Friday 17th April 2026
Blog Page 1457

Preview: Night of the Absurd

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Buy one, get one free: each Night of the Absurd promises to fill your evening with two plays and more existential lines than you can wring your world-weary hands at. Prepare yourself for a double bill of Camus’ The Misunderstanding and Sartre’s No Exit: two plays which were proclaiming the meaningless of life before it was cool.

The first half is given over to The Misunderstanding – a euphemism if ever there was one. The set-up is a mother and daughter who make ends meet by running a guest house. Murdering their visitors for their money, of course. And then along comes the long-lost son in disguise… The tension is teeth-grindingly high, even when the conversation turns to tea. In fact, all the conversations are tense, so after the fifty-sixth semi-subconscious ultra-profound absurdist double entendre, the jokes get a bit old. The characters are great to watch as walking philosophical doctrines; but in terms of psychology, they feel more like a scrap-book than a story. There are flashes of depth though, and some of them deeply sickening, but that also means there’s plenty of “oh no they didn’t!” moments.

After a quick interval, it’s back to the instruments of mental torture. And not just for us – No Exit imagines a hell without the pokers and fat-sizzling fires. Nothing but a room kitted out with Second Empire furniture, a paper knife, a bell that doesn’t work, and a locked door. And three very desperate human beings who have just started eternity. Sounds cosy, but everything soon crumbles into a very sophisticated, very brutal, and yet uncannily everyday verbal brawl. Technically, this is one of those plays where you find yourself lost in trying to sum up ‘what it’s about’. But this is a world away from Waiting for Godot: it’s relentless, it’s edge-of-the-seat, and it will sink its claws into your brain.

The material is heavy, yet the sets are light; the cast have given themselves a real challenge. In the bleak plays there isn’t much to hide behind. With just a dab of make-up and some furniture, all the drama is in the words and the gestures. Acting is tough anyway when you’re trying to pretend to be someone else; and with the absurd, it’s more like pretending to be someone pretending to be someone else. Each twitch and every tone can make a difference. There’s the potential to seem eerily flat; but there’s the reward of being more fleshy than life itself. Pembroke, break a leg.

 

 

 

Review: The Last Days of Mankind

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There’s nothing quite like a full-throated bellow from an actor for dramatic impact. If the audience isn’t expecting it, shouting can bring home the rawness of an emotional moment in a powerful way. The problem with Die Letzten Tage Der Menschheit is that the characters are so stereotypically of the WWI military ilk that the jarring shouts never stop, and the play’s satirical look at the rabid bellicosity pervading Vienna during the First World War loses its impact in becoming predictable.

The play, written by the Austrian writer and journalist Karl Kraus in 1922, traces the experiences of a range of Viennese citizens – from jingoistic generals to a flirtatious female journalist looking to get in on the action on the front line. What’s startling is that Kraus actually used dialogue from contemporary documents when writing Die Letzten – a fact which seems at odds with the play’s stereotypical characterization: the army generals are pompous, narcissistic nationalists who thump their subordinates for entertainment and the solitary non-conformist pacifist seems in a constant state of disgust with life (no surprises there, then).

Some of the scenes were funny, but rapidly became repetitive in this two hour long production. This was the first time I’d seen a subtitled play, and it’s possible that the nuances of Kraus’s humour are simply harder to grasp when translated and awkwardly projected onto a screen at one end of the stage (the problem was exacerbated by the fact that the subtitles, as well as taking the audience’s gaze away from the characters themselves, were often out of sync with the actual dialogue, sometimes flickering back and forth as if confused about which scene was taking place). As the play progressed from its Catch-22-esque phase – the mad Austrian generals seemed drunk in the earlier stages on the idea of war – and moved into a more serious, less slapstick stage, so the scenes gained some political power. One particularly striking example was a scene in which two deserters are shot by their commanding officers, only to rise moments later and carry out the same action on the officers themselves – a reversal of roles which highlighted the army’s self-destructive actions.

