It might seem a little early to be beginning Christmas celebrations. Maybe even a little early to beginning Oxmas celebrations. Nonetheless, what the Oxford Revue Christmas Party will lack in its proximity to December 25th, it will more than make up for in festive spirit. There will be mulled wine, there will be Santa Claus, and what’s more, rumour has it that if you turn up in a Christmas jumper, you get a free mince pie! But Scrooges fear not, although there’s unquestionably a festive theme, the comedy will be free to roam as far from the Christmassy as it desires, and the sketches I watched featured everything from a scissor-happy hairdresser to an intense rendition of a GCSE Drama style piece about “fucking issues”.

Sitting in on a rehearsal for Friday’s show, it’s clear that even without all the extra festive fun, this would be a show not to be missed. There’s material that’s been tried and tested in front of audiences at earlier Revue events, but more than enough new stuff to reward hardened comedy fans. The performers have participated in this term’s Audreys — the Revue’s fortnightly comedy events at the Wheatsheaf — but the atmosphere for this event will be more like that of the Oxford Revue and Friends shows held at the Playhouse every Trinity. The larger venue will go some way to engineering this — the Simpkins Lee at LMH seats a lot more people a lot more comfortably than the cramped and humid conditions of the Wheatsheaf’s upper room — but there’s also a lot more performers than usual. Typical Revue shows might have four or five talented comic actors — this show has twelve, and boasts an impressive repertoire of this term’s new comedy writing in the form of sketches, songs, poetry and stand-up.

The show was still in the process of being put together at the rehearsal I attended, with some decisions yet to be made. In the short time I was there the momentous decisions to provide karaoke of Christmas hits was made — and I must admit I now feel somewhat culpable in the ultimate success or failure of this venture — and there’s every chance that more comedy and more festivity will be added to the entertainment that will be on offer on Friday and Saturday.

I’ve been placed under strict instructions to impress upon readers that the last five of the Revue’s shows completely sold out. They sold out. All five of them. All five. This is a testament to the quality of comedy on offer, but it’s also all the more reason to book early as waiting too long could mean missing out. It’s possible that demand for this show will be even higher than on previous occasions, given the excellent performances members of the Revue have given this term in a variety of productions, not all of them unremittingly comedic. In a quick glance around the room I recognised Tom Dowling, Jack Chisnall and Keiran Ahern from Henry V, Barney Fishwick, Will Hislop and Georgia Bruce from Jerusalem, and David Meredith from Dahling You Were Marvellous, but there are sure to be many more familiar faces for fans of Oxford drama and comedy.

When asked what audiences could expect from the show, Co-Presidents Fishwick and Hislop promised it would certainly be “an attempt at comedy”. The self-described “attempt” looks set to be an extremely successful one, and I would strongly recommend all fans of Christmas to get tickets and check it out for themselves. After all, their last five shows sold out.

The Oxford Revue’s Christmas show will be on at the Simpkins Lee Theatre, LMH on Friday and Saturday at 8pm.

★★★★☆
Four stars

Part way through Monkey Bars, a familiar situation is presented: a panel of three interviewers sits facing their tense victim, who is isolated on the distant other side of the desk. “What is…” — the central interrogator begins the question in the severe but bored tones of an academic — “…Your favourite sweetie?” Nervously but willingly he lists his favourites, later adding bubblegum in a clumsy jolt of inspiration. Regarding this answer with a look of intellectual disdain, she continues the sophisticated train of thought: “And what would you do if you were a bubblegum creature?” 
 
I’m sure we all wish that interviews could be conducted in such a way, but sadly only in the world of Monkey Bars — where words taken from interviews of children are performed by adults acting as adults — does this happen. A number of scenes share this structure of children’s discussions taking place in parallel adult situations, with hilarious and thought-provoking results. The intimate, softly-lit romantic dinner for two is the perfect setting for a conversation about dreams — though maybe not about the terror of being chased by a nightmare blue bee. The politicians at the podium, having been asked what they’d do if they ruled the world, answer and argue in terms about as coherent as most real politicians, made particularly disconcerting by the sweeping grandness of their gestures and highly rhetorical delivery — while they share their dreams of a world where there are no robbers, and everyone can run around in the sunshine flying kites. The age-old debate of the relative merits of being a girl or a boy is presented (boys versus girls, obviously) with a Jeremy Paxman-like mediator, though frequently threatens to turn into a juvenile episode of Jeremy Kyle.

The creativity and range of the situations speaks for how tailored their design is to the concerns of the audience, and humour is created even down to the level of lighting, sound and set. But weightier concerns aren’t passed over, and the peculiar form is perfect for conveying a child’s capacity to normalise experiences of the deeply, worryingly abnormal. It is the scene which gives the play its title, though lighter in content than some, which is crucial: a child falls from the playground monkey bars, is sent to the medical room and reassured that their arm is only bruised, when in fact it is broken. Scenes like this speak for understanding how people, especially the otherwise voiceless, become damaged: hurt a tiny bit at a time, they’re dismissed until they’re broken.

