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The Cultural Phenomenon of Northern SoulAlan Byron's film is an absorbing docu-celebration of the northern soul scene that flourished from the late 1960s to the end of the 1970s. It was a fascinating, vernacular youth movement and a kind of regional open secret: a club culture, a zine culture, a music-and-fashion culture which uncynically invented and sustained itself without the need for any svengali figure from London to keep the show on the road. Northern soul fans were passionate about thumpingly sensual mid-60s American soul, a musical style which they kept alive on the all-night dancefloor by doing spectacular spins and drops, while the official voice of the music business decreed that disco or MOR rock or glam or heavy metal was where it was at.The Wigan Casino LegacyDJs would travel to the US to sort through the boxes and mounds of 7-inch vinyl which had been discarded by Motown and the radio stations – basically prospecting for gold – and bring it back to northern English clubs. The principal clearing house was the mighty Wigan Casino which mounted legendary all-nighters from 2am to 8am, attracting soul fans from miles around who knew that this was the only place where certain tracks could be heard. (No Spotify or Apple Music in those days.)Cultural Resistance and RecognitionLicensing laws meant that only Coca-Cola could be served, but dancers took amphetamine, a part of the northern soul scene that has perhaps only recently been acknowledged fully, and is in fact not looked into all that closely here. It carried on through the 1970s, all but ignored by the cultural gatekeepers of the south; that is, until documentarist Tony Palmer brought his cameras and lights into the club to make The Wigan Casino as part of Granada TV's This England strand, an outsider incursion grumblingly resented at the time but now treasured as a unique archive record.Understanding the Movement's IdentityWhat is fascinating about northern soul is the way it survived under the media-cultural radar and appears to resist larger interpretive analysis. It was not overtly political, unlike punk or reggae, and there is no consensus here about the status of the northern soul consumers. Were they unemployed, poor, alienated and angry? Not necessarily. Many here recall having good jobs and apprenticeships of the sort they wouldn't have now.Enduring Influence and MysteriesAs for whether it was revolutionary in any sexual sense, commentator Paul Mason suggests that there was something homoerotic in the male atmosphere. Maybe, yes: but no one here has any first-hand experience to share about that. As for the Wigan Casino itself, the building's lease was terminated by the council at the end of the 70s prior to planned demolition; just when the tenants might have disputed this, the building mysteriously burned to the ground. (Maybe we need David Peace to write a novel about that.) Northern soul was clearly the godfather of the club and rave scenes of the 90s and beyond, but for me, a question remains: what did the American acts themselves think of it? Were they ever tempted (or invited) to play live at the Wigan Casino?

The Cultural Phenomenon Returns On a chilly morning at a Silvertown studio behind London City airport, the sunburst intro to Jimmy Cliff's The Harder They Come is on repeat. Dancers run through a routine studded with reggae and dancehall moves. "Get high," commands associate choreographer Neisha-yen Jones with a smile. "Get low!" The ensemble rise and dip. They do the bogle and whine around each other as their watchful director Matthew Xia nods along. They circle Natey Jones who breaks out the opening line: "Well, they tell me of a pie up in the sky." In the distance, a plane leaves the ground. From Film to Theatrical Celebration It's eight months since The Harder They Come's full-throttle takeoff at Stratford East, where the musical was so popular that it is now returning for a second run which will also serve as a eulogy for Cliff who died in November. Playwright Suzan-Lori Parks' adaptation of Perry Henzell's 1972 Jamaican film is bolstered by a handful of her own songs as well as classics including Israelites and Wonderful World, Beautiful People – plus every number on the film's monumental soundtrack. Jones is reprising the role of Ivan (played on screen by Cliff and inspired by real-life outlaw Rhyging), who arrives in Kingston from the country and is