Dickensian and Sherlock. On New Year’s Day, the BBC happily padded out what is becoming a rather extensive canon of recent ventures into adapted Victoriana. The Sherlock special offended a whole bunch of people, but otherwise the trend has seeped into the televisual zeitgeist without much cause for controversy. The particular offences committed by Moffat and co. in ‘The Abominable Bride’ aren’t going to be reiterated here, but whether or not it’s offensive to overly-manipulate a literary text in the name of screen adaptation is.

In this particular instance, it’s the clumsy handling of history which led to the widespread denigration of the episode. For the first time, Moffat’s Sherlock faced accusations of being unfaithful to its source. But what’s interesting is that this comes four series into a project which was initially so popular because it confounded paradigms.

Theoreticians like Linda Hutcherson identify a pervasive cult of ‘fidelity criticism’ regarding adaptations. Adaptations are often held accountable to their source text, and they are expected to ride as faithfully close to the ‘original’ as possible. Moffat’s Sherlock, bursting eccentricallly onto the scene in 2010, didn’t just dispute that opinion: transposing its action to modern-day London, replete with smartphones and social media, it gleefully rebelled against elitist academic tendencies with a defiant spirit.

The premise of the BBC’s Sherlock was to provide itself as a symptom of what Hutcherson, in her book A Theory of Adaptation, describes as a relatively recent postmodern predilection for interrogating the innate regenerative multiplicity of stories. Sherlock, in other words, took a ballsy swipe at outdated critical attitudes, and instead championed a new norm: one in which adaptations manipulate their source so that the new project addresses its own contemporary concerns, as opposed to pilfering something creatively engaging from the exhausted limitations of the context.

So, ironically enough, it’s not even the Sherlock Holmes whom Arthur Conan Doyle first sent out into the world whom people are considering offended, despite the episode’s attempt to return to the Victorian England from whence he originally came. It’s Moffat’s own Sherlock – crystallised in the performative form of Benedict Cumberbatch – who is disserviced, because the kitsch turn of the special feels like a step back from the currentness that made Sherlock so special in the first place.

Unlike linearly conceived adaptations (2011’s Great Expectations, 2008’s Little Dorrit) which do their best to keep deviations to a minimum, the Victoriana du jour presents brand new stories for old characters. They aren’t all preoccupied with diving into our present, like series one to three of Sherlock; but they are hyper-conscious of distancing themselves from original narratives while maintaining a fickle relationship with their sources. Dickensian intertwines the fates of some of Charles Dickens’s most recognisable personalities (Scrooge, Marley, Havisham, Fagin, Bill Sykes, Nancy), to create an overarching prequel to his major novels. Penny Dreadful, meanwhile, links its characters by genre rather than author: the stalwarts of Gothic literature seminars rear their heads – Victor Frankenstein, Mina Harker, Dorian Gray – amongst a set of entirely new characters, devised to give the series a feeling of novelty while retaining the most macabre aesthetic hallmarks of the Victorian Gothic.

The new Victoriana salvages beloved characters and keeps their spirit alive. But only when it remembers that, today, the past is only important insofar as it can be refashioned for the future

Combining contemporary interviews with police interrogation tapes and local news converage, Netflix’s new documentary Making a Murderer paints a vivid and disturbing portrait of the Wisconsin State Justice system and the shocking story of Steven Avery. In a case which saw much local publicity at the time, Avery spent 18 years in prison for a sexual assault he never committed, before then being convicted for murdering a local photographer two years after his release.

Initially convicted of sexual assault in 1985, Avery was only released in 2003, following the emergence of new DNA evidence which proved his innocence. Once out of prison, he began a civil suit against those responsible for his wrongful conviction, and became the face of a movement to reform the Wisconsin Justice System. Yet with his civil suit ongoing he was arrested and later convicted for the murder of local photographer Teresa Halbach in 2005.

The narrative runs along two parallel tracks, on the one hand describing how the injustice and misfortune suffered by Avery at the hands of the legal system might have created a man capable of murder, whilst the more conspiratorial approach suggests another miscarriage of justice by a Sheriff’s Department threatened by the implications of Avery’s civil suit. The first episode focuses on the former, describing a man’s life hit by multiple tragic injustices. Though Avery claims he left the bitterness behind him upon his release from prison, the question of what impact the events had on him is left open.

