Having snatched not only the best new writing but also best production award at last year’s cuppers festival, Jack Clover’s writing and directing talents will grace the Oxford stage once more. His latest show Beachcombing charts the relationship between a lost girl and the priest in whose Church she seeks refuge one desolate evening. From my all too brief audience with the production, it seems to me this is set to be yet another triumph for a figure, set to become a big name in Oxford drama.

Like Clover’s last play, Beachcombing is set on the Essex coast, a landscape that seems to hold some fascination for him. It is a fascination reflected not only in the texture of the work but also in the lives and thoughts of his characters. When we first meet James (the priest played by Will Stanford), we see him gazing out over the waters of the north-sea. It’s three am and as he contemplatively sits, trying to monologue away the hurt following the death of his wife. Unbeknownst to him, the curious eyes of a shelter seeking Amy (Aoife Cantrill) observe his every seaward stare. She too is compelled by something about the sea. When James talks about the need to acknowledge the sea if living near it is to make any sense, Amy keeps pressing what’s beyond the horizon and even beyond that. What exactly it is they seek therein I couldn’t tell you, but I look forward to finding out. 

The set up of the play, may raise an eyebrow. With the recent controversies of historic child abuse, in and out of the church, the play certainly touches on some sensitive issues. James is in his middle ages, while Amy is aged somewhere in her late teens. How Clover will handle the dynamic of their relationship will be pivotal not only to the dramatic success of the play but also in defining its position with regard to these difficult issues.

One strategy used to explore the characters’ relationship, is also one of the most intriguing stylistic elements of the play. Clover punctuates the drama with choreographed interludes set to music. These moments mix elements of dance and physical theatre to illustrate the development of their relationship. In the one I saw, something of their tentative sexuality was expressed with the two characters playfully yet cautiously touching each other’s knees. It was interesting to see how every movement made by one of the pair was mirrored by the other; neither seemed to be the dominant/leading one. Although its at the BT, fear not, the soundtrack is not the usual fare of ostentatiously obscure dance music. Instead we are treated to delicate atmospheric Dylan numbers such as “She Belongs to Me”. In the scene I saw, it provided a meditative and very touching counterpoint to the action.

This music also adds to the sense of place constantly conveyed by Clover’s interest in this landscape. There is a happy meeting in his mellow music choices and his character’s physical and verbal ruminations about the sea. It’s hard to describe exactly how it clicks, but it really does.

This is not however the only happy pairing. Cantrill and Stanford complement each other marvelously. Cantrill’s inquisitive and impulsive characterization plays well to the indecisive and rather mellow James. Both seem to inhabit their characters very naturally and their ease with their roles will no doubt carry the drama in the intimacy of the BT. All in all, Beachcombing promises to be an extremely intriguing and original production.

Killing Hitler follows the story of Adam von Trott zu Solz (Linus Ubl), who arrives in Oxford in the vibrant mid-thirties of the twentieth century. While reading PPE as a Rhodes Scholar, Trott zu Solz gets involved in the organization of a plot to assasinate Hitler. Coming from high military and aristocratic circles, his co-conspirators have access to Hitler and, to a certain extent, his respect. He knows that he’s playing with fire and that every mistake could make the difference between life and death.

Once again Oxford University’s German Play proves to be a truly unique student production, standing out due to its bilingual nature and unusual close collaboration with author Bernard Adams. The former journalist and BBC-Producer based the play on memoirs, letters, and journals, carefully crafting characters, conversations and scenes closely related to the historic events. Adams, fascinated by the idea of a bilingual production, provided the director Poppy Clifford and costume designer as well as translators and producers with insights into his thought and research, resulting in a production that breaks down the barriers between history and drama.

Adam’s play, first put on stage at the Keble O Reilly in 2012, displays the effects of great historical events on everyday human relationships. Scenes depicting real-life events involving local historical figures, such as Maurice Bowra (Jonnie Griffiths) the former Warden of Wadham, who still is a person at the centre of many legends, make the play come to life for any Oxford student.

