Category: The Conversation – UK

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Thomas Caygill, Senior Lecturer in Politics, Nottingham Trent University

Rachel Reeves’s budget was seen as a “make or break” moment for the chancellor and the government, which is suffering from low approval ratings and rapidly fading public confidence. At the same time, threats of a leadership challenge and the impending May elections mean Keir Starmer has a tricky path to navigate.

Can this budget save the chancellor and the prime minister’s careers? Here’s what our panel of politics experts has to say.

Breathing room before tough May elections

Thomas Caygill, Senior Lecturer in Politics, Nottingham Trent University

The two main audiences for this budget were backbench Labour MPs and the financial markets. The morning after, both appeared broadly content. This gives Starmer and Reeves some short-term breathing space.

But local elections in England and Scottish and Welsh parliamentary elections in May mean this won’t last long. The current polling for Labour is not pretty, particularly in Wales. This is where the longer-term impact of the budget will be key.

The scrapping of the two-child benefit cap is popular with Labour MPs and will be popular with Labour members and their core voters. However, across the electorate overall, retaining the cap was popular.

Reeves announced a £150 cut to fuel bills, which will give Labour something to campaign on, along with a financial boost to both the Scottish (£820 million) and Welsh (£505 million) governments, and the freeze in rail fares. But some of these measures will not come into effect until April. This means that voters will not really have felt the benefit of them by the time they go to the polls.

It remains to be seen whether these measures can improve the party’s fortunes in time for May’s election and save the prime minister and chancellor beyond next summer (another key moment of danger, if May’s election results are as bad as feared).

Stability now, spending later

Despina Alexiadou, Reader at the School of Government and Public Policy, University of Strathclyde

The budget delivered by Rachel Reeves prioritises income redistribution over business incentives and macroeconomic stability over ambitious public investments.

But it fails in two central promises made during the election: first, to not raise income tax, and second (I think even more importantly) to kickstart the economy through large public investment in ambitious projects, such as the now seemingly abandoned green prosperity plan to invest billions in transitioning the economy to net zero. UK public investment lags behind most OECD countries
and the new budget does not address this.

The government cannot achieve its goals for economic growth unless it survives. And being still early in the legislative cycle, Reeves had to prioritise the government’s popularity in parliament rather than in the polls.

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Read more:
What will the budget mean for economic growth? Experts give their view

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Democratically-elected governments time policies to stabilise themselves early in the electoral cycle, hoping to deliver a stronger economy closer to the elections.

If Reeves’s plans work out, she will be able to moderately grow the economy through economic stability and the improvement of public services. If the government brings public debt down, she might be able to cut taxes during the next election, though this is probably too optimistic as many of the new tax rises do not kick-in until 2029, (an election year).

This budget has saved the government for now and should mute backbenchers’ demands. But for her to deliver a more ambitious budget next year, she will have to grow the economy, against the meagre projections.

The government still needs a narrative

Alex Prior, Lecturer in Politics with International Relations, London South Bank University

Even before the budget was delivered, there was an impending sense of doom. At best, it was seen as a “last chance” for the chancellor. At worst, there was an assumption of it already being over for Labour before it had begun. One Labour MP told the BBC that they were “on a four-year walk to the guillotine”.

If the narrative of doom has set in, it’s because Starmer and Reeves haven’t supplied a more convincing one. The Office for Budget Responsibility’s leak of its budget analysis ahead of Reeves’s speech also meant that the information was in the public domain before the chancellor could “set the scene”.

The budget itself did little to salve the feeling that this Labour government is sorely lacked a uniting narrative – a reason why we should all get behind higher taxes to rescue our stagnating public services.

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Read more:
What the budget could mean for you – experts react to the chancellor’s announcement

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Times columnist Daniel Finkelstein argues that “so powerful is a feeling of purpose that support for difficult decisions can even go up the harder people are being hit” because of “our ability to rationalise the sacrifices we make”.

Similarly, economist Jo Michell concludes: “With a clear understanding of the destination, Labour could articulate a narrative that balances pain … with gain, by explaining how peoples’ lives will improve.”

Budgets can work when leaders convey purpose, and rationalise sacrifices in a narrative that people believe and feel part of. If Starmer and Reeves want saving, their narrative and destination need to be made clear, for themselves and for citizens.

They might regret not taking more risks

Colm Murphy, Senior Lecturer in British Politics, Queen Mary University of London

This was a survival budget, not a salvation budget.

In a sulphurous political atmosphere, Reeves needed to satisfy three audiences: mutinous Labour MPs, markets and target voters. This explains, respectively, the abolition of the two-child benefit cap, the £26 billion of tax rises (largely through threshold freezes), and the choice of symbolic taxes on the wealthy and energy bill reductions.

The political narrative accompanying each decision could unravel. Lifting the two-child cap will give over half a million families an extra £5,000 a year on average. But Labour MPs might baulk at implied later cuts, for example to special needs provision.

Markets reacted positively, but the fiscal consolidation is backdated to the end of forecast. If there is another shock, the headroom could vanish.

The government’s political opponents will claim that, through freezing tax thresholds, it has effectively killed its manifesto pledge not to tax “working people” through a back-alley assassination.

Reeves and Starmer swerved the alternative of a righteous public execution: breaking the letter of their pledge by openly raising tax rates to enable a fast delivery of “change” in public services. This is therefore a defensive budget, and their caution is understandable.

But if global and domestic conditions do not improve, it may be remembered as a missed opportunity to take a greater political risk – with bigger potential costs, but also rewards.

Thomas Caygill has previously received funding from the British Academy/Leverhulme Trust and the Economic and Social Research Council.

Alex Prior, Colm Murphy, and Despina Alexiadou do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Will the budget save Rachel Reeves and Keir Starmer? Experts give their views – https://theconversation.com/will-the-budget-save-rachel-reeves-and-keir-starmer-experts-give-their-views-270519

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Sabah Suhail, Research Fellow, School of Electronics, Electrical Engineering and Computer Science, Queen’s University Belfast

Earlier this year, a cyberattack on British retailer Marks & Spencer caused widespread disruption across its operations. Stock shortages, delayed deliveries, and logistical chaos rippled through the retailer’s network.

