Alayna Cole

Alayna Cole is an MCA (Creative Writing) candidate who loves to write stories when she’s not studying.

It’s probably the writer in me talking when I say that I’m a sucker for interesting narrative choices and meaningful characterisation, and Sense8 delivers these things in veritable bucket loads. The 12-episode first season takes advantage of its Netflix-supported platform to deliver a visceral, complex, and intelligent experience that I devoured in one sitting.

The show follows the individual stories of eight ‘sensates’ from eight cities with very different life experiences and abilities; these eight characters form a ‘cluster’ who become psychically attuned to tap into one another’s thoughts, senses, and memories as the season progresses. The empathy these characters develop in their deep understanding of one another is extended to the audience, as we feel elated at their successes and devastated by their failures.

Each member of the cluster is able to ‘visit’ the others or ‘share’ one another’s bodies. A sensate that possesses useful skills often takes over another to help them when emotions are running high, particularly in life-threatening situations. The sensates possess a variety of skills—martial arts, weapons knowledge, driving, computer hacking, and chemistry among them—and there is always an audience air-punch moment when you work out who was needed to assist in a particular scene or when things play out as you expected (often with some added awesomeness that you hadn’t even considered). The action sequences in the second half of the season are even more impressive as the sensates start to rack up combo moves, with four or five sensates taking over for different parts of a master plan so that everything runs perfectly.

Air-punching isn’t the only emotional reaction Sense8 provoked in me.  I was incredibly angry for Nomi—a hacktivist and transwoman—when her mother disrespected her and her use of preferred pronouns, was gutted by the sad events composing DJ Riley’s history, and cried tears of joy for Mexican actor Lito’s personal journey. Sense8 prioritises the characterisation of individuals over the season plot arc and, while this makes for some clumsy exposition in places, it shines the spotlight sharply on the shared experiences of these eight totally different yet fundamentally human characters.

Being on Netflix, rather than mainstream television, allows Sense8 to accurately, shamelessly—and sometimes quite graphically—depict the human experience, connecting to the show’s central premise of human connection and empathy.

Sense8 refuses to shy away from topics and images that are generally considered taboo: sexuality and gender diversity, racial diversity, religion, sexual and non-sexual nudity (including incredibly symbolic scenes of babies crowning) and graphic violence. When criminal safe-cracker Wolfgang accidentally visits conservative chemist Kala while he was swimming naked at a bathhouse, his stark, non-sexual nudity reminded me of just how ‘human’ this show is. The openness with which Sense8 includes and explores the primal, natural aspects of the human experience reinforces its attempt to induce empathy.

The empathy fostered by Sense8 also makes it perfect for exploring diversity, and the show certainly makes use of this platform. Of the eight main characters, two—Lito and Nomi—are sexually attracted to their own gender and are in loving, dynamic relationships with fantastic secondary characters. Some viewers have considered these queer characters stereotypical or believe that Sense8 spends too much time focusing on their sexuality rather than other aspects of their characters, but I disagree; while the characters are used as vehicles to explore queer issues—including the journey from shame to pride, reaching self-acceptance, overcoming bullying and oppression, and the impact sexuality can have on families or careers—queer relationships are not given more attention than those relationships that are more commonly seen in the media. I assume that most criticisms about the amount of queer representation and discussion in Sense8 are founded in perception bias, with audiences not used to being exposed to such diversity.

Not only does the show seek to expose audiences to varied sexualities and genders, but it also provides an employment opportunity for gender-diverse actors and actresses to fill these roles. Jamie Clayton, who portrays Nomi, is a transwoman, and her own experiences give Nomi’s story incredible weight and significance.

These behind-the-scenes choices continue to impress. Actors hired for the cast aren’t all from Hollywood, with many having successful careers in Korea or India or Africa, where their characters live. Everything is shot on location—explaining Sense8’s high budget—and extras are sourced domestically, which further contributes to the feeling of authentic diversity that the show produces.

