̽��ֱ�� of Cambridge - film

ActNowFilm

plc32 — Mon, 27 Nov 2023 13:11:57 +0000

Youth leaders and world figures featured in new ActNowFilm, to premiere at COP28 call for young people to be included in national climate negotiation teams and global decision-making.

Cinema has helped 'entrench' gender inequality in AI

fpjl2 — Mon, 13 Feb 2023 10:17:06 +0000

Study finds that just 8% of all depictions of AI professionals from a century of film are women – and half of these are shown as subordinate to men.

Disaster at 37,000 feet

sjr81 — Mon, 06 Jan 2020 10:24:16 +0000

Cambridge ̽��ֱ�� Library archive reveals the facts behind the Hollywood myths of ' ̽��ֱ��Aeronauts'

‘ ̽��ֱ��greatest director in the world right now’ begins residency at Centre for Film and Screen

sjr81 — Fri, 04 May 2018 11:55:02 +0000

Lucrecia Martel comes to the Centre as this year’s Filmmaker in Residence from 5-20 May, following in the footsteps of Gianfranco Rosi (2017) and Joanna Hogg (2016).

A retrospective of her feature films — the first to be held in the UK—has been jointly organised between the Centre for Film and Screen and the Arts Picturehouse. Martel will be present following each screening for conversation and Q&A.

Martel, who lives and works in Argentina, is one of international cinema’s major stylists. Her provocative films treat questions of family, childhood, sexuality, belonging, nation, class, historical memory, and colonialism. In a cinema that is both sensually immersive and politically attuned, Martel looks at the world in a way that acknowledges mystery and prompts criticism.

Dr John David Rhodes, Director of the Centre for Film and Screen said: “ ̽��ֱ��residencies offer our students, staff and our community both inside and outside the ̽��ֱ�� the opportunity to engage with serious filmmakers of the highest order, all of them crucially important figures in the unfolding history of contemporary cinema.

“ ̽��ֱ��residencies also offer the filmmakers the opportunity to develop and reconsider their practices in the context of the vibrant scholarly and intellectual ecology that is unique to Cambridge.”

Described by Vogue as ‘the greatest director in the world right now’, Martel is the director of four acclaimed films and a number of award-winning shorts. After almost a decade after her last full-length feature film, Martel returned as director of the critically-lauded Zama in 2017.

Based on the 1956 novel by Antonio Di Benedetto, the film is a period drama relating the story of a 17th century Spanish officer, separated from his wife and family, and awaiting a transfer from a remote area of Paraguay to Buenos Aires.

Shining a light on colonialism and class dynamics, the film won almost universal acclaim from film critics in South America, and was chosen as Argentina’s nomination for Best Foreign Film at the 2018 Academy Awards.

Martel will be resident at the ̽��ֱ��’s Centre for Film and Screen for more than two weeks, during which she will be offering a sequence of seminars on her filmmaking practice.

Symposium

18 May, 10am-4pm, McCrum Lecture Theatre, Corpus Christi College.

Speakers: Lucy Bollington (Cambridge), Catherine Grant (Birkbeck), Rosalind Galt (KCL), Debbie Martin (UCL).

Full details - TBC

Screenings

̽��ֱ��screenings will all be held at the Cambridge Arts Picturehouse

Tuesday 8 May at 6pm - ̽��ֱ��Swamp (La Ciénaga)

Thursday 10 May ay 6pm - ̽��ֱ��Holy Girl (La niña santa)

Tuesday 15 May at 6:30pm - ̽��ֱ��Headless Woman (La mujer sin cabeza)

Thursday 17 May at 6pm - Zama

One of Argentina’s and Latin America’s pre-eminent filmmakers begins a 16-day residency at Cambridge’s Centre for Film and Screen from tomorrow (May 5).

Lucrecia is a crucially important figure in the unfolding history of contemporary cinema.

John David Rhodes

̽��ֱ��text in this work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. For image use please see separate credits above.

Yes

Licence type:

Attribution-Noncommercial-ShareAlike

Oscar-nominated documentary filmmaker comes to Cambridge

sjr81 — Tue, 09 May 2017 14:51:48 +0000

Rosi’s most recent documentary, 2016’s Fire at Sea, was an uncompromising look at the everyday life of six locals on the Italian island of Lampedusa, the first port of call for the hundreds of thousands of African migrants crossing the Mediterranean in search of a better life in Europe.

