Journal articles on the topic 'Order of Woodcraft Chivalry'

Considerable scholarly attention has been given to Charter ’77 as a site of dissent in the former Czechoslovakia. Yet there was a socially embedded site of resistance that was active long before the dissidents. We call this site the Czech woodcraft culture. With its mass popularity and its potent references to Native American anti-colonialism, the woodcraft culture has still barely registered among researchers. In this paper, we offer the first scholarly account of the origins of Czech woodcraft culture, starting in the early twentieth century. We argue that subsequent transformations of the woodcraft culture in the Czech landscape should be understood as popular, complex, and often ambiguous practices of resistance, from the internationalist inversions of a national bourgeois order in the inter-war period, to nostalgic and paradoxically nationalist subterfuges of the Soviet-imposed regime after 1968. We trace how, as a response to the state socialist regime’s cultural and political pressures, the activities of Czech woodcraft culture were “layered with memories and experiences rooted in the pre-communist period” (Bren, 2002: 124). The Czech woodcraft culture as a whole provided its adherents with an autonomous space that enabled new forms of sociality, immersions in the natural world, and a host of long-standing voluntary associative activities that preceded the emergence of localized environmental movements and other sites of dissent around the Czech lands.

AbstractAnti-doping programs need to preserve and promote what is essential in sport and that is sport spirit and achieving perfection through the development of its own natural talents, in order to raise awareness about the importance of fair play and creating an environment that supports the sport without doping. These programs should be directed to the athletes and young people by creating a positive and long-term impact on the choices they make. Thanks to games that are used for children in preschool and primary school age it is possible to efficiently and timely impact on the development character and virtues because it is incomparably more difficult to form character and moral values in already formed athletes than in childrens who are just getting to know the world of sport and everything what he is carries. Childrens need to be instilled the importance of physical exercise and the importance of participation in sport without prohibited resources and methods that roughly violate the ideal of fair play and on that way promote at childrens health, fairness and equality for all athletes. Fair play was created out of chivalry and gentlemanly in the middle ages where many reformers proposed sport and games with the aim of education and strengthening moral values in children. Teaching children the ideals of fair play in which the sport is based, and their continued involvement in sports activities with special accent on the pedagogical aspect leads to raising the awareness of moral values and ideals of sports chivalry. Developing awareness among children about fair play and anti-doping implies greater satisfaction with the results achieved in sports activities, which is a win at all costs and with the use of illegal resourses worthless, and victors would not be able to refer to with pride.

Contrary to stereotypes that represent it primarily as an expression of machismo or romantic chivalry, military honour in early modern England was professional, moral, utilitarian, and a force for social stability. It was pragmatic as well as idealistic. It shared attributes of civilian honour but also comprehended rules and obligations specific to soldiers. Professional honour required that the soldier should know and observe the codes and practices of his métier. To do so satisfied his internal sense of personal integrity and brought external reputation. Honour also had a broader social value. Mutuality and utility marked its operation in the English civil war. This mutuality safeguarded practices both sides found useful, such as prisoner exchanges, for the honour of each side was engaged in observance of the relevant rules. The survival of a bipartisan soldiers' honour ameliorated relations between enemies. It helped to prevent irrevocable social divisions, to sustain social order, and to enable previously warring Englishmen to live together with tolerable equanimity.

Resum: El Curial e Güelfa és una novel·la que sorprèn per la seva modernitat. Tot i que conserva certes reminiscències medievals, com a resultat del gènere cavalleresc que la caracteritza, hem de situar-la dins de l’ambient humanista de la Itàlia del Quatttocento: tant les fonts literàries, com molts dels temes que hi apareixen, parlen d’un context social e intel·lectual que es viu en aquests moment a Itàlia. El protagonista, Curial, amb el seu propòsit d’harmonitzar armes i lletres, n’és el millor exemple. El jove cavaller ha de concloure un procés de maduració personal –de crisi existencial, també– per poder assolir l’objectiu que persegueix: casar-se amb la Güelfa. Per aquesta raó, a banda de les seves gestes cavalleresques, es dedicarà a l’estudi i comprendrà que només mitjançant l’esforç que duu a la virtus podrà obtenir la necessària nobilitas que, gràcies a un procés de reconeixement del seu homo interior, farà d’ell una persona íntegra. Paraules clau: Humanisme, Curial, prosa acurada, armes i lletres, bivium, virtut, noblesa. Abstract: Curial e Güelfa shocks by its own modernity. In spite of some medieval reminiscences as a result of the atmosphere of chivalry it depicts, it belongs within the humanistic influence of the Italian Quattrocento. The author’s mindful prose and his selection of literary sources or the variety of themes, correspond to the social and intellectual context of the day in Italy. Curial, as the main character in the novel, is a true example in his endeavour to blend arms and letters. The young knight must undergo a process towards adulthood which will also entail a personal crisis in the quest to achieve his goal: wedding Güelfa. With this aim in mind, and along with his chivalry frays, he will bow down on study, in the understanding that virtus itself will only be achieved through exertion in order to achieve the necessary nobilitas, which will on its own turn him into an integral being after acknowledging his own homo interior. Keywords: Humanism, Curial, mindful prose, arms and letters, bivium, virtue, nobility.

This article presents an analysis of an occurring phrase and practice “auf die Hand” (to one’s hand) and its meaning in the end of the fourteenth and the fifteenth centuries. The main sources for such a study were correspondence between the Teutonic Order’s officers and Lithuania’s rulers, issued documents, and other contemporary written evidence. The “auf die Hand” custom was not just a practice to release captives on parole solely on their own oath, but also on the guarantee of a ruler, officer or another trustworthy person. The captive released on parole or the guarantee promises to return whenever the captor summons him. Also, the guarantor vows that the captive will safely return on a given time. This research shows that the captives with questionable honour may not have been interceded merely for the risk of escaping, because the guarantor, who had also sworn in his honour, would have to compensate for the escaped captive. No doubt such practice was adopted through contact with the Teutonic Order and knights from Western Europe, since we can observe specific features of chivalry: surrender, honour, oaths. Also, it is evident that the meaning behind “auf die Hand” had a semantic connotation – raising a hand to give an oath and giving the captive “to guarantor’s hands.”

Resumen: En sus ultimas palabras con Tifeo antes de cometer suicidio por amor en la Carcel de Amor, Leriano tiene una oportunidad perfecta para atacar a su desdeñosa dame sans merci, Laureola. Pero Leriano está a la altura de las circunstancias y hace una exposición de amore ante su amigo, que debe mucho al Libro de la orden de la caballeria de Llull, un libro destinado a tener importancia capital en la época tardomedieval y del primer Renacimiento. Palabras clave: Diego de San Pedro, Carcel de Amor, Llull, Libro de la orden de la caballeria, Leriano Abstract: In his last words with Tifeo before committing suicide in Carcel de Amor, Leriano has a perfect opportunity to attack his disdainful dame sans merci, Laureola. But Leriano raises above the circumstances and makes and exposition de amore to his friend which in greatly indebted to Llull's Book of the Order of Chivalry, a book that was destined to acquire paramount importance in late medieval and early modern Europe. Key words: Diego de San Pedro, Carcel de Amor, Llull, Libro de la orden de la caballeria, Leriano

