There are few bands that have enjoyed as much adoration or endured as much
criticism as The Clash. Emerging originally as a principal voice in the
burgeoning mid-1970s London punk scene, The Clash would soon cast off the
fetters that restricted many of their peers, their musical tastes becoming ever
more eclectic and their political field of vision ever more global. In the
process, the band would widen the cultural and political horizons of their
audience and would for many come to exemplify the power of popular music to
change minds. While The Clash would attract a great deal of critical acclaim,
this would always be less than universal. In the eyes of their many detractors,
the radical political stance of the band was little more than self-mythologising
posture, neatly serving the culture industries in their perennial goal of
‘turning rebellion into money’. In this collection, scholars working out of very
different contexts and academic traditions set out to examine this most complex
and controversial of bands. Across a dozen original essays, the authors provide
fresh insights into the music and politics of The Clash in ways that are by
turns both critical and celebratory. While the book seeks to locate the band in
their own time and place, it also underlines their enduring and indeed very
contemporary significance. A common thread running though the essays here is
that the songs The Clash wrote four decades ago to document a previous, pivotal
moment of geopolitical transformation have a remarkable resonance in our own
current moment of prolonged global turbulence. Written in a style that is both
scholarly and accessible, Working for the clampdown offers compelling and
original takes on one of the most influential and incendiary acts ever to grace
-to-eight episodes. This concluding
chapter analyses how Broadchurch (ITV, 2013–2017) and
Happy Valley (BBC, 2014–) typify the genre’s
latest direction in narrative and style. It specifically considers how
the use of HD aerial cameras in both series ideologically navigates the
growing socio-economic inequalities of their specific localities in
relation to gendered identities deriving from austerity politics
collective vision of a particular
tradition, period, background or ‘school’.
It’s logical and usual to consider even impersonal and
anonymous artworks as an expression of a general consensus ( A
Mirror for England , p. 4). 1
R AYMOND DURGNAT’S A Mirror for England:
British Movies from Austerity to Affluence , which deals
between the twin rhetorics of self-improvement and
self-excoriation to elaborate contradictory demands to cultivate a work
ethic and responsible constraint while simultaneously manifesting a
voracious appetite for consumption. Through a reading of this double-
bind as a form of ‘bad faith’ self-deception, I turn to Gary Owen’s
Iphigenia in Splott –set in austerity-hit Wales –to re-frame the killjoy
as an unhappy scapegoat whose disorderly public affects advertise the
personal sacrifices she is required to make on behalf of her community
irrational premodern residue of messianic religiosity and hysteria about female sexuality; and in Frankenstein (1931) fabulous electrical equipment hums and sparks and sputters in a run-down Gothic turret. Similarly, The Prisoner depicts a post-austerity Britain, modern and affluent, but weighed down by history and tradition. Number 6 drives a Lotus 7, but drives it past the Houses of Parliament, an institution which could be seen as modern and democratic were it not for its backward-looking architecture and the archaic privilege of the upper house. Number 6’s London
This book offers a startling re-evaluation of what has until now been seen as the most critically lacklustre period of the British film history. It includes fresh assessment of maverick directors; Pat Jackson, Robert Hamer and Joseph Losey, and even of a maverick critic Raymond Durgnat. The book features personal insights from those inidividually implicated in 1950s cinema; Corin Redgrave on Michael Redgrave, Isabel Quigly on film reviewing, and Bryony Dixon of the BFI on archiving and preservation. A classic image from 1950s British cinema would be Jack Hawkins in The Cruel Sea, the epitome of quiet English integrity. Raymond Durgnat's A Mirror for England: British Movies from Austerity to Affluence, which deals extensively with British films of the 1950s, was written in the mid-1960s and was published in 1970. In a 1947 article called 'Angles of Approach' Lindsay Anderson delivered a fierce attack on contemporary British film culture, outlining a model for a devoted politics of creation, well in line with what we would later understand as auteurism and art cinema aesthetics . The war films of the 1950s together constitute the assented-to record of the emotions and moral judgments called upon to set in order those disorderly events. The book also talks about the Festival of Britain, White Corridors, and four Hamer's post-Ealing films: The Spider and the Fly, The Long Memory, Father Brown and The Scapegoat. A number of factors have contributed to the relative neglect of the 1950s as a decade in British cinema history.
Above Bar Street still inspired ‘with new possibilities. That is what ghost stories are for’ (Inglis 2003 : 50).
Durgnat , Raymond ( 1970 ), A Mirror for England: British Movies from Austerity to Affluence , London : Faber & Faber .
Farber , Manny ( 1971 ), Negative Space: Manny Farber on the Movies , Santa Barbara, CA : Praeger .
Inglis , Fred ( 2003 ), ‘ National Snapshots: Fixing the Past in English War Films ’, in MacKillop , Ian and Sinyard , Neil (eds.) British Cinema in the 1950s: A
: British Movies from Austerity to Affluence . In 1992 he argued that ‘the actor is the character’s auteur’ and how ‘the fine details of gestures, stances and intonations exposes individual attitude and their recombinations in specific situations, thus going deeper than mere typology’ ( 1992 : 24).
And so, the sixteen subjects of this book have been selected for their power to ‘summon up, evoke, a particular historical period through their personae; thus through their personae, stars come to stand as signifiers of the time in which they achieved their greatest
camaraderie of his community whilst thriving under the resource implications of austerity.
Alternatively, Happy Valley (BBC, 2014–) draws clear
connections among austerity, tragedy, and trauma to engender an
interdependent working community to overcome austerity.
The second objective of this study
is to examine how representations of social class and gender in domestic
, producers are especially important in small, developing industries where
the working conditions require greater resourcefulness and organizational prowess than may be needed in richer, more established
environments. As the industrial landscape of Scottish cinema grows
more unpredictable in this era of austerity and possible independence, the producer will only become more important to Scottish
film-making as the need to broker multilateral, most likely trans
nationally oriented, financial deals will become more and more
Whatever the future may hold for Scottish