The documentary, and Avery’s story, covers an enormous amount of ground and at times makes for uneasy viewing. It tells of the outsider status of Avery and his family, seen by much of the community as shady local hillbillies, and poses troubling questions about the small-town mentality of the area. It exposes corrupt practice on the part of the local police force, seemingly so keen to imprison one of the troublesome Avery clan that the real offender is allowed to walk free. The true focus is not so much on Avery himself; he appears at times a distant figure, as we hear from him primarily through crackling prison phone interviews. Rather the focus is on those around him, be it his parent’s unswerving belief in their son’s innocence, which remains concrete even as the evidence stacks up against him; the breakdown of his marriage during his first spell behind bars; or the judicial malaise his legal team had to work through to secure his initial release.

No stone was left unturned in the research for this project. Every police interview, deposition tape, local television report and newspaper story has been scoured and the result is a highly immersive look at this troubled world of tragedy and corruption. The long list of participants creates a drama more rich than any fictional show Netflix could have commissioned. Indeed, at times the ten-episode documentary has the pace and feel of a thriller. Occasionally the format can feel a little tired – the interviews and recordings are repeatedly interspersed with desolate-looking vistas of the Avery family scrap yard – yet the story is simply too gripping for this to detract. As the story progressed, the documentary increasingly became a courtroom drama, analysing the case against Avery and the strains on those involved. The series has already made a real impact in the US, massively increasing public interest in the case and prompting 120,000 people to sign a White House petition calling for a pardon for Avery. It comes to no clear conclusions on Avery’s guilt; rather, it paints an undeniably unsettling portrait of the justice system and a gripping account of the trial which followed. Few documentaries are as truly immersive and thought provoking as this.

Making a Murderer is now available on Netflix

Something I’ve heard from several people at this point is just how much time it takes to put together an Oxford Playhouse bid. Those few hours under lights representing the mere tip of the iceberg – hundreds of man hours, a cast and crew list as long as your arm. This production of Rent is no different, and as director Georgia Figgis related to me, they’ve been working on it for a suspiciously similar amount of time to the human gestation period.

When I was invited into the warmth of the Pembroke Pichette studio in a bitterly cold 0^th week, the passion in the rehearsal room stood in stark contrast to the pathetic and limp wristed attempts at snow that the Oxford weather was making outside. Musicals have always, in my experience, had a curious ability to garner enormous crowds of die-hard fans in a way that ordinary plays rarely achieve. The relevant group of fans for the musical Rent have taken the curious name Rent-heads; and if their slightly dubious Wikipedia article is to believed, one so called Rent-head went to see the Broadway production 1100 times in its 12 year run (lacking citation). The passion that the Rent team bring to their production is not quite so pathological as that (possibly fictional) individual; however it does burn just as brightly.

I was treated to performances of some of the most iconic songs from Rent – the rousing anger of the title track, the hilarious faux passion of ‘Tango Maureen’, the sound and fury of ‘Take me or Leave me’ which left one of the leads remarking “I’m so sad, I’m so angry, I’m so confused.” (Annabel Mutale Reed as Joanne). This was followed by an utterly heart wrenching performance of ‘Without you’; where sublimely tender choreography coupled with the melodious voice of Eleanor Shaw (Mimi) to leave several cast members in quite earnest floods of tears.

Talking to the cast, it became clear that the reasons for this emotion are complex, but all stem from a deep love of the diversity and depth of the characters in Rent – and the way they relate to their own lives. Rent is set in the 80s in New York’s East Village, a vibrant community living in the shadow of both Reaganomics (this play has allegedly turned one of its leads from a Tory canvasser nonetheless to an out and out leftie) and the HIV/AIDS epidemic, the latter of which killed more than 0.8% of the American population in this period – primarily amongst the LGBTQ+ community in vibrant, bohemian centres such as Alphabet City, New York.

HIV and AIDS are still, sadly, incredibly stigmatised even in 2016 (see James Delingpole’s frankly abysmal opening at the Oxford Union debate last term). Everybody involved in this production of Rent is quite evidently passionate about changing that – working alongside the Terence Higgins Trust (http://www.tht.org.uk) in the rehearsal room to help dispel the paranoia, disgust and sniggering which sadly still lingers around the fatal disease. I recommend perusing the production blog (https://rentoxford.wordpress.com) – particularly ‘Isaac: Patrick’s story’ for a deeply personal and saddening account of the HIV/AIDS crisis in the US.