Such glimpses of powerful symbolism were, unfortunately, rare in this rather clumsy production. Awkward staging meant that we could often hear noises coming from backstage, a reminder that, despite the actors’ fluent German, we were in the Burton Taylor studio, not an underground WWI bunker. Even the incessant assault of roaring, though aiming to bring the audience into the action of the play, had the opposite effect by highlighting what an inappropriately confined space the BT is for excessive amounts of yelling. Once this had died down the experience improved, and the play’s sudden movement into a bizarre expressionist ending at least compensated for the repetitiveness of the earlier stages of the play.

 

Review: Snarky Puppy – We Like It Here

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Following their recent Grammy success with Family Dinner, Snarky Puppy return with We Like It Here, a live recorded ode to jazz and funk that proves their skill, not only as a musical collective, but also as song writers. 

We Like It Here is clearly an evolution on Snarky Puppy’s earlier albums, but the remnants of previous work lingers. It is an album built upon far grittier foundations than any previous album. Electric bass is traded readily throughout for the powerful rasp of the Moog Keybass to create deep, moody funk and, when combined with one of the most rhythmically creative percussion sections around, spectacularly unleashed on ‘What About Me?’, the result is groovier than George Clinton’s Hair.

As the title suggests, We Like It Here captures Snarky Puppy at their most comfortable creatively. Perhaps their most stylistically varied album to date, they exchange soulful vocoder riffs on ‘Sleeper’ for Latin American grooves on ‘Tia Macaco’. But each track is a movement in itself. ‘Kite’ transitions from film score-esque orchestration to winding trumpet and piano solos while opening track ‘Shofukan’, moves from fusion through to a barrage of dirty horn-led funk that has the live audience off their feet with excitement. 

Though it is an album at the jazzier end of the spectrum, We Like It Here is melodic enough to be easily accessible. And luckily for us, Snarky Puppy are releasing a video performance of each track every Monday for the next 6 weeks.

Rating: 4/5

Balliol look set for the drop as Wadham inflict woe

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Balliol versus Wadham, the final game of the season: a clash of the liberals hasn’t mattered this much since Asquith took on Lloyd George. For Wadham, sitting in fourth in the Premier Division, this was, admittedly, a game of minimal significance. For their Broad Street near-neighbours, they don’t come much bigger. Following St Catz’ shock victory against Worcester, Balliol suddenly found themselves in a relegation dogfight; a win against Wadham would guarantee survival, whilst anything else would leave them nervously dependent on rock-bottom Hughs producing the goods against Catz.

Wadham started brightly, drawing a series of well-timed tackles from defensive rock Matt Lynch, followed by an impressive save from Alex Potten. The resulting corner was only partly cleared, the ball swept into the net on the half-volley from the edge of the six-yard box by Julian Albert. Balliol’s day was not going according to plan. As we have come to expect from this Balliol team, they reacted strongly, with the tireless Sam Atwell – a man well-versed in Balliol’s special brand of long-ball football – delivering a succession of inch-perfect balls into the Wadham box. Nevertheless, the situation went from bad to worse for the older college, with Jeremy Stothart converting clinically for Wadham for his eighth goal this season, following enterprising work on – predictably – the left wing.  

Balliol, now 2-0 down within the first half hour of the most crucial game of their season, kept knocking on Wadham’s door, with Colenutt beating his man on the edge of the area and producing a sublime low drive – only the post prevented a rapid Balliol revival. It was not all Balliol, however. Wadham winger Chris Nicholls frequently troubled the Balliol defence with his tricky feet and rapid movement, whilst Wadham’s quick passing allowed them to move the ball quickly up-field and threaten on the break. After a highly entertaining forty-five minutes, with all three spectators thoroughly enthralled, Wadham entered the half-time break 2-0 up.

