Englishmen with bracelets sway to dancehall tunes, Justice wreaks havoc chaos, and the whole night becomes a tribute to academicism.
The soundtrack to Andrea Arnold’s Bird deceptively lured us to the film party, where I’d promised Julien and Carole hordes of Englishmen and women singing along to Britrock hits, and even a little revision of the lyrics to Don’t Look Back in Anger. The questionable ragga-dubstep that awaits us in the end presents us with an image of another England, more Martin Parr-ish: that of clunky bracelets, Hawaiian shirts and mass tourism in Andalusia. And why not? Julien is photographing Andrea in ecstasy on the dancefloor (photo) when a guy with a thick Cockney accent whispers menacingly: « Be careful taking pictures. » Let’s get out of here before we get shanked by a Mancunian hooligan.
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Chaos reigns at the entrance to the Magnum beach, due to the imminent arrival of Justice. Some even get unwillingly jostled into nearby parties: a stampede trapped Sianko at the Nespresso beach (« I can’t get back! Too bad, I’ll have a coffee ») or the Maltesers terrace or the Figolu club, I don’t know, it’s all a bit confusing with these sweet treats. While Jacky exhausts himself defending Coppola’s gigantism, the set kicks off with an over-the-top remix of Strauss’s ‘Thus spoke Zarathustra’. It was the night of academicism.
Traduction Emma Frigo
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