American Pie’s transmogrification into a cinematic brand (ala National Lampoon) has had the effect of diminishing its cultural reputation, its original qualities drowned out by a series of substandard sequels and tangentially-related spin-offs; dire straight-to-video monstrosities whose only connection to the first film are some inept stabs at raunchiness and the depressing, contractually-obligated figure of Eugene Levy.

From its working title onward ("Untitled Teenage Sex Comedy That Can Be Made For Under $10 Million That Most Readers Will Probably Hate But I Think You Will Love”) American Pie was a witty, self-aware film. It’s easy to forget, as indeed the straight-to-video spin-offs did, that beneath the gross-out comedy was a disarmingly sweet story. The film understood that its protagonists’ abortive attempts to lose their virginities had little to do with their libidos and was instead an expression of their fear of leaving their comfortable adolescences behind for an adult world. As such, it treated the characters’ journeys with a surprising amount of sensitivity: it embarrassed them freely, of course, but was never cruel.

The film’s third (or seventh, depending on how you’re counting) sequel, American Pie: Reunion revisits those same characters – now with puffier faces and more facial hair – 13 years after the first film as they prepare for their school reunion. Despite the publicity material touting the return of the original cast to the series, notably missing is the original creative team of screenwriter Adam Herz and directors Paul and Chris Weitz. Their absence is sorely felt: the film misses an opportunity to genuinely explore the disappointments and pleasures of adulthood with the same perceptiveness that the original explored the end of adolescence, something that would have been greatly helped by the fact that the actors’ subsequent careers have largely unimpressed, despite their youthful promise.

A scene mid-way through the film illuminates this: the central characters, having met up ahead of the reunion, decide to head to the romantic lakeside which they remember from their school days. They arrive to find a party already in progress, populated by the current high school students. Crestfallen, they realise that they’re no longer welcome. They’ve had all the formative experiences at the lakeside that they’re ever going to get, replaced in their own youth by the teenagers who have followed them. A significant part of their youth has left without them noticing, never to return.

It’s a melancholic, very real moment, or at least it would be if it wasn’t immediately followed by the characters heading to the lakeside anyway, feeling in no way awkward about being thirtysomethings at a teenage party. The teenagers at the party all look like models and act like sexpots, which could be a comment on what youth looks like to those on the outside of it, but is probably just bad writing: outside of the returning characters, who at least have two dimensions to cling to, everyone else is frustratingly one-note. The world of American Pie: Reuinion is one of shouty bosses, libidinous neighbours, and jerk boyfriends, paper-thin creations whose existence furthers the plot but provides no mystery about where anything is heading. The returning characters don’t fare much better: each one is given a single issue revolving around their advancing age, which they must deal with in the most straightforward, obvious way possible, preferably culminating in a climactic sex scene with someone.

Disappointingly, American Reunion has nothing of interest to say about sex, adulthood, aging, or maintaining friendships with people with whom you have a shared history but little else in common any more. If a viewer were to play a drinking game where they had a drink every time a character walked in on another in a compromising situation, it wouldn’t be long before that viewer would need medical attention. This would be all forgivable if the film was funny, but its comedic set pieces are rote and overly familiar. Perhaps the first sequel in the series with the potential to be more than a tired retread, American Reunion ultimately joins the other instalments in having scant reason to exist, and in being destined to mean very little to anyone.

We're quite excited that oh comely's music editor, Dani Lurie, has just launched a club for shy but sociable book-lovers on trains and buses everywhere: The Back Cover Book Club. 

Her idea is to get people chatting on the train with the help of a handy strip of paper. You tuck it outside your reading material with a little sign saying, "Let's talk about this book." You can download a template here.

She says, "The best endorsement for the project came when I took it out into the world for the first time, on the London Undergound, wrapped around one of my favourite novels. After a couple of tube stops, the man sitting across from me smiled. 'That's a good book,' he said. 'It's great, isn't it?' I replied, and we both nodded as we continued our journeys."

