Film
There are plenty of brilliant political movies – but almost all are satirical and ironic. Frank Capra’s Mr Smith Goes to Washington is different. It inspires you to think well of the political process. And incredibly, it makes that most boring of political manoeuvres – the filibuster – seem heroic. James Stewart’s Mr Smith, the “Mr Smith” of the title, is homely and innocent, but he is a politician, a junior senator. And when he comes to Washington and is tricked and made to look guilty by corrupt veterans of the system, Mr Smith works with that system. By speaking nonstop for 25 hours about American ideals on the floor of the Senate, Mr Smith can impede their crooked plans and prove his own innocence – an almost Christ-like ordeal that results in his vindication. Peter Bradshaw
Music
Political pop is hard to get right. Some artists, such as Beyoncé and Kendrick Lamar, are adept; other efforts like Katy Perry’s “purposeful pop” and Justin Timberlake’s woodsy wokeness fall flat. But the LA trio Muna’s queer call to arms, I Know a Place, is a good one: this 2016 song was a response to the tragic shooting at Pulse, an LGBTQ+ nightclub in Orlando. It was also a rallying cry: a reminder for queer people to celebrate survival, community and resilience. At a time when hostility towards LGBTQ+ people, notably trans people, remains a pressing concern, this song’s sense of solidarity is as resonant as ever. Alim Kheraj
Book
Naomi Klein became a star in 1999 with No Logo, her stylish manifesto against globalised consumerism, but her fierce 2007 follow-up remains just as relevant. The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism demonstrates with forensic fury how catastrophes both natural and manmade have provided the excuse for financial predators to remake societies in their wake, from the economic “shock therapy” visited on Latin America during the 1970s to the mass privatisation of Iraqi institutions following the 2003 invasion. Readers may be inspired to apply a similar diagnosis to, for example, the imposition of “austerity” following the financial crisis – and whatever is smuggled in post-Covid. Steven Poole
Art
The art of environmental protest was born 50 years ago when the great Josef Beuys led his art college students to bless, purify and preserve a woodland outside Düsseldorf. The Grafenberger Wald was under threat to make way for a tennis court. Whatever symbolic power marching through the trees with birch sticks may have had, it certainly created enough publicity to save the wald. Beuys also started the land artwork 7000 Oak Trees, planting trees as a political and artistic act long before the current crisis. Jonathan Jones
Stage
The knife-edge tips of the wings look like they could carve shapes into your skin. Her injured tail drags behind her. Dressed as a grungy, angelic revolutionary, Emma Frankland (above) stalks the stage in Hearty, a full-bodied cry for the protection of trans women. This solo show paints a broken-down world where activism is branded, bodies are policed and being trans is a visceral danger. With a recent hideous surge in transphobic hate crimes, reality doesn’t feel that far away. At once fierce and vulnerable, Hearty makes you want to fight alongside Frankland, to brave the fireballs, and join the revolution. Kate Wyver