But the play isn’t a non-stop moral lesson, and we’re constantly reminded that these are children who, if they get bored of the conversation, can ask “Is it playtime yet?” (Give that a try in your next tutorial). The otherwise excellent cast sometimes slip into acting a little too like children, when the play requires the opposite. It also doesn’t help that as students they don’t have the look of full maturity that would create the maximum contrast between the words and their delivery. But predominantly they capture the absorbing essence of the play in all its disconcerting hilarity. 

★★★☆☆
Three stars

You have been here before — many times. You might never have been to New Yawk, but you know a Brooklyn accent, and Tom Hardy’s latest voice hangs like fog over the opening scene. The setting is quickly established, as the audience eases into familiar ground: Hardy’s character Bob tends a ‘drop’ bar where the local Chechen mafia sometimes store dirty money. Cousin Marv (James Gandolfini), once a big player in the local crime network, runs the bar as little more than the mafia’s puppet. Late one night, as they are shutting up the bar, two guys in clown masks hold the place up — big mistake: “Do you know what you’re doing? Do you know whose money you’re jacking?”

Dennis Lehane wrote the screenplay for The Drop. He also wrote those for Shutter Island, Gone Baby Gone, Mystic River, and chunks of The Wire. So he has had a big hand in shaping the genre, and even if this plot seems derivative, perhaps he is just revisiting his own themes. Here he manages to create a throaty sense of place, in spite of his cast of stars. Dim tungsten glows warm the rich, muddy reds and browns of the bar; outside, a familiar unblinking white sky, sniffing pink noses, and the muffled crunch of snow underfoot. The church and the bar fight for the scraps of mens’ souls. Blurred movements in the foreground of shots simmer tension, and old-timers get aphoristic: “We’re dead already, we’re just still walking around.” So far, so familiar — what sets this apart?

The Drop is the late James Gandolfini’s final complete feature film, as A Most Wanted Man was Phillip Seymour Hoffman’s. In a sense, with the release of these films, they die a second death. Watching their last films is agonising: both of them are wheezing, smoking, swollen – and sad. Both actors were remarkable at hovering between burly gravitas and sensitivity, each aspect made the more striking by the other.

Gandolfini is excellent, if underused, here as Marv. He broods over his bar, thinks wistfully of former glory days that never really were, mumbles obsequiously when the mob are there; bullies when they are not. He wants to be something he cannot: “The neighbourhood changed: it wasn’t enough to be tough anymore, you know, you had to be mean.” Towards the end there is a typical moment of wrenching sensitivity from Gandolfini: snug on a couch, more gruffalo than gangster, he berates and whines at Bob for not fulfilling his potential. Berates and whines, because part of him knows that the power in their relationship has shifted, but also because he is really talking to himself.

Hardy has clearly got one eye on Marlon Brando, and the other on Ryan Gosling in Drive. Bob is ponderous, pensive even. His movements are very deliberate; his expression level, to the point of seeming dim-witted. His thick blooded lips hang still, whether he is handling severed limbs, squaring up to psychopaths or pouring shots. The film is preoccupied with Hardy, and it wants you to be as well: who is this guy, really? He goes to mass every morning but does not take communion, and he saves roughed up puppies from trashcans. Is he straightforward but slow, or something more? The film is at pains to interest you in him, but even Hardy’s brooding charisma struggles to enliven such a hackneyed character.

The pace throughout is leisurely: this is more of a drama than a thriller. It lays things out slowly, keeping many narrative cards close to its chest before playing its hand right at the end. The slowness is a reflection of Bob’s, and it is interspersed with moments of casual grisly violence. When the end comes, it does not surprise. We get the usual step back and reappraisal: crime, and its consequences, is half calculated, half random; there are hoods like Bob who bide their time, and hoods that do not, and we all know who lives longest.

It seems strangely appropriate that I sit down to interview Alex Darby directly following a lecture on Italian Neorealism for the European Cinema paper we’re both taking this term. As co-president of the OBA, Alex is at the forefront of Oxford’s student filmmaking scene, and begins by telling me about some of the Oxford-produced films being screened this Sunday in an event that will showcase the university’s directorial, screenwriting and acting talent.

“The event is the OBA (Oxford Broadcasting) short film screening. It’s a selection of the best student shorts made over the last year, so they’re mostly made by people who have just graduated, and these are projects that OBA has funded and backed, quite often with our own equipment.

“One exception to that is a short film called Stray, a film by Sophie Russell who is at the National Film and Television School at the moment. She was at Oxford about four or five years ago and that was her entry film. She’s happy to have it screened and it might be of interest to other people looking to go down that route. But it’s mostly the premiere of films that OBA’s funded; the most exciting student films made over the last year.”

