a bit more technically interesting, with Hamlet’s soliloquies in particular, as it doesn't let the camera and editing get in the way of the performances too much but does enough to make it not feel like just a filmed play. Not to undermine the other great actors, such as Patrick Stewart as Claudius and the ghost of Hamlet's father, but Tenant is the driving force of this production—his energy is goosebump inducing. I watched this after sitting through a live broadcast, a Rory Kinnear-led adaptation, and Tennant’s was definitely the better half of the 7 hour Shakespeare adventure I set forth on (I won't be mean, Kinnear just wasn't the rebel without a cause I needed). As much as I often rag on BBC/UK TV produced shows and adaptations, I think TV has the potential to offer Shakespeare plays the space and intimacy they need to breathe without the restrictions a mega budget, action-hungry Hollywood production might enforce on the project. I think for once, the balance here is struck quite nicely. Harriet As a former theatre kid and an English Lit grad, Shakespeare holds a very special place in my heart. However, Hamlet has never been a favourite of mine. My knowledge of the play is relegated to vague memories of GCSE English and, from what I could recall, the play was long and political and filled with meandering monologues. But I am always open to being persuaded. So sitting down to watch BBC’s Hamlet, I forced myself to keep an open mind, and I am so glad I did. This is the sort of adaptation that could convince a person to like Shakespeare, and I can see why it was so revered. It is entirely based on the skill of the cast and their ability to hold the attention of the audience for the hefty three-hour run time. David Tennant in particular is fantastic. He is a gifted Shakespearian actor, approaching the lines with a fluidity and natural cadence that relays the dialogue in a way that would have made The Bard proud. His Hamlet is equally likeable and unnerving – he is able to accurately portray grief in such a way that manages to justify Hamlet’s madness and his actions. Patrick Stewart, the other top billed actor, is also very good, but is given a more restricted role with Claudius. I would have liked to have seen him take a comic turn as Polonius, though Oliver Ford Davies does a brilliant job as the bumbling counsellor. Each adaptation looks to see how they can keep this play fresh, and this production is the same. People have mixed feelings about setting Shakespeare in the modern day, but given the play has been performed for four hundred years, I think it is necessary to attempt to keep the material exciting. The use of cameras in this adaptation is very unusual, using them to provide an objective visual on the scenes whilst also giving the feeling of constantly being watched. The cameras, combined with the conscious breaking of the fourth wall, give the actors someone to talk to without a physical audience present. They never explained why this castle had such aggressive surveillance, though I would imagine it was to show the tyranny of the new King. I would have liked to see them use more sets. Perhaps it was due to budget constraints, or perhaps they wanted to keep the staging as if it were a play, but most of the production was staged within one room. When adapting a play to screen, you can use the benefits of filming that a stage production cannot give you. This being said, keeping the majority of the action in one room did compound the feeling of claustrophobia that had been encouraged through the dark walls and camera surveillance, so perhaps it was an intentional choice. Is Hamlet worth all the remakes? I think so. There is a magic to Shakespeare that is often muffled by the density of the language and the length of the plays. At its core, Hamlet is about grief, a universal emotion that we all have or will experience. Stripping away the war for a throne, or the descent into madness, or the sheer amount of murder, this is a play about a man who desperately misses his father and has had the ground pulled from under his feet. Tennant does this beautifully, humanising a character whose path could appear so far removed from our own, and showing us why Hamlet is still considered one of the best plays of all time. You can watch Hamlet (2009) on the BBC iPlayer Review edited by Artie

Collector of the BBC's Sound of 2024 and winner of a Rising Brit, five-piece British rock band The Last Dinner Party's hotly awaited first album Prelude to Ecstasy is finally out. Determined to defy accusations of being "industry plants" and currently touring the UK, have this group succeeded in their debut collection? Our rrramblers had thoughts: Isaac I am always a little sceptical when an act seems to become an overnight success. There’s a nagging sense someone has decided for me that I’m supposed to like this; a confluence of record labels, marketing agencies, and social media algorithms conspiring to create the next big thing. These acts often feel gimmicky, with a sound simultaneously overproduced and unsure of itself. They leave me sad that so much of our creativity is dominated by corporations, or worse, that I’m out of touch and no longer understand what the cool young people listen to. When I first heard The Last Dinner Party on the radio a few months ago, I was enamoured by their debut track and their story of playing the London scene for years before releasing their music publicly. But I was also filled with that same sceptical dread: could such a fresh band ever live up to the hype of a viral hit? Prelude to Ecstasy has proved the perfect album to pull me out of my cynical little hipster hole. Every song is rich and energetic, layered with sound in a way that lets the passion and dedication of the artists shine. I’m actually struggling to listen to it all the way through, because I keep wanting to rewind and hear every little detail. I will admit that I’m a Radio 6 indie-art-rock loser who still owns a CD player, so this album is pure Isaac-bait. It’s pretentious in a fun way, inviting you in a sonic bath that brings together elements of Siouxsie and the Banshees, Cocteau Twins, Florence + the Machine, and just a bit of ABBA. The album soaks you through with deep, swooping vocals, then pulls you under with weighty lyricism and wailing soprano. And it’s all garnished with a purely orchestral title track. If they’d thrown in a 7-minute song at the end, it would have ticked all my boxes. As much as it’s difficult to talk about this album without appearing pompous, I really do think this is an album for everybody. Yes, Prelude to Ecstasy is arty and pretentious, but it’s saved from annoying hipsterdom by its sincerity, one that validates you with its heartbroken vocals and dance rhythms. Every song starts as a puzzle, with someone trying to take ownership of their life and loves in a world wrapped up in the desires of others. Everything else in the elaborate production follows on from the need to give voice to this feeling. Each element is intentionally placed by people who care about what they have to say, so instead of a struggling mess of sounds, there’s a finely woven garment that