AbstractOriginally a charitable monastic institution devoted to the care of Christian pilgrims in the Holy Land, the Hospitallers of St. John became a military order during the twelfth century. The arrival of the Order of St. John in Malta in 1530 brought this island to the attention of European leaders and their subjects; indeed, the number of visitors who wrote about their sojourns on the island in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries is remarkable. At this time private military tours to Malta came to be integrated into what was called the Cavalier's Tour. The famous caravans of the fleet of the Order of St. John played a special role in this development, since participation in the caravans-usually involving naval engagements against the infidel-was considered an integral part of a gentleman's education. The survival of the chivalric Order of St. John seems to testify to the spiritual and cultural continuity of the Crusades up through the period of the Counter Reformation. But closer examination of individual European travelers suggests a rather pragmatic and quite "tolerant" approach to the foreign world. This essay concentratcs on Northern European sources, as it was mainly the Northerners who made the Cavalier's Tour a regular ritual, often entailing the compilation of a detailed travel diary. The accounts of the travelers from Prussia, the Scandinavian countries and central and south Germany show that both Catholics and Protestants alike came to Malta, mainly for reasons of fame, career and the acquisition of military and nautical experience. By the middle of the eighteenth century the Order and its fleet had degenerated to an ornamental show. This decline coincided with the end of the phenomenon dealt with here. In the so-called "Grand Tour" of the second half of the eighteenth century-mostly undertaken by rich Englishmen-there was no space for a trip "adversus infideles." This new type of tour was meant for private pleasure and cultural education. The Ottoman empire was no longer seen as a threat. In contrast to the old emnity, there was a new vogue for things "oriental." The island of Malta and the state of the Knights became an object of curiosity and romantic chivalry.

The knightly ideal of N.A. Berdyaev is one of the major components of his creativity: “the spirit of chivalry” is a unique alternative to “the spirit of the bourgeois”, to “world philistinism” and total, self-sufficing, godless statehood. Berdyaev believes in the great historic mission of Russia – to become a connecting link between the East and the West, to unite two streams of world history. The First World War adds an urgency to these themes. The Russian thinker interprets this war as an epoch of great tests, hopes that it will lead to spiritual awakening of Russia, will give courage and nobleness to the Russian people, provide the Russian person with attributes of the knight. Berdyaev is convinced of the necessity of qualitative changes of Russian national consciousness and being. War as a phenomenon of a spiritual order shows that only spiritual power can eradicate violence in the world. According to the well-known concept of “the new Middle Ages”, the barbarity of war overcomes bourgeois decadence and opens the potential of the humane person; war expands culture horizons, opens new resources. Russia needs people of dignity and honour, people who realize the greatness of divine power. Russian society should join the world civilization; internally accept Christian revelations about humanity. Berdyaev confirms that the idea of knightly service is anticipated in Christian morality, it’s crucially important for the history of personal formation. The precondition of success of the historic world mission of Russia is the liberation of the ‘Russian soul’ from domination of womanly, natural, potentially chaotic elements. The problem of choosing between the East and the West, declares Berdyaev, defines the fate of Russia. Russian national consciousness should accept the cultural heritage of the West imminently. Only focusing on the self-forged knightly courage and responsible creative personality will allow Russia to change spiritually, and successfully solve problems on a global historical scale.

Contemporary society has discovered—or in some cases been forced to discover—the worth of women. Historians have provided valuable insights into the social, cultural, and legal status of women in an effort to highlight the roots of attitudes that have excluded women from positions of power in the western world. Much of this research has focused upon new ways of viewing history, and the fine series of monographs Women in Culture and Society being published by the University of Chicago Press provides a prime example of the new awareness of the distaff side of history. Yet, little attention has been paid to some of the most basic assumptions of past generations of medieval historians about women and society. The claim that male chauvinist attitudes are founded in the primative Germanic concept of a warrior fraternity from which women were physiologically excluded from membership was already hoary when Fritz Kern published his classic account of medieval law and society in 1914. The comitatus band of Tacitus has been seen as a central component of the leitmotiv that produced chivalry. The chivalric love ethic has, of course, received great attention from women's historians, but the chivalric orders into which such views were distilled have been largely ignored.The traditional view of the chivalric orders as fossilized parodies of the values they espoused so eloquently advocated by Johan Huizinga's The Waning of the Middle Ages still holds the field. Only in the last year have the chivalric orders been rehabilitated as genuine expressions of the human values of their age. The position of women within the tradition of the chivalric orders is worth a look for the intrinsic interest of the subject and for the insights that the investigation provides into the shifts in attitudes toward females over the centuries. The chivalric orders, and the Arthurian legends that inspired them, placed a high value on women, much higher than the earlier chansons de geste. While it is true that this tradition tended to place the lady upon a pedestal from which her daughters have fought to climb down, the greatest and longest lasting of these late-medieval chivalric fraternities, the Order of the Garter, also gave women a role in its celebrations.

AbstrakWajah perkomikan di Indonesia sangat dipengaruhi oleh kondisi zaman. Komik “Sandhora” tidak hanya mengungkapkan gejala-gejala seniman penciptanya, namun juga merefleksikan kondisi sosio-kultural pada masa itu dan pemikiran ideologis kebudayaan Nusantara, dan patut diduga memiliki komitmen yang kuat terhadap paradigma estetik humanisme universal. Tujuan penelitian ini adalah mendeskripsikan makna primer, sekunder dan intrinsik yang membentuk dunia motif artistik, gambar komik, dan nilai simbolik dalam komik “Sandhora” (1970) karya Teguh Santosa. Dengan menggunakan metode sejarah dan pendekatan teori ikonografi dan ikonologi Erwin Panofsky, penelitian ini menemukan bahwa secara faktual komik ini menceritakan tentang kisah cinta antara dua tokoh utama yang penuh dengan konflik, ketegangan, pertarungan antara hidup dan mati, kelicikan, kekesatriaan, dan harapan, yang diekspresikan melalui hubungan antar elemen/unsur komik. Tema yang diangkat dalam Komik “Sandhora” ini adalah kemanusiaan dalam konteks pluralisme dan multikulturalisme dengan setting Indonesia. Tema komik ini menunjukkan betapa kuatnya komitmen terhadap paradigma estetik Humanisme Universal, yang populer pada paruh kedua 1960-an hingga tahun 1980-an. Komik “Sandhora” karya Teguh Santosa ini merupakan kristalisasi simbol dari pembelaan terhadap nilai-nilai kemanusiaan/humanisme, kebebasan berekspresi, dan kesetaraan manusia, serta upaya perjuangan budaya dalam rangka mempertahankan dan mengembangkan martabat diri bangsa Indonesia di tengah masyarakat global. Kata Kunci: humanisme, komik, multikulturalisme, nilai, pluralism. AbstractComics in Indonesia is heavily influenced by conditions of the era. "Sandhora" not just reveal symptoms of the creator, but also reflecting the socio-cultural conditions in those days and ideological thought of culture, and is suspected to have a strong commitment to the universal humanism, as aesthetic paradigm. This study aims at describing primary, secondary and intrinsic values that form artistic, pictorial, and symbolic values of “Sandhora” comic (1970) by Teguh Santosa. Using historical and iconography approaches, this study found this comic is depicting a love story of two main characters whose life is full with conflicts, tenses, struggles between life and death, craftiness,chivalry, and expectations expressed through the relationships between comic elements. The comic proposes the theme of humanity within the spirit of pluralism and multiculturalism. This themse shows author’s strong commitment to the aesthetic paradigm of Universal Humanism which used to popular in the second half of the 1960s to the 1980s. This comic also symbolizes the defense of human values/humanism, freedom of expression, and equality of human beings, as well as the efforts of cultural struggle in order to maintain and develop the dignity of the Indonesian nation in the global community. Keywords: humanism,comic, multi-culturalism, values, pluralism.

