Representations of multicultural identities in British Cinema

This paper explores the transnational and interstitial dimensions of cultural production in Britain today, and the representation of migrant and diasporic identities in contemporary mainstream British cinema. The box office success of films like Gurindha Chadha’s Bhaji on the Beach (1993) and Bend it Like Beckham (2002) and East is East (Daniel O’Donnell 1999) and their precursors My Beautiful Launderette (Stephen Frears 1985), Sammy and Rosie Get Laid (Stephen Frears 1987) and the TV mini-series Buddha of Suburbia (Roger Mitchell 1993) seem to celebrate and articulate a set of values around hybridity and alterity: a discourse of multiculturalism. This paper will engage with a series of key questions. Are there ideological values implicit within and common to all these texts? Can we map a rhetoric or discourse of multiculturalism within popular culture? Do mainstream representations of immigrant identities represent a discourse of resistance, a decolonising global culture or is this Western brand of multiculturalism still located within an Orientalising gaze? In what ways are multiculturalism and postcolonialism overlapping and yet opposing rhetorics? [From the Author]

Identification and doing without it, V: A formal mathematical analysis for a case of mix-up of individuals, and of recovery from failure to attain identification

Identification, when sought, is not necessarily obtained. Operational guidance that is normatively acceptable may be necessary for such cases. We proceed to formalize and illustrate modes of exchanges of individual identity, and provide procedures of recovery strategies in specific prescriptions from an ancient body of law for such situations when, for given types of purposes, individuals of some relevant kind had become intermixed and were undistinguishable. Rules were devised, in a variety of domains, for coping with situations that occur if and when the goal of identification was frustrated. We propose or discuss mathematical representations of such recovery procedures.

Spaces of observation and obscurity: cinematic prisons of light and dark

In The Eye of Power, Foucault delineated the key concerns surrounding hospital architecture in the latter half of the eighteenth century as being the ‘visibility of bodies, individuals and things'. As such, the ‘new form of hospital' that came to be developed ‘was at once the effect and support of a new type of gaze'. This was a gaze that was not simply concerned with ways of minimising overcrowding or cross-contamination. Rather, this was a surveillance intended to produce knowledge about the pathological bodies contained within the hospital walls. This would then allow for their appropriate classification. Foucault went on to describe how these principles came to be applied to the architecture of prisons. This was exemplified for him in the distinct shape of Bentham's panopticon. This circular design, which has subsequently become an often misused synonym for a contemporary culture of surveillance, was premised on a binary of the seen and the not-seen. An individual observer could stand at the central point of the circle and observe the cells (and their occupants) on the perimeter whilst themselves remaining unseen. The panopticon in its purest form was never constructed, yet it conveys the significance of the production of knowledge through observation that became central to institutional design at this time and modern thought more broadly. What is curious though is that whilst the aim of those late eighteenth century buildings was to produce wellventilated spaces suffused with light, this provoked an interest in its opposite. The gothic movement in literature that was developing in parallel conversely took a ‘fantasy world of stone walls, darkness, hideouts and dungeons…' as its landscape (Vidler, 1992: 162). Curiously, despite these modern developments in prison design, the façade took on these characteristics. The gothic imagination came to describe that unseen world that lay behind the outer wall. This is what Evans refers to as an architectural ‘hoax'. The façade was taken to represent the world within the prison walls and it was the façade that came to inform the popular imagination about what occurred behind it. The rational, modern principles ordering the prison became conflated with the meanings projected by and onto the façade. This confusion of meanings have then been repeated and reenforced in the subsequent representations of the prison. This is of paramount importance since it is the cinematic and televisual representation of the prison, as I argue here and elsewhere, that maintain this erroneous set of meanings, this ‘hoax'.