dismissed and exploited, before becoming both a hit singer and a fugitive. The Evolution of a Cultural Narrative The original was akin to cinéma vérité, directly evoked spaghetti westerns and veered into blaxploitation territory; Ivan's tale has gained greater warmth, humour and protest spirit on stage. It was the best musical I saw in 2025. "The story is a tragedy but the theatrical event is a celebration," says Xia of his production. Twenty years ago, the film was adapted as a musical with a book by Henzell, also at Stratford East. "It all started at Ivan's Nine Night," Xia recalls. "There was a massive poster of Ivan on the wall, with everyone coming, and it was told in retrospect with vignettes." Choreography and Cultural Connection Shelley Maxwell, recently arrived from Jamaica, was watching the musical in the audience one night and has since become the choreographer of the new production. She has fused the folk dance forms of revivalism and pocomania, learned in her childhood, with reggae, dancehall and moves that today's teenagers can recognise. "I wanted to tap into the youth market," she says. It's brought some enthusiastic feedback from audience members who may not know the film. "Like: 'Oh my God, they did that step I always do at a party!' It allows them to form a connection." Authenticity and Cultural Representation Xia, wearing trainers in the Jamaican flag's colours, and Maxwell, whose tracksuit has the same black, green and gold trim, were intent on instantly transporting their audience to Kingston. The opening, says the director, is an "establishing shot" with characters coming and going on Simon Kenny's magnificent multi-level set, accompanied by Toots and the Maytals' hit Funky Kingston. To borrow from its lyrics, you really can believe everything they do. Even each move in the dominoes game we see is scripted, explains Maxwell, who mapped out the market scene with precision: "Where are you going to? How heavy is the item that you're holding? This is the swing of the hips." Social Commentary Through Performance Xia, whose father came to England from Jamaica in the 1970s, praises the freewheeling realism of the film. "Lots of the background performers are just whoever happened to be in the market that day, or walking through the shantytown. Lots of the actors were people that Perry knew, they had no training." Henzell, says Xia, showed "the part of Jamaica that had always been hidden, people living hand to mouth". The musical depicts a "quartet of oppression" against Ivan, as he takes a stand against individuals representing hypocrisies of the church, law, drugs trade and music industry. Universal Themes and Contemporary Relevance The Harder They Come was both a pioneering example of independent film-making for Jamaicans and a portrait of a newly independent country. Maxwell, who grew up glued to Hollywood musicals, says it was empowering to discover a film full of the Jamaican songs she loved. "I was probably way too young when I saw it. But what I saw was the world around me." She traces how different forms of music played a pivotal part in the country establishing its identity, moving from African forms and American R&B; to mento, ska, rocksteady, reggae and the rise of Bob Marley and Jimmy Cliff. Maxwell captures that chain reaction with a tantalizing question: "What's this groove becoming?" Transforming the Narrative for Modern Audiences The musical also makes its hero's actions more understandable. "In the film, Ivan becomes a kind of wanton murderer," says Xia. In the musical, "he accidentally shoots a police officer when he's under threat, is remorseful, yet also knows that if he gives himself in then that's the end of his journey". Another significant change is the depth given to the principal women – Ivan's mother Daisy and Elsa, with whom he falls in love under the eye of her authoritarian guardian, the preacher. "The moral heart of the piece now resides in those two women," says Xia. Maxwell transforms a brief sequence from the film, in which Ivan imagines a tryst with the devout Elsa, into a floor-trembling set piece when the preacher's congregation lose their robes to indulge in lustful fantasy. The male gaze of the original scene is duly excised: "it had to be like it was both of them in partnership in that fantasy world," says Maxwell, who adds that the nature of dancehall – "grinding, gyrating on another body" required her to use her skillset as an intimacy director.