“Pacifism + non-resistance are by-products of some central things to which we have to testify.”Richard RobertsAlthough Rev. Richard Roberts was the chairman of the founding conference of the Fellowship of Reconciliation (FOR) at Cambridge in 1914, its first general secretary, and the key figure in its early ideology, he has largely been ignored in the secondary literature. Admittedly, Vera Brittain, in The Rebel Passion, sketched an appreciative vignette, but Jill Wallis, in her more recent FOR study Valiant for Peace, mentions him only six times without discussing his ideas. Even Roberts' daughter Gwen's biography, Grace Unfailing, fails to analyze the basis of his contribution. Yet, seven decades after attending the founding FOR conference, its only survivor, Horace Alexander, wrote that, while he could not recall the details, Richard Roberts had impressed him most, for he “got right into [him], and helped [him] find a sure foundation for life.” Alexander's comment points in the direction Martin Ceadel began to develop when he defined pacifism as a faith. But Ceadel restricted that faith to its relation to war, a restriction that was inappropriate for the early FOR. Pacifism, its leading members posited, should pervade all of life, private as well as public. Their conception of the new organization sounded like a worldview, a framework through which they viewed the world. Nevertheless, although pacifism should influence all of life, it was, as Roberts suggested, a by-product rather than the central element. Hence, rather than explicating his understanding of pacifism, at the founding conference Roberts focused on Christ's atonement as the ground of all ethics and as supplying the regulative principle of the Christian's reconciling ministry in the world. From this perspective he drew the conclusion that reconciliation implied a wide range of social activities for which the energies of youth, being used in warfare, should be mobilized in something akin to a Franciscan tertiary order. It was this call for social regeneration combined with evangelism that impressed Alexander. Only in passing Roberts declared the “simple,” pre-1914 pacifism bankrupt, while expecting that reconciliation in all spheres of life would undercut the commonly held view that war was “a hateful affair yet a noble enterprise of Christian chivalry.” This notion of reconciliation, with all that it entailed, became central. Even before the FOR had a conscription committee it had established committees for its rehabilitation of young offenders commune, for education, and for social service. The limited secondary literature has generally ignored these committees and failed to analyze the notion of reconciliation, focusing instead on the by-product and on conscientious objectors. Methodologically, Ceadel defined the FOR as quietist, and compared to the No-Conscription Fellowship (NCF) that would be quite accurate. Indeed, for while the FOR encouraged its members to be politically involved—it had a political group committee—it shied away from being a political pressure group, regarding the NCF tactics incompatible with reconciliation. Although its methodology was quietist, its ideology was radical, aiming at the transformation of society. In order to understand this largely Roberts-influenced reconciliation ideology, it is necessary to take a closer look at Roberts' worldview.

This article highlights the variety that characterises the Spanish romances of chivalry as a genre. The uniqueness of Valerián de Hungría by Dionís Clemente (1540) is given by its rich content and lexicon. By the end of the book, the author includes a heated debate between two knights whose opinions about love contrast. They are Pacífico and Cupidio. Such a dispute needs to be studied in light of the bibliography about the genre within the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, in order to find out which elements Clemente re-elaborates. The investigation develops through the comparison with a few episodes taken from other romances of chivalry, but also with the ideology spread within contemporary works in which the same themes of Valerián are remarked.

Abstract This article explores civic pageantry’s role in detaching King Arthur and aspects of the Arthurian world from the narratives of the medieval tradition by examining the Society of Prince Arthur’s show, a popular event hosted by an archery fraternity in late sixteenth-century London. The processional nature of the Society’s annual show, the account of the Society provided by Richard Mulcaster, and readers’ annotations in copies of Richard Robinson’s The Ancient Order, Societie, and Unitie Laudable of Prince Arthure and his knightly armory of the Round Table (1583) reveal the importance of performance in the early modern reimagining of Arthur and his knights as symbols of civic virtue. The Society’s adaptations of Arthurian characters and the chivalry of the Round Table thus influence both satirical responses to chivalric literature in the period and Edmund Spenser’s presentation of the Arthurian legend in The Faerie Queene (1590).

After years of treacherous efforts to break out of traditional gender roles, one seems to remain across different ages, education levels, and income groups. 82% of men and 58% of women, agree that men should pay for common expenses. Additionally, two-fifths of women reported being bothered if the man didn’t offer to pick up the tab. If we expect gender equality in all other aspects of society, how come “dating” is immune to the concept? In this study, the underlying preferences for partner selection are explored, exploring the evolutionary drive to find a mate who is financially stable and can provide security for a future offspring. Sexual selection has evolved over generations and led to psychological mechanisms used to assess the viability of a mate in order to increase reproductive success. This study shows that, ancestral women evolved to select men that show signs of power, status and stability to ensure that he can provide for their offspring in the future; what to cavewomen was prey from a hunt, to the modern woman is a credit card. While this might be considered a regression of equality, the evolutionary psychology of mating selection can explain how this display of economic stability and power, attracts the female. Thanks to ancestral women’s mating choices and sexual selection, it seems as though chivalry is not dead, after all.

Abstract This article takes a fresh look at Southey’s radical poetry of the 1790s in order to assess Southey’s mobilization of the tropes of political violence and atrocity. In the repressive antijacobin climate of the mid to late 1790s, radicalism was frequently associated with the sensational imagery of unbridled popular violence and regicide, but such propaganda misrepresented the ways in which radical authors like Southey used their texts precisely to explore and negotiate the problem of “justified” violence. The two texts I focus on are Wat Tyler and Joan of Arc, both of which imagine the bloody overthrow and destruction of a violent British state. But I show that beneath such a sensational vision (which may seem to explain why Wat Tyler was not published) is a more complex and coded engagement with the contemporaneous debate about politics, violence and democracy, including issues such as plebeian chivalry, heroic martyrdom, divine punishment, and state terror. I also argue that the furore surrounding the radical pirating of Wat Tyler in the postwar period overlooked the fact that the text offers the reader various political fantasies and discourses of violence ranging from regicide to patriarchal self-defence, sacrificial defiance and statesmanlike moral reflection. I hope to show, therefore, that a more nuanced historicist approach to Southey’s early poetry in fact yields a more polysemic hermeneutics than has been appreciated by critics from the Romantic period to the present.

Purpose of the article. The article presents a study of courtly motives in the art of the high Middle Ages and the foundations of the ideological and figurative-symbolic representation of courtly images in various artistic forms of this era. Methodology. The study of the content of courtly motives and images, the definition of the ideological foundations of their figurative and symbolic representation was carried out through the use of historical, analytical, symbolic, and allegorical methods. Scientific novelty. The article examines courtly motives and courtly images presented in the art of the High Middle Ages, identifies the ideological foundations of their figurative and symbolic representation in various artistic forms of this era. Conclusions. The visual images of medieval masters create the world of courtly, filling the courtly universe with numerous subjects that reflect the image and lifestyle of both knights and their Beautiful ladies. And thus they help to understand the norms and prescriptions of courtesy, the models of the participants' behavior in the courteous action, the corresponding rituals and etiquette norms of courteous relations, their attributes, and stylistics. In order to do this, the artists used various techniques - bright colors, saturation with symbols, heraldry, outfits, etc. Especially popular was the use of the rose image, which became the quintessence of Gothic art, its courtly and religious symbol, the embodiment of the ideal of chivalry to the Beautiful Lady, and a kind of reflection of the Christian image of the Virgin Mary.

