Welcome to the final installment of the Ents section as presented by myself & Mssr. Murph – it’s been pretty awesome to run a full 6 (!) issues this academic year and it’s been especially awesome to write Ents. In honour of the occasion, and because I’m pretty cheesy, I thought it’d be pretty fitting to wrap up Motley’s Ents Section 2010/11 by recounting some of our favourite movie endings. Warning – this may get teary. Oh, and spoilers ahoy!

Amadeus

Milos Forman’s 1984 adaptation of Peter Shaffer’s play is probably one of the more beautiful, entertaining and generally good films of all time: it tells the (mostly fictionalised) story of how Mozart (here portrayed by Tom Hulce as childish, vulgar and incredibly talented – with a very annoying laugh) was (indirectly) murdered by a musical rival at the time, the scheming and insanely jealous Salieri (F. Murray Abraham). The final scene opens with the conclusion of Salieri’s story – he is now infirm and confined to an asylum long after Mozart’s death. The young priest to whom he confessed is visibly shaken, disturbed and clinging to his crucifix – as Salieri is wheeled out of the room, he pauses to speak to the priest. Mozart’s Piano Concerto in D Minor creeps into the background. “I will speak for you, Father,” he says. “I speak for all mediocrities in the world. I am their champion. I am their patron saint.” The final shots are of the ancient Salieri, once a great composer, being wheeled down the corridor of the asylum, crying out to the madmen he’s surrounded with – “Mediocrities of the world – I absolve you!” – before leaning back. He closes his eyes, folds his hand, and opens his mouth. Mozart’s laugh emerges. Fade to black. The scene gave me goosebumps the first time I watched it – a disturbing end to an incredible film.

Midnight Cowboy

Midnight Cowboy is an odd one. It’s the story of Joe (Jon Voight), a young Texan who comes to New York to make it as a male prostitute. He meets Ratso (Dustin Hoffman), who initially scams him out of money before the two make friends in the face of extreme poverty, unemployment and a harsh winter. Ratso, while a shady character, is also sick: he wants to make it out of New York and with worsening health, the two attempt to hire Joe out as a stud. Increasingly desperate and after a string of disturbing sexual encounters, Joe beats and robs a customer, and the two depart for Miami on a bus. However, Ratso is incredibly ill, and just as Joe wonders aloud about their new life in Miami, he realises Ratso has died beside him. Joe alerts the bus driver, who replies there is nothing left to do but continue to Miami, and Joe sits beside his dead friend, watching the landscape change outside. Seriously sombre stuff after an hour and a half of gritty drama, but highly recommended.

Being There

“Life is a state of mind” are the last lines of this brilliant film, starring Peter Sellers as Chance the Gardener, a simple-minded middle-aged man who, after years of peaceful isolation tending the garden of a wealthy townhouse in Washington DC, is turned out on the streets when its owner dies. Chance, dressed well but old-fashioned, wanders aimlessly until he is hit by the car of Ben Rand, a wealthy businessman and close aide to the President. Mistaking Chance the Gardener for “Chauncey Gardiner” (a mispronunciation), Rand and his wife (Shirley Maclaine) also mistake Chance’s simple musings about gardening (“As long as the roots are not severed, all is well. And all will be well in the garden”) for sage comments on the economy. He becomes an advisor to the President, appears on television and is offered book deals – all the while oblivious to what occurs around him. Finally, the terminally ill Rand dies: the final scene is his funeral. Chance wanders away once more, tends to a sapling and continues to stroll across the surface of a small lake. A few strides in, he pauses, pushes his umbrella down through the water as if to test its depth, and continues on his way. Is any interpretation sufficient? Roger Ebert says this of Being There: “The movie presents us with an image, and while you may discuss the meaning of the image, it is not permitted to devise explanations for it. Since Ashby does not show a pier, there is no pier – a movie is exactly what it shows us, and nothing more.”

Kids

I don’t like Kids. I’m pretty hard to shock when it comes to movies, but there’s something really ugly about this one – also, the early 90s clothes and jargon make it a hard one to relate to, whatever your socioeconomic status. That said, however, its ending is really something -  it’s the story of Telly, a 17 year old skater from New York who really likes sex but only deflowers virgins on the premise that this will protect him from STDs. Telly’s friends are cinema’s stereotypical teenaged sex, booze and drug addicts: all except Jenny (Chloe Sevigny), who has only ever had sex with Telly and has just discovered that she has HIV. For the rest of the movie, she attempts to find the also-HIV positive Telly, who has since had sex with many young girls, eventually finding him at a house party, having sex with a 13 year old girl. Exhausted and under the influence of party drugs, she passes out only for Telly’s friend Casper (Justin Pierce) to rape her, thus exposing himself to HIV. The final shot opens on a naked Casper, who wakes up, looks around in disbelief and asks the camera, “Jesus Christ, what happened?” It’s shocking and a little viewer-exploitative, but it works.

Some Like it Hot

It’s hard not to love Some Like it Hot: if you’ve not seen it, get out and get it, now – even if you don’t like older movies, SLiH is a treat. Mostly because it’s aged extremely well – you’ll get every one of the jokes, all the laughs are still intact and man, Marilyn Monroe is very sexy here. It’s the story of two musicians, Jerry (Jack Lemmon) and Joe (Tony Curtis) who witness a gangster shooting and flee the scene, disguising themselves as Josephine (Curtis) and Daphne (Lemmon) and joining a woman’s touring band. There they meet Sugar Kane (Monroe), whom Curtis falls in love with. He proceeds to disguise himself as a millionaire to win her over, while Daphne is unwillingly romanced by Osgood, another millionaire. It’s very zany, very clever, wonderfully witty – and its final scene is its best. Joe reveals himself to Sugar, who loves him anyway, while Osgood and the still-disguised Jerry escape in a boat. Jerry reveals “herself” to Osgood -

Jerry: Osgood, I’m gonna level with you. We can’t get married at all.

