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At the 2026 Venice Biennale, the presence of Russian and Israeli pavilions sparked visible anger, protests, and a debate over the festival’s claim of neutrality, highlighting how cultural events are being weaponised in the Russia‑Ukraine and Israel‑Gaza conflicts. Russia’s Prosecco‑Laced Return to the Biennale The Russian pavilion opened with a flamboyant display of prosecco crates and English gin, while the ensemble Ensemble Toloka performed traditional music. Observers on the ground dismissed the spectacle as "ethnic shit to cover up their war crimes", underscoring the dissonance between cultural celebration and ongoing warfare in eastern Ukraine. Political Tensions Surface in Pavilion Selections Biennale president Pietrangelo Buttafuoco, appointed by Italy’s Giorgia Meloni government, defended the inclusion of both Russia and Israel despite open letters demanding the exclusion of the United States and calls for a ban on nations accused of crimes against humanity. The international jury later resigned after pressure to retract a statement that would have barred Russia and Israel from award consideration. Financial and Diplomatic Stakes of the Biennale’s Neutrality Claim European Commission is probing whether the biennale’s visa assistance for Russian participants breaches sanctions. Italian cultural ministries have faced criticism for appearing to "yield to the aggressor". Protests such as Pussy Riot’s intervention forced a temporary closure of the Russian pavilion. How the Controversy Reshapes Cultural Diplomacy Culture ministers from Ukraine, Poland, Moldova and the Baltic states used the platform to condemn the biennale’s perceived neutrality, framing the event as a propaganda tool. The clash illustrates a broader shift where art festivals become arenas for soft power battles, granting legitimacy to contested regimes. What Lies Ahead for the Biennale’s Governance With the artistic director’s death and the jury’s resignation, the biennale faces a leadership vacuum. Observers predict tighter scrutiny from EU bodies and possible reforms to its pavilion‑selection process, aiming to balance artistic freedom with ethical responsibility.

The Genesis of a Masterpiece This week we mark two extraordinary centenaries. Sir David Attenborough's, of course, but only four days after the birth of the bona fide national treasure, Dmitri Shostakovich's First Symphony also first saw the light of day – premiered in Leningrad on 12 May 1926. The 19-year-old's composition was played by the Leningrad Philharmonic, conducted by Nicolai Malko. The Revolutionary Sound The symphony's four-movement structure is just about the only conventional feature it has. The teenage Shostakovich had imbibed all the lessons he could about what orchestral music should sound like and how it should behave, and was bold enough to subvert all those ideas and send them up. There is no forelock-tugging to earlier generations of Russian symphonists and orchestral pioneers; instead, Shostakovich's First resounds with a self-confidence that's both optimistic and deliciously sardonic. A Circus of Sound From the distorted trumpet call that opens the work – a fanfare that thumbs its nose at your expectations of how a symphony should start; not an affirmative flourish, but a snakingly dissonant question mark – Shostakovich sets out on a first movement that's like a circus: a cavalcade of characters who take the stage and exit, more often than not pursued by a cartoon bear, clown or bassoon. The momentum that Shostakovich generates from the way he juxtaposes ideas – cutting from one to the other as if the symphony were a reel of film – continues deliriously in the second movement. Here, a piano part is added to the orchestral texture, and that's where one of the secrets of this music's compositional energy is revealed. As a teenager, Shostakovich played the piano for Soviet silent cinema screenings, and in the symphony's piano solos, he turns his work into a knockabout farce that Buster Keaton would be proud of. A Masterpiece of Unbridled Creativity The movement builds to a climax that is both terrifying – a sudden fanfare that consumes the whole orchestra – and bathetic, in the form of the solo piano's chords, as if the pianist couldn't keep up with the music's pace. There is no hint anywhere in this piece of the bombast and poster-paint ideology of Shostakovich's later symphonies, but there is real feeling here, hinted at in that climax of the scherzo, as the cartoon suddenly shudders into real life. The slow movement that comes next is one of the most unironically passionate that Shostakovich ever wrote, as a solo oboe and solo cello inspire the whole orchestra to a melodic outpouring that feels more Shakespearean drama than circus hijinks. A Legacy of Creative Freedom The final movement somehow brings all of these worlds together, and the symphony ends in a torrent of irresistible energy, a culmination of pure sentiment as well as sheer excitement. This is, surely, the most creatively confident First Symphony by any teenager in musical history (and there is plenty of competition, from Mendelssohn to Knussen, from Rihm to Schubert). It announces a world of possibility in which musical conventions are gleefully turned upside down in a frenzy of modernist creativity that's both funny and profound. It's the sound of a unique symphonic avant garde that might have heralded an era of unfettered creative freedom for Shostakovich and generations of composers. A What-If of History Instead, these are the sounds of what might have been, for Shostakovich and for Russia. In Shostakovich's later symphonies, especially from the mid-1930s onwards, you hear the chilling of that freedom and the daily terror of living in Stalin's Soviet Union. The confidence and joy in his own brilliance that you hear in every page of the First Symphony is a miracle that Shostakovich never quite repeated and which is still strikingly new, a century on.

