Show Hide image

The best podcasts of 2016

From relationship horror stories to the solving of a decades-old cold case, it’s been a great year for listening.

When I started writing my podcast column for the New Statesman a few months ago, I had a bit of a dig at publications that only cover podcasts through lists. Yet here I am, at the end of the year, with a list the top ten shows I think you should catch up on over Christmas. I hope you enjoy them.


The Allusionist

Helen Zaltzman uncovers the surprising stories behind our words, from “Winterval” to “Pride”. Always surprising, this is a podcast that has earned its place on my “must listen immediately” list via well-structured episodes and carefully crafted interviews.

Where to start: With this episode about getting losing your words in Antarctic and this one about transatlantic differences in the use of “please”.

 


In the Dark

A thrilling investigative documentary into the abduction and murder of 11-year-old Jacob Wetterling in Minnesota in 1989. There are some similarities to Serial, but this true crime podcast is better, not least because you find out who did it.

Where to start: With the first of the nine episodes, “The Crime”, before you binge through the rest in short order.

 

The Receipts

Four funny, honest British women discuss love, sex, infidelity and the pitfalls of interracial dating. It’s a relatively new show, so there are four episodes so far, but it’s worth getting on board early with this one. It’s going far.

Where to start: This episode about, among other things, women who cheat.

 

Election Profit Makers

To really understand Donald Trump’s election victory, you need to hear from the people who bet against it. David Rees, Jon Kimball and Starlee Kine embarked on their profit-making adventure back in July, and, well, we all know how it ended.

Where to start: This episode about Clinton’s pneumonia scare. Or just immerse yourself in the podcast’s bonus mixtape, which features tunes remixed from the most memorable moments of the campaign.

 

Another Round

A superb interview show from New York. Guests include Hillary Clinton and Hamilton’s Lin-Manuel Miranda, and there are plenty of regular rotating segments so it never feels stale.

Where to start: This interview with Rachel Wilkerson Miller about getting your life in order.

 

Not By Accident

An Australian documentary that follows one woman’s decision to become a single mother. Sophie Harper has been recording since she decided to get pregnant, and hasn't stopped. The result is a textured, intimate portrait of her life with her child.

Where to start: At the beginning, with her “Insemination Story”.

 

Wooden Overcoats

Move over, Radio 4. This ensemble scripted comedy about a pair of doomed undertakers is funnier than anything broadcast on the BBC. Siblings Rudyard and Antigone Funn battle to keep their undertaking business on the small island of Piffling going after a new competitor arrives in town.

Where to start: The opening episode of series two is a good introduction, if you don't want to go all the way back to the start.

 

Call Your Girlfriend

Two best friends maintain their relationship long distance via this heartwarming weekly podcast. Ann Friedman and Aminatou Sow talk about politics, current affairs, celebrities, books and anything else they want to catch up on.

Where to start: The 2016 in review episode features lots of clips from across the year.

 

Millennial

Megan Tan documents the struggles of Generation Y by recording every important moment in her own life. She’s incredibly honest and open on the podcast, so it's no surprise this show has gathered a strong community around it.

Where to start: This episode about income inequality in relationships.

 

The Secret History of Hollywood

Adam Roche makes beautifully produced, compelling documentaries about the early days of Hollywood. They’re like audiobooks, but better because there’s music and sound effects as well as narration.

Where to start: With the “Bullets and Blood” series that traces the origin story of Warner Brothers.

Caroline Crampton is head of podcasts at the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 15 December 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Christmas and New Year special 2016

Marvel
Show Hide image

Smart and politically alert, Black Panther will inspire a generation of film students

Plus, Wakanda has a border control system to make Theresa May swoon. 

Before I went to see Black Panther, I had no idea whether or not it would be any good. That might sound strange, given the positive buzz around it, but I did have a nagging suspicion that “being nice about the first black-led Marvel film” might have got mixed up with “parading my anti-racist credentials on social media”.

Well, that suspicion was an unworthy one. Black Panther is not just smart and politically aware for a superhero film – it’s smart and politically aware, full stop. Its central conflict springs from its alternate-reality vision of Africa: specifically, a country called Wakanda, home of the world’s only reserves of “vibranium”. This has allowed Wakanda to become more technologically advanced than the West – “it’s as easy as riding a hoverbike”, the country’s chief scientist says to a bemused American at one point – and it has not only never been colonised, but never been mapped. It hides its lush plains and skyscrapers inside a holographic mountain.

