Friday Arts Diary

Our cultural picks for the week ahead.

Film

Raindance Film Festival, Apollo Piccadilly Circus, 26 Sept – 7 Oct

Notable for having repeatedly premiered next year’s most talked about films (cf. The Blair Witch Project, Memento, Old Boy), Raindance returns this week with its signature array of new movies from across continents, provocative new documentaries and live events. The Piccadilly Apollo and Haymarket Cineworld will lay on everything from a far-Eastern adaptation of The Tempest set in near-future Japan to an Irish horror mockumentary: Portrait of a Zombie. There will be a new Mexican Cinema strand, and as ever, short films will form an essential element of the line-up which debuts over 200 shorts on average each year. This year’s festival winner will be automatically shortlisted in the Best Short Film category at the 2013 Academy Awards. The full programme can be downloaded by clicking here.

 

Literature

The Times Cheltenham Literature Festival, 5 – 14 Oct

Cheltenham’s Imperial Square will hold more marquees and Times readers than usual next weekend as the town’s annual literary festival gets under way. Big names involved in talks and debates include the world’s best-known “left-leaning demagogue” J. K. Rowling, recent memoirists Salman Rushdie and Paul Auster, screen stars Benedict Cumberbatch, Paul O’Grady and Clare Balding, and former UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan, talking about his new book Interventions: A Life in War and Peace. The festival’s theme is apparently People: Power, and even if it barely needs the word “literature” in its title, the line-up is broad enough for everyone to find something of interest.

 

Music

Darbar Festival, Southbank Centre, 27 – 30 September

Darbar is a festival of Indian classical music which brings concerts, talks, food and yoga to the Southbank’s Centre’s Pucell Room once a year. At fourteen concerts across four days the programme boasts a selection of India’s best musicians, many of whom are sixth or seventh-generation instrumentalists, appearing in the UK for the first time. Ones to watch include the tabla master Pandit Swapan Chaudhuri and sitarist Ustad Shujaat Khan. Music is drawn from both the Hindustani (north Indian) and Carnatic (southern) traditions and for those who want to know more, the curators run an Indian Classical Music Appreciation Course, enabling newcomers to get their heads around the subcontinent’s ancient musical forms. After London, many of the concerts will tour to the rest of the UK.

 

Theatre

Our Country’s Good, Aberystwyth Arts Centre, 2 – 6 October

In 1789 a young lieutenant named Ralph Clark was charged with directing inmates interred at the (new) New South Wales penal colony in a performance of the Restoration comedy the Recruiting Officer, commissioned to celebrate the king’s birthday. Based on the novel by Thomas Keneally (of Schindler’s Ark/List fame), Timberlake Wetenbaker’s play sees the lieutenant struggle with a morose cast, critical fellow officers, two damaged script books and a leading lady threatened with the gallows, to find out what theatre is really made of. First directed by Max Stafford-Clark in the late 80s and revived this year by the same director for his Out of Joint Theatre Company, the play will tour nationally before joining the opening season at London’s new St James Theatre early next year. This Tuesday’s performance will be followed by a post-show talk with the cast and crew.

 

Art

Open Studio Weekend, Gasworks, Vauxhall SE11 5RH, 28 – 29 September

A south London contemporary art organisation, Gasworks has studio space for eleven resident artists, three of whom have arranged a series of events for an Open Studio Weekend. Starting tonight Cécile B. Evans will premiere new works generated by an open call for rejection letters from artists and curators between 6-9pm, including a full studio tour at 7pm. The weekend continues on Saturday with Sunoj D., who will discuss his research for a commission by the National History Museum about the experiences and values of modern farmers (2pm, bring a plant pot), ending on Sunday (12pm) with a walk through London, exploring sights of protest and conflict from through the city’s history with Francisca Benítez.

The "left-leaning demagogue" J. K. Rowling will appear at the Cheltenham Literary Festival next week. Photograph: Getty Images.
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Why do the words “soup, swoop, loop de loop” come to mind every time I lift a spoon to my lips?

It’s all thanks to Barry and Anita.

A while ago I was lending a friend the keys to our house. We keep spare keys in a ceramic pot I was given years ago by someone who made it while on an art-school pottery course. “That’s er . . . quite challenging,” the friend said of the pot.

“Is it?” I replied. “I’d stopped noticing how ugly it is.”

“Then it’s a grunty,” she said.

“A what?” I asked.

“A grunty. It’s something you have in your house that’s hideous and useless but you’ve stopped noticing it completely, so it’s effectively invisible.”

I was much taken with this idea and realised that as well as “grunties” there are also “gruntyisms”: things you say or do, though the reason why you say or do them has long since been forgotten. For example, every time we drink soup my wife and I say the same thing, uttered in a strange monotone: we say, “Soup, swoop, loop de loop.” How we came to say “soup, swoop, loop de loop” came about like this.

For a married couple, the years between your mid-thirties and your late forties might be seen as the decade of the bad dinner party. You’re no longer looking for a partner, so the hormonal urge to visit crowded bars has receded, but you are still full of energy so you don’t want to stay in at night, either. Instead, you go to dinner parties attended by other couples you don’t necessarily like that much.

One such couple were called Barry and Anita. Every time we ate at their house Barry would make soup, and when serving it he would invariably say, “There we are: soup, swoop, loop de loop.” After the dinner party, as soon as we were in the minicab going home, me and Linda would start drunkenly talking about what an arse Barry was, saying to each other, in a high-pitched, mocking imitation of his voice: “Please do have some more of this delicious soup, swoop, loop de loop.” Then we’d collapse against each other laughing, convincing the Algerian or Bengali taxi driver once again of the impenetrability and corruption of Western society.

Pretty soon whenever we had soup at home, Linda and I would say to each other, “Soup, swoop, loop de loop,” at first still ridiculing Barry, but eventually we forgot why we were saying it and it became part of the private language every couple develop, employed long after we’d gratefully ceased having soupy dinners with Barry and Anita.

In the early Nineties we had an exchange student staying with us for a year, a Maori girl from the Cook Islands in the southern Pacific. When she returned home she took the expression “soup, swoop, loop de loop” with her and spread it among her extended family, until finally the phrase appeared in an anthropological dissertation: “ ‘Soup swoop, loop de loop.’ Shamanistic Incantations in Rarotongan Food Preparation Rituals” – University of Topeka, 2001. 

This article first appeared in the 21 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The English Revolt