Given traditional understandings of law, one might be sceptical of a claim that improvisation and justice are not mutually-exclusive concepts. Does not the significance of the rule of law, the requirement that we be governed by rules and not arbitrary, ad hoc discretion, call into question the legitimacy of improvisation in law? To this very lawyerly question, I provide a very lawyerly answer: it depends. Legal orthodoxy may indeed refuse to acknowledge any role for improvisation in law, but other theories of law, particularly a theory of critical legal pluralism, is likely to be more accommodating. Critical legal pluralism rejects the characterization of law as an external force obeyed by legal subjects. Instead, critical legal pluralism recognizes the improvised nature of law; legal subjects are not law-obeying but rather law-creating, generating their own legal subjectivity and establishing legal order in real time as a knowledge process of creating and maintaining reality. This article analyzes Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a popular television series, to explore the concept of critical legal pluralism as improvised law. Read jurisprudentially, the series provides numerous examples of the improvised nature of law as the social construction of legal meaning. A particularly compelling example is the character of Spike. True to the traditional (pre-Twilight, pre-True Blood) genre, Spike is an evil vampire, a demon without a soul whose capacity and appetite for violence have earned him the title of William the Bloody. Yet viewers readily accept a character arc in which Spike, motivated by chivalry (the genre of knights-in-armour, not vampires) vows to protect a human being even at the expense of his own existence. As a law-creating legal subject, Spike is bound by his commitment to both genre-hybridism and the improvised legal meaning of his circumstances; he has made a promise to a lady, and such promises must be kept, even by soulless vampires.

The book review might be thought of as a provisionally authoritative assessment designed to evaluate a book on behalf of potential readers, and to place the text within an appropriate literary context. It is, perhaps, more often associated with newly published works than established “classics,” which exist both as saleable commodities in the form of published books, and as more abstract entities within the cultural memory of a given audience. This suggests part of the difficulty of reviewing a book like Miguel de Cervantes’s Don Quixote, originally published in 1605 (Part I) and 1615 (Part II). Don Quixote is a long book, and is often referred to through ellipsis or synecdoche. Pared back to its most famous episode, Don Quixote’s tilting at windmills (Part I ch. 8: 63-5), it is frequently interpreted in terms of a comic opposition between the world of chivalric romance that determines the central character’s perceptions and actions, and the world of early modern Spain in which he is set. This seems as good a summary as any of Don Quixote’s behaviour, as the “quixotic” symbolism of this episode is easily transposed onto both the internal world of the text, and the external world in general. But Cervantes’s novel also seems to resist definition in such simple terms; as I intend to suggest, the relationship between what Don Quixote is seen to represent, and his role in the novel, can generate some interesting repercussions for the process of reviewing. Cervantes represents his character’s delusions as a consequence of the books he reads, providing the opportunity for a review (in the sense both of a survey and a critique) of various contemporary literary discourses. This process is formalised early on, as the contents of Don Quixote’s library are examined, criticised and selectively burnt by his concerned friends (Part I ch. 6: 52-8). The books mentioned are real, and the discovery of Cervantes’s own Galatea among those reprieved suggests a playful authorial reflection on the fictional quality of his work, an impression reinforced as the original narrative breaks off to be replaced by a “second author” and Arabic translator between two chapters (Part I ch. 8-9: 70-6). Part II of Don Quixote depicts characters who have read, and refer to, Part I, effectively granting Don Quixote an internal literary identity that is reviewed by the other characters against the figure they actually encounter. To complicate matters, it also contains repeated mentions of a real, but apocryphal, Part II (published in Tarragona in 1614 under the name Alonso Fernández de Avellaneda), culminating in Don Quixote’s encounter with a proof copy of a (fictional) second edition in a Barcelona printing shop (ch. 62: 916). Ironically, while this text appears to question the later, authorised version from which it differs markedly, Cervantes’s mention of it within his own text allows him both to review the work of his rival, and reflect on the reception of his own. These forms of self-reflexivity suggest both a general interest in writing and literature, and a rather more perplexing sense of the text reviewing itself. In an odd sense, Don Quixote pre-empts and usurps the role of the reviewer, appearing somehow to place external reviewers in the position of being contained or implied within it. But despite these pitfalls, more reviews than usual have appeared in 2005, the four hundredth anniversary of the publication of Don Quixote, Part I. Some refer specifically to editions released for the anniversary: Jeremy Lawrance reviews two new editions in Spanish, while Paddy Bullard examines a newly-restored edition of Tobias Smollett’s 1755 translation, recommended “for readers of Cervantes who are interested in his profound influence on eighteenth-century British culture, or on the development of the novel as a modern literary genre.” This also suggests something about the way in which translations, like reviews, serve to mark and to mediate their own context. Lawrance’s verdict of “still readable” implies the book’s continuing capacity not only to entertain, but also to generate readings that throw light on the history of its reception. Don Quixote provides a perspective from which to review the concerns implied in critical interpretations of different periods. Smollett’s translation (like Laurence Sterne’s invocations of Cervantes in his Tristram Shandy) suggests an eighteenth-century interest in the relationship between Don Quixote and the