Osgood: Why not?

Jerry: Well, in the first place, I’m not a natural blonde.

Osgood: Doesn’t matter.

Jerry: I smoke! I smoke all the time!

Osgood: I don’t care.

Jerry: Well, I have a terrible past. For three years now, I’ve been living with a saxophone player.

Osgood: I forgive you.

Jerry: [Tragically] I can never have children!

Osgood: We can adopt some.

Jerry: But you don’t understand, Osgood!

[Pulls off wig]

Jerry: I’m a man!

Osgood: Well, nobody’s perfect!

And they ride off into the sunset. End scene. What a perfect close.

Motley means “miscellaneous and varied”; when we started this work in August, I wanted to embody that spirit. In the last year, we’ve published pieces about everything under the sun, and the people who made that possible are the Motley Crew, the most varied group you could find. I am very thankful to each and every writer, editor, photographer, model and contributor from this year. Without their talent, hard work and help, Motley would not happen every month. You can see each of their names on the inside cover- they all have my major respect and thanks.

Staffing Motley was difficult; there were over 30 applications, over 20 interviews and some of the selections were near impossible to make. At the end of it all, we made a brilliant team of people who gave it socks for the past six months. To Michael, Adam, Kellie, John, Siobhán, Audrey, Kathryn and Andrew, thank you so much for putting up with me, listening to me, hearing me out when I moaned or groaned, and working with me to make this the very best we could. Legends, every last one of you- I won’t forget the huge amount of work that each of you gave to this, and to me.

Muire deserves a paragraph of her own, but I won’t embarrass her too much. Each month, she took immense time and effort to design Motley on her own, all 48 pages, and we gave her a blank canvas to work with. What she made is a testament to her talent, and it was really something to work with someone who made Motley into art month after month. Each issue it got better and better- something as incredulous six months on as her design was at the very beginning. Thank you.

I don’t want to drag this out too long, but there are a few people who deserve thanks that you might not know about. Daithi Linnane gave me this job; he gave me free reign to do with Motley what I wished. I’d like to think, at the end of this year, that we achieved at least a little of what we hoped for, and at least a little of what he expected. After two years of working with him on media in UCC, he’ll always be a friend of mine. Fidelma Burnell in the SU deserves a big ole box of chocolates for letting us store Motley with her for a few days each month. I do appreciate that- thanks for forcing us to distribute the magazine, rain, hail or shine- and especially when we didn’t feel like it!

Student media is a funny beast. With no professional help, extremely little money, no proper equipment and nothing but the ideas in our heads, we started this journey at an awkward meeting in August. Nobody knew each other, and we had nothing to build on; we had to start from scratch. It’s a reassuring thing that we made it to this point, six issues later- a goal that at the time seemed titanic. It’s a testament to the people listed here that we made it.

There are doubtless people I have forgotten, and people who’ll feel they ought to have been mentioned; they’re probably correct, and deserve the same thanks and praise.

For Audrey Dearing, Alan Parkes, Kieran Murphy  and Keith O Brien: you people rock my boat, and I’m beyond grateful for your help, love and support. Dinner and drinks on me at any time, day or night. And bail money should you ever need it.

And last, but in no way least, to the Parents and the Brother, who are the ones to make me tea when I need it and give out to me when I need to get moving on things; thank you kindly for the tough love and the kind love. Someday, I’ll pay you back.

So I’m gonna be completely Tiny Tim here, and tell you to smile ridiculously at every cheesy song, wrap presents with seriously awesome amounts of ribbon, buy gifts that people will actually like, and start to ignore the news a little bit. I guarantee that it will be full of budgets, cuts, gory deficits and neat puns on the words “Fianna” and “Fail”. Regardless, you’ve heard it before, and Christmas is so not the time for it.

Welcome to the Christmas Issue of Motley; it’s slightly over the top to give you Christmas on December 1^st, but sometimes it’s fun to do something mental. And, y’know, it fitted our schedule…

Enjoy Christmas, drink some of our eggnog, and let us know how the recipe worked for you! See you in January 2011!

Just like the proverbial Fool, life for Motley hasn’t been easy. In the past few years, the magazine has been stilted in its production. We’ve had a bad start- but we’re working on it.

I think that everyone deserves to know what we’re up against. Student media is easy to criticise but hard to maintain. Resources are tighter than the skin of an apple; sheer grit and determination are necessary. Motley shares a pokey half office in the basement of the Student Centre. There’s no mobile phone reception. There’s no internet access. The Mac that’s set up down there could be best described as retro. It dates from when dinosaurs roamed the earth and Maggie Thatcher was a nipper.

The laptops we carry, cameras we use, programs we utilise, calls we make and texts we send are usually ours personally. Publishing Motley is likely a yardstick for foolishness, but we are determined to make sure that our folly is your fun. If you have something you want to write, or even a glimmer of an idea, let us know. We’ll answer all calls (unless, ironically, we’re in the office….), and we’ll respond to all emails (unless, ironically…).

We hope that you enjoy Motley; it’s been a blast to bring it to you.