Sophie Belot

In French cinema, representations of girls have often been associated with films made by women, as demonstrated by Carrie Tarr with Brigitte Rollet (2001). They claim that the young girl is the major cinematographic topic for a woman’s first film, and names, such as Céline Sciamma in the late 2000s, Diane Kurys and Catherine Breillat in the 1970s, substantiate this position. However, Breillat’s A Real Young Girl was different, as it attracted critics’ acerbic reception and was subsequently banned for its open depiction of a young girl’s sexual experiences. It is argued that Breillat’s images of the young girl’s sexual initiation in the 1970s brings to the fore the significance of the idea of authenticity in relation to sex and cinema. Examining the representation of the ‘real young girl’ highlights the ideas of reflexivity and creativity attached to the existentialist notion of authenticity. This article aims to show that the young girl stands as a metaphor for Breillat’s auteurist approach to challenging existing filmic conventions.

Film Studies
Samia and La Squale
Carrie Tarr

and, as in Samia , is located outside the banlieue , and, indeed, outside France. Conclusion Both Samia and La Squale depict rebellious teenage girls who challenge the imposition of an unjust, violent patriarchal order, questioning the way they are treated within the domestic sphere and asserting their right to a place in the cité /city. In each case, the young women seek to free themselves from the excesses of their family

in Reframing difference
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Carrie Tarr

intended to evoke the image of young French teenage girls, who drank peppermint soda because they did not know what they wanted and indeed, according to Kurys, did not know much about anything (Kurys 1977 ). The film does not venture into experimentation with film form, but neither does it derive its style from the popular genres, tightly plotted narratives and star-led casts characteristic of mainstream cinema. 4 As Kurys

in Diane Kurys
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Come dancing – popular dance in post-war Britain
Allison Abra

Epilogue Come dancing – popular dance in post-war Britain I n 1946, a story in Dance News described how two teenaged girls, upon discovering that their local dance hall had banned the jitterbug, were so distraught that they tried to stow away aboard a ship bound for the United States.1 Their attempted exodus to the country they deemed to be more aligned with their cultural tastes is indicative of the ongoing tensions that surrounded popular dance and American culture as Britain entered the post-war period. The jitterbug – now more widely established as the jive

in Dancing in the English style
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Bryce Evans

Ribald tales of cross-border smuggling provide comic relief from the grim conditions described in the preceding chapter. This chapter introduces rogues and child smugglers; cross-dressing flour smugglers and violent, organised smuggling operations. It reveals the different means of transport availed of by smugglers – foot, road, rail, donkey – and assesses the risk attached to each. There are new oral accounts and customs records relayed here which tell the story of RAF men smuggling tights and lipstick; teenage girls caught with pram-fulls of bread and contraceptives; and diligent customs officers. A significant gap in knowledge surrounding the economic conditions driving smuggling in this period is addressed. Unlike the Economic War (1932-38) it was disparity in supply of basic goods under separate rationing systems which drove demand and the illegal trade, not price (which was the decisive factor in cattle smuggling in the previous decade). For the first time, the disproportionate number of women (housewives, schoolgirls, female combatants) involved in smuggling is revealed.

in Ireland during the Second World War
Open Access (free)
The Algerian war and the ‘emancipation’ of Muslim women, 1954–62
Author: Neil Macmaster

In May 1958, and four years into the Algerian War of Independence, a revolt again appropriated the revolutionary and republican symbolism of the French Revolution by seizing power through a Committee of Public Safety. This book explores why a repressive colonial system that had for over a century maintained the material and intellectual backwardness of Algerian women now turned to an extensive programme of 'emancipation'. After a brief background sketch of the situation of Algerian women during the post-war decade, it discusses the various factors contributed to the emergence of the first significant women's organisations in the main urban centres. It was only after the outbreak of the rebellion in 1954 and the arrival of many hundreds of wives of army officers that the model of female interventionism became dramatically activated. The French military intervention in Algeria during 1954-1962 derived its force from the Orientalist current in European colonialism and also seemed to foreshadow the revival of global Islamophobia after 1979 and the eventual moves to 'liberate' Muslim societies by US-led neo-imperialism in Afghanistan and Iraq. For the women of Bordj Okhriss, as throughout Algeria, the French army represented a dangerous and powerful force associated with mass destruction, brutality and rape. The central contradiction facing the mobile socio-medical teams teams was how to gain the trust of Algerian women and to bring them social progress and emancipation when they themselves were part of an army that had destroyed their villages and driven them into refugee camps.

Author: Lucy Bland

This book recounts the little-known history of the mixed-race children born to black American servicemen and white British women during the Second World War. Of the three million American soldiers stationed in Britain from 1942 to 1945, about 8 per cent (240,000) were African-American; the latter’s relationships with British women resulted in the birth of an estimated 2,000 babies. The African-American press named these children ‘brown babies’; the British called them ‘half-castes’. Black GIs, in this segregated army, were forbidden to marry their white girlfriends. Up to half of the mothers of these babies, faced with the stigma of illegitimacy and a mixed-race child, gave their children up for adoption. The outcome for these children tended to be long-term residency in children’s homes, sometimes followed by fostering and occasionally adoption, but adoption societies frequently would not take on ‘coloured’ children, who were thought to be ‘too hard to place’. There has been minimal study of these children and the difficulties they faced, such as racism in a (then) very white Britain, lack of family or a clear identity. Accessibly written and illustrated with numerous photographs, this book presents the stories of over forty of these children. While some of the accounts of early childhood are heart-breaking, there are also many uplifting narratives of finding American fathers and gaining a sense of self and of heritage.

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Louise A. Jackson and Angela Bartie

). The Scottish cities of Dundee and Glasgow witnessed increased conflict between police and young white working-class males that was linked to lack of amenities on relatively new peripheral housing schemes. In inner-city Manchester and London, however, both seen as magnets for runaway teenage girls because of their vibrant entertainments industries, the attentions of police and social workers focused instead on unlicensed music clubs, sexual corruption, drugs misuse, and the mixing of classes and races. In both cases the opportunity was used by the police to increase

in Policing youth
Changing patterns of advice in teenage magazines: Mirabelle, 1956–77
Melanie Tebbutt

poses questions about how the readership of Mirabelle was changing in this period. Challenges to traditional masculinity in the popular culture of the early 1970s were epitomised by glam rock musicians such as Slade and David Bowie, who ‘reached across genders and were featured regularly in Jackie and Mirabelle and similar publications aimed at teenage girls’.85 There are no figures to confirm how many boys read such magazines, but it is possible that more were doing so than in the past. Philip Cato, who grew up in Rugeley in the West Midlands, for example, bought

in People, places and identities
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David Murphy and Patrick Williams

colours, fast-paced editing and striking shot composition (which reveals a particular taste for the bizarre and the comically grotesque). Quartier Mozart also breaks new ground in terms of its transgressive narrative – a teenage girl makes a pact with a ‘witch’ and is temporarily transformed into a boy – which deals with sex, power, identity and magic: Clyde Taylor refers to the film’s ‘code violations’ in relation to

in Postcolonial African cinema