For Balliol, this was crunch time. Captain Hooker rallied his troops for the second half, his cries reminiscent of King Leonidas in ‘300’ (or actual Sparta): the team had forty-five minutes to save their season. Wave after wave of Balliol attacks were thwarted by impressive defensive work from Wadham centre-halves Lyle and Vivian, who managed to keep last season’s top-scorer Jack Hostick isolated. When Rob Wight fed Hostick just inside the penalty area on sixty minutes, however, the striker produced a moment of magic, effortlessly turning his man and sweeping the ball into the bottom right corner. Kids around the world will be attempting to copy Hostick’s turn for decades to come; Balliol’s substitutes were trying it within seconds.

The comeback, it seemed, was on. Balliol piled on the pressure, with fresher Laurence Warner forcing a clearance off the line, but this disciplined Wadham side retained their shape effectively. With Hooker’s boys throwing everything at the Wadham defence – including Hooker himself, who moved up from centre back to spearhead the attack – they were inevitably left vulnerable to counter-attacking play. The warning lights were flashing when Potten was forced to produce a spectacular save from a Tom Johnes piledriver. Soon after, Balliol were made to pay the ultimate price for their valiant efforts when Wadham snatched a late goal on the break, leaving the final score at 3-1.

Balliol, then, despite dominating, now look likely candidates for the drop. First year Laurence Warner saw the silver lining, musing “It’s not even cool to be in the top flight these days. Far too elitist.” Balliol certainly have plenty to be optimistic about considering the talented team Hooker has assembled, and the college’s remarkable strength in depth, with Denvar Antonyrajah’s fearsome 2nds outfit currently making waves in the Reserves Second Division.

Wadham captain and goalscorer Jeremy Stothart, meanwhile, was proud of his team: “It was a great result considering that was our third game in four days, and we had our bar man in goal”. Stothart, ever ambitious, is delighted with Wadham’s performance this season, as “mid-table mediocrity… is what it’s all about.”

 

 

Preview: REPLAY

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Typical to Oxford’s theatre scene is the play in which some misguided, middle-class protagonist careers out of control following an irrational passion, or paranoia about the dreaded mention of suicide. Alex Wilson’s REPLAY has all this genre’s hallmarks.  The acting and the direction was certainly promising; the sense of creativity with the stage is admirable, and I certainly received the impression that the next two weeks are going to be spent ironing out the creases. 

Mary Clapp portrayed a Freya, this play’s pilgrim, who was profoundly rational about the process of story-telling. I might have expected a more passionate blindness in the turmoils of the potential pornography behind a role as a piano-teacher.  The chorus, a highly effective group that reflect and blend in with Freya’s isolation, portray her story well and flesh out her rememberings.  Benedict Morrison has very good diction ; Soraya Liu used the stage space well ; and Poppy Clifford opens the action with vigour. 

Taughtneness, rigour and defined lines are crucial when trying to reproduce a Young British Artist version of Sarah Kane. It is clear that Wilson’s text has enabled the creative possibilites of the black-box interior of the Burton Taylor and lighting potential will also be explored.  These factors certainly help define the lines between imagination, reality and storytelling, but never quite letting on which one is which is effective too.

After all, the representation of the most chaotic events of an individual’s misfortune, and the apparent terror that one seeks to reflect on them with, is an extremely delicate enterprise.  The metrical madness of a more formal theatre conveyed in language what this type of play is expressing with a music-box and a suited-and-booted ghost of the classical Chorus.

As a late-evening distraction from the library or bar, REPLAY could indeed replay a very touching and dramatic series of events in a woman’s life – but make sure you’re in the mood for something intense. 

Replay will be on in 6th Week, 9:30pm Tues-Sat at the Burton Taylor

The MP’s View

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A recent advice surgery I held at St Hilda’s specifically for students brought for­ward some important and interesting issues – showing how students talking with their MP can make a difference. Some of the issues raised with me included the campaign for the Living Wage to the menace of smoking at hospital entrances. 