Though a mix of cultures is represented, the characters don’t seem token. For example, there are a wide variety of Indian characters in the show, some religious, some not, some living in India, others having moved elsewhere at a young age, some always in traditional dress, others not, some in arranged marriages, others pursuing love marriages. Kala’s storyline focuses on the difficulty of making decisions for love while navigating family pressures.

There are many other points where the diversity of characters is explored, but also where their underlying similarities are emphasised: each of the eight sensates in the cluster are strong, but in different ways; they have very different families, but most have lost a parent or parental figure; and they experience strange psychic phenomena, but react differently based on their cultural context and personality. It’s been suggested that this diversity might be off-putting for some critics, but for many viewers (myself included) it’s inspiring.

Even with the occasional confusing or neglected plot point, the first season of Sense8 is incredibly intelligent and gives me high hopes for future seasons. There is extensive use of symbolism to add to the already important characterisation of the sensates and secondary characters. In particular, the childbirth scene mentioned earlier depicts each sensate’s first breath: Wolfgang’s water birth reflects his time in the bathhouse, Lito’s birth in front of a television is indicative of his acting career, and Nomi’s c-section places further symbolic distance between her and her mother. The many settings in the show are symbols too, with Woflgang’s Berlin a dark, rainy depiction that reflects how he sees his life, sitting in stark contrast to the bright and colourful San Francisco where Nomi lives. The cuts between characters feeling similar emotions in slums and expensive apartments, prisons and art galleries, further emphasises the external differences but inner similarities of the sensates, and all people.

Sense8 is a slow burn, with some ambiguity in the first few episodes to reflect the confusion of the sensates, and this could be a turn-off for some, but with shows like Game of Thrones (the ultimate slow burn!) at the pinnacle of popularity, many will be able to excuse this. The intelligence of the show encourages the audience to think, rather than simply consume, and to theorise about what might happen next.

I can’t stop thinking about the links between Kala working for a company that creates pharmaceuticals; Korean businesswoman Sun and her father’s involvement in the pharmaceutical industry; African bus-driver Capheus and his desire to buy pharmaceuticals to help his mother live with AIDS; and the impact drugs have had on Riley’s storyline. Surely lines will be drawn between these similarities in the next season’s plot arc?

Sense8 is laced with so many tiny, intricate details that I’m sure there are many more interesting connections that I’m yet to notice and explore. While I’m waiting with bated breath to hear if Netflix will renew the show for season two, I know I won’t be able to resist re-watching these twelve episodes in search of more.

Maria Ramos

Maria Violet is a writer interested in comic books, cycling, and horror films. Her hobbies include cooking, doodling, and finding local shops around the city. She currently lives in Chicago with her two pet turtles, Franklin and Roy.

The science fiction in Orphan Black has been highly praised for its realistic depictions of genetic engineering, human cloning, and the ethics behind it all. However, this is not the only true or relevant aspect of the show. Its large cast of female characters are at the heart of the story and this is primarily what makes the series so believable and real. Without the intrusion of dominant male characters to define who they are, these women are portrayed as multidimensional, fully realized individuals who can think and act for themselves–much like women outside your television screen.

Those who have not watched the show and experienced what these women are made of, may, from the outside, see some cliches: Sarah is a punk rock con artist; Alison is a suburban, straight-laced soccer mom; Cosima is a nerdy PhD student; and Helena is a trained murderer with a dark past. Although these stereotypes presumably encapsulate their personalities, there is much more to them than what’s on the surface. And despite them being clones and coming from the same genome, in no way are they exact replicas of each other, unlike the cookie cutter versions of women seen on many other television shows today.

Sarah Manning is the main protagonist and within the first few minutes of her airtime, we see a criminal who’s made a handful of poor choices. However, she is much more than that. She’s a mother, a sister, and part of a bigger and controversial issue that surrounds her and her sister clones. We come to learn that her intentions are not all bad as she will fight tirelessly for her own, and her clone sisters’, freedom and individuality. She could have very easily been put into a box as the punk character constantly doing the wrong thing, needing to be saved. But Sarah doesn’t need anyone to save her because she is fully capable of saving herself. Tatiana Maslany plays the parts of all the clones in the show and because they are all vastly different characters, we constantly see the breadth of Maslany’s talent.