If you give it a go, don't forget to let Dani know or post a pic on the Flickr pool.

The Muppets of Sesame Street were each specifically designed to embody a different teachable issue: Bert and Ernie show how friendship can endure despite differences; Oscar the Grouch teaches children how to react when someone shows positive and negative emotions; and Big Bird represents curiosity about an adult world that one is not quite able to understand yet.

Fashions changed, the curriculum evolved, and a few humans came and went, but other than that Sesame Street has otherwise remained largely the same show as it was when it debuted in 1969, until the arrival of puppeteer Kevin Clash and the attendant ascendency of Elmo in the 1980s and 1990s.

Photo: Elmo and Kevin Clash in BEING ELMO, a Submarine Deluxe release. Photo courtesy of Scott McDermott.

The reason for Elmo’s phenomenal success was simple: Elmo embodies indiscriminate, fullhearted love. As narrator Whoopi Goldberg points out in Constance Mark’s new documentary Being Elmo: A Puppeteer’s Journey, Elmo needs people, and that’s why they love him in return. His popularity has risen to the point where he has become the star of the programme, despite his inauspicious beginnings as a caveman-like Muppet that no-one could figure out how to perform successfully.

Photo: Kevin Clash and Elmo in BEING ELMO, a Submarine Deluxe release. Photo courtesy of Submarine Deluxe.

Being Elmo examines the popularity of Elmo as a character, but its main focus is squarely on Elmo’s performer, Kevin Clash, and his journey from being a child enchanted by Sesame Street to becoming the show’s “Muppet Captain”. Indeed, if Being Elmo has a problem at all it’s that the journey of the title is relatively straightforward: Kevin grew up in a poor but supportive family, was teased a little for his passion but people largely understood that he was special, and he worked solidly as a puppeteer from high school through to the point that he finally realised his dream of joining Sesame Street and then his breakthrough moment when he created the modern version of Elmo.

It’s certainly inspirational to see Kevin’s journey, and it would be almost impossible to come away from the film without developing admiration and respect for him, but there’s not much else to it: Kevin wants to become a puppeteer, and due to his talent and dedication is able to do so. That’s the entire narrative.

Kevin is an undoubtedly talented, hard-working, soulful person, but there are other layers to him that Being Elmo doesn’t fully engage with. There’s a more interesting, slightly underexplored thread about how he began to miss out on his daughter’s upbringing due to his commitment to performing Elmo for other children, but it’s largely brushed over in favour of footage of Kevin teaching new puppeteers and cheering up terminally ill children (both of which are compelling and inspiring, of course).

Photo: Kevin Clash (1975) from BEING ELMO, a Submarine Deluxe release. Photo courtesy of Kevin Clash.

The most memorable scene of the documentary is his daughter’s 16th birthday party: Kevin watches his daughter watch a video he made for her filled with birthday wishes from her favourite celebrities. At the end of the video is a message from Elmo, telling her that Elmo loves her. Kevin cries as the Muppet says the things that he couldn’t say in person. The love that Elmo expresses so freely – the quality has made him so popular – is love that Kevin himself can only properly express through a puppet. It’s a deeply sad moment, and one that says more about the documentary’s subject than any number adulatory talking heads ever could.

Photo: Kevin Clash training a French Puppeteer with the puppet “Griotte” in BEING ELMO, a Submarine Deluxe release. Photo courtesy of Submarine Deluxe.

Marks, whose husband James Miller (the film’s cinematographer) worked on Sesame Street for several years before making the film, clearly came to Being Elmo wanting to celebrate Kevin Clash and his life, and the film does this so successfully that it’s hard to begrudge her for that. Despite its unrealised potential to go a little deeper into Kevin’s mindset, it would be churlish to hold that against what is a charming and lovely documentary about a charming and lovely man: for anyone who not only adores Muppets but also what they represent – joyfulness and community – Being Elmo is a treat.