In 2025 alone, several other UK food businesses, including Harrods and Co-op, have been targeted by cyber-attacks.

The food sector is highly dependent on different links in a chain. This makes it an appealing target for hackers, because a single weak link can compromise an entire supply chain. Because of the essential role of food for public health and safety – and its importance to the economy – it is regarded as critical national infrastructure.

So how can the UK’s vital food sector be made more resilient to cyber-attacks? One possible way is to use what’s called a “digital twin”. A digital twin is a virtual replica of any product, process, or service, capturing its state, characteristics, and connections with other systems throughout its life cycle. The digital twin will include the computer system used by the company.

It can help because conventional defences are increasingly out of step with cyber-attacks. Monitoring tools tend to detect anomalies after damage occurs. Complex computer systems can often obscure the origins of breaches.

A digital twin creates a bridge between the physical and digital worlds. It allows organisations to simulate real-time events, predict what might happen next, and safely test potential responses. It can also help analyse what happened after a cyber-attack to help companies prepare for future incidents.

For companies in the food sector, becoming resilient to cyber-attacks involves the ability to detect suspicious activity early, and keep operations running, even under attack. This will ultimately protect food quality and consumer trust.

Simulating an attack

Let’s focus on the example of a strawberry packhouse, where strawberries are sorted, cooled, and packed for distribution. Due to strawberries spoiling easily, controlling the temperature and humidity in these areas is essential to ensuring a high quality product. Sensors and HVAC (heating, ventilation, and air conditioning) systems maintain these conditions to keep the fruit fresh from the field to the shelf.

But what happens if the HVAC system gets hacked, perhaps through weak passwords or software that isn’t regularly updated to account for new computer security vulnerabilities. Temperatures could rise unnoticed, causing spoilage before the fruit even reaches the supermarket. The results: food waste, lost revenue, delayed deliveries, and reputational harm. A single breach can reverberate through the chain, leading to wasted produce and empty shelves.

A digital twin might be able to avert disaster under this scenario. By combining operational data such as temperature, humidity, or the speed air of flow with internal computing system data or intrusion attempts, digital twins offer a unified view of both system performance and cybersecurity.

They enable organisations to simulate cyber-attacks or equipment failures in a safe, controlled digital environment, revealing vulnerabilities before attackers can exploit them.

A digital twin can also detect abnormal temperature patterns, monitor the system for malicious activity, and perform analysis after a cyber-attack to identify the causes.

Over time, these insights can enable the strawberry packhouse, in our
example, and by extension the broader supply chain, to strengthen its defences against hackers and reduce the future risk of a cyber-attack.

As cyber-threats become more sophisticated, the question is no longer whether the food sector will be targeted again, but whether it will be ready when further attacks inevitably happen.

Digital twins cannot prevent every cyber-attack, but by turning uncertainty into foresight, they give the food sector a fighting chance to stay safe, sustainable, and secure.

Salil S. Kanhere receives funding from the Australian Research Council, the Department of Defence and the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation.

Sabah Suhail does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. How ‘digital twins’ could help prevent cyber-attacks on the food industry – https://theconversation.com/how-digital-twins-could-help-prevent-cyber-attacks-on-the-food-industry-267667

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Laura O’Flanagan, PhD Candidate, School of English, Dublin City University

Zootropolis 2 arrives in cinemas with real confidence: a fun, fast-paced sequel bursting with sharp gags, lovable characters, beautiful animation design and a heartwarming central message which avoids turning syrupy. The film, titled Zootopia 2 in the US, will delight younger viewers and, thankfully, has more than enough charm for adults too.

This new chapter returns to the first instalment’s central duo, Nick (Jason Bateman) and Judy (Ginnifer Goodwin), a mismatched fox-and-bunny partnership working in the Zootropolis Police Department.

Bateman brings knowing, mischievous charisma to the roguish Nick, while Goodwin’s Judy is energetic and flawed, with an endearingly warm dollop of emotional depth. Nick and Judy spend much of the story at odds, creating many of its most poignant moments.

Early on, they are ordered to attend “partner therapy” in a wonderfully over-the-top scene which sets the tone for the rest of the film, prompting giggles from little ones and knowing laughter from the adults, while the surprisingly insightful advice lands with the pair. This is Zootropolis 2’s strength: the humour is blended with heartfelt moments, always preventing it from tipping into the saccharine.

The world of Zootropolis is expanded in this sequel as Judy and Nick leave the confines of the city for the countryside in pursuit of a mysterious snake. This gives the film’s production team ample opportunity to stretch their design muscles, and the result is breathtaking.

Vast animated expanses recall the most stunning snowscapes of Frozen and dazzling twilight skies of Tangled. Vibrant colours and countless animals with individual quirks create genuine playfulness which feels fresh and inventive.

At times the jokes steal the spotlight, leaving our lead duo a bit shortchanged and the central reptile mystery a little muddled and under-explained. But this never undermines the film’s appeal. The script delights in its new, exuberant characters, who bring a generous dose of joy and entertainment.

Nibbles Maplestick (Fortune Feimster) – a beaver who has a podcast investigating mysterious reptiles – steals every scene she is in, with slapstick physical comedy and hilariously odd questions like “Do snakes wear half a pant or just one long sock?” (which she later answers).

Gary De’Snake (Ke Huy Quan), an electric blue, heat-sensing pit viper, is animated with a dynamism that recalls The Jungle Book’s villainous Kaa. But he manages to pull off the impossible: making snakes likeable.

There are so many Easter eggs, quick quips, action set-pieces and fast-paced jokes that even the keenest-eyed viewer won’t catch them all on first viewing. Puns and visual gags abound and will keep the audience smiling throughout.