So some of these films will never have been shown before?

“Most of them. We have the first screenings for Lick, Genius, Catkins and Baktrack.”

I ask how many films are being shown. Alex laughs. “I should know this! About eight. No, the premiere is for six out of nine — it’s the premiere for Waterbird as well.”

What films is Alex specifically excited about? Having directed three of the nine, I assume it will interest him to see how they go down.

He nods. “The films I’m specifically excited about are… well, all of them really! But I produced one called Genius which I’m really excited to see. It’s a Spinal Tap-esque mockumentary of the student drama scene in Oxford. I think it’s devastatingly funny.” There is a moment’s pause. “It’s just fucking funny. It’s about students making plays and being ridiculous but also has quite an intelligent, satirical side to it too. I’m hoping that’ll go down really well; it was a lot of fun to make, it’s got a good score and some really good acting in it as well.”

Genius – Teaser 1 from Tom Edkins Films on Vimeo.

So it’s kind of a mix in terms of Oxford-related subject matter and purely creative alternative films?

To an extent, apparently. Alex elaborates: “Yeah, although actually I don’t think any of them are Oxford-related other than Genius and Lick. They’re nearly all shot in Oxford.

I suggest that if they’re all OBA-produced, the crew will tend to know each other. Might the collaborative element come through?

Alex agrees, but is quick to play down the idea of an exclusive group. “I think that will come through, yeah, though one thing Ksenia [Harwood, Alex’s co-president] and I have been trying quite hard to do this year is to make OBA really accessible and approachable for people who are starting. Hopefully this should be a good platform for people who are interested but haven’t made anything to come and talk to us, to meet the other filmmakers. By the very nature of the beast there aren’t that many students making films so yeah, everyone knows each other and helps each other out, but it’s not a clique. People should feel very happy to come up and ask questions.”

I mention that I’ve noticed some of my friends take an interest in OBA this year, including one whose script has just been optioned, and the conversation turns to the organisation itself and what OBA does.

“We mainly do two things,” Alex tells me. “One is helping get good student films made — giving productions we like a bit of money and giving them kit. Secondarily to that, we have a lot of events. This term we’ll have had Roger Michell [director of Notting Hill], Eric Fellner [head of Working Title] and Barnaby Thompson [head of Ealing Studios]. We’re also running a screenwriting competition. The main things are film-related events and actually getting student films made.”

I tell him I was impressed by Joanna Hogg’s talk earlier this term.

“Yeah.” Another pause. “The other thing to say is that anyone can use the kit as well, it doesn’t cost that much and we’re happy to make it more affordable if you’ve got a good project.”

Speaking of projects, what kind of things has OBA got coming up?

“There’s a short film that Alvin Yu is directing. He’s really talented and also made the The Dancing Vendetta, which is in the short film screening. I saw that and then watched it straight away again. It’s really funny. He’s doing a short written by Howard Coase; that looks exciting.

“Then Harry Lighton has written a script – his film, Three Speech, won a competition we did last year, so he’s got money from OBA. He’s written a really beautiful script. It’s about a first- actually I shouldn’t say, but let me just say it’s a really cool script, and that will shoot in the summer.

“We’ll have the screenwriting competition too, the deadline for which is at the start of Hilary, and those films will shoot between Hilary and Trinity. So a few things coming up. Then for the summer, there are two things I’m fucking excited about. One is, er… have you heard of the Oxford University Exploration Club?”

I admit that to my shame, I haven’t.

Alex laughs. “Well, it exists! I’m going on an expedition with them and Nick [Lory] who has been director of photography on my last few film to make a documentary about an indigenous tribe in the oldest rainforest in the world in Borneo.”

That’s crazy!

“I know, it’s gonna be so cool! It’s a six-week trip through the rainforest and we get funding. It’s such an ideal thing to do after graduating. Then the other thing is quite an ambitious plan to do a short with Ksenia, who produced Waterbird and Catkins. Set in Sicily, it’s called After Sunstroke and is based on Ivan Bunin, who’s a Nobel Prize-winning Russian author who is sadly forgotten. It’s one of his short stories, a really intense but cool short story. We’re just starting work on that now. Obviously we’ve got a bit of money to raise but we’ll put a good team together.”

As we wrap up, I ask if Alex has anything to add about the event. He does. “It’s a combination of very cool stuff from everyone making films last year, so it’s awesome to showcase it.”

A nice variety?

“Yeah. And everyone coming back for the screening is now working in film or doing something in film.”

So there will be some interesting people around?

He nods. “Yeah, some interesting people. Basically we just want people to come and see the films.”

The OBA Short Film Screening will take place on Sunday, the 23^rd of November from 4-6 pm, at the Phoenix Picturehouse on Walton Street.

A link to the Facebook event can be found here: https://www.facebook.com/events/791880210834405/