Endings and beginnings

Bridget Jones and celebrating women, matinée concerts, unexpected discoveries at BAFTA, Netflix's adaptation of The Leopard, and why the manosphere should definitely watch it.

One of them has gone to great lengths to honour the other.

A Week in the Life is where I share snippets into what my life in London is like over the course of a week. Expect thoughts on books, films, technology, cultural differences, creative industries and reflections on everything under the sun. Or grey skies, this is London after all. Let’s keep it real.

Sunday 1st March

Am I glad February is over? You could say so.

The weather has been miserable and I’ve aged 10 years after having received a surprise eviction letter from my landlady. The thing that upset me most about this situation is that she notified this by post only a few days after a conversation on the phone where I asked, “Are you planning on selling?,” to which she replied, “Of course not."

It shouldn’t surprise me by how that British people aren’t exactly great at opening up.

To clear my head and think about something that doesn’t remind me I’m about to become destitute, I’m going to the cinema to see the new Bridget Jones film with a friend (third time for me, first for her).

We were both a bit too young when Bridget Jones’ Diary came out to fully grasp its meaning, but we’ve discussed many times how subsequent rewatches later on in life had us nod in agreement, cringe in disbelief and seriously question by which standards Bridget was not a successful woman simply because she was single. And nope, she wasn’t remotely overweight by any imaginable stretch of the imagination so I’m not perpetuating that lie.

Think about it for a moment.

Bridget was financially independent and lived on her own in the middle of Borough Market before it became a tourist trap, she caught the eye of both an attractive philanderer and a very good looking philanthropist who even physically fought for her (and what a fight), she didn’t hesitate to leave the places where she wasn’t welcome (either at work or with men), and she secured a massive scoop shortly after starting a new job that allowed her to build a respected professional reputation.

And that’s only in the first film! In what world was this woman not winning at life in every single way?

While the new film focuses on the grief of having lost Mark, the reality is that Bridget is still killing it. She now lives in townhouse in the middle of Hampstead village (massive upgrade, let me tell you), which she can perfectly afford even though it’s implied she hasn’t worked in four years and has two kids attending what seems a posh private school. That says it all about the robust health of her finances.

And if being loaded wasn’t enough, the moment she decides to give dating a go, ridiculously attractive men appear out of nowhere when she’s casually out and about Hampstead Heath. I’ve been to the Heath many times and no one, absolutely no one, has even as much as looked at me.

“I think there’s potential for a new franchise, but this time with Enzo as the lead and then the other characters can appear in supporting roles,” says my friend after the film is over. “Also, I’m not ready to let go of Bridget yet. I think I need to do a movie marathon next weekend and watch all the other films in a row before watching this one again.”

Definitely the most sensible thing I’ve heard someone say in a very long time.

Monday 3rd March

Anora has been the surprise winner at the 97th Oscars ceremony.

While it’s a good film on its own right, I also believe the Academy had to come up with a plan B after Karla Sofía Gascón buried any chances Emilia Pérez had, and the closest film on offer was Sean Baker’s wild goose chase tale of a sex worker from Brooklyn that falls for a brattish Russian oligarch in the making.

I may be a bit cynical but considering the lack of diversity that the Oscars are known for, I’m convinced this year the Academy was intent on picking a total outlier that ticked as many diversity and inclusion boxes as possible. Hence the 13 nominations Emilia Pérez received and the surprise emergence of Anora as this year’s most awarded film in the eleventh hour.

Speculation apart, Mikey Maddison is fantastic in her role as Ani (which is such a sharp contrast with her soft-spoken self) and I’m glad independent cinema gets its flowers at mainstream award ceremonies because it gives hope to emerging creators and encourages more people to tell original stories. However, Fernanda Torres really deserved the Oscar for Best Actress in a Leading Role as she is absolutely phenomenal in I’m Still Here, which won the Oscar for Best Film in the International Film category.

It’s worrying however, how these award ceremonies always find a way to pit women against each other. I don’t like the way Maddison’s victory has been depicted as Demi Moore’s loss implying this is just The Substance’s plot playing out in real life. Not to speak of how disrespectful and belittling that comparison is for the other actresses nominated in that same category.

The irony is that the discourse about Demi Moore's comeback has revolved more on her age and physical appearance after being cast in a role that scrutinises the impossible standards women are measured against when she herself has been victim to that tyranny. Moore is good in The Substance, but I wonder if I’m the only one noticing the hypocrisy of celebrating her for being covered in prosthetics that make her gradually more disgusting and repulsive.

This isn’t the Oscar-winning performance the media have fabricated so older women could feel seen and then vindicated if Moore won. I sincerely hope she is offered more opportunities where she can show her acting chops and receive accolades that aren’t linked to her physical appearance, prosthetic-enhanced or not, because only then will she be finally recognised for the actress she is and not whatever agenda the media wants to use her for.