leaves you… empowered. The feelings in this album are complicated and messy, and often sad. But it’s the kind of mess inherent to being a person, conveyed so precisely and beautifully that it does away with any sense Prelude is out of touch or isolated. This is a record that cuts through the noise to make you feel heard, and that is powerful. Eleanor It may have been less than a year since The Last Dinner Party released their debut single, but they have quickly established themselves as an indie darling. Every single this band has released since ‘Nothing Matters’ in April 2023 has gained them more traction and anticipation for this first album. I don’t remember being this excited for a debut. Prelude to Ecstasy is ambitious in its themes, tackling misogyny, female rage, fragile masculinity, hubris, religion, sex, relationships, and queerness – all in the space of 41 minutes. The writing is spectacular and allows the album to deliver on its lofty expectations. Songs like ‘Caesar on a TV Screen’, ‘Sinner’ and ‘My Lady of Mercy’ are littered with literary, historical and religious references and, whilst maybe a tad pretentious in places, you never feel like you’re being talked down to. Singer Abigail Morris has the voice and the charisma to carry the grandeur of the album’s themes, injecting power and passion to each song. Musically, it’s no less impressive. The title track is a baroque-inspired opener that’s cinematic in its gravitas, like the opening to gladiator games. There is some outstanding instrumentation, from the haunting outro of ‘On Your Side’ to the guitar-laden, rock-driven ‘Portrait of a Dead Girl’. The record plays with different genres and tempos well, rarely feeling clunky or disorganised. Only ‘Gjuha’ feels a little out of place, though this is still lovely as keyboardist Aurora Nishevci is allowed to sing in her Albanian mother-tongue. My other small criticism is that a couple of songs don’t fully land. As nice as the first half of 'Beautiful Boy' is, it gets boring after that, while the closing track 'Mirror' suffers from a slightly underwhelming start, before it crescendos into the epic finale this album deserves. ‘The Feminine Urge’ is the best track: a catchy tune perfectly capturing how it feels to be oppressed by the patriarchy. This one explores gender roles and stereotypes, the male gaze and the struggle we face for control over our own lives. The lyric “I know it so well / To nurture the wounds my mother held” highlights the never ending cycle of trauma and violence perpetrated against women and queer people. Clearly, the narrator wants to break this “curse” we inherit from the generations before us and centuries of fighting for our freedom. It’s a proud feminist anthem without being preachy. Not bad for a song named after a meme. Prelude to Ecstasy delivers on everything it promises. It’s a powerhouse of a debut that is fun and interesting to listen to, whilst equally thought-provoking and deep. The Last Dinner Party have their own unique style that’s reflected in their sound. They should be on everyone’s radar and I can’t wait to see what they do next. You can listen to Prelude to Ecstasy here on Spotify. Review edited by Tom

“Stop trying to make a (musical) remake of a classic 2000s chick flick happen… it’s not going to happen!” Well, despite Regina’s words of warning, that’s exactly what HAS happened, with Samantha Jayne & Arturo Perez’s 2024 Mean Girls musical movie. So, no one may have asked for this, but now it’s here - is it worth a watch? Time for 3 of our writers to don their pink sweatpants and find out… Elena Mean Girls 2024 had some high stilettos to fill. With a treasure trove of quotable one-liners and insightful analysis of girl friend and fiendship dynamics, the original film has become part of the Zeitgeist. Its relevance remains undiminished, and it even has cross-generational appeal as I discovered when I showed the film to my mum who thoroughly enjoyed it. This Mean Girls – the adaptation of the musical modified from the 2004 version, is quick to establish its setting in the here and now: the film begins in vertical phone format with Janice and Damien unsubtly introducing us in song to the story’s themes. Anybody who didn’t know this was a musical could now decide to make a quick exit. If they had though, they would be missing out. The cinema screening I attended was filled with cackling laughter and whoops, even half-baked applause at the end which can perhaps be ascribed to the film feeling like watching an actual live show. I have to admit my heart skipped a beat when Reneé Rapp’s Regina George first appeared on screen. With the presence of a stage diva and killer voice she stole the show in every single frame. While in my humble opinion Rapp can pull of anything, I also have to agree with the most-liked comment on Letterboxd that labels the popular Plastics as “Shein girls”. It felt like a klutzy adult take on current fashion trends. This also becomes apparent in the film’s depiction of internet and social media culture. Apart from Bo Burnham’s excellent Eighth Grade and Inside, I have yet to see a successful in-depth depiction of Gen Z and their phone use that doesn’t merely treat it like a gimmick and tool for bullying. On a visual level, the gimmicks were fun when integrated into the poppified songs - each backup singer simultaneously starring in their own TikTok-like Video - but it didn’t really have anything new or insightful to say. This Mean Girls follows the original story beat by beat. Many witty jokes and vicious insults are repeated but despite new additions, omissions like “Boo, you whore” and other ruthless Regina moments were sorely missed. While I welcomed some changes like the cutting of offensive stereotyping, the lack of slut shaming misses out on the critique and analyses the 2004 version had. Using terms like sluts and whores to insult each other only green lights existing scrutiny and judgement of girls (and by extension, women) for how much sex they have: be it none, little or a lot. The scene in which the teachers try to teach the girls a lesson lacks the original impact, especially since the mean girls haven’t actually been that mean. Furthermore, even though I loved Auli’i Cravalho as Janice, what was great about the original was an angrier, messier, and meaner version who was hellbent on revenge. This emphasised the final message that Regina wasn’t the only one to blame for this culture and wrapped up a satisfying character arc for Janice too. Conferring the role of the narrator to Janice and Damien also detracted even further from Cady, the main character’s narrative arc who remains unremarkable throughout. All in all, it felt a bit softened and sanitised, lacking the emotional depth, heart, and bite of the original. Despite all of these criticisms though, my friends and I really did have a great time and I might just include it in my rewatch roster of comfort films. Sophie S I do not like musicals. Never have. Never will. But I do love the classic piece of cinema that is Mean Girls (2004), so I thought surely, I would at least enjoy some of the Mean Girls musical. I aggressively disliked it. I