AU from an exchange student's point of view

An Indian summer for the best of British

By Chris Obertelli, stud.cand.mag, English

A comedy about the lives of middle-aged and retired Brits. That’s what the kid’s today want! And just to make it interesting, let’s chuck in a couple of sexagenarian love stories and set it in India!

It doesn’t immediately sound like a box office winner, does it? When I heard the premise myself I was a tad sceptical, but as both a Brit and a student of English, I was willing to give it a go at the behest of my Anglophile girlfriend. What sold The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel for me however was the cast. The older characters are a collection of some of the finest names in British film and TV of the last 30+ years that even the most English-indifferent Dane must be aware of to some degree including Dame Judi Dench (James Bond), Maggie Smith (Harry Potter), Bill Nighy (Love, Actually), Celia Imrie (Bridget Jones), Tom Wilkinson (The Full Monty) and Penelope Wilton (Pride and Prejudice). This distinguished cast is supported by Dev Patel (Slumdog Millionaire) playing a similar, yet much more comedic supporting role, as his breakthrough role in a similar against-the-odds love story which runs parallel to the main story as the self-styled manager of the titular hotel. What all these people are doing in India is quickly explained so we can get on with the meat of the story, and the reasons are certainly diverse. This is not merely a case of Brits on holiday and the standard ‘what-do-you-mean-there-ain’t-no-chips?’, fish out of water tale. While there are obviously scenes of linguistic and cultural confusion as the stuffy British demeanour is put to the test amongst the noise and colour of Jaipur, the real heart of the ensemble comedy-drama lies in the interaction between the characters themselves.

India serves merely as a picturesque backdrop for the exploration of the characters in all their glory and disgrace. The ageing lothario battling loneliness, the widow looking for her place in the world and a purpose in life, the ex-judge haunted by his past, the bankrupt couple on the verge of ruin and the xenophobic pensioner in India for a hip replacement.

What really works in the film is that it refuses to descend into overly-sentimental melodrama as many British comedies have a tendency to do, starting well with the jokes coming thick and fast only to take its foot off the gas and get serious/emotional in the final act. Granted, the last half hour of The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel does enter familiar territory, but it takes an unexpected back road to get there and doesn’t dwell too long.

I hope I am not gushing with overly-sycophantic, patriotic pride in my praise, but while you cannot fault any of the performances, the real backbone of the film, special mention has to go to Tom Wilkinson for his tragic portrayal of a mild-mannered man facing his past with the kind of under-stated, Shakespearean pathos Laurence Olivier would no doubt have approved of. On the more comedic side, you have Maggie Smith lying on a hospital bed in a corridor, looking at a black doctor and commenting, in a thick cockney accent, that no matter how hard he scrubs the colour won’t come out. This obnoxious racism unsurprisingly leads to a third-act redemption, but it is the fact that it is she, the cultured, classical actress, such a darling of stage and screen with two Oscars to her name, who is saying it that makes this moment so funny. You loathe her for her ignorance and yet you want to see more. Sending this character to India feels like some form of delicious payback for all the bile she has regurgitated in her opening scenes. A bigot now surrounded by those she fears, where she is the foreigner.

India is shot to look like an exotic wonderland, and while this is a joy to behold, the social problems of India are all but invisible. A few street urchins dot the background and a couple of extended scenes between Maggie Smith and an untouchable who cleans the hotel are all we get. While the film is a character piece, it could have been interesting to expand on this, contrasting the opulent private club frequented by Imrie’s character, a symbol of Britain’s continued financial dominance despite Mountbatten having left decades before, with the harsh realities for many in post-colonial India. That said, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel does take an interesting look at the role India plays in the 21^st century, with call centres for British companies enclosed in glass and steel contrasting with the run-down semi-ruin of the titular hotel. Had these areas been highlighted a little more in even one of the film’s many interwoven strands, it could have elevated The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel to being as much an interesting and thought-provoking film as it is an entertaining one, while at the same time avoiding the aforementioned sin of turning comedy into commentary.

How to be a Dane - For dummies

by Laura Mattana

As an Erasmus student, I’ve been through all the stages of Erasmus psychosis:

Stage 1: You apply for it. You can already see yourself in a foreign country, living on your own, completely independent. Freedom smells good.

Stage 2: You realize the amount of papers you need to fill out. Enthusiasm starts dwindling. Fuck independence, you want someone else to fill them out for you.

Stage 3: You get selected. You start counting how many hours you can actually stay awake to party as much as you can and still keep on studying.

Stage 4: You realize you have even more papers to fill out than stage 2. Depression mode.

Stage 5: Papers filled out. You’re ready to go. Independence, welcome.

Stage 6: You start finding any possible reason why you shouldn’t have applied.

Stage 7: You’re there. Time is passing by so fast. You don’t want to go back home.

Yet, the main process takes place between stage 6 and 7. Something suddenly makes you switch from the I-don’t-want-to-go to the I-don’t-want-to-go-back mode.

It’s a process of myths mass destruction.

