Truth, myth and memory: how culture grapples with identity and climate

When truth unravels: the podcast that turned victims into hunters

A Channel 4 documentary airing tonight at 10pm lays bare how two women, Amber Rasmussen and Athena Klingerman, transformed personal betrayal into public accountability. After discovering they had both been deceived by the same man—Brandon Johnson, who presented himself as a devoted partner while concealing a pattern of manipulation—they joined forces to create Don’t Date Brandon, a true-crime podcast that dismantled his lies. The series, which unfolds over three episodes, reframes the familiar narrative of the "crazy ex" by exposing the abuser’s tactics, not the women’s reactions.

This shift from victimhood to agency is not just a storytelling device; it reflects a broader cultural reckoning with how power operates in intimate relationships. The podcast’s success—garnered through grassroots promotion rather than traditional media gatekeepers—suggests an audience hungry for narratives that challenge the passive role often assigned to women in true-crime stories. As Rasmussen told The Guardian, the project became a way to "take back control of the story," a sentiment that resonates in an era where personal testimonies increasingly shape public discourse.

The documentary’s timing is striking. It arrives as the UK grapples with its own legacy of institutional failures to protect women, from the Metropolitan Police’s handling of Sarah Everard’s murder to the ongoing fallout from the Ched Evans retrial. By centring the voices of those directly affected, Don’t Date Brandon offers a template for how culture can hold abusers to account—without waiting for the legal system to catch up.

Sophocles meets Bergman: why the National Theatre is rewriting tragedy

In a bold experiment at London’s National Theatre, director Benedict Andrews has fused two works separated by 23 centuries: Sophocles’ Electra and Ingmar Bergman’s Persona. The result, Electra/Persona, pairs the ancient Greek tale of vengeance with the Swedish filmmaker’s exploration of psychological fragmentation, using a single, breathtaking coup de théâtre to bridge the gap between them. Starring Cate Blanchett and Nina Hoss, the production asks what these stories—one about a daughter avenging her father’s murder, the other about a nurse caring for a traumatised actor—can reveal about contemporary grief, complicity, and the performance of self.

The choice to intertwine these narratives is more than a formal innovation; it’s a commentary on how trauma echoes across time. Sophocles’ Electra is a play about the cost of justice, where the protagonist’s obsession with avenging her father, Agamemnon, consumes her. Bergman’s Persona, meanwhile, dissects the collapse of identity under psychological strain. By staging them in dialogue, Andrews suggests that the questions they raise—about agency, silence, and the weight of history—are not confined to their original contexts.

This production arrives at a moment when British theatre is increasingly interrogating its own role in perpetuating or challenging power structures. From the Royal Court’s commitment to working-class voices to the National’s recent focus on global stories, the stage has become a site of cultural negotiation. Electra/Persona pushes further, asking whether the classics can still speak to modern audiences without being radically reimagined. The answer, judging by the early critical response, is a resounding yes—but only if the reimagining is as fearless as the originals.

India’s monsoon delay: when tradition clashes with climate reality

In the eastern Indian state of Odisha, the Raja festival—a three-day celebration marking the onset of the monsoon—unfolded this year under clear skies. For generations, the festival has been a time of rest and revelry, with women taking a break from agricultural labour while men handle domestic chores. But in 2026, the rains arrived too late for the rituals to align with the planting season. Farmers like Kasturi Gamango and Pramila Sabar, who spoke to The Guardian, sowed their seeds in dry earth, a gamble that could jeopardise their livelihoods if the delayed monsoon fails to deliver.

The disconnect between tradition and climate reality is becoming harder to ignore. Odisha, like much of India, is experiencing increasingly erratic monsoons, a trend scientists attribute to rising global temperatures. The state’s farmers, who rely on the rains for irrigation, are caught between cultural practices rooted in predictability and a climate that no longer adheres to old patterns. The Raja festival’s timing, tied to the lunar calendar, is now a relic of a more stable era—one that may not return.

This tension is not unique to India. Across the Global South, communities are grappling with how to adapt traditions to a warming world. In Kenya, the Maasai’s seasonal migrations are disrupted by drought; in the Andes, Indigenous festivals tied to glacial melt are losing their meaning as the ice disappears. The challenge is not just logistical but existential: how to preserve cultural identity when the environment that shaped it is vanishing. For Odisha’s farmers, the answer may lie in redefining tradition itself—perhaps by decoupling festivals from agricultural cycles or finding new ways to honour the land’s rhythms.

Rainclouds on the move: how climate change is redrawing the map of precipitation

A study published this week in Nature reveals that rainclouds are travelling farther than they did 35 years ago, a shift with profound implications for water security and land use. Researchers at the University of Wyoming analysed atmospheric moisture movements in the US and found that in the southwestern and southern plains, moisture now travels 30 to 50 miles (50 to 80km) farther than it did in the 1980s. The cause? Warmer air, which can hold more water vapour, is altering not just the intensity of rainfall but its geography.

The findings underscore a critical but often overlooked aspect of climate change: its impact on the distribution of water, not just its quantity. For regions already struggling with drought, like the American Southwest, this could mean even greater strain on water resources. Conversely, areas accustomed to moderate rainfall might face unexpected flooding as storms travel farther inland. The study’s lead author, Travis Aerenson, warns that these shifts could disrupt everything from agriculture to urban planning, forcing communities to rethink how they manage water.

The implications extend beyond the US. In India, where the monsoon’s delayed arrival has already upended planting schedules, the study’s findings suggest that future rainfall patterns may become even less predictable. For policymakers, the challenge is twofold: mitigating the root causes of climate change while adapting to its inevitable consequences. The alternative—ignoring the science—risks leaving entire regions unprepared for a future where water, like truth and memory, is no longer where it used to be.

What it means

These stories, disparate in subject, share a common thread: the struggle to reconcile the past with a rapidly changing present. Whether through art, tradition, or environmental science, they reveal how culture is both a refuge and a battleground in an era of upheaval.

The Don’t Date Brandon podcast and Electra/Persona demonstrate how storytelling can expose hidden power structures, offering new ways to understand old injustices. Meanwhile, India’s monsoon delay and the shifting paths of rainclouds highlight the fragility of traditions—and the urgent need to adapt them. In each case, the question is not whether change is coming, but how we choose to meet it: with resistance, resignation, or reinvention.

For audiences in the UK, these narratives offer a mirror. The country’s own cultural institutions, from the National Theatre to the V&A (where staff have voted to strike over working conditions), are grappling with similar tensions—between legacy and innovation, between the stories we inherit and those we need to tell. The challenge, as always, is to listen.