If I have to go see you act, there had better be a red carpet involved.’ Like Sex and the City’s Samantha, I am a theatre-sceptic (sorry boys, that’s pretty much all she and I have in common).
On a bad day, I’ll be heard condemning the theatre as a world of unreal melodrama, postulating classicists and ‘short man syndrome.’ Its audience fares marginally worse. So Oxford’s drama scene has quite a task on its hands with me; think converting Alan Sugar to arthouse advertising.
I see you rolling your eyes at my pretentious and deliberately subversive attitude – totally unwarranted. I am that rare thing; a theatre critic whose priority is audience gratification. If more pleasure is to be derived from spending the ticket price on a Gü pudding lovingly devoured in the company of The Apprentice, then the performance has failed. A tough, if not not unattainable standard.
In my Oxford theatre-going career, just one show has made the grade. There is no better indicator of a production’s success than feeling a post-performance need to relive its greatest moments to long-suffering friends and family. And there is no better test of great comedy writing than seeing your makeshift audience doubled up with laughter, despite one’s clumsy delivery and sporadic fits of giggling.
Judged by these criteria, Trinity Term’s The Oxford Revue and Friends at the Oxford Playhouse was one seriously Güd show. Not perfect, no, but there was more than enough brilliance to outweigh the bad, and the home team unquestionably stole the show.
The audience was treated to a medley of sketches showcasing comedy talent from Oxford, Durham, and that lesser-known ‘university’, Cambridge. The material ranged from poetry to politics via the Famous Five, with J.K. Rowling’s sorting hat topping the bill. Magic.
Fortunately I am not guilty of committing the most unforgivable of journalistic acts, that is, singing the praises of a treat which can not be sampled by my readers. Far from giving a one-off performance, The Oxford Revue spoils us with fortnightly sketches at The Wheatsheaf.
What I will say, is that the theatre setting makes the whole experience more special, more memorable, better at showing off the prodigious acting talent. The stars unquestionably hold their own on stage.
One quibble – scrap the final sketch of the show. I’m afraid war-related humour should be left to Blackadder. After all, it is what remains with the audience; and it is a great pity if an otherwise delicious offering leaves a slightly bitter aftertaste.