The dynamic of the play is shaped by the non-linear narrative, and even though the typical war-time flashbacks are incorporated, every scene builds on the last resulting in a moving, emotional portrait of the protagonist.  Casting native speakers for British and German roles, and translating scenes set in Germany into German makes the historical content accessible in an unexpected, natural and surprisingly emotional way. The diverse cast is more than capable of portraying the historical figures, the Russian princess Marie “Missie” Vassiltchikov (Evelyn Eisenhauer), the wartime Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden (George Robarts), the Bishop of Chichester George Bell (Sam Shepburn), and Claus Schenk Graf von Stauffenberg (Gene Zinngrebe).

Putting the play on stage at the Nuffield College Chapel – a small and rather intimate setting – increases the proximity of the audience not only in situational terms, and may turn out to be the final touch to a moving and important production.

Killing Hitler is on at the Nuffield College Chapel from 12^th – 16^th May (German parts with English subtitles). Bernard Adams (Author), Verena von Trott (Daughter of Adam von Trott) and Graham Avery (President of the von Trott Memorial Funds) will give talks preceding the premier on 12^th May.

Film Screening: We Corner People- Sunday, 7:30 pm Lecture Room 23, Balliol A showing of Kesang Tseten’s 2007 documentary with all proceeds going to Karuna-Shechen in aid of those affected by the 2015 earthquake in Nepal.

Thurston Moore- Sunday, 7 pm 02 Academy Oxford
Sonic Youth frontman makes his Oxford debut solo show at the 02. Expect tracks from his 2014 solo album The Best Day interspersed with moody, yet enthralling, mumbling.

Life Drawing- Wednesday, 5pm Oriel College
As part of Oriel Arts Week (no, we didn’t know it was happening either), FREE life drawing is being offered at the college. Will their models rival that of Wadham’s last week? Picks of the Week

Beachcombing- Tuesday – Saturday, 7.30pm Burton Taylor Studio
From the winner of Best Show and Best New Writing at Cuppers 2014, a play about Essex, a vicar, the sea, marriage, cheese, and saying goodbye comes to the BT this week.

When one thinks of early cinema, the names of Louis and Auguste Lumière shine brightly out of the history textbooks. Their short, silent documentaries of everyday life capture the mundane, yet fascinating events in France during the 1890s. Credited with producing the first “documentary” film (although the term was not coined by critics until 1926), a glass projection still hangs on the spot of the Lumière institute in Lyon where their first (and shamelessly self-promoting) film Workers Leaving the Lumière Factory was shot in 1895.

The widespread distribution of the Lumière brothers’ works helped propagate the allure and popularity of the cinema, if at first for novelty value only. According to urban legend, Train Pulling into a Station (1895) inspired such terror and fear into European audiences that many ran cowering to the back of the theatre. True, the brothers were the first famed cinematographers. But they cast something of a shadow over other earlier figures. It is as if the light shining out from their films has caused the works of their predecessors to become overexposed in cultural memory: their outlines have become blurred, their signifi cance in history hard to make out in a way similar to the deterioration of the fragile celluloid film these works are set upon.

If one wishes to watch the fi rst true documentary star and director, look no further than Louis Le Prince. Flick through any modern textbook on the history of film, and his name will be come before the Lumière brothers: he is considered to be the true father of motion picture, as Louis Daguerre is to photography. Despite lasting a mere two seconds, his Roundhay Garden Scene, which depicts his family strolling around their Leeds home, was filmed in 1888, a full seven years before the earliest work of the Lumières’ and three years before Edison patented his kinetoscope – an early motion picture device, designed for viewers to watch films one at a time through a tiny peep-hole. True, his work may be somewhat underwhelming. His four surviving films last but a couple seconds each, but depict fascinating scenes of northern working class life that would have been otherwise lost to the ether.

But if Le Prince were truly the first documentary film maker, why is his memorial reduced to just two blue plaques dotted across Leeds? The Lumière brothers have an entire institute to show off their bizarre film guns and collected works, yet Le Prince has very little in comparison. The answer lies in the lack of distribution: none of Le Prince’s works were ever shown outside Leeds, whilst the Lumière brothers’ works were sent across Europe to shock and enthral audiences. Le Prince is the first tragic figure upon the film set: and arguably a victim of the seething patent wars raging around photographic technology in the 1890s. Whilst travelling through France on his way to patent a new camera and launch a promotion tour to the USA, he disappeared onboard a train and was never seen again. His disappearance helped to propagate the supposed “curse” that surrounds his first work on film. Theories range from suicide due to bankruptcy, arranged disappearance due to homosexuality and even murder by agents of Thomas Edison due to his rival patent claims.