The Unparalleled Experience of CannesNothing prepares you for the shock that is the Cannes film festival: the adrenaline, the fatigue, the elation and the emotion, but also the hunger, the anger, the magic and the ridicule. For young cinephiles, and for almost everybody who works in the film industry, it is the mecca of cinema and has been so for nearly eight decades. Anyone going for the first time this week, as I did 25 years ago, should not listen to the old grognards – Cannes' battle-worn veterans – who will lament that the festival has become an abominable circus and swear this year will be their last. It is a circus, and you can bet they will be back for as long as their knees can take it. For there is nothing quite like it.From Resistance to Global Cinema HubBorn to counteract Benito Mussolini's Venice film festival, its first edition was planned for September 1939, but Adolf Hitler had other plans. The previous year, under pressure from Berlin and Rome, the Venice film festival's top prize, the Coppa Mussolini, was handed to Leni Riefenstahl's propaganda film Olympia, prompting the French, British and American delegates to walk out. Hence Cannes, conceived as the festival of the "free world". More than 80 years later, for all its sins, it has remained faithful to that founding promise.The Expansive Scale of Modern CannesOver the decades, Cannes has mutated into an ever-hungrier mammoth, needing more space, and more venues, as it attracts an increasing number of journalists and professionals. A purpose-built Palais des Festivals had to be erected in the 1980s. "The bunker", as we have come to call it, is not exactly beautiful but brutally efficient at managing Cannes' mind-boggling crowds. This year, about 40,000 accredited festival-goers are descending on the French Riviera from 140 different countries, with dozens of films selected across all sidebars. At the same time, the Marché du Film, running alongside the festival since the late 1960s, is gathering about 16,000 participants, with thousands of films and projects up for sale. Cannes is both a summit for the cinema elite and a giant film bazaar.Three Worlds Colliding at La CroisetteFor 11 days in May, three different worlds lead parallel lives – critics, deal-makers and red-carpet royalty – colliding almost by accident on the seafront boulevard known as La Croisette. Hundreds of critics watch multiple films a day with monastic discipline. When they give in to parties, they bitterly regret it the next morning. You can spot some of us sleeping through entire screenings; how some colleagues manage to review films is a mystery. I remember a well-known French critic who had such vivid dreams in the darkness that he became convinced they were scenes in the films. His reviews were full of brilliant analysis of moments that did not exist.We critics rush between screenings, press conferences, interviews, our desks and the bunker's free espresso machines, often forgetting to eat or even pee. Downstairs, in the bunker's basement, and in hotel suites and rented apartments, the film market runs day and night: buyers juggle numbers, producers charm, directors and screenwriters fight for their vision. Above them floats Cannes' top layer – stars and "talent" spending hours in hair and makeup before climbing the 24 steps of the red carpet in borrowed couture and jewellery. When people in the industry groan, "oh God, it's Cannes again", it is this collision of financial anxiety, choreographed glamour and sheer exhaustion they are bracing themselves for.The Magic and Meaning Behind the GlamourThese worlds sometimes collide in the most poetic or grotesque ways. One morning, rushing to my first screening at 7.30am, I was walking along the Croisette when I saw, coming towards me, slightly dishevelled in a tuxedo, Jack Nicholson on his way back to his hotel after a long night. I smiled, he smiled back. He was alone, no bodyguards, no chaperones. Those were the days. I also shared a lift with Takeshi Kitano in full samurai attire, and I will never forget turning into a hotel corridor and finding myself nose to nose with Max von Sydow – Ingmar Bergman's medieval knight from The Seventh Seal. My cinephile heart skipped a beat.One of my favourite sidebars in Cannes, alongside the competition where you watch the year's best crop of films, is Cannes Classics, showing restored world masterpieces and documentaries about cinema. I always start the festival there: it is the best way to reset and begin afresh. Then I am ready for the 10-day onslaught of motion pictures, and for the magic moment that precedes each Cannes screening – the festival's own jingle, a palm ascending the red carpet from underwater and then into the sky, lifted by the ethereal arpeggios of Camille Saint-Saëns's Carnival of the Animals.Cannes: Enduring Symbol of Cinematic ResistanceIn 1955, Cannes gave its first official Palme d'Or to Delbert Mann's Marty; half a century later I found myself befriending its wonderful star, Betsy Blair, on the Croisette. I had the joy of seeing Ken Loach twice climbing those steps to collect the Palme, escorted by police outriders from Nice airport as if he were a head of state. I watched Iranian directors Jafar Panahi and Mohammad Rasoulof showing films at peril to their lives. For all the craziness of the red carpet and the samurai outfits, Cannes never forgets that it was founded as a gesture of resistance. That, as much as the glamour and the exhaustion, is why we keep going back.

