Momina Mukhtar on ‘Playwright’ and ‘Cold Warm’

Playwright by Maria Czepiel: it’s a GCSE English student’s dream. It ticks all the boxes. Clichéd metaphor and similes go hand in hand with the timeworn tropes of unhappy wives and even unhappier husbands. There are classical invocations to Penelope (the faithful one) and to Diana (the frigid one), and in case you’re really not on the ball, the seductress is the one wearing red. This is where I have to stop though, I’m afraid. Because, to coin an A-level English student’s expression, the play is meta and wonderfully so.

Playwright is a lovely piece of theatre with strong performances from all members of its ensemble cast. Its play-within-a-play premise allows for an exploration the boundaries of authorial control and the responsibilities of the writer who wields it. As for the audience, we are lulled into complicity and complacency by the familiarity of the play we see take shape before us, only to be shocked, at the last moment, by the “reality” underpinning it all.

And yet the production is never pretentious, though sometimes a little obvious. Good writing keeps it sharp and funny, as well-executed lighting allows the audience to snap in and out of the play-world at the snap of the playwright’s fingers. While I felt more could have been done with the vast scope its plot offered, this is a piece of theatre that’s entertaining as well as engaging; culminating alongside the deeper, thematic issues Playwright tacklesis a murder mystery waiting to be solved, and at the end of the day who doesn’t love a good who-dunnit?

The second play of the night is Cold Warm by Florence Read. Set in a council estate whose tenants are being evicted one by one, again, on paper the show is in danger of appropriating the classic student drama tropes: suicide, mental illness and poverty.

And yet this is one of the most intelligently written pieces of student drama I have ever seen. Centring on the experience of one man clinging to his home and to his handle on reality, most of the dialogue is delivered as a stream-of-consciousness. The acting of the play’s protagonist, however, stops the audience from getting lost in the meandering diatribes of the human mind; his performance is nuanced, varied and exceptionally well-paced. As the play moves towards its heart-breaking conclusion, we laugh at his childhood memories and we feel every bit of his suffering.

Cold Warm is described as ‘a play about the creeping influence of capitalism’ and indeed this is its beauty; it creeps up on you. The plot is revealed to us slowly, as the insidious forces that have robbed these characters of their homes and their lives do so one by one. And growing alongside it is the audience’s emotional entanglement with the characters on-stage and the poignant stories they present. But it is all too late. As the protagonist says in the play’s closing speech: ‘It’s over’.

All in all, Playwright and Cold Warm are student productions I would urge you to go and see, and if the other plays on offer are up to the same standard then the Oxford University Dramatic Society’s New Writing Festival is shaping up for an exciting run that are definitely worth a watch.

Georgia Reddington on ‘Island People’ by Jack Clover

Water, an age-old symbol used throughout literary history surfaces again in Jack Clover’s fluid and lyrical creation. Island People, written as part of the OUDS New Writing Festival and set on the distant Isle of Lewis focuses on the personal lives and hardships faced by the isolated island community. Clover addresses one of the most controversial issues dominating Europe today, the refugee crisis. Through the reactions of the native islanders who are faced with the prospect of sharing their home with these ‘foreigners’, Clover gives us a touching but disturbing insight into how we feel about this pressing matter.

The performance opens with the gentle melody of a guitar mingled with sounds of the sea. This creates a tranquil ambience, framing the narrative both literally and metaphorically. As such, the performance owes much to its talented lighting and sound manager for creating this atmosphere. We are soon drawn further into an almost mystical world by the opening monologue performed by Imogen Allen as Molly. This, along with the many other monologues in the play, are both beautifully written and presented, especially through Allen’s sensitive and endearing recital which flows like a delicate stream.

The scenes involving Seamus Lavan as Rory alongside Allen ground the play in realism: although their somewhat asexual relationship seems forced and confused at times, the two actors portray entirely believable roles.

The effortless multi-rolling of Rebecca Hamilton and Joe Peden was one of the highlights of the show. Both switch between a variety of characters ranging from enthusiastic models of the community to a grieving mother and a (questionably) Scottish mechanic. They need only a small costume change and impressive theatrical dexterity to convince us of their change. These characters provided much needed range to an otherwise static plot.

Despite a faultless opening, and a sustained level of professional acting, it was hard not to grow weary of the long sections of speech that became verbose as the play progressed, creating a stasis in an already slow moving plot. This somewhat ironically highlighted the issue surrounding the refugee crisis – that by continuing to debate over how we should act in this situation, we fail to act in any effective way. The speeches made by the characters displaying contrasting views over what should be done were not only polarised and therefore unrealistic, but they only worked to add rhetoric to an already extensively discussed issue, and as such, achieved nothing.

Overall however, the performance was comprised of many well-choreographed scenes by director Chloe Wall, intersected by moving yet controversial soliloquies conveying issues facing the islanders, both on a personal level and relating to the wider issue of the integration of refugees into their/our own society.