Fire at Sea won the Golden Bear award for best film at the 66th Berlin International Film Festival and was nominated for Best Documentary Feature at the 89th Academy awards in February.

During Rosi’s two-week residency (May 14-28), the Arts Picturehouse will screen the entirety of his work to date, with each screening followed by a Q&A with the director. Rosi will also connect directly with staff and students in the Centre for Film and Screen by delivering masterclasses and participating in a public symposium, Lands, Seas, Bodies: On the cinema of Gianfranco Rosi, on Wednesday, May 24.

International recognition of Rosi soared after Meryl Streep, the jury chair of the Berlin film festival, publically endorsed Fire at Sea as “a daring hybrid of captured footage and deliberate storytelling that allows us to consider what documentary can do. It is urgent, imaginative and necessary filmmaking.”

Dr John David Rhodes, Director of the Centre for Film and Screen and a specialist in Italian cinema, calls Rosi’s work “indisputably among the most important in the world.”

Audience numbers for documentaries have grown considerably in the last ten years, largely driven by audiences going in search of authenticity in the lived experience.

“It’s a rich moment for documentaries because they provide the ability to respond powerfully and flexibly to geo-political crises,” said Rhodes. “People are starved for contact with the real and with reality. People are trying to find ways to make contact with the world – documentary filmmaking is one way of doing that. It can produce knowledge and experiences that are otherwise closed to us.

“Rosi’s residency offers our students and the wider ̽��ֱ�� the opportunity to engage at close range a working filmmaker of the highest calibre. As was the case last year when we hosted Joanna Hogg (our first filmmaker-in-residence), Rosi’s residency brings to our community of film scholars and students of cinema the opportunity to think about film from the point of view of the film artist. It offers a vital opportunity to test practice and theory against each other, while getting to hang out with one of the most interesting people working in world cinema.”

More information about the screenings and public symposium is available on the Centre for Film and Screen’s website.

Tickets for the screenings including a post-film Q&A can be purchased from the Arts Picturehouse website.

Hailed as “one of the most important artists in any medium”, the award-winning and Oscar-nominated Italian documentary filmmaker Gianfranco Rosi is coming to Cambridge this month as filmmaker-in-residence at Cambridge ̽��ֱ��’s Centre for Film and Screen.

Rosi's work is indisputably among the most important in the world.

John David Rhodes

Still from Fire at Sea, the Oscar-nominated documentary by Gianfranco Rosi

̽��ֱ��text in this work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. For image use please see separate credits above.

Yes

Licence type:

Attribution-Noncommercial-ShareAlike

Questions of life and death

amb206 — Fri, 04 Nov 2016 12:30:00 +0000

Toast is burning in one of the ward kitchens at St Christopher’s Hospice in south London. Members of the nursing staff rush to open the windows, laughing at this minor disaster. In a room down the corridor a young man called Kevin is confronting a future in which he will play no part. He’s married with two young children – and has terminal cancer. Imagining his boys growing up without him is more painful than the disease destroying him. Kevin and his wife have accepted that he will soon be gone: she wants him to die at home but he doesn’t want to frighten his sons.

These are just two of the moments captured in ̽��ֱ��Time to Die a documentary made in the 1990s by Nikki Stockley. Commissioned by the BBC, the film addresses a subject that remains taboo for many of us: death. Stockley focuses on three people whose lives are ending. They and those they love share their feelings. Doris hopes she won’t linger: she doesn’t want to die “inch by inch”. Hazel has lost interest in clothes and no longer looks in the mirror. She has told the hospice staff that she wants to die at home. Her boyfriend fears he would not cope; often he feels like running away.

Earlier this year, academics from three different disciplines (Emma Wilson, Professor of French Literature and the Visual Arts, Dr Stephen Barclay, Senior Lecturer in General Practice and Palliative Care, and Dr Robbie Duschinsky, Lecturer in Social Sciences) sat down to plan a seminar series that would encourage a broad dialogue about care and dying, using the medium of film as a framework. Wilson, who has a specialist interest in film, proposed that ̽��ֱ��Time to Die would make a powerful starting point.

Wilson said: “What I admire so much about Nikki’s documentary is the openness of the interviews, Nikki’s presence, her connection to her subjects, allowing complex emotions to be put into words. It feels like a work of accompaniment, very patient, very calm, opening up possibilities for a non-intrusive presence of the camera in this community, and a tender, caring work of editing, piecing together a visual narrative.”

