The Oscars: in pictures

The best moments from the 82nd Academy Awards.

Was2941445

James Cameron, director of Avatar, pretends to strangle his ex-wife Kathryn Bigelow, director of The Hurt Locker. Both were up for the Best Director and Best Picture awards. She pipped him to the post in both categories.

 

59847124 

Here Bigelow is congratulated by the producer Greg Shapiro. She is the first woman ever to win in the Best Director category. The film won in five categories: Writing (Original Screenplay), Sound Mixing, Film Editing, Directing and Best Picture. John Pilger wasn't too impressed, though.

 

Was2941621 

The comedian Ben Stiller gets all dressed up to present the Best Make-Up award. The gong actually went to Star Trek, but Avatar did win awards for: Art Direction, Cinematography and Visual Effects. Slavoj Žižek discusses the film in this week's New Statesman.

 

Was2941933 

Jeff Bridges, who finally won the prize for Best Actor in a Leading Role on his fifth nomination, is congratulated by his wife, Susan.

 

Was2941738 

Mo'Nique celebrates her Oscar for a Best Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role, for her part in Precious, reviewed by Ryan Gilbey here.

 

Was2941987 

Sandra Bullock accepts her award for Best Actress for her role in The Blind Side. The same weekend, she had the dubious honour of receiving an award for Worst Actress, in the film All About Steve, at the Razzies, which celebrate bad films. Unlike most Razzie nominees, she attended the ceremony to pick up her prize in person.

 

59838479 

The British hopeful Carey Mulligan, nominated in the Best Actress category for her role in An Education, presented an award, but left with nothing. The other British nominees Colin Firth, Armando Iannucci, Helen Mirren and Nick Hornby also went home empty-handed.

All photos from AFP/Getty Images.

Follow the New Statesman team on Twitter.

Samira Shackle is a freelance journalist, who tweets @samirashackle. She was formerly a staff writer for the New Statesman.

Show Hide image

How wine crosses national boundaries

With a glass of wine, and a bit of imagination, wine can take us anywhere.

Wine offers many pleasures, one of which is effortless movement. You can visit places that make the wines you love, but you can also sip yourself to where these grapes once grew, or use a mind-expanding mouthful to conjure somewhere unrelated but more appropriate to your mood. Chablis, say, need not transport you to damp and landlocked Burgundy, even if the vines flourish there, not when those stony white wines suit sun, sea and shellfish so well.

Still, I’d never been to Istria – a triangle of land across the Adriatic from the upper calf of Italy’s boot – either in vino or in veritas, until I tried a selection of wines from Pacta Connect, a Brighton-based, wine-importing couple obsessed with Central and Eastern Europe. 

The tapas restaurant Poco on Broadway Market in east London has fiercely ecological credentials – it uses lots of locally sourced and sustainably grown food and the space is a former bike shop – but this fierceness doesn’t extend to entirely virtuous wine-buying, thank goodness. I’m all for saving the planet: waggle the eco-spear too hard, however, and I’ll be forced to drink nothing but English wine. Trying each other’s wines, like learning each other’s customs, is vital to understanding: there’s no point improving the atmosphere if we all just sit around inhaling our own CO2 at home.

The world is full of wine and it is our duty to drink variously in the name of peace and co-operation – which are not gifts that have frequently been bestowed on Istria. I have sought enlightenment from Anna, the Culinary Anthropologist. A cookery teacher and part-time Istrian, she has a house on the peninsula and a PhD in progress on its gastronomy. So now, I know that Istria is a peninsula, even if its borders are debated – a result of Croatia, Slovenia and Italy all wanting a piece of its fertile red soil and Mediterranean climate.

From ancient Romans to independence-seeking Croatians in the early 1990s, all sorts of people have churned up the vineyards, which hasn’t stopped the Istrians making wine; political troubles may even have added to the impetus. A strawberry-ish, slightly sparkling Slovenian rosé got on splendidly with plump Greek olives and English bean hummus, topped with pickled tarragon and thyme-like za’atar herbs from the Syrian-Lebanese mountains. A perfumed white called Sivi Pinot by the same winemaker, Miha Batič, from Slovenian Istria’s Vipava Valley, was excellent with kale in lemon juice: an unlikely meeting of the Adriatic, the Atlantic and the Mediterranean. Sivi Pinot is another name for Pinot Grigio, which seems fair enough: as long as we can raise our glasses and agree to differ, names should be no problem.

But sometimes we can’t. The other Slovenian winemaker on the menu, Uroš Klabjan, lives three kilometres from the Italian city of Trieste, where his Malvazija Istarska would be called Malvasia Istriana. Either way, it is fresh and slightly apricot-like, and goes dangerously well with nothing at all: I see why this is Istria’s most popular white grape. His Refošk, an intense red, is also good but there is a complicated argument over when Refošk should be called Teran. Like battles over parts of the Balkans, these wrangles seem incomprehensible to many of us, but it’s sobering to think that wine can reflect the less pleasant aspects of cross-cultural contact. Intolerance and jingoism don’t taste any better than they sound.

We finish with Gerzinić’s Yellow Muskat and rhubarb parfait: Croatian dessert wine from an ancient grape found around the world, with an English plant transformed by a French name. There’s nothing sweeter than international co-operation. Except, perhaps, armchair travel.

Nina Caplan is the 2014 Fortnum & Mason Drink Writer of the Year and 2014 Louis Roederer International Wine Columnist of the Year for her columns on drink in the New Statesman. She tweets as @NinaCaplan.

This article first appeared in the 23 June 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Divided Britain