A rare, mystical natural resource might be a staple of fantasy films (think of Avatar’s Ronsealishly named unobtainium), but putting it in the middle of Africa gives the film both a historical resonance – untold misery was caused by the 19th century efforts of European powers to secure the continent’s mineral wealth – and a contemporary one. It’s impossible to make a smartphone without rare earth metals, and some of the places where these are found, such as the Democratic Republic of Congo, suffer from what economists call a “resource curse”. Without strong governments and infrastructure, the vast wealth obtainable by mining creates opportunities for corruption, and funds militias and civil wars.

Rare resources also attract vultures: which is exactly what Wakanda’s rulers fear. If they share the source of their power,  and give away their only advantage over the West, how will they be treated? A glance at their continental neighbours would be anything but reassuring.

That question – could you honestly advise Wakanda to share its vibranium with the world? – is interesting enough. But the film’s politics go even deeper, into uncomfortable questions about culture and immigration. All Wakandans have a tattoo on their inner lips, which grants them access to the kingdom: it’s a border control system that would make Theresa May swoon.

Early in the film, King T’Challa (whose alter ego is the superhero Black Panther) discusses with one of his closest advisers whether or not they have a duty to their fellow Africans, particularly refugees. W’Kabi (played by 28-year-old British actor Daniel Kaluuya) offers an argument we are more used to hearing from Trump voters in those worthy American newspaper profiles of flyover states: won’t mass migration mean the end of our unique culture? Putting that sentiment in the mouth of someone from an uncolonised African country is deeply provocative, helping audiences scale what the anthropologist Arlie Russell Hoschchild calls an “empathy wall”. The film ultimately rejects W’Kabi’s position, but it does give it space to be heard.

There’s another layer of sophistication to the political allegory here. The film’s true villain is not the white South African arms dealer Ulysses Klaue (although the parents who gave him that name really only have themselves to blame that he turned to crime and prosthetic augmentation). It’s the deeply conflicted figure of Killmonger, King T’Challa’s first cousin.

 Killmonger (Michael B Jordan) fights T’Challa (Chadwick Boseman). Photo: Marvel.

The king’s father killed his own brother back in 1992 after discovering that he had arranged the theft of a cache of vibranium. The plan was to distribute it to black people around the world, so they could rise up against their (white) oppressors. “I think the best villains are ones that have a point of view that’s relatable and that you can empathise with,” screenwriter Joe Robert Cole said in a recent interview. “Sometimes it’s how far you take things that makes you a villain, and not necessarily the perspective.”

Again, the film gives Killmonger’s argument space to breathe. Raised by a single mother in America, when his dead father asks him in a vision why he has no tears for him, he says that life is cheap here, meaning: black life. The Wakandans are not pacifists – Black Panther can, and will, kill people with his claws – but Killmonger experiences violence as chaotic, meaningless and random. He has been brutalised by the reality of life as a black man in America, and later as a soldier in America’s foreign wars. How radical is that: a $200m Hollywood film where the villain is a personification of America’s domestic and foreign policy?

There is so much more richness in the movie that (I hope) it will inspire a generation of film students. How should we react to a king and his subjects making monkey noises at someone in an ethnic minority, trying to intimidate him into silence? (In this case Martin Freeman’s white CIA agent.) How do black Africans feel about the film’s essentially American perspective, implying a commonality between black citizens in countries with such huge disparities in average income? How do the kind of internet writers who worry about “cultural appropriation” feel about a cast which includes black British, West Indian, Zimbabwean-American and German actors doing Xhosa accents? (“The implicit statement in both the film’s themes and its casting is that there is a connection, however vexed, tenuous, and complicated, among the continent’s scattered descendants,” noted Jelani Cobb in the New Yorker.)

As a white British viewer, the most uncomfortable moment for me was when Killmonger promises that the “sun will never set” on the new Wakandan empire. It reminded me of the developed world’s anxious hope for the future: that the rising nations of the world will treat us better in their pomp than we treated them in ours.

Helen Lewis is deputy editor of the New Statesman. She regularly appears on BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster and the News Quiz, and BBC1’s Sunday Politics. 

This article first appeared in the 22 February 2018 issue of the New Statesman, Sunni vs Shia