̽��ֱ��first of five seminars planned for the current academic year took place last week. Revd Dr Derek J Fraser, lead chaplain at Addenbrooke’s Hospital, talked about the role of his team in supporting patients and those close to them. A screening of ̽��ֱ��Time to Die was followed by a Q and A. Stockley took questions from an audience who included health professionals, members of the public, counsellors and representatives from local hospices. ̽��ֱ��making of a documentary about so sensitive a topic prompted questions about the relationships involved and the editing process.

Stockley spent four weeks filming at St Christopher’s. ̽��ֱ��Time to Die is, perhaps most importantly, a tribute to those it features, the patients and staff of a hospice acknowledged to be a pioneer in end-of-life care. She spoke of the closeness that developed between her team and the people they filmed – and her own emotional response. “I needed to remind myself that my sadness was nothing compared to those I was filming.” She also talked about the difficulty of negotiating a commission to make a film looking at death.

Junior doctors can expect to deal with as many as 40 to 50 deaths a year in the course of their work. Yet most people, in a society that protects itself from the reality of human frailty and mortality, have never witnessed death close up. Stockley suggested that film could offer a “safe way” of exploring some of the things we ask ourselves (how do people die, what’s it like to die) but seldom give voice to. Even the staff at St Christopher’s seldom talk about their own deaths. Medical statisticians have their devised their own code for death – they call it 'negative patient outcome'.

If ̽��ֱ��Time to Die is brave, it is also deeply respectful – and quite rightly so. Film, certainly not one made for general viewing, cannot convey the emotional rawness of death. Death has a smell. It can be messy and protracted. It’s exhausting and deeply sad. Death affects the professionals involved as well as patients and their loved ones. At one point in the documentary, a nurse is overcome by emotion and fights back tears. How do we negotiate the line between personal and professional?

Several Cambridge ̽��ֱ�� medical students attended the seminar. Chris Kassam said: “Working with patients at the end of life can leave you feeling overwhelmed by the magnitude of the experience, and the easy option is to withdraw behind a mask of professionalism. I think the film and discussion helped me to realise that what patients and their families may need most at such times is not a doctor but another human being to simply be there with them."

Health care assistants are among the front line staff who get to know patients best. Aiden Ferguson, a healthcare assistant at Addenbrooke's, said the documentary demonstrated that "professionalism is not nearly enough". He commented: " ̽��ֱ��film crystallises the importance of connecting with others in a way that is deeply present and true - and these connections can be forged with patients who have a terminal diagnosis and those who do not, with friends and family, with someone unknown."

Despite the sadness of its subject matter, there is a gentle optimism about ̽��ֱ��Time to Die – and many of the scenes it captures are revelatory. Patients in palliative care, says a nurse, find it “quite comforting” to see other patients immediately after death. St Christopher’s doesn’t cover the faces of those who die. Instead a single flower is placed on the pillow as the body is wheeled away. Interviews with relatives are reminders that life goes on. “I’ve thrown away his toothbrush,” says Kevin’s wife, shortly after his death. “And now I’m looking at the shoes he wore last time he came home.”

Doctors like to fix things: they train in medicine because they like solving problems and want to make people better. In his introduction, Barclay suggested that this impulse is at the root of the profession’s difficulties with handling death and bereavement.

̽��ֱ��Time to Die is a portrait of a hospice dedicated to end-of-life care. A general hospital faces different pressures, many of them driven by time. Fraser said that time was not always the critical factor – it was often a question of finding the right moment and language for a fairly brief conversation. A personal loss had, he said, “changed profoundly” how he approached his role at Addenbrooke’s. “I’ve learnt that there is sometimes nothing to say – no solution. But to validate sadness is so important.”

Among the professionals in the audience was Michelle Reynolds, Acting Head of Staff Counselling at Cambridge ̽��ֱ��’s Counselling Service. She said: “ ̽��ֱ��combination of the film and Fraser’s own testimony made the seminar an evocative experience. Twenty years have passed since the making of the documentary – and the need for good palliative care is as great as ever. Death doesn’t change its impact on the family, friends and the professionals involved. No-one is immune.”

We don’t know when or how we will die: death is one of the life processes that defies organisation. But with careful planning, an acknowledgment of our wishes and the support of skilled professionals and loving family and friends, there is much we can do. ̽��ֱ��Time to Die shows no happy endings but demonstrates how much caring means. Kevin dies at St Christopher’s, as he had wanted, with his wife with him. Hazel dies at home, quietly and gently in her boyfriend’s arms. Standing in a rainswept churchyard after Hazel’s funeral, he is quietly proud.