The Intersection of Cultures Rostam Batmanglij, the 42-year-old superproducer and former Vampire Weekend member, sat down with The Guardian to discuss his latest solo album 'American Stories'. Born to Iranian parents and raised in America, Batmanglij's music often reflects his diverse cultural background. Musical Beginnings and Influences The first song Rostam learned to play on guitar was Chuck Berry's 'Johnny B Goode', a quintessentially American rock'n'roll hit. This early influence set the tone for his future work, which often blends American and Middle Eastern musical elements. American Stories: A Reflection of Identity 'American Stories', Batmanglij's third solo album, is a beautiful blend of pop, rock, and Middle Eastern music. The album's songs reflect on love, songwriting, and the fast-unspooling political landscape. Batmanglij's experiences as an Iranian-American and his observations of the world around him have shaped the album's themes and sound. Politics and Social Commentary Batmanglij's music often touches on politics and social issues. He was inspired by the 2025 election of New York mayor Zohran Mamdani, a Muslim Indian democratic socialist, and has written songs that seem to reference Israel's bombardment of Gaza. His music is a call to action, encouraging listeners to think critically about the world around them. The Power of Protest and Younger Generations Batmanglij believes that younger people have more clarity about what's going on in the world, while many people in his generation and older have 'deluded themselves'. He sees his music as a way to inspire and empower listeners, particularly younger generations, to take action and make a difference. Creative Freedom and Future Plans As a solo artist, Batmanglij has the freedom to pursue any idea he wants, no matter how weird or unconventional. He has worked with a range of artists, from Frank Ocean to Clairo, and is always looking for new ways to push the boundaries of his music. With 'American Stories', he has created a truly unique and captivating album that showcases his talents as a producer, songwriter, and performer.

Charli XCX’s Vogue Interview Sparks Rock RumorsLast month Charli XCX sat down with Vogue and hinted that the follow‑up to her 2024 album Brat would sound "markedly different" – even suggesting the "dancefloor is dead" and that she was now making rock music. The headline "CHARLI XCX CONFIRMS ROCK ALBUM" spread across social feeds, prompting heated online debate and a tongue‑in‑cheek video from the singer clarifying that the track titled “Rock Music” was, in fact, not a rock song.The Reality Behind the “Rock Music” TrackListening to the two‑minute single reveals distorted guitars and live‑drum‑like hits, but the production is unmistakably pop: glossy synths, chopped vocals and a sudden, engineered cut‑off. The lyrical swagger – "Wow, I’m really banging my head…" – feels more akin to LCD Soundsystem or The Killers than to classic rock anthems from AC/DC or Kiss. In short, the song is a self‑aware pastiche that pokes fun at rock authenticity while staying firmly in pop territory.Streaming Era Pressures and Genre ExpectationsIn 2023, rock accounted for just 5% of global album streams, down from 12% in 2015.The top‑selling rock albums that year were legacy releases from Arctic Monkeys, Linkin Park, Queen and Oasis, not new‑era rock acts.Algorithms on platforms like Spotify and Apple Music prioritize familiar sonic signatures, making genre‑bending releases riskier for chart performance.Against this backdrop, a pop megastar publicly declaring a rock pivot feels both bold and risky, highlighting the tension between artistic experimentation and algorithmic predictability.What This Means for Pop‑Rock FusionThe episode underscores a broader industry trend: rock artists increasingly borrow pop production tricks, while pop stars flirt with rock aesthetics. Charli’s move could encourage more high‑profile pop acts to experiment with guitar‑driven textures without abandoning their core sound, potentially revitalising rock‑adjacent sub‑genres in the streaming era.Looking Ahead to the Untitled AlbumFans are left wondering whether the rest of Charli’s upcoming album will lean further into guitar‑heavy arrangements or revert to the hyper‑pop formula that defined Brat. The Guardian notes that, despite the rock‑flavored veneer, the track retains the confrontational attitude that made her previous work stand out, suggesting the album may occupy a hybrid space that challenges genre labels.