The really striking thing about this production and its rehearsal process, which ties so neatly into the harrowing themes it covers, was the intent of the director and the choreographer not to treat the homosexual relationships in the play as tokens, defined by their sexuality. This intent comes out loud and clear in the choreography for ‘Without you’ – the three couples each express very different emotional difficulties, but there are none of the clichés that one has come to expect from the oft nuance-less portrayals of homosexual relationships in popular culture. Choreographer Ed Addison believes there to be a “level of novelty” in representing heterosexual and homosexual couples alongside one another in dance – “same sex couples dancing, you don’t see that… ever.”

I have no doubt that there’s a very strong population of Rent-heads in Oxford who will not be missing this show (nor the Plush after party) for the world. Even if you haven’t seen this show 1100 times before, I really would recommend going to see it, not only for the music and dance, but also for a cast that truly believes in the issues they’re tackling through their art. 

Oxford’s 2016 New Year concert took place at the Sheldonian, with the City of Oxford Orchestra conducted by the dynamic Stephen Bell. The orchestra accompanied pianist and Cambridge alumnus Tom Poster in Beethoven’s ‘Emperor’ concerto and welcomed soprano Pamela Haye to join them for Johann Strauss II’s ‘Laughing Song’.

The overture of Mozart’s opera The Marriage of Figaro served as opening, revealing the ensemble’s balanced sound. Before leading onto an aria by the same composer, Stephen Bell shared a cooking tip with the audience, proving how wrong it is to think that classical music doesn’t have its place in the modern world.

According to the jovial conductor, the time it took to play the first piece is identical to the time required to cook a perfect soft-boiled egg. This might not initially have been what Mozart had in mind, but it was pleasant to find the atmosphere lightened by Bell’s comments in a venue marked by decades of formal Latin speeches.

Up next was a masterful interpretation of Beethoven’s ‘Emperor’ concerto. Letting go of the orchestra’s power, this piece allowed the formation to show its depth, with the supporting double bass among the string section. Ranging from candid tunes played by the piano alone to avalanches of sound, this was truly the “treat” the conductor announced it would be, especially when it came to the pianissimo phrase that Tom Poster was able to captivate the audience with.

The second part brought its traditional ‘Waltzes, Polkas and Marches’, insisting a little too strongly on the cymbals for the triumphant airs of Suppe’s ‘Light Cavalry.’ The intimate ‘Marietta’s Lied’ by Korngold seemed almost out of place among such expansive pieces, introducing melodrama and slight imprecisions before moving on to the jubilatory Viennese waltzes.

It is a common criticism of orchestral music that the same pieces, movements and concertos are performed year after year, indicating its fundamental stagnation. Strauss’ ‘Egyptian March’ as well as the inevitable ‘Blue Danube’ closing the programme answered this criticism, whilst the choice of placing Strauss II’s ‘Laughing Song’ and the “Pizzicato Polka” composed by father and son together, in between the two more famous pieces, made the end of the concert refreshing and invigorating. Most importantly it demonstrated that classical music remains innovative, and Tom Poster’s ability to underline delicate aspects of the pieces and Stephen Bell’s energy complemented the orchestra to strike an enjoyable balance between refreshing vitality and well-known tunes during this evening.

★★☆☆☆

For the third time since their formation, alternative rock band Shinedown from Florida has joined the Carnival of Madness line-up, along with Black Stone Cherry and Halestorm, among others. The tour will be bringing back its fiery sets and equally fiery energy to the United Kingdom this winter, starting in Cardiff on 28 January and finishing with a show at the Manchester Arena on 6 February.

This will be an opportunity for Shinedown to convince their British fans of the merits of their fifth album Threat to Survival.

Released last September, the album marked a definite change of style that had already been announced in the previous one, Amaryllis. Instead of the heavy bass of earlier songs like ‘Sound of Madness’ and lead member Brent Smith’s rather unsophisticated but definitely headbang-worthy singing, ‘Asking for It’ – the first track of Threat to Survival – strikes as coming less from the band’s guts than from a known recipe for likeable but weaker rock songs.

Perhaps resulting from an attempt to produce more lyrical rock than the very straightforward ‘Devour,’ the chorus of ‘Asking for it’ is an example of how this album lacks the edge Shinedown was originally appreciated for. Despite this, their popular single ‘Cut the Cord’ retains some of the characteristic aggressive tone of their earlier works.