Having said that, the Academy clearly has some dubious double standards and a problem celebrating older women and it shows. They had no issue handing out an Oscar to the 25 year old Maddison in her first nomination, but thought Thimotée Chalamet was too young at 29 to win his first Oscar in his second nomination so instead the Academy thought they should reward veteran Adrien Brody for a role he already won an Oscar for years ago. And without AI enhancements.

Anyway, I don’t have time to dwell much on the absurd circus that award shows are as today I’m heading to the London College of Fashion (LCF) for a team meeting hosted by the Fashion Innovation Agency, with which we collaborate often. The LCF relocated from Oxford Circus to the East Bank, as the area around the former Olympic Park in Stratford is known, only 18 months ago -I came to the inauguration back in November 2023- and in that time it’s been joined by other cultural institutions such as Sadler’s Wells, the new V&A museum and storehouse, and the BBC Music Studios.

Not a bad lineup for a new creative and cultural cluster in the making.

Weather situation today is rather excellent, actually. There’s even a proper blue sky.

Tuesday 4th March

I was meant to attend a conference on investment into Creative Industries after my French class but my plans are derailed when the estate agent emails me about a document they need and which I thought I had already submitted for the new flat.

I’ve realised that I’m not made to be glued to a phone that is constantly demanding my attention and I wish my living situation is settled as soon as possible so I can turn off all sounds and notifications again, which is my standard setting. No amount of retinol will be able to restore the youthful appearance I had when I was yet to be evicted.

Another bright sunny day. What witchcraft is this?

Netflix reminds me that the new adaptation of The Leopard will be available tomorrow. The trailer looks very promising and Kim Rossi Stuart does look the part of Don Fabrizio Corbera, Prince of Salina, the eponymous leopard in Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa’s classic novel.

This is one of my most anticipated cultural highlights of the year as I read the novel as a teenager and loved the intelligence but also defeatist and tragic nature of Don Fabrizio, a prominent aristocrat in the fading Kingdom of The Two Sicilies who is caught in the midst of a wave of change he doesn’t know how to navigate but which he can recognise as the end of an era.

Tomasi di Lampedusa modelled the character on his great-grandfather but it’s been acknowledged Don Fabrizio is in equal measure a reflection of himself.

Because this is a timeless story on the inevitability of change, the thirst for power and how one must adjust to obtain it, the denial and passivity people can display when their world is slowly collapsing, and the hope that others find in the promise of a new beginning -all set against the backdrop of a historical moment that would lead to the unification of Italy-, you could compare the significance and relevance of the character of Don Fabrizio for Italians to that of Edmond Dantès, the hero of The Count of Monte Cristo, for the French.

However, unlike Dumas’ classic which last year had an extremely successful eighteenth adaptation starring Pierre Niney, this is only the second time The Leopard is brought to the screen.

The first dates back from 1963 and was signed by Luchino Visconti, starring Burt Lancaster as Don Fabrizio, Alain Delon as his nephew Tancredi and Claudia Cardinale as Angelica, the love interest of Tancredi. Visconti’s adaptation is regarded as a masterpiece even though it almost ruined the producing company that financed it.

Perhaps that’s why no one has attempted a new one in the past 60 years? Luckily Netflix has the financial muscle to pull this off.

Let’s hope they haven’t ruined the story in pursuit of a global hit.

Wednesday 5th March

I had completely forgotten that I’m going to see Franz Ferdinand tonight!

I’m exhausted but I’ve already spent money on this and, more importantly, this is a band I love and which I was very much looking forward to seeing, so overcoming the natural reluctance to leave the house in the evening that is naturally bestowed on every person over 30, I put on my coat and head to the tube.

I time my arrival at the O2 Shepherd’s Bush for 8 pm so that I don’t have to wait much until Franz Ferdinand are on stage but also to see who’s opening for them as I discovered Los Bitchos the last time I went to see the band play at Alexandra Palace and I adored them instantly. History repeats as Master Peace is keeping people entertained and me rather interested in exploring his Spotify after the show. Love his sound and energy.

I have a secured a seat with a bit of space to dance around, a clear view of the stage and no one in front of me. A few minutes after 9 pm, however, a man takes one of the free seats in the row ahead. Oh well, it was too good to be true. I hope he doesn’t want to get up because he looks like the enthusiastic type given how smiley he is.

The band comes out on stage shortly afterwards and from the first song is a blast and we’re all jumping and singing. They’re presenting their latest studio album, The Human Fear, of which I have already talked about, and which overall I like even though it lacks the kind of track that has you playing it on repeat. However during the show most of the songs I was a bit unconvinced by have some extra energy I had not anticipated. Even Hooked, my least favourite track of the new album, wins me over as Master Peace rejoins the band on stage to sing a new verse and rap, which makes the song a lot more vibrant.