Do you fancy exploring a city by following the route of its Monopoly board? What about pretending to be a tourist in your own town, and following sightseeing suggestions from locals? Or inventing a burst water main and inviting yourself to a friend's for a bath? We've been inspired by the folk at Latourex to try some experimental tourism and we'd like you to join in.

If this sounds like fun, and you would like to go on a little or even a big adventure, have a look at their website, have a think about what you could do. We're particularly looking for people with some existing holiday plans, but if you'd like to get involved with something closer to home, there's also plenty to choose from.

Get in touch with [email protected] by Monday 23rd. Then we'll send ten people off with a camera and a diary to document an adventure for the summer issue of oh comely.

Photo: Egor Rogalev.

The Photocopy Club is a bi-monthly photography exhibition based between Brighton and London. It’s the project of self-published photographer Matt Martin, who first started photocopying his photographs to reproduce them cheaply and to create zines. The aim of Photocopy Club exhibitions is to get photography off the Internet, bringing printed matter back into the hands of the public.

We spoke to Matt before the forthcoming Photography Club show on 25th April at CREATE Studios in Brighton.

Photo: Matt Martin at The Photocopy Club.

Why did you start The Photocopy Club?

I wanted to make a platform for young contemporary photographers to get their work printed and exhibited at the lowest possible cost for the artist. The Photocopy Club is an exhibition that is accessible to everyone, like a giant zine that everyone can take a page from.

Why do you photocopy photographs? 

Printing in a lab has become expensive, so the way I get my own photography out in the world is by releasing photocopied zines and posters. The process is instant and you get an image that has a completely different feel to the original. I used to use photocopies to incorporate my work into the graffiti scene: I’d get my photographs printed as photocopies, A3 size, then wheat paste them all around my hometown.

Did you ever imagine yourself curating exhibitions and has that role changed how you look at photography?

I started working as a curator and photographer just over three years ago with an online gallery for young photographers called We Are Lucky. I love thinking about how images work together, but starting The Photocopy Club hasn’t really changed the way I look at photography. It has taught me a lot about working with a huge body of work.

Photo: Edana Harris's photocopied submission to the Photocopy Club.

Tell me about your own work as a photographer.

I love taking photographs of people and I started out by taking photographs of my friends. This was a lot more of the snapshot style: photographing my mates skating and messing about. In the last year or so I’ve slowed right down. Now I work full time as a photographer, so the work I put out is more considered since it is what I focus on everyday.

Where do you live and why are you based there?

I live in Brighton and moved here just over two years ago to try and get full-time work in photography. I work at CREATE studios and assist photographer Kevin Mason. It took me a over a year and a half of working in telesales and shoe shops to get work in the industry.

First published in oh comely issue nine. Interview by Frances Ambler and photo story by Fiona Essex.

A strong, honey-like smell hangs in the air at Camilla Goddard's home in Brockley. The room is stacked high with bits of hives that have been dismantled for the winter. There are homemade wax soaps on the side and bookshelves full of organic gardening books. 

Camilla is the director of Capital Bee, a London-based beekeeping company. She maintains sites around the rooftops and churchyards of south and central London for people as diverse as Greenwich University, the Garrick Club and St Ermin's Hotel. She also offers a rescue service for abandoned colonies and frightened people with a swarm in their back garden. 

Your home smells amazing. Can you smell the beeswax? I take it off the hives in the winter. It's crazy at this time of year: I've got about thirty hives, so it's a bit mad.

Why did you start beekeeping in the first place? I bought a wood with a friend, and I got a beehive for Christmas. It was about eight or nine years ago and people started getting worried about bees being under threat. Bees are such hugely important pollinators; they're so valuable to crops. Something like a third of our food production is directly related to bee pollination. You know the tiger sanctuaries you get, so they can preserve the genes? I wanted to do something like that in London, because you don't get the same levels of insecticide problems here. I started on a church site and I went on from there.

Why a church site? The church is actually quite into it all and there are lots of churchyards that aren't being used. Beekeeping is quite complementary, it ties into their thoughts about the environment. There are lots of associations with the church like milk and honey. In medieval times, the monks used to keep them for the mead.