You were told Danes are always on time. Not really. I have a lot of Danish classmates who are constantly late, but they like to think they’re on-time people. It’s fine. That makes me feel an almost on-time person. My friends will laugh hard at that.

You were told Danes are detached people. Not really. If they didn’t find me dead in the river (yet), I have to thank some Danes. Especially my mentor. Thank you, Anna. Yes, I’m alive.

You were told Danes are healthy people. Like…really? Jogging 24/7 does not save you from smoking like a chimney, I’m sorry.

You were told you can actually tell how much money a Dane has from what he drinks. Well, sometimes they’re right.

You were told Danes drink a lot of coffee. How can you even call it coffee?

You were told a lot of stuff, but that’s what I am personally going to tell you:

You know you’re an exchange student in Denmark when…

…you’re wearing leggings, jeans, 2 pairs of socks and you’re still cold.

…you’re glad your phone has a calculator, so you can convert kroner to your home currency.

…the first time you spent 400 kroner you were like WHAT THE FUCK?! Then you remembered kroner are different, so you made the conversion and then you were like WHAT THE FUCK?!

…you thought that the Danish language would not be such a big deal, after all. Then you started Lærdansk courses…

TILBUD.

…you see your teachers drink and dance for the first time.

…doing the laundry is a challenge for yourself.

…you know at least two of the following: Netto, Fakta, Løvbjerg, Rema 1000, Aldi.

…you seriously need to get used to bikes ringing at you. Like “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!”

…it’s -3° and you feel warm ’cause it was -17° the day before.

…you are going to wait until May before even thinking of getting a bike.

Friday bar.

Thursday bar.

International Night.

Dorm bar.

Sunday trip.

“Have you done your readings?” – “No.” – “Me neither.”

…any other bus rides more often than yours.

…you get pissed when a Dane suddenly starts speaking English with you ’cause he realized you’re a foreigner before even hearing you speak.

…you get pissed when a Dane starts speaking Danish with you ’cause “how the hell didn’t he notice I am not a Dane?!”

…you seriously think that your home country has to learn a lot from this country. Because it does. No matter where you are from.

I know you’ve been nodding to most of them, especially if you’re a pathologically shy Italian exchange student in Aarhus. Especially if you are me.

Take care. Be a Dane.

Spring Fever

by Marie Laursen Canter

The revamped Dolphin’s first theme is “Spring Fever”, a topic we, the editors, chose on a sunny day a couple weeks ago. It was one of those abnormal March afternoons where the sun blazed and the only wind was a ticklish breeze that kept tossing bits of my hair in my face. As I was walking home, I became what I like to call sun-drunk: the giddy and unreasonably sappy state of mind where everything is in sync and accompanied by a soundtrack. On this day, it seemed like every tree was blossoming, every duck in the University Park was quacking joyously, and every passing car happily stopped to let me cross the street. With a bounce in my step and Hall and Oates’ “You Make My Dreams” on my mind, I made my way home, my head teeming with ideas and plans for the spring.

Now, as I’m writing this, I have a spring-hangover: it’s raining, cold, gray, and no one is humming a wonderful musical number. The “breeze” picked up and shot right through my jacket when I ventured outside and the only thing blossoming is the procrastination zit on my face as I realized how much homework I managed to put off over the Easter Break (and how many cakes I still managed to eat). But then, that’s spring fever: one minute you’re running hot and the next your teeth are chattering. The weather forecast looks like a children’s sketch of a mountain range: the temperature shoots up to a measly 8 degrees and then plummets down to the minus ranges. My heater is unhappy to cooperate with this mere mortal ginger and has decided to hibernate for the season (or until temperatures rise again, in which case it will be unnecessary). With the stacks of textbooks still needing to be read surrounding me, I’ve decided to go on the offensive. To combat this chilly atmosphere, I’ve armed myself with a pot of coffee and endless amounts of banana cake with shredded coconut and chocolate pieces: nothing can stop me now.

And that’s exactly what we hope to accomplish with the Dolphin. With just a couple weeks of school remaining and final exam monsters rising behind the homework horizon, it’s sometimes difficult to see the end of this final stretch. We at the Dolphin find it is essential for our survival (and success?) to have small distractions. Bake a cake, take a sun-drunk walk through the park (remember to have a peppy song ready), or read a couple submissions of the Dolphin! We’re here to give you a little break from your intense studying and achy writing fingers. Scroll through the submissions and give yourself a well-deserved break once in a while. We won’t distract you completely (everything is still written in English, after all) but we might give you some ideas as to what you can spend your eventual summer freedom on. We have movie reviews and book reviews. We’ll give you a little bite of insight from other students; students you’ve never met and students from other countries. We’ll try our best to give you some reprieve from the homework headache that’s bogging down your brain; consider us your Advil!

If you can feel your mind running hot with DPs, literary –isms, and/or German philosophers, take a moment to cool off and look through our first ever (revamped) edition of The Dolphin. We’re looking forward to being your sweet diversion and hope you’ll send us any of your creative tid-bits when something funny, peculiar, or exciting strikes your fancy.