novel. This may be contrasted, as Yannick Roy suggests (53-4), both with earlier perceptions of Don Quixote as a figure to be laughed at, and the post-romantic perception of a tragicomical everyman seen as representative of a human condition. Modern interpretations of Don Quixote are also complicated by the canonisation of its hero as a household word. Comparing the anniversary of Don Quixote to the attention given to the centenary of Einstein’s Special Theory of Relativity (1905), Simon Jenkins notes “few English people read Don Quixote, perhaps because they think they know it already.” It is frequently described as a foundational text of the modern novel; however, at a thousand pages, it must also compete for readers’ time and attention with the ever-increasing gamut of long prose narratives it helped instigate. Don Quixote, the deluded knight-errant lives on, while the subtleties of Cervantes’s narrative may increasingly be dependent on sympathetic reviewers. It would seem that it is no longer necessary to read the story of Don Quixote in order to know, or even write about him. Nevertheless, not least because the book entertains a complex relationship with its character, and because it seems so conscious of its own literary enterprise, Don Quixote is a dangerous book not to have read. Responding to Jenkins’s claim that Cervantes’s work represents a more unique, and more easily grasped, achievement than Einstein’s, Stephen Matchett takes exception to a phenomenon he describes as “a bloke who tilted at windmills.” Arguing that “most of us are sufficiently solipsistic to be more comfortable with writers who chart the human condition than thinkers who strive to make sense of the universe,” he seems to consider Don Quixote as exemplary of a pernicious modern tendency to privilege literary discourses over scientific ones, to take fiction more seriously than reality. Even ignoring the incongruity of a theory of relativity presented as a paradigm of fact (which may speak volumes about textual and existential anxiety in the twenty-first century), this seems a particularly unfortunate judgement to make about Don Quixote. Matchett’s claim about the relative fortunes of science and literature is not only difficult to substantiate, but also appears to have been anticipated by the condition of Don Quixote himself. Rather than arguing that the survival of Cervantes’s novel is representative of a public obsession with fiction, it would seem more accurate, if nonetheless paradoxical, to suggest that Don Quixote seems capable of projecting the delusions of its central character onto the unwary reviewer. Matchett’s article is not, strictly speaking, a review of the text of Don Quixote, and so the question of whether he has actually read the book is, in some sense, irrelevant. The parallels are nevertheless striking: while the surrealism of Don Quixote’s enterprise is highlighted by his attempt to derive a way of being specifically from a literature of chivalry, Matchett’s choice of example has the consequence of re-creating aspects of Cervantes’s novel in a new context. Tilting at chimerical adversaries that recall the windmills upon which its analysis is centred, this review may be read not only as a response to Don Quixote, but also, ironically, as a performance of it. To say this seems absurd; however, echoing Jorge Luis Borges’s words in his essay “Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote,” “to justify this ‘absurdity’ is the primary object of this note” (40). Borges explores the (fictional) attempt of obscure French poet Pierre Menard to rewrite, word for word, parts of Cervantes’s Don Quixote. Menard’s initial undertaking to “be Miguel de Cervantes,” to “forget the history of Europe between 1602 and 1918,” is rejected for the more interesting attempt to “go on being Pierre Menard and reach the Quixote through the experiences of Pierre Menard”. While Menard’s text is identical to Cervantes’s, the point is that the implied difference in context affects the way in which the text is read. As Borges states: It is not in vain that three hundred years have gone by, filled with exceedingly complex events. Amongst them, to mention only one, is the Quixote itself. . . . Cervantes’s text and Menard’s are verbally identical, but the second is almost infinitely richer (41-2). Menard’s “verbally identical” Quixote can also be identified as a review of Cervantes’s text, in the sense that it is both informed by, and dependent on, the original. In addition, it allows a review of the relationship between the book as published by Cervantes, and the almost infinite number of readings engendered by the historical permutations of the last three (and now four) hundred years, from which the influence of Don Quixote cannot be excluded. Matchett’s review is of a different nature, in that it stems from an attempt to question the book’s continuing popularity. It seems absurd to suggest that Matchett himself could have served as a model for Don Quixote. But the unacknowledged debt of his piece to Cervantes’s novel, and to the opposition of discourses set up within it, reveals a supremely quixotic irony: Stephen Matchett appears to have produced a concise and richly interpretable rewriting of Don Quixote, in the persona of Stephen Matchett. References Borges, Jorge Luis. “Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote.” Trans. James E. Irby. Labyrinths. Eds. James E. Irby and Donald A. Yates. New York: New Directions, 1964. 36-44. Bullard, Paddy. “Literature.” Times Literary Supplement 8 Apr. 2005. De Cervantes Saavedra, Miguel. Don Quixote. Trans. John Rutherford. London: Penguin, 2003. (Part and chapter references have been included in the text in order to facilitate reference to different editions.) Jenkins, Simon. “The Don.” Review. Weekend Australian 14 May 2005. Lawrance, Jeremy. “Still Readable.” Times Literary Supplement 22 Apr. 2005. Matchett, Stephen. “A Theory on Einstein.” Review. Weekend Australian 11 June 2005. Roy, Yannick. “Pourquoi ne rit-on plus de Don Quichotte?” Inconvénient: Revue Littéraire d’Essai et de Création 6 (2001): 53-60. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Noonan, Will. "On Reviewing Don Quixote." M/C Journal 8.5 (2005). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0510/03-noonan.php>. APA Style Noonan, W. (Oct. 2005) "On Reviewing Don Quixote," M/C Journal, 8(5). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0510/03-noonan.php>.