We get a macho pair of zebras calling themselves “Zeebros”, a carrot logo on Judy’s phone, and even a weather “furcast”. A music festival cheekily named Burning Mammal pokes fun in all the right ways and the high-octane tube transport system is begging to be a theme park ride.

Especially fun are several call-backs to other Disney films. A loving riff on Ratatouille’s rat chef and an uproariously awkward parody of Lady and the Tramp’s spaghetti scene give the film the comic sensibility of the best of DreamWorks’ Shrek, but with a gilded Disney flair that is both nostalgic and hilarious at the same time.

Behind all of the thrills and jokes lies a message of community and harmony between species. This is gently woven through the film, never becoming didactic. Nick and Judy’s strained partnership mirrors the wider anxieties of Zootropolis itself, while the reptile mystery quietly explores prejudice and fear of the unfamiliar.

Nick says, “Our differences don’t make a difference.” It’s a resonant and powerful idea in 2025’s zeitgeist, shaped by war, conflict, political and cultural unrest.

Zootropolis 2 is a sharp, funny sequel with a heartwarming and vital idea at its core. Confident and imaginative, it bursts with colour and heart, offering crowd-pleasing thrills without losing sight of something worth saying.

By keeping sentimentality at bay and balancing its spectacle with humour-laced sincerity, it proves the world of Zootropolis is still as vibrant and rewarding as ever.

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Laura O’Flanagan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Zootropolis 2: this funny, heartfelt crowd-pleaser is a worthy sequel with something to say – https://theconversation.com/zootropolis-2-this-funny-heartfelt-crowd-pleaser-is-a-worthy-sequel-with-something-to-say-270484

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Barry Langford, Professor of Film Studies, Royal Holloway, University of London

What does the familiar film tagline “based on a true story” really mean? Leaving aside questions of historical fidelity versus poetic license, what does an audience get from the assurance that a given story “truly happened”?

At best, these claims remind us that – however fantastic or horrific – these events were once realities for other people very much like ourselves. At worst, they exercise a kind of moral blackmail: guilt tripping the audience into thinking that criticising the film’s storytelling somehow disrespects the real people who endured those traumatic events.

Every story of Holocaust survival and rescue is unique and, against the backdrop of ubiquitous slaughter, uniquely miraculous. Annabel Jankel’s new film Desperate Journey, based on the experiences of Austrian-born Holocaust survivor Freddie Knoller (1921-2022), is certainly as extraordinary a story as any.

Freddie (played by Lucas Lynggaard Tønnesen) escaped his parents’ fate through a circuitous and often picturesque journey across Nazi-dominated Europe, ultimately landing late in the war in Auschwitz-Birkenau and surviving a death march.

Such accounts can all too easily topple into cliches of wartime derring-do, or fall victim to sentimentality and sensationalism. What inoculates them against these perils is precisely the unique and often tiny details that ground wildly improbable tales of survival in gritty reality. (The French film-maker Claude Lanzmann, best known for the Holocaust documentary film Shoah, once remarked that “there is more truth for me in some trivial confirmation than in any number of generalisations about the nature of evil”.)

However, Desperate Journey – which focuses almost exclusively on the most colourful part of Freddie’s tale, his time working under a false identity in German-frequented nightclubs in occupied Paris – leaves out almost all of this granular detail. As a consequence, it ends up feeling almost as divorced from the hard-to-fathom realities of the Holocaust as much-derided fantasies like The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas (2008)

For example, shortly after Freddie’s escape from Austria, at the urging of a friendly farmer’s wife (Niamh Cusack), he burns his Austrian passport, stamped with the lethal “J” (for Jew). From this point on he is stateless and without papers in a continent-wide trap. But, bar a narrow escape on board a train, in the film his fugitive status seems to cause him remarkably few problems.

Numerous survivor accounts attest to the grinding daily fear and the incessant improvisation needed to stay one step ahead of the Gestapo. Yet courtesy of a friendly Jewish landlady and a tolerant employer, Freddie enjoys a life – albeit precarious – of sleazy glamour in the demi-monde of wartime Parisian nightclubs and brothels.

Despite a screenplay by Michael Radford (1984, Il Postino), and handsome if somewhat overblown production design, almost nothing in Freddie’s story has a ring of authenticity. Nazi officers are uniformly leering sadists. The nightclub dancer (Sienna Guillory) with whom Freddie strikes up an ill-starred and dramatically unconvincing romance performs improbably elaborate routines that evoke Josephine Baker and harbours her own tragic secret to match Freddie’s. The French Resistance fighters he encounters are hard but honourable tough guys in leather jackets and crew-neck sweaters (including an enjoyably hammy turn from Steven Berkoff).

Viewers who favour historical precision will be dissatisfied to find Freddie fleeing Austria days after the March 1938 Anschluss and arriving apparently a few weeks later in occupied Paris (France surrendered to Germany in June 1940; the real Freddie Knoller spent two years in Belgium before fleeing to France ahead of Hitler’s advancing armies).

To those with an aversion to cliche, Freddie’s arrival there, emerging from the Metro to the strains of accordion music and the overtures of improbably glamorous street prostitutes and a cartoonishly Mephistophelian pimp (Fernando Guallar), will be equally grating.

Perhaps the film’s most fatal flaw is its refusal even to try to dramatise the trauma that Freddie – only 17 when his six-year trans-European odyssey began – underwent. He sees his family torn apart, sees his companions mown down by German border guards, lives with the ever-present threat of capture and deportation, and ultimately survives (offscreen) the death factory of Auschwitz and the nightmare of the death marches. Yet his principal character note, from early on in the film, is his adolescent fascination with the imagined lubricious pleasures of Parisian nightlife. His exploits there play more as a slightly risky caper than a struggle for survival.

Desperate Journey feels like a throwback – a 1950s Hollywood version of the war. It is far too light and conventionally melodramatic to hold up against decades of scholarship and public understanding of the real costs of survival amid inconceivable terror and against overwhelming odds.