This is Franz Ferdinand after all, a fantastic live band that always knows how to surprise -their Toxic cover being a case in point- and work up a crowd, especially because Alex Kapranos is a very charismatic frontman and has a blasts entertaining its audience. He’s cracking tons of jokes tonight which unfortunately I can’t quite get because his Glaswegian accent -which I love and can perfectly make out in interviews- seems to be thicker this evening.

Or maybe it’s because I’m usually in bed by now and my body has already sent the order to activate the night time mode and slowly turn off sensory functions.

It’s in the middle of dancing around like a madwoman to the beat of Do You Want To? that I look down notice the man in the seat in front of me in a weird posture that reminds me of a canary bird I had as a child and how he used to hide his head under his wing when he slept. While that was probably a natural for a bird, I doubt that’s normal for a human being.

As the concert and the noise progress, I realise the man hasn’t moved in the slightlest. Is he alive? I catch the eye of a woman seated in the same row as him. She’s also noticed this is not normal. We look at each other and come to a tacit agreement: If he’s dead, there’s no point ruining the show now. Let’s wait until it’s over.

When the concert ends, and as the lights come back up, the woman and I look at each other again and agree on who is doing the first move. She gently shakes the man. He doesn’t respond and I can see the panic in her eyes. She tries again, more vigorously. I see the man’s eyelids moving, first slowly, as if they were flinching, then they open at once but I can tell he’s still not fully awake.

“I’m very sorry to disturb you, but the show has finished now,” I say to him in a soft voice as I don’t want to startle him.

“Oh man. Have I missed it all?,” he says still half asleep, half in shock.

“I’m afraid so, yes. We didn’t want to wake you up,” I let out as a justification.

“No worries, it’s not your fault. It’s just that I’m too old for this shit,” he says taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes, a faint tone of defeat audible in his voice. “I should’ve stayed home.”

Concert promoters of London: Matinée sessions are the future.

When I get home and take off my parka, I realise I’ve worn it open since leaving the venue. In March! At night!

This weather is very suspicious indeed.

Thursday 6th March

Apparently I’m not the only one who has thought about matinée concerts recently as I find a couple of pieces (this and this) on the subject and a colleague shares in passing his partners is going to a concert in a few weeks at the O2 Academy at Brixton that starts at 5 pm.

So it can be done.

After lunch I leave the office with a couple of colleagues as we’re going to an event.

“I love this weather,” a colleague that relocated to London last year says.

“Don’t get too attached to it, though,” another colleague replies.

“What do you mean? Don’t you like it when it’s sunny?”

“I love it. But I bet there’s a nasty winter spell around the corner. You can’t never relax in this city. A couple of years ago we had snow in March. In March!” she says with the right mix of wisdom and outrage that can only come natural to someone who has weathered enough seasons in London.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that in this city every spell of extremely good weather, in particular if taking place off season, will be followed by another that reproduces the conditions of what living in Antarctica must feel like.

Our conversation comes to an end when we reach the BAFTA building on Piccadilly where the event we’re attending on motion capture software is hosted. We know the company who has organised it as I’ve attended other events where they’ve showcased their technology previously.

We’re led to one of the projection screens and the stage is set up for the upcoming presentations. While the content is a decidedly very technical and aimed mostly at potential technology buyers, which is the main audience, it’s great to have the opportunity to get a sneak peak of some of the latest projects this company has been developing and working on.

As I get up to leave, I notice almost every seat in the theatre has a little golden plaque so I get close to read the inscription in the one in front of me. My heart skips a beat and I give a jolt as I reach out for my phone to capture something I never thought I’d witness.

Because I must have seen every interview Hugh Grant has done and I’m aware of the enjoyment he derives from trolling Colin Firth for no reason at all, I am able to grasp the full significance of this historical moment.

I honestly think that if today were my last day, I’d die a happy woman. It’s even sunny.

Back home, I start watching The Leopard.

I couldn’t resist to read some reviews and Italians are divided - some are very critical and even argue it shouldn’t have been made at all, some love the new life it’s been given to engage new audiences with a classic work and how it’s put one of its female characters at the centre of the action. English language reviews, on the other hand, are mostly very positive, however I wonder if the reviewers are familiar with the source material (not this one) and can grasp its full meaning.

It’s early streaming but my first impression is that a lot of money and care has gone into the production -shot mostly in location in Sicily- and while I would have preferred to see a full Sicilian cast and hear more of the Sicilian cadence and dialect, after a couple of episodes I’m already fond of the characters and the actors portraying them.

Friday 7th March

Another glorious sunny and rather warm day. The world is definitely ending before Easter but we just don’t know it yet.

