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The Friday Article Roundup

The FAR enters a new Renaissance

Forsooth! Tis the best pop culture writing of the past half fortnight!

Prithee, cast thy gaze upon:

  • A convert to Ren Life
  • A forgotten movie of strange gallantry
  • A survey of music from the land of Arthur
  • A film seeking honesty and truth
  • A villain worse than Mordred himself

Who will join the FAR of the Round Table? Send articles throughout the next week to magpiesfar [at] gmail, post articles from the past week in the comments for discussion, and have a Happy Friday!


At The Racket, Lily Osler learns to love at least part of the Minnesota Renaissance Festival:
Whatever the cause, I was giddy enough to even find the annoying things at the MRF exciting. One fun MRF quirk is that virtually every booth is staffed by the surliest and least competent teenagers in the state of Minnesota, with food items often taking many minutes and scowls to be handed to you from a big bin thatโ€™s literally three feet away. Our trip to get coffee after the fairy houses (โ€œLily, do you want coffee?โ€ โ€œVerily! Anon, to the beanmonger!โ€ โ€œJesus Christ.โ€) was the epitome of this dynamic: The maybe-15-year-old behind the counter responded to โ€œCan I get a cold press?โ€ with an audibly irritated โ€œI donโ€™t know, can you?โ€ And even this, dear reader, was a delight to me at this point! This new Lily was an elf in her elf-lement. She loved the MRF.

Nick Pinkerton looks at Eric Rohmer’s Perceval le Gallois for Metrograph:
Rohmer makes no attempt to straighten out the thread of de Troyesโ€™s tale, rather a frayed, knotty affair to a viewer accustomed to the linear, streamlined dramaturgy of the โ€œwell-madeโ€ 19th-century novel that continues to dominate screenwriting seminars to this day. His Perceval also blithely violates a holy writ of the gurus who teach said seminarsโ€”โ€œShow, donโ€™t tellโ€โ€”by retaining many of de Troyesโ€™s descriptive passagesโ€ฆ.This sui generis approach to literary adaptation, and the frequent comic effects that Rohmer renders of itโ€”Perceval more than once comments aloud on the subject of his own silence; a female soloist sings, โ€œI could describe each blow, but is it worth your time or mine?โ€ over a battle raging on-screenโ€”drew little praise and much befuddlement upon Percevalโ€™s release.

Ned Raggett counters the Oasis resurgence with a survey of 90s Welsh indie rock for The Shfl:
Thereโ€™s something to be said for the particular ferment of Welsh acts in a generally indie/alternative rock style that attracted attention in the 1990s for their work. Whether being notably experimental, engagingly poppy or aiming for the arena heights โ€“ or all three and more โ€“ thereโ€™s little doubt that a lot was going on at the time. If sometimes collectively described and perhaps stereotyped as a response to the overweening impact of โ€˜Cool Britanniaโ€™ as such by the mid-1990s โ€“ the phrase โ€˜Cool Cymru,โ€™ referring to the Welsh name for the country, is sometimes used โ€“ the sense remains that most of these acts, many with shared roots or growing out of earlier incarnations of other acts, absolutely had something distinct happening.

At Reverse Shot, Kyle Turner interviews Julian Glander about his new movie, Boys Go To Jupiter:
JG: I think one thing that’s really kind of funny: basically every review kind of hooks it as an anti-capitalist movie. That had not crossed my mind at all when I was writing it. It may just be that this is a kind of a bigger cultural conversation that we all really want to have. Because for me, it’s actually a movie that sits very nicely in capitalism and kind of just explores a dozen different characters’ relationships with work. I see Billy as someone who moves through the world and is seeing multiple angles of capital in order to make the best decision that he can within this world. But, yeah, it was not my intention to make an anti-capitalist movie. It was my capitalist movie. It was my intention to make a movie that takes place in something that felt like an honest reality. And maybe that’s all you can do.

And for the BBC, Ian Youngs and Paul Glynn report on the latest AI scourge: Imposter streams of real musicians:
[Folk singer Emily] Portman doesn’t know who put the album up under her name or why. She was falsely credited as performer, writer and copyright holder. The producer listed in the credits was Freddie Howells – but she says that name doesn’t mean anything to her, and there’s no trace online of a producer or musician of that name. As for the music itself, while it was enough to convince some fans, the lack of actual human creative input made it sound “vacuous and pristine”, she says. “I’ll never be able to sing that perfectly in tune. And that’s not the point. I don’t want to. I’m human.”