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Barry Langford does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Desperate Journey: wartime cliches overwhelm this extraordinary true account – https://theconversation.com/desperate-journey-wartime-cliches-overwhelm-this-extraordinary-true-account-270531

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Orcun Can, Lecturer in Digital Economy, King’s College London

Warning: this article contains spoilers for the first four seasons of Stranger Things.

When the Duffer Brothers came up with the idea for a television show that would mix Stephen King and Stephen Spielberg, they had trouble convincing network executives. Some thought a show that had an ensemble cast of kids as main characters would be a production nightmare. Others thought the tone was far too scary to have children at the centre, so it either needed to be “nicer” or focus on the reclusive, angry-sad chief of police Jim Hopper (David Harbour) instead.

But when the first season aired in its entirety in 2016, it became an instant success. The 1980s nostalgia, the use of practical effects on the Demogorgon (the show’s monster), a comeback performance by Winona Ryder and the chemistry between the kids all combined to bring a show that represented what the quintessential Netflix Original should be.

When the first season of Stranger Things was released, House of Cards (2013-18) was the flagship Netflix Original. Long before the lawsuits against lead actor Kevin Spacey, the show enjoyed such status that the iconic Netflix “tu-dum” that sounds out whenever you hit play was derived from the show (just watch the very final few seconds of the season two finale and you’ll understand).

There were other successful and popular originals like Orange is the New Black (2013-19), a new season of Arrested Development (2013-19), and the Marvel collaboration, Daredevil (2015-18). But nothing showed the narrative and world-building possibilities of this still-strange way of TV quite like Stranger Things did.

Fans of Stranger Things soon began to exert power over the show itself. When many demanded “justice for Barb” (Shannon Purser), a character that died early on in the first season, plans for season two changed to make room for just that. When season four came around, fans were equally passionate about Eddie’s (Joseph Quinn) death, petitioning to bring him back for the final season.

As it prepares to launch its fifth and final season, Stranger Things is a different beast than before. It is now more akin to the “event television” series like Lost (2004-10), Sherlock (2010-17), or perhaps the most prominent example, Game of Thrones (2011-19). Event TV is the kind of television show that fans don’t just binge on their mobile phones during their commute, or watch in the background as they eat cereal, but make plans to watch, frequently with friends or family. Fans are no longer just watching new seasons as they drop, but diving into petitions, online debates and the personal lives of its cast.

Acknowledging this change of status, the fourth season of Stranger Things wasn’t released in one go, as with the previous three seasons, but drip fed to fans in two parts – seven episodes first, then two more episodes a few days later. The final season is to be divided into three parts. Four episodes first on November 27, three episodes a month later on December 26, and the grand finale, a few days later, on New Year’s Eve.

Back in 2016, The Guardian’s TV critic Mark Lawson likened Stranger Things to watercooler TV hits, shows from the pre-streaming era that would create such a buzz that you would talk about them with your colleagues over the watercooler the next day. Nine years later, Netflix seems eager to frame Stranger Things as the watercooler TV show of the 2025 holiday season.

The original show is going to end, but in many ways this seems to be just the beginning. A teaser trailer has already been released for a new animated Stranger Things series, called Tales from 85. The show takes place between the events of the second and third seasons of Stranger Things, already positioning the show to become a franchise.

Add to that other spin-offs like the after-show Beyond Stranger Things, in which cast and creators discuss the events and behind-the-scenes details of episodes, tie-in mobile games, an immersive viewing experience, books, board games, merchandise and a London theatre production, Stranger Things: The First Shadow, it is now so much more than the quintessential Netflix Original.

Stranger Things proves that even in an era filled with sequels, prequels, remakes and reboots, it’s still possible for a brand-new story to launch a major franchise that grows far beyond its original platform. Who knows, we may even get a new season down the line. After all, stranger things have happened in the TV business.

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Orcun Can does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. How Stranger Things went from Netflix Original to a global franchise – https://theconversation.com/how-stranger-things-went-from-netflix-original-to-a-global-franchise-270327

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Dominic Broomfield-McHugh, Professor of Musicology, University of Sheffield

Does the truth matter in a film about historical events? This question sits at the heart of any biographical drama, shaping how we judge the balance between storytelling and accuracy.

Early in Richard Linklater’s Blue Moon, I thought of Amadeus. That 1984 film isn’t about Mozart – it’s about jealousy. Similarly, Blue Moon isn’t a documentary about Broadway composer Richard Rogers (Andrew Scott) and lyricist Lorenz Hart (Ethan Hawke). It’s a moving drama about Hawke’s character dealing with professional and romantic failure. Don’t expect it to be historically accurate.

Linklater and screenwriter Robert Kaplow set the movie as an extended scene in a bar called Sardi’s on the opening night of Oklahoma! in 1943. The Broadway hit marked the end of the exclusive partnership of Rodgers and Hart when the former decided to form a new, genre-defining pairing with Oscar Hammerstein II.

The Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals (including Carousel, South Pacific, The King and I, and The Sound of Music) went on to become staples of the repertoire. They provided models for much of what came later. In contrast, the Rodgers and Hart collaboration is now remembered more for its songs, such as standards like My Funny Valentine and The Lady Is a Tramp, than for its musicals, including On Your Toes and Pal Joey.

Blue Moon shows us a portrait of Hart who can see that the parade has passed him by. He comments loudly on Hammerstein’s clunky lyric writing while watching the title song of Oklahoma! in the theatre (the number itself rather feebly staged). When Rodgers arrives at Sardi’s, Hart discloses his low opinion of the show.

The alcoholism that would soon take his life is a key theme used to explain why Rodgers can’t bear to write with him anymore. He has become unreliable. Meanwhile, a romantic crush inspired by 11 letters written to Hart from a Yale college student (a vulnerable Margaret Qualley) is used to explore Hart’s sexual fluidity, though it’s not clear that Hart ever met her in real life.

Hawke’s elegiac performance is worth the price of admission alone. This is a truly stunning portrayal of someone whose illness makes them unable to evolve professionally when the culture around them changes. Both witty and deeply sad, it’s an intense psychological tour de force, worthy of an Academy Award.