̽��ֱ��seminar series continues on Wednesday, 9 November 2016 with guest speakers Professor Bee Wee, NHS England's National Clinical Director for End of Life Care and Dr Anna Elsner, ̽��ֱ�� of Zurich. Professor Wee will discuss developments in national policy and practice in palliative and end of life care since the withdrawal of the Liverpool Care Pathway for the Dying. Dr Elsner will discuss a documentary exploring end-of-life care in Switzerland, 'Die weisse Arche'/' ̽��ֱ��white ark' (2015) and the Ars Moriendi (arts of dying) tradition. All welcome, no charge, booking required.

Inset image: Physician; credit: Yuya Tamai.

An ambitious seminar series began last week with a discussion of a remarkable documentary. Filmed in a pioneering hospice, ̽��ֱ��Time to Die addresses a subject that remains taboo for many. Joining the conversation are health professionals, medical students and members of the public, as well as those interested in film and ethics. ̽��ֱ��series continues on 9 November 2016.

̽��ֱ��film and discussion helped me to realise that what patients and their families may need most is not a doctor but another human being to simply be there with them.

Chris Kassam, medical student

nrllhdgrmnc (Flickr Creative Commons)

Life and death

̽��ֱ��text in this work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. For image use please see separate credits above.

Yes

Licence type:

Attribution-ShareAlike

Grand designs: the role of the house in American film

amb206 — Fri, 27 May 2016 13:51:41 +0000

̽��ֱ��Lonely Villa tells the story of four women subjected to a terrifying break-in by intruders. A woman barricades herself and her daughters into the house as her absent husband, alerted by a phone call, hastens to their rescue. In the opening shot, the villains are seen lurking in the shrubbery of the handsome all-American home that stands in splendid isolation, an icon of the property-owning dream.

Rhodes’ exploration of the house in American cinema has taken him deep into the history and theory of both film and architecture, and will result in a book due for publication in 2017. He is Director of the newly launched Centre for Film and Screen, which brings together researchers from subjects as diverse as English, philosophy, history of art, architecture and languages, and continues a tradition of teaching and research on the subject of film since the 1960s.

“Houses are built to be lived in but also to be looked at – and you only have to switch on your television to see how much they fascinate us,” he says. “In watching cinema, too, we are forever looking at and into people’s houses. Cinema’s preoccupation with the house stems from cinema’s strong relation to realism and to the representation of human lives, a large portion of which plays out in domestic interiors.”

Central to Rhodes’ research into films that range from Meet Me in St Louis and Gone with the Wind to Psycho and Citizen Kane is the idea of property and possession as well as their opposites – alienation and dispossession. It’s a theme that flows through the cinematic experience right to the temporary possession of the seat in which the viewer watches a film and enters the intimate spaces of other people’s lives. “Property reigns in many aspects of the cinema experience,” he says. “Not just in the drama unfolding on the screen itself but also in the process of film-making, practices of production, distribution and exhibition.”

Rhodes suggests that the pleasure we take in immersing ourselves in the visual and sensual experiences of entering other people’s worlds has an antecedent in country house tours and, most specifically, the collections known as ‘cabinets of curiosities’. Objects acquired to display and impress, these museum-like collections are examples of belonging and, by the same token, of not belonging. “At the heart of visual pleasure is a constant negotiation of property boundaries,” says Rhodes. “It’s a question of mine but not yours – of inviting in yet keeping out.”

Revealed to a chosen few guests, cabinets of curiosities and their modern equivalents speak powerfully of their owner’s taste. A short film titled House: After Five Years of Living (1955) perfectly encapsulates the house as an object of desire and as a container for carefully curated possessions. Directed by designers Charles and Ray Eames, it shows their modernist house – one they designed themselves – in a series of stills that venerate this landmark building and its collection of modern and folk art, textiles and design objects. Neither of its owners appears yet their presence is palpable through the framing, shot by shot, of the house they created to work so beautifully in its Californian context.

Ownership is not confined to buildings but extends to those who live and work in them. Rhodes says that his thesis is implicitly feminist. His forthcoming book will draw attention to the ways in which, in film and in real life, women are forced into uncomfortably close relationships with the home, becoming part of the same parcel of ownership.