The Musical Review Bank of Dave: The Musical is a tremendously likable show. The source material is the feelgood true-life story of Dave Fishwick (Sam Lupton), the Burnley businessman whose egalitarian conscience led him to step in where others had failed. Seeing his fellow townsfolk being held back for want of money, he determined to set up a non-profit bank that would treat them with trust and respect. The Story Unfolds Presented as a David and Goliath battle between an impoverished former mill town and a self-serving banking sector, it is an underdog tale with a happy ending. Following the fictionalised outline of the 2023 Netflix film, starring Rory Kinnear, it has two big plus-points for a musical: a community that pulls together and a romantic subplot between a buttoned-up London lawyer (Lucca Chadwick-Patel) and a no-nonsense local doctor (a star performance by Lauryn Redding). The Performance Director Nikolai Foster fashions an ebullient, if a tad overheated show, forever erupting into big chorus numbers on Amy Jane Cook’s amorphous bar-room set with its backdrop of Lancashire chimneys and neat integration of Duncan McLean’s video designs. Pippa Cleary’s songs are bright and engaging, drawing on gospel, soul, hip-hop and Broadway golden age. The Verdict Like the film, the north-south divide is overegged – there is even an apology for the “southern saviour narrative” – and the honest-to-goodness characters flirt with cliche. Unlike the film, it comes clean about the story’s fabrications. Such honesty is consistent with a determinedly down-to-earth show that rails against inequality while championing the possibility of change. Show Details At Lowry, Salford, until 16 May then at Curve, Leicester, 20–30 May

The Ultimate Wizard Showdown When asked who would win a fight between Gandalf and Dumbledore, the iconic actor who portrayed both legendary wizards didn't hesitate with his answer. "Why on earth would they be fighting? But Gandy, of course, would win. The original wizard," McKellen declared, settling the debate that has captivated fantasy fans for years. A Life in Theater Reflecting on his more than six decades in acting, McKellen lamented the decline of repertory theater in the UK. "My first job, in 1961, was at the Belgrade theatre in Coventry," he recalled. "Every city of similar size had a repertory company, presenting a new production every two weeks, and crucially providing employment for tyro actors in need of a prolonged apprenticeship." Today, he noted, there is not a single rep company in the UK, a system he credits with helping develop new talent. Personal Reflections McKellen shared insights into his personal beliefs, explaining that while he was raised with gospel stories, he stopped worshipping in his teens. "Since then, Quakers are the religious society I most admire, for their adherence to the sixth commandment and for being the first Christians to support gay rights in the UK." He also discussed how his father's preaching style influenced him, though it was actors who first captivated him rather than religious figures. Behind the Scenes of Middle-earth The actor revealed that Peter Jackson never confirmed which stars turned down the role of Gandalf in Lord of the Rings. "I've never managed to persuade Peter to confirm who turned down the wizard part of a lifetime," McKellen shared. He speculated that David Bowie's striking looks and voice might have emphasized the supernatural side of Gandalf rather than the character's humanity that attracted him to the role. Beyond Middle-earth Beyond his iconic fantasy roles, McKellen discussed his appreciation for pantomime as a uniquely theatrical art form. "Pantomime uses every possible theatrical device to tell its moral tales – slapstick, sentiment, song, dance, verse, cross-dressing, community singing, extravagant costumes and scenery, audience participation," he explained. "My patriotism is rooted in Shakespeare and panto." He also mentioned his recent Glastonbury performance with the Scissor Sisters, describing the experience as "heady stuff, parading in front of a band's enthusiastic fans."

The Revival of Amandaland In a north London TV studio, there's a sense of unpredictability in the air. A gaggle of singing teenagers are on set; there's a dog traipsing around; and – just down the hall in the canteen – Joanna Lumley has paused an interview to politely ask a catering lady not to pack up her tangerine. The Chemistry Between Stars Lumley and her co-star Lucy Punch have a long history, having first worked together on the 2004 film Ella Enchanted. Punch describes Lumley as the 'special sauce' of the show, while Lumley praises Punch's commitment and energy. The Character Dynamics The show revolves around the complex relationship between Amanda, played by Punch, and her mother Felicity, played by Lumley. Punch notes that seeing this dynamic generates sympathy for an unlikable character, while Lumley appreciates the humor in their interactions. The New Season The second series of Amandaland marks a shift for Amanda's kids, who are now teenagers dealing with exams, relationships, and a high-school prom. Amanda has also declared herself a 'v-cel' (voluntary celibate) and Felicity joins a dating app, leading to new challenges and comedic situations. The Importance of Representation Lumley emphasizes the importance of showing an older woman dating, highlighting the need to combat loneliness and encourage social engagement. The show continues to explore themes of family, relationships, and growing up, making it a highly anticipated return for fans.