I wanted to ask if you'd ever made mead. Would you like to try some? It's not mine, but it's quite good. It's strong, be careful!

It's a very sweet particular smell - I wasn't sure what to expect. It's nice. It is, isn't it? It's really nice with ice as a summer drink. It tastes different each year.

Like honey itself? I've heard that you get different tasting honey from the different areas of the city. Yes, in the country it's one crop, so the taste is very strong, or nothing. But in London, you have such a crazy mixture of flavours because you have the gardens. You get a darker and richer honey from the horse chestnuts around Greenwich Park. Then in town you get more of a mixture. All over London you get privets from people's hedges.

Is it true that local honey is meant to be best for hay fever? Yes, raw honey. In May, when the pollen count goes up, I always get loads of calls from hay fever sufferers wanting my honey. There's lots of interest in comb honey now, because it's the purest form of honey in a way and it hasn't been treated. It's really fantastic. I used to get hay fever and I don't anymore. Getting stung is good for allergies. 
Do you get stung a lot? I probably get stung every couple of weeks in the middle of the season. As long as they carry on stinging you, you get resistant really quickly. They have a way of stinging you at very specific points, it's like they're making a point. I was doing a class and a bee stung me right on the nose. It's never the side of your face, it's always bang in the middle.

And don't they die once they sting you? Yes, wasps survive, bees don't. So it's a bit tragic.

Do you get upset when your bees die? Or when they suffer, like when they're under attack from wasps? I do. I've had insecticides; I was quite shocked you get that in London. I had a pile of bees covered in this pollen; it was obvious that they had picked something up. It was quite sad. So I had to move that hive. I put them into my A&E area. It's round the back of the house with lots of lovely nectar everywhere. If they've had a bad time I give them some time in there. If you have a few hives, you get very attached to them after a while. They're working all day, producing this honey, and someone goes and ruins it!

There's been a real growth in beekeeping lately. What I've seen is environmentalists taking up beekeeping over the last three years, and they do seem to care more about the bees than the honey, which is great. It's not the kind of old school thing that was going on before. People are quite concerned and they want to do something. It's very immediate; you're changing your local environment.

I won Organic Gardener of the Year a while ago and, for me, beekeeping is all part of the same thing. With bees, you can identify all the plants they are visiting so you are in touch with what's flowering before you see it. You see the brightest and most amazing variety of colours of pollen on the bees. That's what I like about it. This June the bees weren't coming back with very much on them. That's before I noticed things were starting to dry up and we weren't having much rain. So they are ahead of everything.

What's the impact of all these new beekeepers? It's fine in some parts of London, but when you get into the centre it becomes much more competitive. If people do want to keep bees, I suggest they plant bee-friendly plants, like crocuses in spring, so there's plenty of forage for them. There's such a demand for bees at the moment that people are sending colonies by post. I don't think that's great for the bees. At one point last year, there was such a shortage they were importing bees from Hawaii. You couldn't get hold of a queen in this country because so many people are taking it up. It's quite a funny time for everybody.

Is the shortage because colonies are struggling, or just because more people are taking it up? It's a combination of both. There's the bee disease, varroa. It's a horrible parasite, and all colonies now have it, but you can manage it. It can wipe out whole colonies, so that's the one area that people have to be more vigilant in. It's a big part of looking after bees at the moment. If you don't treat it, it just spreads through the whole colony and they can't breed properly. It's horrible. You can treat them: you just put icing sugar through the top and they all clean themselves to get rid of the icing sugar. And that gets rid of a lot of it.

Can you understand your bees? After a while you know whether they're in a bad mood or not-you can hear it. There is this superstition that you talk to the bees. If you had a problem, they used to say to you, "Oh, go and talk to the bees."

Have they ever helped you solve a problem? Yes, they have at various times. I've thought there's no harm in trying; you might as well have a go. I do believe in the personalities of bees. They're like their own crazy micro world.

Read more from previous issues here.