Georgia Reddington on ‘Canon Warriors’ by Hannah Greenstreet

“What do you call two feminist puppeteers about to be evicted from their beach hut home in Thanet?” This is the question on the lips of both the audience and the characters of Hannah Greenstreet’s Canon Warriors presented as part of the OUDS New Writing Festival. What begins as a light-hearted comedy brimming with witticism and quick one-liners soon develops into a tense and emotional performance that sets out to tackle a number of social issues ranging from homelessness and sexuality, to the philosophical conundrum that pits art against the bitter realities of life.

The cluttered but cosy stage is dominated by the presence of lead actors, Livi Dunlop and Daisy Hayes, playing struggling ‘artists’ Punch and Fleur with incredible energy. These two contrasting characters are brought together by their shared need for escapism, found in the form of puppeteering.

Fleur, although younger, is obviously the more responsible of the two, taking on an almost parental role over the immature Punch. Hayes’ performance really held the show together, through Fleur she provides the voice of reason that forces the plot to its crises and as a skilled actor she sustains this persona throughout, smoothing over any stumbles made by Dunlop’s enthusiastic portrayal. We empathise with her struggle as a young woman thrust from her family into the real world, dealing with parents unwilling to accept her sexuality and finding her home and relationship now under threat yet again.

Dunlop’s performance began rather tentatively, her childish behaviour was certainly entertaining but appeared unrealistic and at times, exasperating. However, the development of her characterisation from whiny man-child to a jealous and delusional adult meant that her final scenes as Punch stole the show, creating a tense and gripping atmosphere that took the whole audience by surprise.

Credit must also be given to Matthew Shore who portrayed the loveably awkward council worker, Aidan, providing us with a comic relief to the increasingly uncomfortable performance.

Despite some unintentional awkward pauses and mistimed lines that created confusion in parts, this was a well-choreographed production, owing much to the direction of Ell Potter, and a clever piece of writing by Greenstreet, incorporating comical meta-theatrics juxtaposed with serious undertones that work to get across her message.  All in all, it did not disappoint.

“For though woman be timorous enough in all else, and as regards courage, a coward at the mere sight of steel, yet in the moment she finds her honour wronged, no heart is filled with deadlier thoughts than hers.” -Euripides

★★★★☆

In c.431BC, Euripides composed Medea. The tragedy received a controversial reception as a result of the extent to which it manipulates and perverts the polarities of gender. Overcome with jealousy and anger at her husband, Jason’s, violation of the marriage oath, Medea subverts the patriarchal assumptions dominating life in Ancient Athens in the most extreme way possible- hurting Jason in the best way she can, she kills their two young sons in an act of hubristic revenge.

As part of the ‘Dancin’ Oxford’ Festival, Medea has come to the Oxford Playhouse in the form of physical dance, co-produced by the Spanish dance companies ‘Thomas Noone Dance’ and ‘Mercat de les Fiors Barcelona’.

The mesmerising movements of the six dancers in the cast, capture the consuming attention of the audience from the outset, and the beautiful choreography is emphasised through the minimalist set: a plain white backdrop, washed with blue and grey lighting which changes throughout. The dance achieves its purpose in perfectly conveying the emotion that Euripides’ tragedy deals with. The character of Medea commands the stage, remaining true to the original plot, her indomitable nature is represented through the power and execution behind her dancing. Similarly, the masculine terms which Euripides uses to describe her in his play are represented through the simplistic and severe costume and hairstyle that she adopts. The vague nature of dance allows the audience to interpret the messages of this play in their own way and thus encourages a wider range of responses and the music assists this. It is comprised of a combination out of electronic beats, combat sounds and shooting as well as a questionably-tuneful piano, all of which complement the action on stage and incite a more emotional response from the audience.

Whilst the essence of tragedy was evident through the choreography, the plotline was at times particularly hard to discern. As a huge Euripides fan I can’t help but feel ever so slightly disappointed in a performance which fails to incorporate the wit behind his prose which evokes a subliminal undermining of the conceptions of femininity. Of course, this isn’t easy in a piece with no speech, however I would have liked to see more of an attempt at conveying the story itself, particularly the ingenious way in which Medea manipulates the male characters around her, in order to achieve her plan. This piece focuses predominantly on the emotional trauma caused by the betrayal and revenge, which are important, but more significant when you are aware of the developments in the plot.

This being said, the play ends with Medea standing alone on stage, waving her arms in a ritualistic motion and breathing heavily, inciting a similar feeling of distress in the audience. This terrifying conclusion embodies the heart of the tragedy; she is victorious in her revenge, but simultaneously destroyed by her loss. The performance achieves its goal in provoking a sense of catharsis in its audience, our emotions are purged and we are restored to the reality of our existences. This version of Medea was entirely unique to any I have seen before, and like any tragedy, important for us to see, I’d just advise being aware of the synopsis beforehand.