The Unexpected Path to EurovisionSam Battle never set out to be a Eurovision contestant. A casual email to the BBC turned into an invitation to write a song for the contest, and he soon discovered he would be performing it himself as the UK entry.From Furby Synths to the Megadrone: Battle’s Museum of Resurrected TechBattle’s public space, This Museum (Not) Obsolete in Ramsgate, is a labyrinth of repurposed gadgets – Game Boys, Sega Megadrives, even a vacuum‑cleaner‑turned‑flamethrower. Its centerpiece, the Megadrone, is a modular synth built from roughly 1,000 oscillators that fills an entire side of the museum.Original project began after his indie band Zibra split in 2016.Over 700,000 YouTube subscribers follow his weekly builds.The Megadrone was later mini‑scaled into the portable Kosmo synth for the BBC writing session.Numbers Behind the Noise: YouTube Reach and Eurovision Odds700,000+ YouTube subscribers – a sizable fanbase for a niche creator.Song “Eins, Zwei, Drei” selected as the official UK entry after a 12‑hour studio marathon.Eurovision betting markets currently list the UK entry at 12th place out of 37, reflecting both curiosity and skepticism.Why a DIY Synth Maestro Matters for Britain’s Pop CultureBattle’s win‑or‑lose outcome will signal whether Britain’s music scene can embrace avant‑garde, maker‑culture acts on a mainstream platform. His blend of humor, DIY engineering, and nostalgic synth sounds challenges the formulaic pop that usually dominates Eurovision, potentially inspiring a new wave of “tech‑musician” artists.What’s Next for Look Mum No Computer After Vienna?Tour the Megadrone across Europe as a live‑performance installation.Expand the museum with interactive workshops for schools, leveraging the Eurovision spotlight.Potential collaborations with major labels seeking fresh, hardware‑centric sounds.

The Market Explosion in PakistanA devastating explosion at a crowded market in Pakistan has resulted in the deaths of at least nine people, with many others injured in what authorities are describing as a security incident. The blast occurred in a busy commercial area, causing significant damage to surrounding buildings and creating panic among shoppers and vendors.Details of the Tragic IncidentThe explosion took place on May 12, 2026, in a bustling market frequented by locals and visitors alike. Emergency services rushed to the scene, with ambulances and rescue teams working to extract victims from the damaged structures. Local hospitals have been placed on alert as they treat the wounded, with officials warning that the death toll could rise as more information becomes available.Human Cost and Community ResponseThe market explosion has left families grieving and communities in shock. Eyewitnesses report scenes of chaos immediately following the blast, with people scrambling to help the injured and locate missing loved ones. Local authorities have set up emergency response centers to coordinate assistance for victims and their families.Security Implications for PakistanThis tragic incident underscores the persistent security challenges facing Pakistan, particularly in crowded public spaces. Markets and commercial areas have historically been targets for attacks, raising questions about the effectiveness of current security measures. The government faces increasing pressure to enhance protection for civilians in such vulnerable locations.International Reaction and Future OutlookThe international community has expressed condolences for the victims of the explosion, with neighboring countries and global organizations offering support to Pakistani authorities. As investigations into the cause of the blast continue, there are growing calls for comprehensive security reviews of public spaces across the country to prevent similar tragedies in the future.

The Cartoonist's TakeOur cartoonist on the Premier League title potentially being decided by a lengthy VAR check after grapplingBuy this cartoon here | His favourites from 2025And his latest book, Chaos in the Box: get it nowThe Royal RumbleDavid Squires' cartoon depicts a chaotic scene between Arsenal and West Ham, highlighting the intense Premier League action.