spent a good portion of the film convincing myself the film had been on for ages and would be over soon, but when I looked at my watch I saw I was only 40 minutes in, and I still had an hour and 10 to go. It was almost excruciatingly boring. At first, I thought I didn’t like the film because it was a musical, but upon further inspection, it was just lacking the charm that the original is so loved for. I understand the reasoning behind wanting to make the film, but I don’t understand why you would want to compete with something that’s already so iconic. When you already have a well-established film, that then became a very popular musical, why would you want to try and out-do them both? This film was really set up to fail from the very beginning. I really wish we would get past this trend of remakes; they are always a disappointment, and are you really going to tell me that there isn’t one singular, original thought in the entire Hollywood film industry? There are some differentiating factors, but some of the jokes really just don’t land when you put a ‘Gen Z’ lens on it. While the original film has it’s problems, it is quite a true representation of it’s time. People do call women sluts and whores, so why do we know have to omit all that language from films, when we can use it as a way to address these issues? However, it is quite pleasant not seeing rampant homophobia on the screen. Now, having said all this, there where a few things I liked a little bit. This is a controversial opinion to have but I actually liked the film version of the song ‘Stupid with Love’. It is quite a cute song, and has been stuck in my head since I saw the film. And of course, I am never going to be disappointed seeing Lindsey Lohan in movies again. The best part of the whole film – and the only reason I would even watch a snippet ever again – is Renee Rapp. I don’t mean to objectify her, but she is so hot in this film! She is a perfect Regina, and I really enjoyed every moment she was on the screen. The woman is a treasure, and I am so excited to see where the rest of her career takes her. I will definitely not be watching this film ever again, if I can help it, with the exception of the clips of Renee Rapp that come up on my TikTok for you page. Even big fans of the musical have shown their dislike for it, and I rarely am in agreement with fans of musicals. I’m just going to keep watching the original, and try to forget that this version exists. Sasha Parking the era defining original film is an uphill battle, but get in losers, we're off to the film-musical-film-version of Mean Girls. To be transparent, I haven't seen the original film in years, and I've never seen the musical. I have heard my housemate singing it in the shower quite a lot, though! I wanted to see how this film holds up as a standalone addition to the Mean Girls lineup, and so I didn't watch either the original film or the musical in preparation. So the thing is… it's difficult to be cool if you fail to seem effortless. And it's difficult to be found effortless when you're a remake. This hybrid version places itself as a cinematic reimagining of the Broadway musical, and – because a musical is arguably the celebration of a beautiful ensemble of veritable try-hards – Paramount might just have step-ball-changed the impossibility of seeming effortlessly iconic by reframing their ideal. I say that with love. The brilliant casting struck me immediately. In fact, one of my first notes scrawled blindly into my notebook reads “tiny Pam Beesly”. Jenner Fischer and Angourie Rice are a completely believable mother-daughter duo, not only in appearance, but also in the details of how they articulate their lines. I enjoyed Angourie Rice as Cady; she began as less of a dweeb than Lindsey Lohan’s Cady, though she didn’t quite reach the same height of being ‘plastic’ as the original. However, I liked the way that she drew out the malleability of adolescence: of being caught in between social groups, and the fluctuations between sympathy and selfishness. This played off really well with Auli’i Cravalho’s Janis. I loved the direction that Cravalho took here; she really showcases the parallels between Janis and Regina George. This gutsy, righteous, creative Janis was better able to keep Cady caught in the middle of right from wrong – though I did find it harder to believe that she was a social reject. Renée Rapp brought buckets of charisma to her reprise of this role, having played Regina George on Broadway previously. Her vocal performance was so strong that I wish there could have been even more time devoted to this. She was hot shit and you wanted her to like you. I didn't quite believe that her interpretation of the character would genuinely want to lose weight, however, and I found this plotline discordant with the rest of the narrative. This could have been reworked more creatively into a post-Kardashian, ‘does my bum look big in this’ era. Of course, weight remains an emotionally charged subject, however, more recent beauty ideals and preoccupations might have focused on specialised gym workouts, bulking/cutting cycles, or given more devotion to the dodgy skincare Cady gives her. It's always interesting to translate a production from stage to screen, because of the difference in physical acting these genres require. For me this is where Avantika Vandanapu absolutely shines in her role as Karen. Her exaggerated physicality creates a bridge from stage to screen, built on the joy of being camp. She took Karen's character to a place beyond any iteration I'd seen, and was probably my favourite to watch. I found the camera use to be dynamic in the way it blended with the input of social media that interlaced the film. Although the portrayal of platforms like TikTok appeals to me less from a visual standpoint, I did find that it created greater stakes for social success versus social humiliation. Nowadays, these moments get recorded and shared with thousands in an instant, and this is a crucial difference from the high school experience twenty years before. I loved the segments that were filmed in one long take, and for me this provided an increased freedom of gaze that I associate with watching stage performance. Ultimately, I think this hybrid musical-film created an upbeat, accessible musical for people that might not typically opt for one. This might in part be due to the way in which Paramount concealed the fact that this is a musical from either of the trailers. Whether this was a money grab, or a way to generate more social media buzz, I'm not sure. I'm not convinced that this film would suffice as a ‘gateway’ musical to other shows, but I did have a fun evening, and I have added a slew of songs to my own shower playlist. You can view Mean Girls in cinemas from the 19th January. Edited by Hamilton Brown