But that intensity is also tiring. Almost the entire movie shows Hart sitting in Sardi’s, having discussions with the bartender (a wonderfully colourful performance from Bobby Cannavale), writer E.B. White (sensitively portrayed by Patrick Kennedy) and the pianist (Jonah Lees, hampered by having to mime a strangely pedestrian piano soundtrack of songbook classics). Although the screenplay is notionally conversational, Hart’s inability to share a genuine exchange with anyone other than his crush means that much of the time it feels like being adrift in an 80-minute monologue.

That’s where the movie is most striking and most problematic. You can’t help but find Hawke’s colossal speeches compelling, but it’s so static that it feels more like the material for a play – possibly even a radio play – than a movie. The sustained focus also makes Linklater’s awkward handling of Hart’s diminutive stature (achieved through careful placing of the camera) distracting far too much of the time. It quite unnecessarily allows the fact that the real Hart was about 4ft 10in to hinder the presentation of Hawke’s searing portrayal.

Throwing in other factual details also unhelpfully overwhelms common sense. The film recounts how Rodgers and Hart got together again a few months after Oklahoma! to write some new songs for a revival of their 1927 musical A Connecticut Yankee. Yet it shows Rodgers proposing the revival to Hart in the middle of their fraught exchange in the bar soon after the composer arrives for his opening night party – something that doesn’t ring true and upsets the psychology of the scene.

Another implausible moment, when Hammerstein introduces his future protege Stephen Sondheim – then a child – to Hart as his “neighbour”, borders on the risible. Sondheim wasn’t at the opening night of Oklahoma! and wasn’t that close to Hammerstein at this point, and it’s almost certain that the stagestruck child would not have been so rude when meeting a major lyricist (it was only later that he became openly critical of him). He was too much in love with the theatre and was only 13 years old.

It seems to me that these sorts of problems stem from the decision to set all the action on one night, rather than splitting it into two or three scenes in Hart’s final months. Throwing in too many facts and then not paying attention to credibility undoes the research itself.

If we’re here to learn about human truths that speak to a wider audience beyond theatre nerds, then why allow the reality of Hart’s height to be the thing that dictates where the camera is most of the time? After all, Rodgers wasn’t sleek and handsome in the way Scott embodies him, so why is Hart’s height a constant focus? Or if the aim is to engage with historical truths, why portray Hart as snarky about Hammerstein’s lyrics – and pompous about his own syntactic ability as a writer – when he was no more pedantic than his colleague?

As such, Blue Moon falls between two stools, the real and the imagined, without being quite sure which is the more important. Thankfully, and ironically, Hawke’s performance rises above it.

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Dominic Broomfield-McHugh does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Blue Moon: Ethan Hawke’s performance is a tour de force – but can’t save this uncertain film – https://theconversation.com/blue-moon-ethan-hawkes-performance-is-a-tour-de-force-but-cant-save-this-uncertain-film-269992

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Farhang Morady, Reader in International Development, University of Westminster

A short video of a private wedding went viral in Iran recently, tearing away the country’s veil of piety and exposing hypocrisy and a seeming disregard for the rules by which the theocratic regime requires that most Iranians live their lives.

The wedding in question was that of Fatemeh Shamkhani, in mid-2024. She is the daughter of Ali Shamkhani, a close adviser to Iran’s supreme leader, Ali Khamenei, at the luxurious Espinas Palace Hotel in Tehran.

She wore a low-cut strapless dress with a western-style bridal veil rather than the full head-covering mandated for Iranian women. Many wedding guests also wore modern western styles and a lot of the women went without head coverings.

The video displayed images that were starkly dissonant, revealing the significant class and moral divides within the Iranian Republic and contradicting Iran’s values of revolutionary simplicity and Islamic modesty.

That it was Shamkhani’s family wedding made matters worse. A former commander of the regime’s Revolutionary Guards, he is a key power broker in Iran, who has the ear of Khamenei himself. He was also involved in the savage crackdown on the public protests in Iran in recent years, in defence of the same security and morality laws his family was seen so lavishly violating at the wedding celebration.

More than a mere scandal, the event functions as a potent symbol of a systemic crisis. It has highlighted the triple ailments of elite privilege, selective morality and a rapidly eroding social contract between the ruling class and the people of Iran.

Shamkhani is part of a wealthy group at the centre of power in Iran that enjoys many privileges but imposes strict religious and moral rules on ordinary citizens. In recent years, the wealthiest people have become steadily richer – according to Forbes magazine, in 2020 the number of high net worth people in Iran grew by 21.6% against a global average of 6.3%.

The emerging ruling elites maintain their wealth through oil revenue, state contracts and shadow economic activities – that enable them to evade sanctions (the Shamkhani family was identified and sanctioned earlier this year by the US treasury as controlling a vast shipping empire involved in transporting oil from Iran and Russia in breach of US sanctions). .

Meanwhile, millions of Iranians are facing severe economic hardships due to hyperinflation, stagnant wages and currency devaluation. To the 36% of Iranians living below the poverty line, it is deeply offensive for these citizens to witness senior officials’ families flaunting their extravagant wealth.

Tale of two Irans

Since the 1979 Revolution, Iran has maintained its legitimacy through its mission to reshape public conduct by enforcing rules such as hijab requirements and sex segregation. The state maintains complete authority to regulate female bodies.

So the Shamkhani wedding, with its ostentatious luxury, its low-cut gowns and lack of head coverings felt to many Iranians as showing complete disregard for laws that the regime’s “morality police” uses to enforce strict rules on ordinary women. The rules exist to control, but they do not apply to those at the top of the tree.

This incident is significant in the context of the “woman, life, freedom” protests of recent years. These were sparked in 2022 by the death in custody of Mahsa Amini, a young Kurdish woman who had been arrested for not wearing her hijab properly. Since then, many Iranians, particularly young people, have openly defied the hijab law.