An even more tightly binding relationship is played out between servant and home, particularly in the representation of African American slavery in the American South following the Civil War. Two thirds of the way into Gone with the Wind, the servant girl Prissy looks up at her employers’ newly constructed mansion and exclaims: “We sure is rich now!” ̽��ֱ��viewer is apparently invited to laugh both at her delight and at her naivety, and in a manner that only repeats the film’s explicit racism. Yet the spectator is also the butt of this joke.

“This shot is a kind of ‘hall of mirrors’ of property relations,” says Rhodes. “ ̽��ֱ��cinema audience looks at the image which was Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer’s property. Inside the image, the servants gaze up at the property of the house. But if we look carefully we see that there is no house there: what they are really looking at is either a painted background or else a matt painting inserted in the post-production process. Whether or not the image was there when the scene was shot, what they are looking at is a ‘prop’.”

̽��ֱ��word prop is, of course, an abbreviation for property. ̽��ֱ��house, as the ultimate prop, takes many forms, its physical form acting as a powerful pointer. ̽��ֱ��mansion and the bungalow, the rambling shingle and stick-style residence, the modernist home with its picture windows: all convey messages (about status, class, race, politics) and shape the action that takes place within them.

“In much of the US, the possession of land, even if it’s a tiny strip of grass separating one house from another, is fundamental to a feeling of ownership. ̽��ֱ��bungalow was initially seen as a space for easeful, convenient living – but this modest home quickly came to spell failure,” says Rhodes. “If you think about entrances and exits, a suburban home with a hallway allows for a gradual transition from outside to inside while a bungalow offers none of that dignity. ̽��ֱ��cramped space of the bungalow leads to too much intimacy and to uncomfortable confrontations.”

Dwelling places are objects of desire – especially so in the affluent Western world. Our homes absorb our money and eat into our time: perhaps, in the process of acquisition, they own us just as much as we own them. As backdrops to our lives, they tell stories about the kind of people we are and would like to be. In film, and on the screen, houses convey multiple meanings – not just about class and status but also about childhood and our relationship with history.

When a house is broken into, a dream is shattered. In Griffith’s ̽��ֱ��Lonely Villa, the ruffians are hampered by the solidity of the house’s doors and the weight of the furniture pushed up against them. All ends well when the mother and daughters are rescued, just in time, by the man of the house. But property is fragile and, in the final reckoning, all ownership is a question of controlling impermanent and shifting borders.

Inset image: Credit, ̽��ֱ��District.

It’s black and white, silent and just short of ten minutes in length. But D.W. Griffith’s 1909 classic ̽��ֱ��Lonely Villa inspired Dr John David Rhodes, Director of Cambridge’s new Centre for Film and Screen, to look at the role and meaning of the house in American cinema.

Houses are built to be lived in but also to be looked at – you only have to switch on your television to see how much they fascinate us.

John David Rhodes

Biograph Company Production

Screenshots from D.W. Griffith’s ̽��ֱ��Lonely Villa (1909)

Centre for Film and Screen

̽��ֱ�� ̽��ֱ�� of Cambridge has fostered teaching and research on the subject of film since the 1960s, with pioneering work undertaken in the 1970s-80s by influential figures such as Stephen Heath and Colin MacCabe. Over time, film studies rose in prominence across the ̽��ֱ��’s faculties. In 2008, Cambridge’s strengths in this subject were consolidated with the launch of the ̽��ֱ��’s first MPhil in Screen and Media Cultures.

From this heritage of Cambridge’s thoughtful consideration of the art of the moving image, the new Centre for Film and Screen has been developed. Although based mainly in the Faculty of Modern and Medieval Languages, the Centre is truly interdisciplinary, featuring researchers from across subjects as diverse as English, Philosophy, History of Art, Architecture and Languages.

This year, the Centre is launching the ̽��ֱ��’s first ever PhD programme in Film and Screen Studies, to complement the existing MPhil course and to enable doctoral students to join the active and varied film and screen studies research culture at Cambridge and participate in the Centre’s teaching, research and seminars.

Cambridge itself is a cinematic city. Its architectural beauty and history have, over the years, made it a very attractive location for film production. ̽��ֱ��city is home to a thriving art cinema and numerous film and arts festivals, including the annual Cambridge Film Festival. Many of the Colleges of the ̽��ֱ�� have film screening programmes and host visiting filmmakers.

̽��ֱ��broader culture of the ̽��ֱ�� has long been associated with creativity and dynamism in the arts and humanities, and continues to produce some of the most noteworthy names in the film and television industry, such as actors Tilda Swinton and Tom Hiddleston and director Sam Mendes. Cambridge’s postgraduate degrees in Film and Screen Studies combine the wealth of the ̽��ֱ��’s humanistic traditions with innovative inquiry into the contemporary culture of the moving image.