The Artist's Monument to Forgotten WorkersAn air of civilisational wipeout hangs over the Gehrenseestrasse complex, an abandoned housing estate on the north-eastern outskirts of Berlin, where the city still looks shabby without the chic. The insides of the nine prefabricated blocks have long been gutted; six floors of empty window frames stare hollow-eyed over multi-lane carriageways. In the courtyard, paintballers have left behind wooden barricades from when they played at World War III.Yet in one of the second-floor rooms of Berlin's largest ruin, artist Sung Tieu is waltzing across the concrete floor and reliving scenes from her childhood. "Here was the single bed I shared with my mother for three years," she says, pointing into a corner of the small room. "Two metres by 90cm, can you believe it?" There in the corridor is where her neighbours used to make bánh bao dumplings on camping stoves, for lack of private kitchens. "I still remember the smell." Here was the door through which she used to entertain her best friend when his mother locked him in during working hours. "We played cards through the gaps," she recalls with glee.But she also still remembers where neo-Nazis tried to throw molotov cocktails into the building: "They eventually set up a net because the windows kept on getting smashed".The Mosaic Recreation of a Lost CommunityThese days, few people have heard of the Gehrenseestrasse complex, whose last tenants left in 2002. But if Tieu had her say, it would be as essential a stop on the tourist trail as the Brandenburg Gate, the Reichstag or Checkpoint Charlie. There is, in her view, no place that better tells the story of the Vertragsarbeiter generation – the oft-forgotten workers who were hired on fixed-term contracts from socialist "brother states" in Vietnam, Mozambique, Angola or Cuba to boost the East German economy. "To me, this place is a monument," says Tieu.By the end of this summer, many more people in Germany – and art enthusiasts around the globe – will know about her childhood home. For this year's Venice Biennale, Tieu has clad the German pavilion with a like-for-like replica of the complex's facade, recreating the grey concrete and smudges of graffiti with three million mosaic stones made in Ravenna. She conceived the pavilion in tandem with the artist Henrike Naumann, who died in February from cancer aged only 41.Bureaucracy as Artistic MediumThe woman I meet at a Vietnamese restaurant in Berlin's Lichtenberg district is the antithesis of that exoticised cliche: modest, dressed all in black, analytical in her answers to my questions. She talks me dispassionately through the more experimental food options on the menu, but comes alive when explaining bilateral treaties and labour regulation."I really try to avoid the pure post-migrant diaspora narratives. By focusing on individual experience you can lose sight of the bigger picture. Contracts, state treaties, floorplans – that's what I am interested in. There has to be a certain formal toughness."Looking through her catalogue raisonné you are reminded of Marcel Duchamp. You see an artist dedicating her career to seeking ever more minimalist ways to express the same idea, from Cubist painting to readymade to annotations of chess moves. And in Tieu's case, that big idea is bureaucracy. In 2015, she reprogrammed the scrolling LED displays at a shop inside the Dong Xuan Centre, Berlin's largest Asian market, to display the texts of immigration treaties. For a group show at Berlin's Haus der Kulturen der Welt in 2024, she transcribed by hand documents from the national archives on the East German porcelain industry, authenticating them with her own ornamental stamp. Her website, fittingly, is just a long index of file names and a deadpan biography section: "Sung Tieu is an artist."Childhood Trauma and Artistic Vision"I think it's also a childhood trauma," she says when I ask her where her interest in bureaucracy comes from. "I've had to fill out forms for my mother since I was five, since she didn't speak any German. And by the time I was seven my German was better than hers. Bureaucracy was part of my childhood – I studied politics and administration because I wanted to understand it."Born in 1987 in Hai Duong, northern Vietnam, Tieu moved with her mother to what was by then the formerly socialist East German regions in 1992. They were joining up with her father, who had moved to the GDR five years earlier via a bilateral agreement for factory workers from the socialist republic.Initially announced in the romantic spirit of ideological solidarity, the treaty between the two states soon became a more hard-nosed deal, addressing ongoing labour shortages in East Germany while helping to rebuild a war-ravaged Vietnam, which took a...The Legacy of Forgotten WorkersTechnically there was no racism in the GDR, because it wasn't documented. But of course it always existed. This is the uncomfortable truth that Tieu's installation confronts – the erasure of immigrant experiences in official narratives, even as these workers were essential to East Germany's economy.Through her art, Tieu transforms personal memory into collective history, giving voice to the thousands of contract workers who built East Germany but were never fully acknowledged as part of its society. The Venice Biennale installation, with its meticulous recreation of a housing complex that many would prefer to forget, serves as both memorial and critique – a reminder that the stories of immigrants are integral to understanding modern Germany.The Future of Migration Narratives in ArtAs Europe continues to grapple with questions of migration and identity, artists like Sung Tieu are pioneering new forms of expression that move beyond personal stories to examine the structures and systems that shape immigrant experiences. By focusing on bureaucracy, architecture, and official documents, Tieu creates art that is both deeply personal and universally relevant.The Venice Biennale platform ensures that these often-overlooked histories reach a global audience, challenging visitors to reconsider their understanding of migration, labor, and belonging. As Tieu continues her exploration of these themes, we can expect more installations that transform bureaucratic systems into powerful artistic statements, creating spaces where the voices of the marginalized can be heard and remembered.