Orphan Black is a show that seeks to portray empowered women and is a genuine celebration of diversity. Although the clones are unalike and come from different backgrounds, they support each other, love each other, and want the best for each other. This can not always be said for other televisions shows that pit woman against woman in meaningless antagonisms, which only reinforce the stereotype that women are overly dramatic. No…in Orphan Black we find a family that works together for their collective happiness.

The men in this show are less fully realised: Paul is a secretive man easily distracted by sex; Art is a typical cop; Vic is an abusive drug dealer. They are mostly antagonists, created to get in Sarah and the clones’ way. The only man in the series who is consistently smart, strong, and worth anything is Felix Dawkins (played by Jordan Gavaris), Sarah’s adopted brother. Felix could have easily been written as “the gay comic relief”, but instead was able to transcend the labels and become something more. He’s an integral part of the show, and his sexuality (like Cosima’s) is just seen as another piece of who he is and not a defining characteristic to focus on for either comedic or dramatic purposes.

There’s been some discussion that perhaps Orphan Black goes too far in its poor treatment of male characters. Many believe they are one dimensional in order to make the female characters stronger and more important. And while it does seem like they do spend the majority of their time as set dressing and background filler, that may be less because they are being marginalised and more because they simply aren’t the main focus of the show.

Sarah, her sister-clones, and their stories are what makes this series worth watching. They move the story forward without any man or tragic event to help them develop. Though the fourth season will not be here until next year, you can catch previous episodes on Netflix, DirecTV, and Comcast Xfinity. That way, you won’t have to miss your favourite clones breaking down walls and destroying stereotypes. Although Orphan Black isn’t as well known and watched as Game of Thrones or Orange is the New Black, it is just as worthwhile.

Marcus de Courtenay

Marcus de Courtenay is a keen reader on diverse topics. He loves being critical safe in the knowledge that he has no published material to be criticised on. He is also a vegan and urges you to hug not eat the next animal you see.

A. C. Grayling, continuing to develop the persona of the public intellectual, has produced a mature set of essays for any person with an interest in the world around them as perceived through the prism of applied philosophy and a discerning mind.

Grayling is known as a highly accomplished British philosopher, boasting a PHD from Oxford University and a publishing history consisting of over 30 books. His latest book, titled “The Challenge of Things: Thinking Through Troubled Times” is Grayling’s continuing mission to contribute to, and stimulate, intellectual debate on a myriad of issues.

The book is sectioned into “Destructions and Deconstructions” and “Constructions and Creations”, which can be roughly translated into an evil-good divide (in the optimistic form of leaving the best to last). These sections are then further broken down into essays covering a broad and fascinating scope. The essays are derived from Grayling’s recently published works as well as new material composed specifically for the book.

Although none of the essays are sufficiently long to thoroughly account for a given topic, Grayling masterfully sows the seeds of his own opinions while directing inquiring minds in the right direction. Grayling is at his best when argumentative and his writing shines in the spirited defence of ideas such as secularism of the state, gun laws, freedom of speech and the inestimable value of friendship. His comprehensive grasp of historical, sociological, scientific and, of course, philosophical concepts provides a tremendous depth to his insights and conclusions. However, perhaps the most enjoyable aspect of the book is the iridescent humanism which infuses each essay: a sense of hope and, ultimately, trust in the nature of humanity, provided we have recourse to our rational faculties.

The less compelling essays in the book tend to see Grayling meandering on historical topics, which appear to be of personal interest with fairly weak and ancillary links to contemporary life. Grayling is also guilty of the occasional descent into intellectual condescension when dealing with authors or schools of thought of which he is not particularly enamoured. Despite this, most of the essays are not longer than three or four pages so it is very easy to read ‘just one more’ and chances are it will be worth it.

This book is highly recommended for any person seeking to sharpen their thinking on modern ethical and philosophical questions while being propelled along by an accomplished and discerning writer.