We may never know the truth, but what is certain is that his early and unfortunate death allowed his competitors to neatly clip his frames from the reel of cinema history, and his works became hidden from the public eye as the man himself. Only recently have they been restored to widespread public knowledge.

“For the last year I’ve spent every working day trying to figure out where a high school kid was for 21 minutes after school one day in 1999. This search sometimes feels undignifi ed on my part.” This is the opening line of WBEZ’s podcast Serial, first released in October last year, which followed the story of Adnan Syed, an American man who claims that he was wrongly convicted of the murder of his then girlfriend Hae Min Lee. The show immediately gained widespread media attention and shot to the top of the downloads chart on iTunes, with many hailing the return of audio reportage. Adnan Syed’s story presented listeners with a ‘real-life murder mystery’. However, when the series came to an end there was no perfectly wrapped up conclusion and there were complaints of it being anticlimactic. But what more could people expect from a true story?

Documentary-style reporting has been common throughout American radio for the past few years, with emphasis being placed on ‘real’ voices. This American Life, of which Serial is a spin-off show, has been putting together shows of three or four stories around a single theme since the late 90s. Emphasis is placed on the individual, the programme centering on the idea that everyone has a story to tell. This style gives the shows a personal, wide-ranging feel as they gather together widespread perspectives which take all sides into account. Listeners are encouraged to send in their own stories, off ering a breadth of views and voices which could not be accessed elsewhere.

The New York based program Radiolab uses a similar format for its show based around science, philosophy and human interest stories. A show centering around the theme of ‘colour’ moves from an interview with a neuro-scientist to a woman’s experience of synesthesia. Invisibilia, also broadcast by NPT, looks at human behaviors and off ers a fascinating insight into
the changing view surrounding mental health issues.

What makes these shows so poignant is that they involve personal stories narrated by the individuals themselves. Stories take on the format of conversation and retain a tone of informality. The listener is allowed to hear the click of a scientist picking up his phone at the start of the interview or the sound of cars passing in the street. This is of course part of the shows’ image of ‘true-life’ reporting, but it adds a level of intimacy that engages the audience and makes them listen.

However, as proved by what happened with Serial, reporting on real-life events that continue to unfold can create diffi culties in producing a complete story. Whilst podcasts such as This American Life present their program as a perfectly formed whole with their four ‘stories’ on a singular theme each week, the stories have been collected and produced over time and then formulated into a singular unit. Serial was working on a story that as of yet remains incomplete.

It is this imperfection, however, that remains the program’s brilliance. One cannot remain unaff ected by the show’s host Sarah Koenig as she attempts to uncover Adnan’s story. Like the listener, she moves back and forth between convicting and proclaiming her subject’s innocence as she engages in in-depth conversations with a man who may or may not have murdered his 18 year old girlfriend. Koenig’s voice carries the programme as she refuses to give up on a case which will always have gaps. Whilst at this point the story remains incomplete with no clear sign of resolution, Koenig’s dedication and perseverance in reporting the story of an outsider is admirable.

Few people are as qualified to talk on the subject of documentary-writing as Simon Elmes. As the former Creative Director of the BBC’s Radio Documentary Unit, and with over 40 years’ experience in professional documentary production, the Keble alumnus (and one-time Cherwell photographer) is hugely keen to get students involved in his chosen career.

“I’d always say to anybody who wants to join the media: neither overestimate nor underestimate yourself. For most people, it’s pretty much hard graft, and if you’re good, you’ll get there. It’s important for me to spread the word that radio documentary’s a fantastic medium and a fantastic place to be, and it’s really worthwhile making the effort both to listen and to make it.” We’re sitting in the National Film Theatre café on the Southbank of the Thames, one of Elmes’ favourite haunts. Despite his love of film, however, his career has largely focused on audio media, specifically radio documentaries.