In response, the government has stepped up its enforcement efforts. But Iran is struggling to address significant shifts in generational attitudes and a substantial decline in its legitimacy. The state is attempting to establish a degree of control that may be impossible to achieve. It cannot force millions of women, who have courageously rejected a law, to return to compliance.

The continuing defiance of Iranian women is a powerful sign that the identity of Iranian society has evolved beyond the state’s ability to dictate it.

Additionally, the viral nature of the leaked video is significant. In an era characterised by the prevalence of smartphones and encrypted messaging applications, the regime finds itself unable to exert control over the narrative. The video spread rapidly inside Iran, prompting a great deal of outrage and extensive commentary, criticising the powerful elites.

Infighting at the top

There has also been some speculation that the leaking of the Shamkhani wedding video is part of a power struggle at the top. It’s been reported that the supreme leader has appeared in public only very rarely since the 12-day war with Israel and the US airstrikes on Iran’s nuclear installations in June. Meanwhile, there are signs of political infighting as rival factions jockey for position.

Prominent among those are Shamkhani and former president Hassan Rouhani. The pair have clashed openly over issues such as the 2015 nuclear deal which Rouhani presided over for Iran. Rouhani has also been accused by Shamkhani’s faction of mismanagement in office. There has been speculation that the leaking of the video may have been sanctioned by the former president as a power play.

The disunity has been made worse by resentment among many Iranians who observe the apparent excesses illustrated by the Shamkhani wedding. For the regime’s critics, the video emphasises Iran’s growing inequality, corruption and hypocrisy.

Events like this are more than just news – over time, they can weaken the social and political foundations of Iran. When the ruling families disregard the rules, those rules begin to lose their authority.

Farhang Morady does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Leaked wedding video lays bare luxurious lives of Iran’s political elite and highlights hypocrisy of Islamic Republic – https://theconversation.com/leaked-wedding-video-lays-bare-luxurious-lives-of-irans-political-elite-and-highlights-hypocrisy-of-islamic-republic-264942

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Justin Stebbing, Professor of Biomedical Sciences, Anglia Ruskin University

For anyone facing cancer, the treatment options can feel brutally familiar: surgery, radiotherapy, chemotherapy, or a combination of them all. But a new approach is beginning to offer something very different. By using nothing more than precisely controlled sound waves, histotripsy can destroy tumours without cutting the skin or burning healthy tissue.

Histotripsy uses technology similar to medical ultrasound scans but delivers far more powerful and focused energy. Instead of creating an image, it produces controlled bursts of energy that form microscopic bubbles inside the targeted tissue.

As these bubbles rapidly expand and collapse, they break the tissue apart into tiny particles. The body then absorbs and clears away this debris over a few weeks, leaving behind little to no scar tissue and protecting the surrounding structures.

One of the biggest advantages of histotripsy is that it is non-invasive. For patients, this means no incisions, less pain, a lower risk of infection, and a quicker recovery than surgery or treatments that rely on heat to destroy tissue.

Crucially, histotripsy does not use ionising radiation or heat, both of which can harm healthy cells. Instead, the procedure is guided in real time using imaging, so clinicians can see exactly where the therapy is being delivered and adjust instantly. This level of precision is central to its safety.

Research into histotripsy has grown rapidly. Laboratory and animal studies have shown that it can effectively destroy tumours in the liver, kidney, pancreas, and other organs. Its ability to clearly define the treatment area while sparing nearby vital structures makes it especially useful for cancers that sit close to blood vessels, ducts, or other sensitive tissues.

Clinical trials have recently brought histotripsy closer to routine patient care. The US Food and Drug Administration has approved it for selected liver treatments after promising results in patients with primary and secondary liver cancers.

In the multi-centre Hope4Liver trial, histotripsy successfully removed targeted liver tumours with fewer complications than many standard treatments. These early results suggest the technology could be valuable not only for cancer but also for benign conditions.

Histotripsy does more than mechanically break down tumours. When tumour cells are fragmented, they release cellular debris and chemical signals that alert the immune system. Laboratory research shows this can help the body recognise and attack cancer cells.

Some studies have even demonstrated abscopal effects, meaning immune responses are triggered in tumour sites far from the treatment area. This immune activation raises the possibility of combining histotripsy with modern immunotherapies to make cancer cells more vulnerable to the body’s defences.

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Another strength of histotripsy is that it works hand-in-hand with real-time imaging. This gives doctors the ability to adjust the treatment to a patient’s movement, such as breathing, and to work around anatomical variations.

Researchers are exploring histotripsy for a wide range of health problems. Trials have investigated its use for benign prostate enlargement, softening calcified heart valves, and potentially treating certain neurological conditions. Its ability to target tissue gently and precisely, without harming surrounding areas, makes it appealing for patients who are poor candidates for surgery.

In early studies of valve disease, histotripsy has been shown to soften calcified valve cusps and improve leaflet motion, thereby reducing pressure gradients and improving valve opening. It is not yet a technique that reliably removes all calcification or replaces the valve, and most of the evidence so far comes from pre-clinical research.

Looking ahead, histotripsy may become a powerful addition to medicine’s toolkit. Researchers are still studying its long-term benefits in larger patient groups, but its safety record, minimal damage to surrounding tissues, and compatibility with immune-based treatments set it apart.

As further trials are completed, doctors expect to better understand which patients will gain the most. Technological advances are also likely to produce devices designed specifically for different organs, along with improved imaging guidance and motion correction.

For patients, the potential impact is significant. If widely adopted, histotripsy could reduce the need for invasive surgery, improve tumour control and offer new options when other treatments are too risky or have failed.

The transition from laboratory research to clinical practice is still underway, but the momentum is strong. Each study adds to the evidence that histotripsy can provide precise, effective treatment with fewer risks

Current limitations

But challenges remain. Differences in tissue density, patient anatomy and movement can make targeting harder. The phenomenon known as acoustic aberration, where sound waves are distorted by bone or other tissues, can also reduce accuracy.

Engineers and clinicians are continually improving equipment and navigation algorithms to achieve even greater precision and to broaden its use.