From 2nd - 11th November, our intrepid writer Sophie Steele had the opportunity to represent rrramble at Belfast Film Festival 2023! Since 1995, the Belfast Film Festival has been a pillar of the Irish film scene and provides an incredible platform for local and international filmmakers to showcase their works. With a diverse and wide-ranging line-up of films from all over the world, we are thrilled that Sophie was able to go along and give us a glimpse of the action. Read on to discover the new and exciting projects she got to see and get inspired for your next cinema trip. SPOILERS CHECKPOINT - if you read on, you may hear some spoilers about the films Sophie saw. She has kept her reviews as spoiler-free as possible, but if you are particularly keen to remain in the dark then we suggest you look away now. Still here? That's great! Take it away, Sophie... Two years ago I moved to Belfast to study film and I am so blessed to call this vibrant, exciting, and culturally complex city my new home. This city is currently booming in the film industry after the success of Game of Thrones and Line of Duty, so I knew the Belfast Film Festival 2023 was not to be missed. I hope you find something inspiring in the following, and if you get the chance to come to Belfast, then absolutely say yes. Reviews How to Have Sex My first film of the festival was filled with nothing but nostalgia for me. Going in, I knew it was going to discuss some pretty hard to swallow truths about virginity and teenage sex, set to the wild backdrop of the Malia strip, but I had no idea just how on the money this film was. From the ripped paper wristbands and the cigarette-induced vocal fry, to the constant background bump of bass, this film did not miss a detail. The director, Molly Manning-Walker, encapsulated every moment of a 17-year-old gals trip to Malia. It’s your first real moment of freedom. You can stay up all night and go skinny dipping in the sea while the sun rises, with your best friends who you truly believe are your soulmates. From the first scene, Manning-Walker captured that unconditional, fierce love that teenage girls have for one another, a love that you feel will always last forever no matter what. It’s that beautiful naivety that all good things must last, something you almost wish we could bring with us into adulthood. So many moments in this film mirrored almost exactly my own experience when I was 17 in Malia that it got to the point that I am actually convinced I wrote this. I’d even taken the same flight path they did! I’d heard beforehand that it was a hard watch, and that is true. It’s an incredibly hard watch, especially for those who can remember this time of our lives and can remember sweaty nights like this that left a sour taste in their mouths. All of our leading lady Tara's relationships and interactions with others are so nuanced and true to life, and Mia McKenna-Bruce’s performance is outstanding. She takes you along on Tara’s emotional journey throughout and does so in a magnificent way. I will tell everyone to go and see this film. It brilliantly explores these pertinent issues and does so in a way that unblurs those supposed ‘blurred lines’ when it comes to consent. It’s uncomfortable, heartbreaking, hilarious, and true. It will make you want to go back to being a teenager who could take on the world, whilst simultaneously reminding you why you’re so happy those years are behind you. I could say so much more about it, but I’m going to let it speak for itself. Go and see the film, and then give yourself a hug and congratulate your teenage self on making it this far. Double Blind By contrast, I was not super impressed with Double Blind. There was a clear shared love of 80’s horror films between myself and the filmmaker, and that was amplified massively through the soundtrack. But other than that, I couldn’t get into it like I usually can with 80’s horror. Double Blind follows a group of test subjects taking part in an experimental drug trial in which they are locked away from the outside world whilst the trial takes place. The trial is then derailed when something goes horribly wrong, and, as any good horror film does, leads to mass bloodshed. Don’t get me wrong, the camera work was great. I loved the use of classic match cuts, which seemed like an homage to infamous horror directors such as Stanley Kubrick, and the imagery itself was very pleasing to the eye. The Director of Photography did a brilliant job of making the audience feel claustrophobic and frantic at times, with the use of varying angles and movements throughout shots. Within the first half an hour though, I knew there was something I didn’t like about it. Something felt off. I couldn’t decide if it was the writing that I felt was stiff, or the acting, but something wasn’t working for me. The dialogue felt stunted at times. There are some really tense and jumpy moments but they don’t feel scary, they just take you by surprise, and there is a lot to be said for the work the soundtrack does in creating these tense moments. As it moved along, the performances and the storyline got better. I really liked the aspect of using the decaying of the human psyche as a horror narrative tool. There is nothing scarier to me than your brain turning against you and, especially in the third act, the filmmakers did a great job of playing on the scariest parts of the human mind. It does feel very nightmare-ish in the pace and camera movements. I think the one thing that holds it back for me is the dialogue. It’s written and acted in a way that feels unnatural and stilted, and maybe this was intentional, it just did not work for me. I’m just going to add it to the long list of horror sci-fi films I’ve seen that I’m not going to see again and probably forget it exists in a months’ time. Communion Communion was something different for me. Set in the backdrop of Northern Ireland, Communion is a 30 minute insight into religion in rural communities. Who knew that a story surrounding a small parish closing down in the middle of nowhere could be so devastatingly beautiful. As someone who was not brought up religious, I didn’t think I would connect much to the story as sometimes I find myself unable to understand what religion can mean for people. Communion did a wonderful job of showcasing the sadness and melancholy the priests feel as they grieve their closing parish, contrasted with the wild and vibrant Ulster countryside. Through this I was able to tap into the empathy needed to understand how this could be a devastating loss to this community. The film highlighted some very real reasons why people have lost faith in the Catholic church, whilst also encapsulating the importance of the comfort the parish provides to this small community and the individuals within it. I really do love it when filmmakers introduce and examine the question of morality of human choices and how that interacts with the church, and Communion does a brilliant job of exploring this. I would describe this film as a Sunday Film – one you watch on a cold and wet Sunday afternoon, snuggled up on the sofa with a fire going. Even if you’re not religious, the imagery alone is worth it and to be honest it’s just an overall nice watch. Heaven Scent Okay, this one was an interesting one. Did you know Presbyterian is an anagram for Britney Spears? Me neither. This was just one of the many fun little facts Heaven Scent shared with its audience. With absolutely zero funding, and that was very clear, I had very