Neil Tenant of The Pet Shop Boys crooned the song and memorable line ‘I love to hate you’. Today this refrain has become a global phenomenon within public rhetoric. Many thinkers, most famously Freud, have argued that war is innate to human nature, warfare being a projection of internal battles onto the external world. Etymologically war relates to ‘confusion’ and ‘strife’, two words intimately connected with a certain form of lovemadness. As with love, war is ‘play’ where only the noblest survive (Pick 70). While traditionally God is love in most main religions, J.F.C. Fuller maintains ‘war is a God-appointed instrument to teach wisdom to the foolish and righteousness to the evil-minded’ (Pick 109). For Mussolini, ‘war is to man what maternity is to the woman’ (Bollas 205). In the Christian tradition the pains of childbirth are the punishment for the original rejecting of divine love, that is God, for a love of the carnal and a lust for knowledge, just as the toil of work is the punishment for man. Chivalry equated war and love; ‘love is war’ and ‘the gift of her body to man by the woman is a reward for valour … love and war form an endless dialectic; Venus and Mars in eternal symbolic (not actual) copulation in the interests of nation building’ (Bush 158). In the twentieth century the symbolic becomes literal. Mussolini maintained that war must be embraced as a goal for humankind, just as fervently as intercourse must be embraced for procreation. ‘Man’ must metaphorically fuck man to the death and fuck women literally for more war fodder. Love of food is analogous to love of war, one involving masticating and excreting, the other doing the same literally or metaphorically, depending on the type of war. One first world war soldier remarked how it is very close to a picnic but far better because it has a purpose; it is the most glorious experience available (Storr 15). To William James, war defines the essence of humanity and human potential (Pick 140), often the exact description given by others for love. The very fact that men sacrifice their lives for others supposedly raises humans above animals, but this warlike attribute is akin to divine love, as in Christ’s sacrifice. War is mystical in its nature, as many believe madnesslove to be, and is an end in itself, not a tool. The jingoism of war brings out the most extreme form of comments, as in the following example from the Southern literary critic William Gilmore Simms on the US-Mexican War. ‘War is the greatest element of modern civilization, and our destiny is conquest. Indeed the moment a nation ceases to extend its sway it falls a prey to an inferior but more energetic neighbour’ (Bush 154). The current US president’s rhetoric is identical. What is clear is that the debates surrounding war in the nineteenth century take on a similar tone to those on lovereligion. This could be seen as inevitable given the emphasis of both in certain circumstances on sacrifice. Like love, war is seen as the healthiest of pursuits and the most ‘sane’ of activities. Without it only ‘madness’ can result, the irony being, as with love, that war often causes insanity. Contemporary psychotherapists use examples from world history to indicate how the same drives within the individual may manifest in society. The ‘butterfly principle’ is an example of this, where apparently trivial events can trigger enormous consequences (Wieland-Burston 91). Just as war may appease demands of the id for action and the pressure of the super ego for conformity, so love may satisfy these needs. Mad love can been viewed as a process where the conflict between these two forces is not reconciled via the ego and thus ‘insanity’ results. Daniel Pick discusses Hegel’s theories regarding the benefits of death in terms of the state. ‘The death of each nation is shown to contribute to the life of another greater one: “It then serves as material for a higher principle”’ (28). For Hegel, ‘man is the highest manifestation of the absolute’, so these actions which lead man as a group to ‘a higher principle’ must be God driven, God in a Christian context being defined as love(xviii). War is divinely inspired; it is love. ‘Scatter the nations who delight in war’ (NIV 1986 593), but it is inevitable, part of an internal process, and will continue till the end of time (2 Corinthians 10:3; Romans 7:23; Daniel 9:26). Of course there are many types of love and many types of war, current technology making the horrors of war more prolific but less real, more virtual. However, satisfaction from this form of warfare or virtual love may be tenuous, paradoxically making both more fertile. Desire is the desire of the Other, just as in war it is the fear of the Other, the belief that they desire your destruction, that leads you to war. With reference to Lacan, Terry Eagleton comes up with the following: ‘To say ‘I love you’ thus becomes equivalent to saying ‘it’s you who can’t satisfy me! How privileged and unique I must be, to remind you that it isn’t me you want…’ (Eagleton 279). We give each other our desire not satisfaction, so there can be no love or war without desire, which is law-like and anonymous, and outside of individual wishes. George W. Bush’s speech at the Department of Defence Service of Remembrance, The Pentagon, Arlington, Virginia on 11 October 2001 in many ways denied al-Qaida’s responsibility for the September 11th atrocities. The speech mentions that it is enough to know that evil, like good, exists. In true Biblical language, ours is not to reason why and in the terrorists evil has found a willing servant. For Nietzsche the Last Judgement is the sweet consolation of revenge for the lower orders, just as for those who believed they had suffered due to US imperialism, there was something sweet about September 11. Nietzsche as Zarathustra writes ‘God has his Hell; it is love for man (my italics) … God is dead; God has died of his pity for man’ (Nietzsche 114). Nietzsche writes that Zarathustra has grown weary of retribution, punishment, righteous revenge and that this is slavery; he wills that ‘man may be freed from the bondage of revenge’ (123). Importantly, both Bush and bin Laden, while declaring the power of their beliefs, concurrently set themselves and their followers up as victims, the unloved. Nietzsche reveals the essence of public rhetoric by declaring that the central lie is to maintain that it is part of the public’s voice. ‘The state is the coldest of all cold monsters. Coldly it lies too; and this lie creeps from its mouth: ‘I, the state, am the people’’ (76). In the Memorial speech quoted above Bush maintains that, unlike ‘our’ enemies, ‘we’ value every life, and ‘we’ mourn every loss. Again, from the Pentagon speech: ‘Theirs is the worst kind of violence, pure malice, while daring to claim the authority of God’. When we kill, so the argument goes, it is out of love, when they kill it is out of malice, hate. There is something infantile about George W. Bush. For Nietzsche every step away from instinct is regression. To suggest that George W. Bush is aping Nietzsche’s superman may appear preposterous, but his anti-intellectual slant is the essence of Nietzsche’s thought: actions speak louder than words; America is not about Being, but Becoming. ‘More than anything on earth he enjoys tragedies, bullfights, and crucifixions; and when he invented Hell for himself, behold, it was his heaven on earth’ (Nietzsche 235). Why were the images of the Twin Towers’ attack shown repeatedly? Do people love the challenge of adversity, or revel in the idea of hell and destruction, loving damnation? Nietzsche himself is not innocent. Despite his feigning to celebrate life, man must be overcome; man is a means to an end, just as the bombing of Afghanistan (or Iraq) and the Twin Towers for rival ideologies is a means to an end. ‘They kill because they desire to dominate’; ‘few countries meet their exacting standards of brutality and oppression’. Both Bush or bin Laden may have made these comments, but they are from the former, George W Bush’s, speech to the UN General Assembly in New York City, 10 November 2001. Bush goes on, maintaining: ‘History will record our response and judge or justify every nation in this hall’. God is not the judge here, but history itself, a form of Hegelian world spirit. Then the Nietzschean style rhetoric becomes more overt: ‘We choose the dignity of life over a culture of death’. And following this, Nietzsche’s comments about the state are once again pertinent, given the illegitimacy of Bush’s government. ‘We choose lawful change and civil disagreement over coercion, subversion and chaos’. The praise, that is, the love heaped on Bush for his rhetoric is telling for ‘when words are called holy - all the truth dies’ (Nietzsche 253). The hangover of the Old Testament revenge judge God swamps those drunk on the lust of hatred and revenge. This is clearly the love of war, of hatred. Any God worth existing needs to be temporal, extemporal and ‘atemporal’, yet ultimately ‘Being itself – and not only beings that are “in time” – is made visible in its “temporal” character’ (Heidegger 62). While I am not therefore insisting on a temporal God of love, a God of judgement, of the moment, makes a post-apocalyptical god unnecessary and transcendent love itself unthinkable. Works Cited Bollas, Chistopher. Being a Character. Psychoanalysis and Self Experience. London, Routledge: 1993. Bush, Clive. The Dream of Reason. London: Edward Arnold, 1977. Duncombe, Stephen. Notes From Underground. Zines and the Politics of Alternative Culture. London: Verso 1997. Eagleton, Terry. The Ideology of the Aesthetic. London: Blackwells, 1996. Freud, Sigmund. New Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis. Trans. James Strachey. London: Penguin, 1986. Hegel, G. Introductory Lectures on Aesthetics. Trans. Bernard Bosanquet. London: Penguin, 1993. Heidegger, Martin. Being and Time in Basic Writings. Ed. David Farrell Krell. London: Routledge, 1978. Pick, Daniel. War Machine, The Rationalisation of Slaughter in the Modern Age. London: Yale University Press, 1993. Nietzsche, Friedrich. Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Trans. R.J. Hollingdale. New York: Penguin, 1969. Storr, Anthony, Human Destructiveness. The Roots of Genocide and Human Cruelty. London: Routledge, 1991. Wieland-Burston, Joanne. Chaos and Order in the World of the Psyche. London: Routledge, 1991. The Holy Bible, New International Version. London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1986. lt;http://www.september11news.com> Links http://www.september11news.com Citation reference for this article Substitute your date of access for Dn Month Year etc... MLA Style Lee, C. Jason. "I Love To Hate You/All You Need Is Hate" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5.6 (2002). Dn Month Year < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0211/ilovetohateyou.php>. APA Style Lee, C. J., (2002, Nov 20). I Love To Hate You/All You Need Is Hate. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture, 5,(6). Retrieved Month Dn, Year, from http://www.media-culture.org.au/0211/ilovetohateyou.html