It is also important to remember that cancer is often more widespread than imaging can detect. Histotripsy works on specific, localised lesions and cannot identify or treat hidden microscopic cancer cells. For many patients, though, it can play a valuable role in a broader treatment plan.

Histotripsy’s ability to break cancer with sound reflects a major shift in medical innovation. By transforming sound waves into a potent and precise therapy, scientists and clinicians are redefining how conditions such as cancer can be treated: less invasively, more safely and with greater potential for cure. As research continues, histotripsy stands poised to reshape patient care for years to come.

Justin Stebbing does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Histotripsy: how sound waves could change the future of tumour treatment – https://theconversation.com/histotripsy-how-sound-waves-could-change-the-future-of-tumour-treatment-270181

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Stephen Khan, Editor-in-Chief, The Conversation

In the late 19th century, Stuttgart was booming. The southern German city was famously the cradle of an emerging automobile sector and had already established itself as an industrial powerhouse and centre for toolmaking, mechanical engineering and textiles. Rail connections in the Baden-Württemberg region accelerated development, transported workers and spread wealth.

One might think, then, that an obvious place for the nascent railways to reached out to would have been the historic university town of Tübingen, about 20 miles from Stuttgart. No so, Tilman Wörtz of the university’s communications department informed me, on a recent visit. In fact, explained Wörtz, an accomplished journalist, the story goes that the academic grandees of the era resisted a connection with the emerging financial and industrial powerhouse, perhaps regarding it as somewhat uncouth and vulgar to distract from deep cultural and scientific considerations to engage with the forces of commerce. So for a long time, the proposed railroad hit the buffers.

Fortunately today, thanks to the efforts of university leaders, the institution strives to connect, both with industry and the wider community. There is now a railway station, and I was thrilled to speak with a number of academics about relaying their research and knowledge to non-academic readers. Indeed, this fascinating read on rapper Haftbefehl, who is the subject of a Netflix documentary gripping Germany has already come out of the sessions, and do stay tuned in the coming weeks and months for more from the University of Tübingen, which was founded in 1477 and is now the first German member institution of The Conversation.

Fast forward a week, and I found myself in the eye of what some cast as a fourth or even fifth industrial revolution, in Dubai, incorporating AI, nanobiology, and bioengineering. The city is pitching itself as being at the heart of, and a driving force in, this new era of change, which sees civic government enabling human and technological collaboration tackling societal issues and powering growth.

For more than a decade, what is now called Protoypes For Humanity has been an exhibition at the heart of this city’s dash for development, powering projects that bring the prospect of solutions to challenges in the environment, energy, health, technology and other spheres.

When I attended Prototypes a year ago, it was still largely a showcase for PhD candidates’ projects from some of the world’s leading universities, many of which are members of The Conversation. In the last 12 months, however, a new element has been developed, under the guidance of Naren Barfield, former Provost and Deputy Vice Chancellor of the UK’s Royal College of Art. This sees senior academics come to the city to deliver papers drawing on key aspects of their research.

Full transparency, I served on the selection panel Professor Barfield designed to finalise the programme and The Conversation was a media partner for the 2025 Prototypes event.

The themes for the year were as follows:

• Wellbeing and health futures
• Sustainable and resilient infrastructure
• Artificial intelligence and augmented intelligence
• Environmental sustainability and climate action
• Socio-economic empowerment and innovation
• Open and speculative categories

Following short paper presentations in the Socio-Economic Empowerment category, Barfield explained the thinking behind the new element of Prototypes and the opportunity for researchers:

We are bringing together some of the world’s sharpest minds and most innovative researchers to tackle challenges faced in different parts of the planet. Dubai and this initiative provide a unique chance to generate ideas across a range of academic disciplines that might not otherwise collaborate in such an impactful way.

The Prototypes for Humanity initiative and the relatively new Professors’ Programme has a proven track record of connecting academia with policymakers, industry, and the public in a way often described elsewhere as aspirational. Here, it is actually happening.

The reference to industry struck a chord, perhaps given that I’d so recently heard that story of detachment from 19th century Stuttgart, but also because it’s a grumble I regularly encounter across the world when it comes to academia and its engagement (or lack of) beyond the university sector today.

At the conference venue, in the Emirates Towers of Dubai International Financial District, Tadeu Baldani Caravieri, director of Prototypes for Humanity, discussed the thinking behind the project and potential routes forward.

At Protoypes we’ve seen how researchers can directly drive innovation in partnership with industry and, in the case of Dubai, with the city government as a facilitator.

This has been possible thanks to some of the advantages of this state and region. But these are solutions that can, and do present wider benefits – in some cases globally relevant solutions solutions.

He later added:

This edition [of Prototypes] helped to confirm fundamental assumptions for the space we operate in, i.e. creating bridges between academic ingenuity and real-world needs. The main one is that, although there is sometimes a disconnect between university innovation capabilities and industry needs, there is genuine interest, across all of the parts in this equation, to overcome obstacles and do more. We have enabled and witnessed very promising and results-oriented conversations between academia and potential partners, from PhDs and private sector discussing pilots in applied robotics, to professors supporting a humanitarian agency to rethink aid allocation systems, to multinationals looking to fuel their R&D roadmaps.

Dubai is an excellent incubator for these bridges we are building but, in keeping with the city’s outlook and spirit, we want to enable impact across the world – so it’s just natural that, in the future, we hope to open structured avenues for multi-city collaborations, where local ecosystems complement each other’s strengths.

Prototypes’ community brings in research talent from more than 800 universities around the world, including many academics who have also engaged with The Conversation. For instance, Jeremy Howick, of the University of Leicester, presented on empathy in healthcare in the age of AI, and has written this account. Further articles based on projects that exhibited and on the professors’ papers will be published on The Conversation and will be accessible via this link.

Stay tuned to read more on critical and diverse research relating to subjects such as monitoring and diagnosing pre-eclampsia (Patricia Maguire, University College Dublin, using seaweed to create a sustainable packaging alternative (Austeja Platukyte, Vilnius Academy of Arts ) and the emergent Internet of Beings (Francesco Grillo, Bocconi University, Milan).

