the monster enters (mike davis)

Mike Davis’ book, an updated version of The Monster at our Door, written in 2005,  is about the threat of Avian Bird Flu, and the devastating effect that would have on society were it to turn into a pandemic. There is an introduction, written at the start of the Covid-19 pandemic last year, when the book was reissued. The most terrifying thing about the book isn’t what he gets right - the shortage of PPE, the governmental confusion, “Pandemic planners admitted that the  bulk of the  public… would simply have to cower in their homes” - but what hasn’t happened this time round. Because Davis, an analyst of slums, of mass production farming methods, of the way in which human demographics have become a time bomb, predicts that if the Bird Flu pandemic ends up being as bad as is feared, it won’t be millions dying, but billions. Presently, according to World of Meters, we stand at 3 million official Covid deaths, though that figure is sure to be higher and is still rising at an alarming rate, but we’re not yet in the territory that Davis predicts. For all the way in which society has felt threatened by terrorism, bio-terrorism, (Davis is very good on the way the war on terror allowed an emphasis on military spending, even in the realm of biological threats), the greatest danger to our way of lie, whatever that is, was always likely to come from a virus. Should we ever come out of this rolling Covid nightmare, one hopes that those who regulate budgets pay more heed to the Cassandras. Davis’ final observations on the way the pharmaceutical industry works only add to the sense that the free market is a long way from being the best socio-political mechanism for the future welfare of the human race.  

the favourite (d. yorgos lanthimos; w. deborah davis, tony mcnamara)

Lanthimos may well clean up at the oscars. In a similar vein to Jenkins with Moonlight a few years ago: the indie world sneaking in to steal the crown. Moonlight and The Favourite are very different films, sin dudas, but they have this in common: a technical bravura, which says as much about the work of the DOP as the director. In the case of James Laxton, the bold use of colour; in the case of Robbie Ryan, the nerve to use innovative perspective in a period piece, notably the fish-eye lens shots which capture a wealth of detail in the frame, as well as offering a ‘modern’ eye on this antiquated world. The Favourite’s popularity is also down to offering three actresses the opportunity to strut their stuff. The performances of Coleman, Stone and Weisz possess a verve which complements this contemporary vision of a period piece. They feel like real people, battling out their bizarre menage a trois, people one can identify with, no matter how remote and distant the world of wigs and periwinkles might be. 

On the other hand, The Favourite, in keeping with The Lobster, is a film that entertains rather than engaging on an emotional level. The script creates a world of feckless characters whose primary motivation is to screw each other over. It’s interesting to note in this regard that Sarah Churchill, Weisz’s character, was a mother, as well as being a dashing bisexual. Children are written out of this world, which is a playground for childlike adults. The contrast with Dogtooth is intriguing: whilst Dogtooth also depicted a cold, harsh world, this was predicated on the interactions of a family, which gave the harshness a pathos which The Favourite never seems to aspire to. In that sense, despite the director being Greek and the final draft of the script being written by an Australian, it manages to feel like a very British film, where wit and a cold heart trump feeling every time. 

planet of slums [mike davis]

Davis’ book is like an anti-tourist guide. It takes you into all the places that the shiny world doesn’t want to be seen. Although it’s only 200 pages, it’s a sprawling, comprehensive guide to a the urban populations of all every continent on earth. Davis readily skips from Kinshasa to Quito, Shanghai to Cairo. He brings an encyclopaedic knowledge to bear on the issues that blight the vast expansive super-cities which have evolved over the course of the last 30 years. The details are terrifying. From sanitation and sewage to education and child labour, he reveals how most of the world is inhabiting a new Dickensian nightmare, whilst the G7 politicians congratulate themselves on their successes. One chapter mercilessly skewers the notion that privatisation leads to better living standards, dissecting the way in which the IMF/ World Bank’s SAP policy (Structural Adjustment Program) has only enhanced poverty in third world slums. The section on Kinshasa is devastating. 

Besides its academic value, Davis’ book is invaluable because it casts a light on a world which is neglected and ignored. How can we still exist in a world where the imbalances between rich and poor are so invidious, and becoming more so? Whilst people from the Western world holiday in far-off climes, bringing back stories of exotic life-affirmation, the countries they visit possess poverty on a scale that seems unimaginable. Davis’ work helps to make the invisible visible. Although, in reading Plante of Slums. one is also made aware of how little those of us who live in more privileged regions have access to information regarding the actual conditions under which a vast proportion of the world’s population subsists. 

How we move on to the next stage of creating a more equitable society, given the failures of the neoliberal model, is the challenge the book lays down.