low expectations going in. And let me tell you, this was the most fun I have ever had in a cinema. Following a local private detective, Heaven Scent takes us on a journey through the back alleys of Belfast into a world of crime, mystery and paramilitaries. As we entered the screening, audience members were handed cards with numbers in boxes on them. Throughout the film, these numbers would flash on the screen at certain times, indicating which box had to be scratched and then sniffed, which supposedly aligned with what our protagonist was smelling on screen. Now, using scratch and sniff in a film is a risky game, but I respect the risk. At the end of the day films are a version of storytelling, and you can always enhance that experience by introducing the use of other senses rather than just sight. The issue is that it doesn’t always work. I’d love to say it worked this time… but 8 out of the 10 smells all smelt the same and nothing like what they were supposed to smell like (though I am quite happy that the dog poo one did not smelllike dog poo). Having said that though, it did not take away from the film at all. Heaven Scent felt homegrown and the audience felt familiar, almost like family. It was shown in the smaller screen of one of Belfast’s oldest cinemas (and that is evident in the décor) and the humour throughout was very Belfast. It was hilarious. Everything about it was so sincere; I have met all of these characters in real life, I have seen all these places in real life, my house was even in the background of one of the shots! I am blown away by how beautiful they made Belfast look while keeping its authenticity. And who doesn’t love a political commentary, especially on the failures of Green and Orange politics. It was just fun. I left that cinema on a high (and not because of the poppers section on the scratch and sniff), the sense of community evoked by that film had me feeling elated, and I was surprised at how much I had enjoyed it. There’s only one right way to watch this film, and that’s in a room in an almost forgotten area of Belfast with a group of locals. Goodbye Julia I loved this film. I loved it. Set in Sudan just before they voted to separate the South and North into two different states, Goodbye Julia tells the story of female friendship and empowerment in times of conflict and oppression. It’s a typical Romeo and Juliet story but with platonic feminine love, and set to the backdrop of the complex situation in Sudan and South Sudan. It was heartbreaking from the get-go. Not in a brutal and graphic manner, but in a way that forces you to reflect on the varying devastations of war. There is some absolutely brilliant imagery that focuses on the similarities between both of our leading ladies. They’re both human, experiencing human feelings and situations regardless of which community they were born into. It really highlights how the backdrop of war is so casual. Violence is casual. Violence happens in the backdrop of our everyday lives, as we as humans try to continue with as much normalcy as possible. Having said all that, there were still moments that warranted a chuckle. We were still able to laugh in the midst of violence. In the cinema, there was a massive presence from the Sudanese community here in Belfast that laughed way more than I did. I reckon there were plenty of culturally relevant and nuanced jokes that just flew over my head, and of course they did, but that didn’t disrupt the sense of community between the audience. It was so well shot; it really highlighted these moments of humour, as well as these genuine moments of female friendship born out of trauma but used as an escape. There is all this love and warmth, contrasted with a backdrop of conflict that culturally says our two leading ladies must hate each other. I loved every part of it. It was a well written, nail-biting drama, with beautiful imagery and camerawork to tell the story, as well as invoking discussions of the complexities of human relationships and the realities of war, especially in the context of genocide and oppression. AND it did all this while subtly educating the audience on this incredibly relevant conflict. It was very well received by the Sudanese population in the cinema with me, and it translates well to a Western audience. Even if you aren’t usually one for international films, it is so worth a watch. Fréamhacha My closing event with the Belfast Film Festival was a ‘Work in Progress’ event for a new Irish language horror film hoping to be debuted next year. For just over an hour, the audience experienced a panel of the filmmaker and her leading actresses, as well as four exclusive clips from the film itself. Obviously, as the film has not been released yet, we were asked not to share details of the clips we saw, but from what I’ve seen this is going to be one to watch. The Irish language has suffered years of attempted erasure, so to begin with it’s nice to see feature length films being made which are solely in Irish. Secondly, as we all know I’m a big old feminist, so seeing a panel full of strong women in the film industry, who each have so much they bring to the project, was refreshing and exciting. It was a candid discussion on how the process has taken shape right from the start, mixed in with screenings of the four clips, to give the audience a bit of insight into the project so far. Personally, I feel the Irish language and culture in general lends itself perfectly to horror; as director Aislinn Clarke said “it’s hard to get away from religious influence of Catholicism and folklore” especially when doing an Irish language horror set in Ireland. She went on to discuss the “Pagan seasoning we give to Catholicism in Ireland” which is evident in the clips we were shown. You can clearly see how these aspects are interwoven in the story and imagery to add to this disorientating and nightmare-ish atmosphere. As Aislinn, and her two leading actors Clare Monnelly and Bríd Ni Neachtain, continued to discuss the process, I am amazed at all the small details and factors they employed to create an environment that adds to this sense of unease. All the while, Aislinn remains extremely humble. She really focused on the idea of film as a collaborative project, and how it evolves with each person who works on it. It was just a really interesting insight into the creative process as a whole, as well as an interesting discussion between women about their experiences while shooting and creating this film. I am really looking forward to seeing it in all its tense and disorientating glory, whenever it graces our big screens. As always, the festival was a wonderful showcase of both local and international filmmaking talent with a massive and varied program. Thank you so much Belfast Film Festival 2023 for the wonderful opportunity to attend and write about my brilliant time with you, I already can’t wait for next year. As I said earlier, if you have the chance to visit Belfast, then do, and if you have a chance to go to the film festival, you’d be silly to say no! If you have enjoyed this read, and want to find out more, you can visit the Belfast Film Festival website here.

