The ebullient feminism of The Bear
Updated On: 26 April, 2024 06:52 AM IST | Mumbai | Rosalyn D`mello
This series dares to portray what could happen if the hierarchical structures of the restaurant business could be collapsed to allow for pleasure, joy and fraternity among co-workers
The Bear tackles facets of toxic masculinity head-on and masterfully reveals its primary characters’ dimensions without telling you anything in a way that makes you feel like your own intelligence or intuition has been betrayed. Representation Pic
Had I known the Venice Biennale pre-opening would mainly involve serpentine queues that seem to stretch all the way into the lagoon, I would not have bothered going. I’ve visited two previous editions of the arts biennale, but always during non-rush hours, weeks after the visitor dust had settled. It’s a deeply pleasant experience. I’ve memories of the scent of jasmine intervening with the sea salt air and blue skies and sunshine. After the main exhibition at either Arsenale or Giardini, one could enter the various national pavilions with ease. This leisurely element was totally missing from my visit last week. I finally understood the expression ‘the art world has descended’. Unfortunately, most of that world, as I suggested last time, involves heads of institutions or gallery owners and curators, people who are deeply invested in power networking. Around the evening of my first day there, there was a moment when it seemed like the skies would explode and I felt suddenly anxious at the thought of being stuck at Giardini with this crowd. I made my way to the Vaporetto and rushed back to my hotel room.
I needed the refuge that only solitude could offer. I was lucky to be child-free. I went to the little supermarket near the bed and breakfast I was staying at in the San Tomas vicinity and bought myself a bunch of fun snacks. For some reason, they had a special section dedicated to Japanese snacks. I decided to try out hickory smoked sunflower seeds, among other things, and bought berries and yoghurt. In my previous life I would have bought myself a beer, but motherhood has made a teetotaller of me. I was also really sick, so alcohol was the last thing on my mind. After paying for the various things that constituted my care package, I went to the room I was lucky enough to have procured for less than 110 Euros. I remember feeling deeply sceptical at the time of booking that a room in the heart of Venice could cost only 105 Euros (with my ‘genius’ discount) during the pre-opening week. The caveat was that the bathroom was not inside the room but adjacent. You had to exit the room and go next door. It was still private, as in only I had the key to it. It was not a bad deal at all, perfect for someone flying solo.
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