IntroductionIn Nancy Meyers’s 2015 film The Intern a particular kind of masculinity is celebrated through the material accoutrements of Ben Whittaker (Robert De Niro). A retired 70-year-old manager, Ben takes up a position as a “senior” Intern in an online clothing distribution company run by Jules Ostin (Anne Hathaway). Jules’s company, All About Fit, is the embodiment of the Gen Y creative workplace operating in an old Brooklyn warehouse. Ben’s presence in this environment is anachronistic and yet also stylishly retro in an industry where “vintage” is a mode of dress but also offers alternative ethical values (Veenstra and Kuipers). The alternative that Ben offers is figured through his sartorial style, which mobilises a specific kind of retro masculinity made available through his senior white male body. This paper investigates how and why retro masculinity is materialised and embodied as both a set of values and a set of objects in The Intern.Three particular objects are emblematic of this retro masculinity and come to stand in for a body of desirable masculine values: the business suit, the briefcase, and the handkerchief. In the midst of an indie e-commerce garment business, Ben’s old-fashioned wardrobe registers a regular middle class managerial masculinity from the past that is codified as solidly reliable and dependable. Sherry Turkle reminds us that “material culture carries emotions and ideas of startling intensity” (6), and these impact our thinking, our emotional life, and our memories. The suit, briefcase, and handkerchief are material reminders of this reliable masculine past. The values they evoke, as presented in this film, seem to offer sensible solutions to the fast pace of twenty-first century life and its reconfigurations of family and work prompted by feminism and technology.The film’s fetishisation of these objects of retro masculinity could be mistaken for nostalgia, in the way that vintage collections elide their political context, and yet it also registers social anxiety around gender and generation amid twenty-first century social change. Turner reminds us of the importance of film as a social practice through which “our culture makes sense of itself” (3), and which participates in the ongoing negotiation of the meanings of gender. While masculinity is often understood to have been in crisis since the advent of second-wave feminism and women’s mass entry into the labour force, theoretical scrutiny now understands masculinity to be socially constructed and changing, rather than elemental and stable; performative rather than innate; fundamentally political, and multiple through the intersection of class, race, sexuality, and age amongst other factors (Connell; Butler). While Connell coined the term “hegemonic masculinity,” to indicate “masculinity which occupies the hegemonic position in a given pattern of gender relations” (76), it is always intersectional and contestable. Ben’s hegemonic position in The Intern might be understood in relation to what Buchbinder identifies as “inadequate” or “incompetent” masculinities, which offer a “foil for another principal character” (232), but this movement between margin and hegemony is always in process and accords with the needs that structure the story, and its attendant social anxieties. This film’s fetishising of Ben’s sartorial style suggests a yearning for a stable and recognisable masculine identity, but in order to reinstall these meanings the film must ignore the political times from which they emerge.The construction of retro masculinity in this case is mapped onto Ben’s body as a “senior.” As Gilleard notes, ageing bodies are usually marked by a narrative of corporeal decline, and yet for men of hegemonic privilege, non-material values like seniority, integrity, wisdom, and longevity coalesce to embody “the accumulation of cultural or symbolic capital in the form of wisdom, maturity or experience” (1). Like masculinity, then, corporeality is understood to be a set of unstable signifiers produced through particular cultural discourses.The Business SuitThe business suit is Ben Whittaker’s habitual work attire, so when he comes out of retirement to be an intern at the e-commerce company he re-adopts this professional garb. The solid outline of a tailored and dark-coloured suit signals a professional body that is separate, autonomous and impervious to the outside world, according to Longhurst (99). It is a body that is “proper,” ready for business, and suit-ed to the professional corporate world, whose values it also embodies (Edwards 42). In contrast, the costuming code of the Google generation of online marketers in the film is defined as “super cas[ual].” This is a workplace where the boss rides her bicycle through the open-space office and in which the other 219 workers define their individuality through informal dress and decoration. In this environment Ben stands out, as Jules comments on his first day:Jules: Don’t feel like you have to dress up.Ben: I’m comfortable in a suit if it’s okay.Jules: No, it’s fine. [grins] Old school.Ben: At least I’ll stand out.Jules: I don’t think you’ll need a suit to do that.The anachronism of a 70-year-old being an intern is materialised through Ben’s dress code. The business suit comes to represent Ben not only as old school, however, but as a “proper” manager.As the embodiment of a successful working woman, entrepreneur Jules Ostin appears to be the antithesis of the business-suit model of a manager. Consciously not playing by the book, her company is both highly successful, meeting its five-year objectives in only nine months, and highly vulnerable to disasters like bedbugs, delivery crises, and even badly wrapped tissue. Shaped in her image, the company is often directly associated with Jules herself, as Ben continually notes, and this comes to include the mix of success, vulnerability, and disaster. In fact, the success of her company is the reason that she is urged to find a “seasoned” CEO to run the company, indicating the ambiguous, simultaneous guise of success and disaster.This relationship between individual corporeality and the corporate workforce is reinforced when it is revealed that Ben worked as a manager for 40 years in the very same warehouse, reinforcing his qualities of longevity, reliability, and dependability. He oversaw the printing of the physical telephone book, another quaint material artefact of the past akin to Ben, which is shown to have literally shaped the building where the floor dips over in the corner due to the heavy printers. The differences between Ben and Jules as successive generations of managers in this building operate as registers of social change inflected with just a little nostalgia. Indeed, the name of Jules’s company, All About Fit, seems to refer more to the beautifully tailored “fit” of Ben’s business suit than to any of the other clothed bodies in the company.Not only is the business suit fitted to business, but it comes to represent a properly managed body as well. This is particularly evident when contrasted with Jules’s management style. Over the course of the film, as she endures a humiliating series of meetings, sends a disastrous email to the wrong recipient, and juggles her strained marriage and her daughter’s school schedule, Jules is continuously shown to teeter on the brink of losing control. Her bodily needs are exaggerated in the movie: she does not sleep and apparently risks “getting fat” according to her mother’s research; then when she does sleep it is in inappropriate places and she snores loudly; she forgets to eat, she cries, gets drunk and vomits, gets nervous, and gets emotional. All of these outpourings are in situations that Ben remedies, in his solid reliable suited self. As Longhurst reminds us,The suit helps to create an illusion of a hard, or at least a firm and “proper,” body that is autonomous, in control, rational and masculine. It gives the impression that bodily boundaries continually remain intact and reduce potential embarrassment caused by any kind of leakage. (99)Ben is thus suited to manage situations in ways that contrast to Jules, whose bodily emissions and emotional dramas reinforce her as feminine, chaotic, and emotionally vulnerable. As Gatens notes of our epistemological inheritance, “women are most often understood to be less able to control the passions of the body and this failure is often located in the a priori disorder or anarchy of the female body itself” (50). Transitioning these philosophical principles to the 21st-century workplace, however, manifests some angst around gender and generation in this film.Despite the film’s apparent advocacy of successful working women, Jules too comes to prefer Ben’s model of corporeal control and masculinity. Ben is someone who makes Jules “feel calm, more centred or something. I could use that, obviously,” she quips. After he leads the almost undifferentiated younger employees Jason, Davis, and Lewis on a physical email rescue, Jules presents her theory of men amidst shots at a bar to celebrate their heist:Jules: So, we were always told that we could be anything, do anything, and I think guys got, maybe not left behind but not quite as nurtured, you know? I mean, like, we were the generation of You go, Girl. We had Oprah. And I wonder sometimes how guys fit in, you know they still seem to be trying to figure it out. They’re still dressing like little boys, they’re still playing video games …Lewis: Well they’ve gotten great.Davis: I love video games.Ben: Oh boy.Jules: How, in one generation, have men gone from guys like Jack Nicholson and Harrison Ford to … [Lewis, Davis, and Jason look down at themselves]Jules: Take Ben, here. A dying breed. Look and learn boys, because if you ask me, this is what cool is.Jules’s excessive drinking in this scene, which is followed by her vomiting