The Rediscovery of a Harlem Renaissance OutsiderEric Walrond was a defining yet vanishing figure of the Harlem Renaissance, a Guyana-born writer who navigated the complexities of migratory identity and racial politics in the early 20th century. His death in 1966 went largely unremarked, and for decades, he slipped into obscurity. However, the centenary of his magnum opus, Tropic Death, has reignited interest in a body of work that challenged the literary establishment of his time.The Gothic Counter-Pastoral of 'Tropic Death'Published in 1924, Tropic Death is a trailblazing collection of 10 stories set in the Panama Canal Zone and the Caribbean. Walrond rejected the pastoral tradition, instead employing a gothic lens to expose the brutality of colonialism and the caste systems that governed the region. The stories are visceral and macabre, featuring a laborer shot by a drunken marine, a boy devoured by a shark, and a plantation owner killed by a vampire bat.Key Themes: The inversion of the 'tropical paradise' fantasy.Style: Use of phonetic vernacular and regional dialects.Reception: Initially controversial among contemporaries like Marcus Garvey and Claude McKay.Deconstructing the 'Tropical Paradise' MythWalrond’s work is significant because it directly countered the sanitised narratives of tourist literature commissioned by corporate interests. By foregrounding the violence and supernatural decay inherent in the landscape, he revealed the 'nightmare buried beneath the surface' of the colonial idyll. His characters—farmers, sex workers, and sailors—were not primitives, but complex individuals caught in a web of racial and extractive capitalism.The Cost of Exile and ObscurityDespite critical acclaim and a Guggenheim award, Walrond struggled with a sense of rootlessness that stifled his creativity. His migration from New York to Paris, then London, and finally to the isolated town of Bradford-on-Avon, marked the end of his literary output. Struggling with mental health and the color bar, he spent his final years in anonymity, dying in an unmarked grave. His story serves as a poignant reminder of the erasure of non-white voices in literary history.

The Theatricality of the Oval OfficeComedian Munya Chawawa’s new documentary, Wrestling With Trump, offers a startling new psychological framework for understanding the former president’s meteoric rise. Rather than viewing Trump’s behavior through traditional political lenses, Chawawa posits that his political style has been cribbed entirely from the world of WWE SmackDown. This theory, which Chawawa dubs the 'theory of knocking everyone unconscious,' suggests that the American political stage has been transformed into a wrestling ring where the suspension of disbelief is the ultimate weapon.Deconstructing Trump's WWE PlaybookThe documentary dissects the specific mechanics of Trump’s performance, identifying three core elements borrowed from professional wrestling that have reshaped modern politics:Hyperbole: The fact-allergic triumphalism where reality is bent to fit a narrative, exemplified by the claim that 'Michael Jordan said I’m better at basketball.'Smack Talk: Strategic rudeness and crowd-bullying, seen in nicknames like 'crooked Hillary' and 'sleepy Joe,' designed to belittle opponents while energizing a base.Kayfabe: The willingness to suspend disbelief. This concept is central to the analysis, suggesting that the audience’s belief in the 'reality' of the performance is more important than the truth itself.The Business of Politics and WrestlingThe documentary highlights the symbiotic relationship between the wrestling industry and Trump’s political career. Key moments include Trump’s infamous appearance at WrestleMania 23, the 'Battle of the Billionaires,' where he physically pushed promoter Vince McMahon. The film also notes the crossover of wrestling personalities into the political sphere, such as Hulk Hogan ripping his shirt open at the Republican National Convention in 2024. Perhaps most striking is the appointment of Linda McMahon, former wrestling executive, as the US Secretary of Education, blurring the lines between entertainment and governance.The Erosion of Reality in Public DiscourseChawawa explores the 'Attitude Era' of the early 2000s, characterized by controversy and stereotypes, as a precursor to Trump’s rhetoric. The film interviews former wrestlers who played villainous roles, such as an Italian-American who played a 'villainous Arab' and Dan Richards, who played a character called 'Progressive Liberal' beaten to pulp by crowds. This analysis extends to Chawawa’s own visit to a 'Magathering' (a Trump supporters' night), where he encounters supporters who believe they have personally investigated the '30,000 lies' Trump told in his first term—a twist that underscores the dangerous power of the 'kayfabe' narrative.The Future of Political PerformanceUltimately, Chawawa suggests that we are all now living within a script. By comparing his own experience to Louis Theroux’s forays into the manosphere, Chawawa argues that cultural and political scripts are ubiquitous. The danger lies not in the performance itself, but in forgetting that it is a performance. As the line between the theatre of wrestling and the reality of politics continues to dissolve, the challenge for the public becomes maintaining the awareness that the show is on, even when the audience believes the drama is real.