Hot Fuss is the debut studio album by American rock band The Killers, released in the UK in 2004. The album's music is mostly influenced by new wave and post-punk, and the hit single ‘Mr. Brightside’ is apparently the only song worthy of playing in student unions up and down the country. After twenty years, are they still "coming out of the cage and doing just fine"? Or have "they had it with this game" after all? (Bonus points if you can name the songs from those lyrics!) Florence I’m just going to get this out the way. Anyone who’s been on a night out in the UK has been all but bludgeoned to death by ‘Mr. Brightside’. If you’re in dire need of a conversation topic, you can state your opinion on the song and watch your peers divide into two camps: “The best song ever!” vs. “Overplayed, overrated” for 3-5 minutes of mundane debate. Just to cover my bases: I do like the song, but it would also be nice if primary school discos took more risks with their playlists. In all seriousness, the song feels personal to me. It reminds me of my high school best friend who loves it too, and of when it was first pointed out to me that you can’t tell if the singer is jealous of the boy or the girl in the song. It seems a simple observation now, but at the time as a teen coming to terms with their sexuality, my mind was blown. As for the rest of the songs on Hot Fuss, this was the first time I’d heard most of them. Listening to an entire album often feels too big a commitment, so I instead take the more sporadic approach of discovering just one song, letting it feature exclusively as my life’s soundtrack for the next three days until I can’t stand it anymore and begin the process again. All this to say, as I began Hot Fuss I found myself wondering if my obsessive, one-song method was worth missing out on the art of the album. For the first half of the songs, at least, I was impressed by how cohesive they felt and how effortlessly they flowed from one to the next. In just seven tracks The Killers explore a complex emotional spectrum of love, envy, and vengefulness. The lyrics share just enough for a narrative to emerge, yet remain playfully cryptic. I loved the ambiguity of the first half of the album, in particular the fluidity of gender in ‘Somebody Told Me’ (“Somebody told me you had a boyfriend / that looked like a girlfriend / that I had in February…’) After a series of upbeat, pop-y records, ‘All These Things That I’ve Done’ was a welcome chaser: taking clear inspiration from gospel music, this track invited me to take a moment’s reflection. Drawing on his Mormon upbringing Flowers sings about the expectations of the LDS church and sin. The songs that follow it, ‘On Top’ and the undeniably homoerotic ‘Andy, You’re A Star’ paint a picture of a narrator struggling to level his sexual desire with his religious guilt. Just as quickly as Hot Fuss drew me in, it lost me. Around the halfway point my brain began to muddle, unable to maintain focus on the soup of zippy UFO-like noises and repetitive lyrics. In all honesty, I was a bit synth-ed out. The final song ‘Glamorous Indie Rock & Roll’ seemed to sense my dwindling enthusiasm, trying to coax me back as Flowers sings “indie rock and roll is what I want… it’s what I need”. An unsuccessful plea, unfortunately. Outside of a particularly angsty period in 2013, I find that this pop-punk-rock stuff doesn’t hold much long term appeal. Tom I only found out recently The Killers were American. Perhaps it’s because ‘Mr. Brightside’ is baked into the national nightclub consciousness, or the band’s gritty spirit that makes me want to stick Fratellis on, but for years I assumed these guys were British. A blaze of hell for punks to bop to in nods of total agreement, The Killers’ debut darts-throw Hot Fuss earns such a reputation. Though I imagine it wouldn’t want this sort of praise sung, I’d say this record's elegant in title and graceful in execution. If you ears haven’t wandered these halls, I urge them to You’ll know the hits: ‘Somebody Told Me’, whirring like a firehouse siren, and ‘Mr. Brightside’ which, so familiar from Friday nights in darkness, just ticked along on this listen (in a coffee shop – who hears this in the daylight?!). When considered as part of the bigger picture, ‘Mr Brightside’ does vitally carry the momentum of heartbreak that the opening track, ‘Jenny Was a Friend of Mine’, previewed. I smiled recalling all the kicks I threw to the ‘Mr Brightside’ chorus last year at not one but three wedding receptions (somebody get me a gin). ‘Jenny Was a Friend of Mine,’ meanwhile, leads the angry parade with a steely cry, its funk bars the trenches of rage and its sound an 80’s sci-fi score propelled into rock. As the zeitgeist should feel guilty about, the loud songs appeared on all the recurring playlists, leaving the other moody tracks behind and forgotten. Honestly, I prefer the sullen songs. Bopping to ‘All These Things That I’ve Done’ is the kinda party I’d stay for – and points for its matter-of-fact pleas, and abstract “if you can’t hold on” closing. The gospel rhythms and hum of ‘Andy You’re a Star,’ and the pulse, solitude and image of free running in ‘On Top’ create worlds that glare at themselves in the mirror. As the latter blares; “I look at you and smile because I’m fine.” Maybe because I teach drama I feel safer swimming in haunts of soul, but I’d always pick the road whose destination is to help me accept my shit. (Anyone else check out this record and envision vampires boogying, here?) One more for you: ‘Believe Me, Natalie.’ The disco has to end, and it did, as AIDS brought it crashing down, says Brandon Flowers. Besides this context, BLIMEY, is ‘Believe Me, Natalie’ a rollercoaster?! Blasting, sizzling, and painting colours in my head you’d have seen on Windows Media Player in the noughties, this might be my favourite retro-play in a while. Sincere, messy, electric: believe me when I pray that more tunes sound like this. ‘Believe Me, Natalie’ is a song with a story that rides a wave; one of wish, acceptance, and finality. It’s a masterpiece, and its trumpets knew it. I thank rrramble for queuing this album up. Rock’s winter’s friend, and The Killers’ Hot Fuss is quite the hot cocoa for this cold snap. Callum Sitting down to write this review of Hot Fuss, I feel I must first own up to a couple of things. Firstly, The Killers have largely passed me by (other than ‘Mr. Brightside’, but more on that below), and secondly, that I’m not really one to sit and listen to an album in full - I’m much more of a compilation/playlist kind of guy. So, now I’ve aired my musical indiscretions… let’s get ‘Mr. Brightside’ over and done with. Based on the true story of lead singer Brandon Flowers discovering his girlfriend cheating on him, it is full of beat-driven anthemic angst that fuelled my teenage years. I must have heard The Killers on the radio, but my MP3 player (no iPod or Spotify Wrapped in sight) was full of Green Day, My Chemical Romance, and Good Charlotte - sorry Mum and Dad. And yet ‘Mr. Brightside’ seems to have seeped into me like musical osmosis. From the Student Union bar of my tiny university (I can almost taste the Cider Black) it even appeared on the song list for my husband and I’s wedding reception. Although all shame on me, I had to Google the band that sang it. As I’ve said, I am rubbish at listening to an entire album and I am much less able to tell you which song belongs on which album. I fully assumed that ‘Mr. Brightside’ would be the only song I knew. Re-listening to Hot Fuss, my memory was jogged by the other singles ‘Smile Like You Mean It’ and ‘Somebody Told Me’. These tracks, like ‘Mr. Brightside’, are synth-y and beat-driven. But what didn't make the cut for single release? ‘Glamorous Indie Rock & Roll’ stuck out; almost tongue-in-cheek with lyrics commenting on hipster culture (“A coffee shop with a cause”) and by the time you get into the song properly, it has an almost My-Chemical-Romance-esque sound, which was probably why I was drawn to it. Similarly, ‘Andy, You’re a Star’ echoes a slower and more thoughtful angst than the earlier tracks, and with lyrics like “In a car with a girl, promise me she’s not your world” and “Cause Andy, you’re a star; In nobody’s eyes but mine”, suggests an almost melancholic, closeted crush, of the song’s narrator. A quick bit of research says that it’s a song about classic high school politics and frustrations with athletically gifted kids getting the upper hand, which is far more straight-forward. I think I came to this review with an expectation of what Hot Fuss is about. That slightly jaded teen sound was certainly the soundtrack to my high school years, and although there is plenty of that to be celebrated, the rest was something forgettable that solicited a tepid reaction at best. Would I listen to it in full again? Probably not. For me, The Killers will always be ‘Mr. Brightside’ and placed firmly in the DJ-zone – a floor filler only to be listened to whilst dancing around handbags. You can listen to Hot Fuss on Spotify here. Edited by Harriet

As the year comes to an end, the out of offices turn on, and the Christmas lights get lit, it feels only right that the rrramble gang comes together over a hot drink to reflect on the year gone by. There have been some big hits, from Spider-Man in cinemas, to Spider-Man 2 in video games, all the way to the soundtrack for Spider-Man in music. But there were also those albums that failed to get us jazzed up, the shows with no showstopper, and the books we found totally spineless. It's time for rrramble's contentious roundup: rrrevered and rrreviled. A snapshot of the team's best and worst from the year gone by. Abs rrrevered The soundtrack to my 2023 has been The Record by Boygenius (that might be the giveaway that I’ve had a pretty tough year…). This album encapsulates the queer friendship which has saved me from myself and the world time and time again - seeing them play it in full, in the rain, surrounded by some of my favourite queer pals, will be on the highlight reel of my life, for sure. rrreviled It’s The Ultimatum: Queer Love for me. I’m all here for queering trashy reality tv, and was pretty invested in the series, until it became clear that the show was platforming and enabling an abuser. The reunion episode was painful to watch - it sucked to see Netflix be so irresponsible in their treatment of Tiff, and despite being a queer show, disappointingly seemed to perpetuate the horrendously incorrect narrative that women can’t be abusers. Gross. Alec rrrevered 'Damocles' by "revenge pop" artist Medusa, remains one of my most played songs of 2023. The song is intimate and Herculean all in one. It’s a song that houses a lot of pain but never ceases to display a beautiful chaos throughout. The cathartic ending gives me chills every time. rrreviled Asteroid City remains my least favourite film that came out in the UK this year. Wes Anderson’s socially stunted, theatre kid style of dialogue continues to drive me insane. Self-indulgent and shockingly unfunny. Several bad films this year at the very elicited a response from me. Ellie rrrevered Pain Killer on Netflix! By the end of it I was seething at the free rein selfishness has to corrupt people. Eat the rich x rrreviled Elemental. The sexual tention between the rabbit and the fox in Zootopia is much more believable (sorry bout it). Still eat the rich though. Georgia rrrevered CMAT has deffo been my artist of the year - incredible voice, funny (yet devastating) lyrics, and just seems like the kind of person you’d want to spend a night at the pub with her new album Crazymad for Me almost makes me want to go through a break up just to really indulge in the melodrama. rrreviled Killers of the Flower Moon. THREE HOURS IS TOO MANY HOURS. Isaac rrrevered There was so much groundbreaking art that I loved so much this year. Sadly they made the foolish decision to come out in the same year as This is Why. 100 more years of Paramore baby! rrreviled I had no expectations for Brandon Cronenberg's Infinity Pool and was still let down. A good concept, so wrapped up in it's own anxiety that the director fails to deliver the actual film. Tara rrrevered Baldur's Gate 3 - enough said rrreviled Starfield. I know Todd is trying his best, but it's been nothing but bad news.