I ask him about the differences between the two. “They’re not, curiously, as great as you might imagine,” he says. “Not editorially at least. The purpose is the same: that is, to tell these stories in such a way as to make riveting content that holds the viewer/listener in a way that they can’t go away, and entertains as well as informs. When planning a TV documentary, one of the things they’ll immediately say, aside from discussing the plot, is, ‘What are the images? What are the pictures?’ In radio, of course we’ll say, ‘What are the sounds?’ but the narrative is pre-eminent. It’s about telling a story.”

When the visual effect is removed, Elmes suggests, the focus on the narrative of the documentary comes to the fore. He describes piecing together the facts that make up a programme into a coherent narrative. “You’re always trying to find something bigger than the sum of its parts. You’re telling one story but you’re always telling slightly bigger stories at the same time.” It sounds like there’s a fair amount of overlap with drama, I suggest. Does he see the two as entirely separate genres? “Broadly speaking, no. But also yes,” he laughs. “Because in literal terms, drama deals in fiction. It has an author who can spin whatever he or she wishes to spin, create characters. In factual documentary, you are going entirely the other way round: you are taking a story, and you are trying to get at the inner truth in that story. You are trying to be factually truthful, but also say something, communicate something larger than the individual components.”

There is undoubtedly an overlap, however. It’s the entertainment factor that’s so crucial, and one which Elmes believes is often underregarded in factual programs. He’s critical of those who approach a documentary as they would a dissertation or an essay: “I always say to graduates in the BBC, because they’ve all learnt how to write essays and write dissertations with a thesis, antithesis, synthesis formula, that that’s not the way you do drama, and actually the way we do factual programs shouldn’t be like that. It’s okay if you’re doing a news report, if you’re doing something that needs the case for, the case against and then your summing up. But a documentary needs to have a much more theatrical, dramatic shape to it, and that calls on all sorts of skills that go way beyond essay writing. They are about entertainment.”

If the art of documentary-writing is also the art of story-telling, then what, I ask, is the story of the radio documentary itself, from its beginnings to the present day? At a time when old-fashioned forms of media are struggling to adapt to the digital age, one might be forgiven for thinking that radio might well be consigned to a similar fate. But Elmes is not at all pessimistic; in fact, he says, there are have been lots of beneficial advances. “Over the last five years I’ve spent a lot of time with my team trying to work out how we should adapt radio documentary for the digital age. I think podcasting has opened up a lot of opportunities. The actual mode of listening has, in fact, helped us. People can download a podcast and listen to it, so if they have to get out and fetch the kids they can pause it and go back to it. That’s a fantastic advance.”

The figures he provides me with back up his claims: BBC Radio 4 routinely draws an audience of over a million for a mid-morning documentary: a rating which, he tells me, BBC2 would be extremely happy with. Elmes urges restraint and caution in moving with the times. “There’s a lot of rubbish spoken about how we have to cater for the digital listener. Yes we do, of course. But don’t throw the baby out with the bath water.” The methodology of documentarymaking, he claims, hasn’t changed; rather, “the technology has changed how we do it. But it doesn’t make the process any different.” And why, it’s implied, would one try to fix what isn’t broken?

What quickly becomes apparent in talking to someone like Simon Elmes is just how much freedom a career in documentary production can bring. His topical focus in the past has tended to be on language, a direct fulfilment of his own interests. “I was a linguist when I was at Oxford. I love language, and always have done.” He has produced long-running linguistics documentaries such as Word of Mouth, Talk of the Town and The Routes of English, and worked alongside giants of the radio entertainment industry like Melvyn Bragg and Lenny Henry. But, he’s keen to stress, he’s also done “pretty much everything else. I’ve done programmes about circuses, about seaside piers, about people sharing houses, about radio presenters who have cancer, about French politics, music…” The list is endless. Now officially retired, Elmes still works freelance for the BBC, and is keen to “give something back” by helping aspiring young people enter the profession. And for himself? “I’ve got a couple of big projects on. But I’m having fun. That’s the main thing.”

Simon Elmes is speaking at a documentarymaking conference at St Hilda’s College on Saturday 16th May.