The LeadA gunman was apprehended by authorities after opening fire on a busy street near Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts, on May 12, 2026. The incident caused panic in the area but resulted in no reported fatalities, according to preliminary information from law enforcement officials.The Incident DetailsThe shooting occurred on a bustling street near the prestigious university campus during what would typically be a busy time of day. Witnesses reported hearing multiple gunshots before seeing the suspect flee the scene. Cambridge police responded swiftly to the scene, establishing a perimeter and launching a manhunt that concluded with the suspect's arrest within hours of the initial incident.The Police ResponseLaw enforcement officials praised the quick response of Cambridge police and coordination with other agencies. The suspect was apprehended without further incident, and authorities have secured the crime scene for investigation. Police have not yet released the suspect's identity or potential motives, citing the ongoing nature of the investigation.The Impact AnalysisThe shooting incident has raised concerns about public safety in the Harvard Square area, a typically bustling commercial and academic district known for its relatively low crime rate. Local residents and university officials are expressing shock at the incident, which occurred in an area that many consider one of the safest in the Boston metropolitan region.The PredictionIn the coming days, authorities are expected to release more details about the investigation, including potential motives and whether the suspect acted alone. The incident may prompt increased security measures in and around Harvard University, particularly in popular public spaces. Community leaders are likely to organize forums to address public concerns about safety in the area.

Theatre Review: Sunset Boulevard: The Backstage Cut Over the past decade, Morag Fullarton has been developing a popular line in bijou Hollywood adaptations. With a camp flourish and a multitasking cast, the writer and director has boiled down favourites including Casablanca and It’s a Wonderful Life. She last had a crack at Sunset Boulevard, then billed as a “lunchtime cut”, in 2015 at Glasgow’s A Play, a Pie and a Pint, the company she went on to co-run for four years. The Event Details Now associate director at Perth, she has reunited the fine four-strong company who went down so well the first time around, worked in an extra 20 minutes of material and given it a handsome main-stage production. But for all its strengths of mimicry and its affection for Billy Wilder’s 1950 original, it is a show severely lacking in purpose. The Performance Analysis Caught like a fly in Norma’s web, John Kielty captures the brashness and vulnerability of skint screenwriter Joe Gillis, fated to end up face-down in his employer’s pool. Frances Thorburn, also acting as narrator to help skip through the scenes, is a bright-eyed Betty Schaefer, the script reader, turning Joe’s head and showing a keen ear for snappy Hollywood dialogue. Mark McDonnell is masterfully dry as butler Max and in other roles. The Impact Analysis But seen in this context, the play offers little of its own. It is not pastiche, parody, reimagining or commentary. Instead, it is a faithful and rather pointless rendition of a film that, inevitably, does the same job better. The Prediction The play will run at Perth theatre until 16 May. Whether it will find its purpose then remains to be seen.