If you look hard enough, you'll find that a multi-perspective Christmas movie review really IS all round... Believe it or not, Love Actually is TWENTY years old this year. But two decades on, is it still a movie we love (actually) to hate, or is it one to finally put into festive film retirement? What did our writers think of this Christmas classic? Tara As the holiday season drew in and my rewatch of Love actually grew closer, I started to feel…nervous. Love Actually is old. And like most old things, age isn’t doing it too many favours. However, to my surprise, I found that with each passing minute, I was enjoying the experience much more than I had anticipated. The best comparison I can make is to call Love Actually a patchy Christmas tapestry – some parts just have a more refined stitching. The unconventional stories stuck out the most to me. In a movie chronicling love, it was Emma Thompson’s devastation at a life destroyed that was the clear standout. In a now iconic scene, which happens to be one of my favourite uses of music in all of film, she stifles sobs, while Joni Mitchell plays in the background. It is absolutely sincere, painfully so. Moving, crushing and, above all, firmly relatable to anyone who’s been burnt amongst the warm holiday embrace, what makes it better is that there is no happy ending; once Christmas is over she’ll be left in the wreckage. But it’s not all doom and gloom either: Bill Nighy’s turn as the washed-up rock star Billy Mack balances out the movie. Dry, bawdy humour fuels Mack’s endeavour to achieve the rather paltry victory of a Christmas number one, with an unexpected but genuine conclusion with his manager, Joe. Meanwhile, Hugh Grant is perhaps the best Prime Minister this country has ever seen, while his love interest, Natalie, played rather sweetly by Martine McCutcheon, enjoys the perfect wish-fulfilment romantic fantasy – real-life complications of dating your boss (who runs the country) aside! The movie isn’t without its snags: casually uncomfortable fatphobia and the unfortunate choice to name a young child’s first love after his recently deceased mother emphasises the film's more dated nature. The more conventional love stories suffer from a case of being overwhelmingly uninteresting, not even Collin Firth and all his Mr Darcy romantic charm could save Jamie and Aurélia’s romance from being a distracting slog. Its by-the-numbers story beats pales in comparison to the more fun and generally more sincere stories that surround it. Liam Neeson and his son, played by Thomas Sangster, inhabit a rather sad story that despite its tragic tone, isn’t safe from my judgment, and I deem it painfully dull. Sam’s puppy love was simply far too sugary sweet, even for me. There are sparks of more interesting movies that could have been: Laura Linney’s Sarah is the quintessential iceberg, with a quietly devastating story about sacrifice just beneath the surface. I’m certain this storyline would have developed far stronger with a little extra time. Meanwhile, recent popular culture has touted that the more interesting direction of the infamous Juliet, Peter, and Mark love triangle would have been for Mark to have hidden feelings for his long-time friend. I’d have to agree with the masses on that much more interesting angle to the well-worn triangle, but perhaps not safe enough for 2003.  For the trio, what’s there is generally fine, if a little embarrassing for Mark, though I must admit I did smile a little when he showed up with his cards and carol recordings. Quite frankly, I wanted a whole movie about John and Julie, whose intimate shyness contrasted so starkly with their outrageous surroundings I just had to root for them! Make no mistake, Love Actually is a quintessential Christmas cake movie: sugary sweet, distinctly old in the way it is fashioned and definitely not to everyone’s taste. However, there’s something to be said for indulgence. For loving the sappy and the cliche, as well as embracing the sadness. I fear I am far too old for any surprise Christmas gifts this year, but I’m glad to say that this movie was an unexpected joy to watch, and as it turns out love, actually, isn’t all that bad. Sophie S I think we can all agree that Love Actually has one of the greatest Christmas film openings of all time. Even with Hugh Grant as the voiceover. To be honest it lives in my head rent free, especially when I am at the airport. I get so emotional watching people reunite with their loved ones at the arrivals gate and I blame this film for that. It’s a shame the rest of the film doesn’t quite live up to it. The exception to this is the final scene back at Heathrow, but the in-between is irritating and mildly offensive. To start with, I used to really love Natalie, the absolutely NOT FAT Prime Minister’s assistant. I thought she was funny and charming, and to an extent I still agree, however I have since realised that she is mostly reduced to a stereotype whose only notable element is her weight or her sex appeal. They even try to address why this is wrong in the film, but then continue to not really develop her character’s personality further than making her the point of Hugh Grant’s character arc. Oh, he is so brave for looking past her family background and society’s thoughts on her non-existent weight problems! It’s kind of disappointing revisiting this storyline that you once thought was romantic, to discover that it is actually quite superficial. There are multiple other issues of representation – the depictions of mental health issues are just sad to watch. Sarah’s brother, Michael, is granted very limited screen time, even though he is an important part of Sarah’s storyline, and, in the few moments we do see him, he is not granted much substance other than being depicted as aggressive. Once again, a disappointing representation that can be – and is – quite harmful. Don’t even get me started on the fact how it’s a film about several ‘diverse’ love stories, and not one of them is centred on a queer couple. It’s insinuated that Bill Nighy and his manager end on a romantic note, but I feel like it is never overtly stated or addressed. It could just be a lovely story about platonic love. If you are going to have queer characters in your stories then make them queer! Don’t make them womanizers throughout the whole film and then end on an ambiguous note. A small saving grace is Bill Nighy’s comedic delivery, it really is brilliant. There are a few other notable elements: Emma Thompson’s performance throughout is an obvious shining light. I will never forgive Alan Rickman for doing that to her, but I have to thank the film for introducing me to Joni Mitchell. A few of the storylines are sweet if you overlook some of the annoyances in them, like, how are Colin Firth and Aurelia in love when they cannot understand each other, but OK. Kiera Knightly’s storyline is nothing but creepy though – there is nothing sweet about stalking. Overall, I think Love Actually is pretty dated; I guess British society wasn’t as self-aware of its role in these issues as it may be now. We have moved on in terms of representation, and, while it’s not perfect, it’s a development. I like my Christmas films to bring me joy and rewatching this just made me feel angry more than anything else. I think I am happy to leave this one behind. You can watch Love Actually on NOW with a premium subscription. Edited by Hamilton Brown