̽��ֱ��text in this work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. For image use please see separate credits above.

Yes

How real is the science in Star Wars?

sc604 — Fri, 18 Dec 2015 11:21:51 +0000

Warning: contains mild spoilers.

In any science or engineering lab, in any part of the world, there is one subject that is certain to have come up at some point over tea, coffee, or lunch: how do you build a lightsaber? It’s true: ask any of your friends in those fields and they will talk endlessly about how they think it can be built. (I personally subscribe to a plasma containment philosophy, while a friend thinks he has come up with a waveguided laser design – a true ‘light’ saber if you will). We are all, at our hearts, geeks and Star Wars fans.

It’s said that great science fiction has a basis in good science, but it is also true that good science can be inspired by great science fiction. At the heart of the Star Wars series lies a concept that owes as much to mysticism as science. I am, of course, referring to the Force. Disregarding ̽��ֱ��Phantom Menace’s ill-advised attempt to explain the Force (Midi-chlorians? Why?), can we explain any of its seemingly magical properties with good hard science?

̽��ֱ��Force Awakens, the latest instalment of the Star Wars series (officially Episode VII) opens with a very striking demonstration of the Force when our villain, Kylo Ren, stops a blaster shot in mid-air. Those who have seen the original trilogy will be familiar with Darth Vader performing a similar feat. While Lord Vader may simply be wearing good armour with a high melting temperature or is very efficiently dissipating heat, Ren takes this to a new level. But how would you stop a blast in mid-air?

Plasma containment is something that we can do today with very powerful magnetic fields, suggesting that Ren could simply be exhibiting Magneto-like manifestations of power. But here’s the catch: when that magnetic field is released, the plasma would simply dissipate as it will no longer carry any forward momentum. Instead, we see the blaster shot continue forward as before.

̽��ֱ��next possibility then, is that he stopped or slowed down time. For this to happen, Ren must create a large gravity well at the centre of the plasma, i.e. a great mass that is also too small for us to see. A quick calculation: assuming a time dilation factor of 30,000:1 and a distance of 1 m between the centre and where everyone’s standing – gives us a mass of roughly 6.7 x 10²⁶ kg (about 100 times the mass of the Earth)! But this raises several important issues: 1) time would slow down less the further away you are, making for an odd scene for the Stormtroopers in the background: 2) the gravitational effect on the planet would be enormous; and 3) why would the First Order need to build a new ‘Death Star’ in the first place if Ren can simply create a black hole with his mind?

By now, I think I’ve angered enough general relativity experts with my loose interpretation of equations to safely say that perhaps there are some wonders in Star Wars that we don’t need to explain.

Science aside, ̽��ֱ��Force Awakens has managed to recapture the spirit of the original in a way that the prequel trilogy never could. From start to finish there is a sense of excitement, with the old cast lending presence without overshadowing our new heroes. Far from being mere carbon copies of Han, Luke, and Leia, the new trinity (Rey, Finn and Poe Dameron) add life to series, helping ̽��ֱ��Force Awakens escape the trash compactor that was the prequels (Episode III was almost ok … almost).

J.J. Abrams weaves a tale that says to the fans, this is for you and we’re going to do it right. Without revealing the plot, it’s enough to say that the film tips its hat to the original Star Wars, laying a solid foundation for the new trilogy. ̽��ֱ��film, simply put, is a good old-fashioned ride through the galaxy that captured the imagination of so many of our younger selves, and is well set to inspire the generation to come.

In the end, everything else aside, the feeling of childhood excitement as the trumpets blast off and the title scrolls across the stars is an experience in and of itself. For any fans of the saga, that alone is worth the ticket.

̽��ֱ��anticipation is over: ̽��ֱ��Force Awakens is with us. To a self-confessed geek like Karen Yu from the Institute for Manufacturing, this is like all of her Christmases coming at once. It also raises some very important questions: what is the Force, how do you make a lightsaber – and does the new film finally put to rest the ghost of ̽��ֱ��Phantom Menace?

It’s said that great science fiction has a basis in good science, but it is also true that good science can be inspired by great science fiction.

Karen Yu

̽��ֱ�� of Cambridge

TIE fighters over King's College

̽��ֱ��text in this work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. For image use please see separate credits above.

Yes