– ref. From Stuttgart’s first industrial revolution to Dubai’s fifth – the need for research to connect outside the academy – https://theconversation.com/from-stuttgarts-first-industrial-revolution-to-dubais-fifth-the-need-for-research-to-connect-outside-the-academy-270528

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Michelle Spear, Professor of Anatomy, University of Bristol

In the animal kingdom, penises can be spiked, split, corkscrewed – even detachable. They’re one of the most diverse structures in biology. The human penis is so uniform, it’s an anatomical outlier. Understanding why penises evolved, and why they differ so widely, also helps explain why humans have one at all.

Penises first evolved as a solution to one simple problem: how to achieve internal fertilisation.

The first animals lived in the sea before our ancestors started living on land half a billion years ago. Today, many aquatic animals still simply release sperm and eggs into the water. However, as organisms moved to land, a new mechanism was needed to transfer sperm into the female body – enter the penis.

But here’s the twist: not all land animals use one. Around 97% of bird species have no penis at all. Instead, they reproduce with a “cloacal kiss”. This is a brief contact between a single opening that serves the digestive, urinary and reproductive systems and through which sperm is transferred.

The cloacal kiss demands choreography. For most birds, mating success hinges on split-second timing, elaborate courtship and perfect physical alignment. Animals with penises have an anatomical shortcut. They can deliver sperm straight to the target, even if the encounter is brief or a bit clumsy.

So penises are just one solution among many. But once evolution settles on a penis, the possibilities multiply. It is a prime example of convergent evolution, where different, unrelated, lineages develop similar traits in response to similar pressures.

In some species, penis size is driven by environmental constraints and access to mates. The barnacle, a crustacean glued to a rock for life, has the longest penis relative to body size of any known animal (up to eight times its own length). This allows it to “fish” for mates in the surrounding water. For those that may be wondering, the largest penis, at 2.5-3 metres, belongs to the blue whale.

The banana slug is a hermaphrodite with a thick penis as long as its body, evolved for deep sperm placement to boost fertilisation chances. Sometimes it gets stuck during withdrawal, and the partner bites it off. But the slug normally heals and survives.

Penile structures are often adapted for sperm competition, which is when multiple males mate with the same female, and their sperm compete internally for fertilisation. In these species, the penis becomes a competitive tool.

The domestic cat, for instance, has backward-facing spines on its penis. These stimulate ovulation in the female, ensuring sperm meets a ready egg, but also discourage mating with other males by making withdrawal painful.

In bedbugs, males take it further. They use a dagger-like penis to stab through the abdominal wall and deposit sperm directly into the body cavity. This “traumatic insemination” gives the male a bypass route – but at significant cost to the female. It’s not typically deadly, but the injuries take time and energy to heal.

Nowhere is this evolutionary struggle more vivid than in ducks. Some species of male ducks have corkscrew-shaped penises that can extend in under half a second. This is a response to female ducks evolving highly convoluted vaginas with dead-end pockets and spirals that twist in the opposite direction. This is a textbook example of sexual antagonistic co-evolution, where male traits that increase fertilisation rates are countered by female traits that limit male control.

In many reptiles, evolution has solved the problem of mating posture, the physical position and alignment of the bodies during copulation, with a pair of reproductive tracts. Snakes and lizards have hemipenes – two separate organs, only one of which is used per copulation. This redundancy probably evolved for flexibility, allowing mating from either side, and may be an adaptation to maximise success in brief mating windows.

In mammals, the penis can be reinforced by a bone: the baculum. Found in species such as dogs, chimpanzees and walruses, it allows penetration without relying on blood pressure. This structural support is useful in species where mating is prolonged or where mechanical stimulation during copulation is needed to trigger ovulation, in awkward or extended couplings like those of walruses, and when female anatomy or behaviour favours longer copulation.

What do these penises tell us about humans?

Compared to this dazzling variety, the human penis seems almost conservative. But this simplicity is deceptive.

Unlike many other mammals, humans lack a baculum. Instead, erection relies on blood flow. This mechanism may reflect a shift from brief, frequent copulations typical of high-sperm-competition species, to longer, emotionally bonded pairings. In this type of pairing, a visible, hydraulically produced erection serves not only a reproductive function, but also acts as a signal of arousal and health.

Human penile shape may still reflect adaptations to sperm competition. Scientists think the slight flaring of the glans at the corona, a prominent anatomical border between the glans and the shaft, may displace rival sperm during intercourse. This is not unusual among mammals, but in humans it may be especially important because intercourse and ovulation are often not perfectly timed, giving more scope for sperm competition. Human sperm can survive in the female reproductive tract for up to five days.

The glans and the sensitive underside frenulum contain a high concentration of sensory nerve endings that make them particularly sensitive to touch. This heightened sensitivity is thought to provide not only pleasure, but also real-time feedback. It allows the penis to respond to subtle variations in movement, pressure and partner interaction. Such feedback may have played a role in enhancing mutual sexual engagement.

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Scientists ignored animal clitorises for centuries – now we’re discovering just how varied they are

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A 2011 genetic study published in Nature found that humans lost specific DNA sequences that control the development of penile spines – small, keratinised projections on the penis that in chimpanzees and macaques help increase friction and stimulate the female during mating. These spines probably increased stimulation and shortened copulatory duration. Their loss in humans may reflect a shift from competition to cooperation.

This ties into another crucial aspect of human reproductive evolution: concealed ovulation. Unlike many mammals, human females do not advertise their fertility. In response, males evolved a strategy based on sustained sexual access, emotional connection and mate guarding.

The human penis is not just a reproductive organ, but part of a broader behavioural system tied to trust, intimacy and long-term partnership.

Michelle Spear does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. The surprising world of animal penises and what they reveal about humans – https://theconversation.com/the-surprising-world-of-animal-penises-and-what-they-reveal-about-humans-261690