How nice it is to be in Oxford. How nice to walk into Christchurch and watch some nice Oxford men act out a nice croquet game for their nice Oxford play. Very nice.
At the suggestion that The Invention of Love, with its portrayal of 19th Century Oxford, might still be highly relevant to our modern day experiences, I found myself sceptical. This isn’t the Oxford I know. It’s not really the Oxford I want to know. While at one time mallet-swinging dons lamented the invasion of their spire-filled paradise by the train from Birmingham, we might now feel ashamed to be so far removed from ‘the real world’. But the play is not simply a look back to an Oxford long lost, and any attempt to reduce this production to misty-eyed nostalgia will soon be revealed as blind. Fortunately, there’s much more for the modern Oxford student than mere historical-tourism.
The play presents the dying moments of scholar and poet, A.E. Housman, as he dreams of his days as a promising undergraduate, his growing love for his friend Moses Jackson and his ultimate descent into the lonely disappointments of adulthood. Importantly, this is the story of ‘Housman in the days of Wilde.’ Although only making a brief cameo, the Irish wit’s presence is constant, highlighting the life the protagonist dared not lead.
Although perhaps lesser known, this is by no means of any less quality than what we may expect from a Stoppard script, sparkling as it is with sophisticated wordplay and profound sentiment. The discussions of aestheticism and the re-criminalisation of homosexuality are explored with more insight and depth than most academic texts, and the humour is at its best. The script has previously come under fire for its constant use of classical references, but while it does titillate the Classicists to an annoying degree, we laymen should not get too bored as smooth scene changes keep the eyelids open.
The production’s modern take on an Ancient Greek chorus, at first dons then MPs, does well to capture the comedy of the dialogue and looks set to earn a good few laughs. So too does Philip Bartlett as Housman’s flamboyant friend, Pollard. Playing the young poet is the relatively baby-faced Joe Robertson, who already – in the short scenes of the preview – has an endearing innocence that shows great potential for the more emotionally weighted scenes with Jonathon Webb’s Jackson.
The team behind the production have clearly put a great deal of thought and hard work into the production – even obtaining the blessing of Sir Tom himself. Director Roger Granville appears in his element as he energetically relays the plans for the staging, and he clearly has a fine understanding of the spectacle that the play, and the venue, requires.
As I’m told of the many ways in which technical effects will be relied upon throughout the play, I begin to see why this is supposedly The Most Expensive Student Play Ever. The script asks a lot – two moving boats, to be precise – but it also leaves much open to creativity. Rowan Fuggle’s design looks stunning, focussing on the dream-like quality of the action with a touch of Wildean extravagance; I only hope it translates successfully on to the grand scale.
In fact, it is this movement from cramped rehearsal room to big stage which makes it so difficult at this point to determine the merit of this production, but the team’s plans suggest this could be one of the shows of the year. All that might deprive them of a perfect rating is the risk of their ambition. There’s a lot of room for best laid plans to go slightly awry – whether it be in the success of the special effects, or the task facing the actors. Still, when Granville talks through the touching final moments of the play, I really hope they pull it off.
The main selling point of this production (and it will sell) is the city of Oxford itself. Who of us – we who have been accepted into this bubble – wouldn’t love to spend the evening watching the old Oxford life on stage? Yet this is not really what most of us will take away from the play. I wonder if we might be excused for putting ourselves in the dying Housman’s place, and asking if it’s these ‘heady’ days we would dream of, if there’ll be an inventory of regrets never satisfied, and if there’s some Wilde of our own out living the life we should.
And we’ll probably all decide how nice it is to be here.
Five Stars
The Invention of Love is on at the Oxford Playhouse, 5th week, Wednesday-Saturday.