into a rubbish bin, appears to reinforce Ben’s stable sobriety, alongside the culture of excess and rapid change associated with Jules through her gender and generation.Jules’s adoption of Ben as the model of masculinity is timely, given that she consistently encounters “sexism in business.” After every meeting with a potential CEO Jules complains of their patronising approach—calling her company a “chick site,” for example. And yet Ben echoes the sartorial style of the 1960s Mad Men era, which is suffused with sexism. The tension between Ben’s modelling of old-fashioned chivalry and those outdated sexist businessmen who never appear on-screen remains linked, however, through the iconography of the suit. In his book Mediated Nostalgia, Lizardi notes a similar tendency in contemporary media for what he calls “presentist versions of the past […] that represent a simpler time” (6) where viewers are constructed as ”uncritical citizens of our own culture” (1). By heroising Ben as a model of white middle-class managerial masculinity that is nostalgically enduring and endearing, this film betrays a yearning for such a “simpler time,” despite the complexities that hover just off-screen.Indeed, most of the other male characters in the film are found wanting in comparison to the retro masculinity of Ben. Jules’s husband Matt appears to be a perfect modern “stay-at-home-dad” who gives up his career for Jules’s business start-up. Yet he is found to be having an affair with one of the school mums. Lewis’s clothes are also condemned by Ben: “Why doesn’t anyone tuck anything in anymore?” he complains. Jason does not know how to speak to his love-interest Becky, expecting that texting and emailing sad emoticons will suffice, and Davis is unable to find a place to live. Luckily Ben can offer advice and tutelage to these men, going so far as to house Davis and give him one of his “vintage” ties to wear. Jules endorses this, saying she loves men in ties.The BriefcaseIf a feature of Ben’s experienced managerial style is longevity and stability, then these values are also attached to his briefcase. The association between Ben and his briefcase is established when the briefcase is personified during preparations for Ben’s first day: “Back in action,” Ben tells it. According to Atkinson, the briefcase is a “signifier of executive status […] entwined with a ‘macho mystique’ of concealed technology” (192). He ties this to the emergence of Cold War spy films like James Bond and traces it to the development of the laptop computer. This mix of mobility, concealment, glamour, and a touch of playboy adventurousness in a mass-produced material product manifested the values of the corporate world in latter 20th-century work culture and rendered the briefcase an important part of executive masculinity. Ben’s briefcase is initially indicative of his anachronistic position in All About Fit. While Davis opens his canvas messenger bag to reveal a smartphone, charger, USB drive, multi-cable connector, and book, Ben mirrors this by taking out his glasses case, set of pens, calculator, fliptop phone, and travel clock. Later in the film he places a print newspaper and leather bound book back into the case. Despite the association with a pre-digital age, the briefcase quickly becomes a product associated with Ben’s retro style. Lewis, at the next computer console, asks about its brand:Ben: It’s a 1973 Executive Ashburn Attaché. They don’t make it anymore.Lewis: I’m a little in love with it.Ben: It’s a classic Lewis. It’s unbeatable.The attaché case is left over from Ben’s past in executive management as VP for sales and advertising. This was a position he held for twenty years, during his past working life, which was spent with the same company for over 40 years. Ben’s long-serving employment record has the same values as his equally long-serving attaché case: it is dependable, reliable, ages well, and outlasts changes in fashion.The kind of nostalgia invested in Ben and his briefcase is reinforced extradiagetically through the musical soundtracks associated with him. Compared to the undifferentiated upbeat tracks at the workplace, Ben’s scenes feature a slower-paced sound from another era, including Ray Charles, Astrud Gilberto, Billie Holiday, and Benny Goodman. These classics are a point of connection with Jules, who declares that she loves Billie Holiday. Yet Jules is otherwise characterised by upbeat, even frantic, timing. She hates slow talkers, is always on the move, and is renowned for being late for meetings and operating on what is known as “Jules Standard Time.” In contrast, like his music, Ben is always on time: setting two alarm clocks each night, driving shorter and more efficient routes, seeing things at just the right time, and even staying at work until the boss leaves. He is reliable, steady, and orderly. He restores order both to the office junk desk and to the desk of Jules’s personal assistant Becky. These characteristics of order and timeliness are offered as an alternative to the chaos of 21st-century global flows of fashion marketing. Like his longevity, time is measured and managed around Ben. Even his name echoes that veritable keeper of time, Big Ben.The HandkerchiefThe handkerchief is another anachronistic object that Ben routinely carries, concealed inside his suit rather than flamboyantly worn on the outside pocket. A neatly ironed square of white hanky, it forms a notable part of Ben’s closet, as Davis notices and enquires about:Davis: Okay what’s the deal with the handkerchief? I don’t get that at all.Ben: It’s essential. That your generation doesn’t know that is criminal. The reason for carrying a handkerchief is to lend it. Ask Jason about this. Women cry Davis. We carry it for them. One of the last vestiges of the chivalrous gent.Indeed, when Jules’s personal assistant Becky bursts into tears because her skills and overtime go unrecognised, Ben is able to offer the hanky to Jason to give her as a kind of white flag, officially signaling a ceasefire between Becky and Jason. This scene is didactic: Ben is teaching Jason how to talk to a woman with the handkerchief as a material prop to prompt the occasion. He also offers advice to Becky to keep more regular hours, and go out and have fun (with Jason, obviously). Despite Becky declaring she “hates girls who cry at work,” this reaction to the pressures of a contemporary work culture that is irregular, chaotic, and never-ending is clearly marking gender, as the handkerchief also marks a gendered transaction of comfort.The handkerchief functions as a material marker of the “chivalrous gent” partly due to the number of times women are seen to cry in this film. In one of Ben’s first encounters with Jules she is crying in a boardroom, when it is suggested that she find a CEO to manage the company. Ben is clearly embarrassed, as is Jules, indicating the inappropriateness of such bodily emissions at work and reinforcing the emotional currency of women in the workplace. Jules again cries while discussing her marriage crisis with Ben, a scene in which Ben comments it is “the one time when he doesn’t have a hanky.” By the end of the film, when Jules and Matt are reconciling, she suggests: “It would be great if you were to carry a handkerchief.” The remaking of modern men into the retro style of Ben is more fully manifested in Davis who is depicted going to work on the last day in the film in a suit and tie. No doubt a handkerchief lurks hidden within.ConclusionThe yearning that emerges for a masculinity of yesteryear means that the intern in this film, Ben Whittaker, becomes an internal moral compass who reminds us of rapid social changes in gender and work, and of their discomfits. That this should be mapped onto an older, white, heterosexual, male body is unsurprising, given the authority traditionally invested in such bodies. Ben’s retro masculinity, however, is a fantasy from a fictional yesteryear, without the social or political forces that render those times problematic; instead, his material culture is fetishised and stripped of political analysis. Ben even becomes the voice of feminism, correcting Jules for taking the blame for Matt’s affair. Buchbinder argues that the more recent manifestations in film and television of “inadequate or incomplete” masculinity can be understood as “enacting a resistance to or even a refusal of the coercive pressure of the gender system” (235, italics in original), and yet The Intern’s yearning for a slow, orderly, mature, and knowing male hero refuses much space for alternative younger models. Despite this apparently unerring adulation of retro masculinity, however, we are reminded of the sexist social culture that suits, briefcases, and handkerchiefs materialise every time Jules encounters one of the seasoned CEOs jostling to replace her. The yearning for a stable masculinity in this film comes at the cost of politicising the past, and imagining alternative models for the future.ReferencesAtkinson, Paul. “Man in a Briefcase: The Social Construction of the Laptop Computer and the Emergence of a Type Form.” Journal of Design History 18.2 (2005): 191-205. Buchbinder, David. “Enter the Schlemiel: The Emergence of Inadequate of Incompetent Masculinities in Recent Film and Television.” Canadian Review of American Studies 38.2 (2008): 227-245.Butler, Judith. Gender Trouble. New York: Routledge, 1990.Connell, R.W. Masculinities. 2nd ed. Cambridge: Polity Press, 2005.Edwards, Tim. Fashion in Focus: Concepts, Practices and Politics. London: Routledge, 2010.Gatens, Moira. Imaginary Bodies: Ethics, Power and Corporeality. New York: Routledge, 1996.Gilleard, Chris, and Paul Higgs. Ageing, Corporeality and Embodiment. London: Anthem, 2014.Lizardi, Ryan. Mediated Nostalgia: Individual Memory and Contemporary Mass Media. 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