Matthew Bourne’s Sleeping Beauty is an astonishing work. Witty, trashy, sexy and unsettling, it rewrites the classic narrative to produce a ballet which asks questions about our attitudes to gender, to our own past, and to the way we consume art.
Except of course Cis isn’t advanced for his age: when his mother married Posket, she eased five years from her age, thus putting her nineteen-year-old son back into the velvet suit and sailor collar of a fourteen-year-old boy. Confusion understandably reigns, not least amongst the music mistress and maidservant who find themselves curiously drawn to the charming little fellow.
But seeing the mascot of the “Fighting Irish” always makes me blench slightly, I think because it packages Irish identity as such a quaint, jabbering, leprechauny affair. When the commentators keep saying “the Irish are doing this…” and “the Irish feel that…” I rather want to put my hand up politely and suggest that what a bunch of sports fans in another country are doing has nothing to do with what the Irish are doing and feeling.
Sanctions are appropriate because there is a potential worry that the culture of Penn State football may be toxic in some sense. In other words, that the way the game is regarded, coached and played at a particular institution may have indirectly contributed to the years which elapsed before the abuse was stopped.