What the hell is going on, seriously? Is this is a sort of last wish before everything goes up in flames? If that’s the case, I’d really like to know because I need to pay the deposit for the new house shortly and maybe there’s no point now.

I have an appointment with Priya, the physio who has been treating me for almost a year for a tendinitis that derived into a lot of issues. I can’t believe it’s been that long since I last attended a yoga class to focus on recovery and not force the shoulder with all those chaturangas. I miss the mental balance it gave me as I could do with a bit of that now.

“Thanks for doing the review, I really appreciate it,” Priya says after we greet each other and catch up a bit on how we’ve been since the last time we saw each other a month ago.

“Oh sure, my pleasure. I was glad you asked me because I’ve been seeing you for such a long time that it makes sense.”

As she moves my shoulder around, she tells me in her last performance review she was told she needs to start asking clients to give her feedback and post it online because it helps build the reputation of the clinic where she’s working.

“The thing is that I always think people will do it without me telling them, and I don’t want to ask for things. I feel like I’m pushing people a bit and I don’t like that, especially because the patients already tell me in the sessions how they feel, so I know I’m good at what I do.”

I get what she means because I’ve been there before so we have a conversation about the importance of openly asking for what you want, especially if you are a woman. Getting our worth acknowledged has been synonymous for centuries with being told repeatedly to be grateful for what we have because ambition was among the worst and most unladylike qualities a woman could have.

As the older of the two in this situation, I feel I need to pass on the knowledge that other women have instilled on me when I’ve been the one keeping my head down convinced that doing a good job would be enough to get ahead in life.

“No one can know how good you are at your job if you don’t have anything to prove it. As women we need to overcome that mindset about how our work will speak for us because it’s not true. Sometimes what speaks for us more effectively is other people but they can only do so if we make sure we ask them to and share with them our achievements instead of keeping them to ourselves. We still need to get better at self-promotion and hyping ourselves up more.”

And with the echo of those words still floating in the air we conclude our session and Priya tells me that, fingers crossed, it should be our last as I’ve regained complete mobility of the shoulder. Which in physio terms means 95%.

“Thank you so much again,” she says.

“No, thank you. It’s been a pleasure. I’m going to miss our chats on Fridays,” I reply and I really mean it.

Saturday 8th March

16 degrees today - warm enough to wear my suede jacket and so sunny I need to wear sunglasses. Apocalypse is definitely upon us.

The day starts with a picture my mum’s shared about a lunch she went to yesterday with her former colleagues (she’s just retired) to celebrate International Women’s Day in advance. “Happy day, girls,” her voice messages on WhatsApp to my sister and I begins before going on listing all our praises.

For a long time I never paid much attention to this date and I belonged to the category of women who asked “is this really necessary?,” which came more from how performative I found this celebration and how little real, long-lasting impact it had than any particular animosity towards it.

Luckily age is a wise teacher and as I’ve become older I’ve had plenty of opportunities to reflect on how being a woman has placed a set of expectations on me since birth that I must meet to prove that I am a indeed a good and worthy woman at work, in my relationships with others or simply when I’m minding my own business and going about my day.

There is always someone scrutinising a woman’s appearance and actions, either on its own (the absurd criticism Millie Bobby Brown has been dealing with) or compared to some other woman’s (the Maddison-Moore discourse), to make sure we not only look age-appropriate at all times but also display the right set of characteristics, behaviours and dreams that conform to the ideal of feminity and womanhood that the patriarchy has modelled for us.

And while much has been done and much has been changed so that women can follow their own path as they please, it may take a bit longer until we can do so in complete peace as we still live in a world where more than 170 mothers were killed by their sons in the last 15 years and revenge porn abusers are allowed to keep the devices with the explicit images they took, where deepfake pornography is rising as a serious threat to all women as well as online stalking, which affects 1 in 5 women and weaponises personal data against the victim, which often receives little support to fight against it.

A world where 57% of men think that women’s rights have gone too far and have found in the manosphere and its prophets a worrying and dangerous frame of reference.

And yes, I know. Not all men. But always men.

Bridget wasn’t doing that bad at all by staying single.

Perhaps the new adaptation of The Leopard has come at the right time for its message to sink in at a time where women’s rights aren’t still a given and change is not only necessary to achieve true equality, but unavoidable. After all, every beginning must eventually come to an end and make space for something that people who have been oppressed under the previous status quo can look forward to.

A world where the double standards of the patriarchy, violence against women and the manosphere’s toxic culture no longer exist and where all women feel finally as safe, respected and valued in their own right sounds like the kind of new beginning from which we could all definitely benefit.

Even Don Fabrizio would admit as much.

When in doubt…

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Abroad is independent publication about London, living in between cultures, languages, books, music, films, creativity, and being human in the age of artificial intelligence.

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