Student participants of the OUSU’s Living Wage Campaign came to see me to see me to discuss the campaign and let me know their view that it should be extended across all uni­versity departments and colleges, including all subcontracted staff (e.g. cleaning staff) who are often paid a lower rate. I fully sup­port the campaign and have raised this with the University’s Vice-Chancellor. 

I also met with a student who raised con­cerns that smokers are lining up just out­side the entrance to hospital, meaning that visitors and vulnerable patients entering the building are in a thoroughfare of passive smoking. 

He made an interesting suggestion, based on his experience of hospital services in Can­ada, that smoking should be legally banned within a fifteen metre radius of the hospi­tal to prevent this occurring, which I have since taken up with the Secretary of State for Health. 

Another important issue I have become in­volved with is the campaign over restrictions to student visas, after a number of concerned students contacted me to express concerns about the difficulty of acquiring visas for study. I contributed to a debate in the House of Commons on this, and regularly take up the cases of individual constituents who con­tact me about having visa difficulties. 

I have also recently met with a campaigner for fairer gambling who raised concerns with me about the increased incidence and risk of gambling amongst the student population. I very much welcome student views on this, and ideas on the best way of tackling the problem.

Student voices can make a difference, as I hope the above examples show. It sadly remains the case that 18 to 24 year olds are less likely to vote than any other age demo­graphic, and this is a statistic including a large number of students, which is a worry­ing trend. 

A number of the policies pursued by the coalition government — the unprecedented rise in tuition fees, and scrapping of the Education Maintenance Allowance, policies which have caused so much damage toa gen­eration of young people — show what can happen when young people’s needs are mar­ginalised in the democratic process, and they accordingly don’t exercise their vote whether through disillusionment, or for a variety of other complex reasons. 

I have always valued the contribution of our students to the local quality of life and vigour of political campaigning. As the City and European Elections come into view – and with individual electoral registration on the horizon too – it is important to underline that students can not only talk with me, but be heard through local campaigning and by exercising that most fundamental of demo­cratic rights – their vote. 

Debate: Are boycotts against college services effective?

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Yes

In 2012, I arrived back for my second year in Oxford to a perfect storm of bumbling contractors, inaccessible pathways and JCB-branded accommodation. Every morning I awoke to the sound of someone drilling, seemingly into my headboard. Every afternoon the fire alarm would malfunction and force us out onto the street.

Ah, what memories. In compensation, we were given a 50 per cent rent reduction for a term and a half. Compared with Exeter’s demands, this was a pretty staggering victory.

Colleges are businesses – as much as they would be loathe to admit it. I’m a Pembrokian and financial mismanagement recently brought us to the brink of bankruptcy (and coined the timeless pun: PemBroke). Now, the college is solvent, successful, and has just built a £30 million new development.

But it has come at a cost. Rent rates are some of the highest in Oxford, there’s a compulsory meal plan and room banding is done via a free market system, rather than a ballot. It’s one of the reasons why Pembroke has the largest private school intake of any Oxford college (not ChristChurch as some are led to believe) with only 46.2 per cent state acceptance over the last three years. That’s bad on paper and in practice, but Pembroke is now financially stable.

Exeter, like Pembroke, has limited financial endowments (£48,763,000) and assets (£68,650,000) and cannot be as generous as St John’s, ChristChurch or Queen’s. Most colleges are still self-regulating and rely on financial sustainability.

If colleges are businesses, students are customers. You pay for your university experience and you expect a certain level of service in return. At Exeter you are paying exponentially more than a St John’s student for an experience that is likely to be similar or inferior, and we shouldn’t be expected to passively accept that.

Striking is an effective means of pressurising colleges, but not because it will significantly impact their financial yield. The Exeter hall-strikers have already paid their battels with the extortionate £840 catering charge, so the strike is a symbolic gesture. It is equivalent to Tweeting angrily at a company’s customer services department.

We achieved the 50 per cent rent reduction at Pembroke because the college feared negative publicity, student dissatisfaction, future years living out and myriad other concerns. So the Exeter student demonstration is not futile – it will serve as a mass consumer feedback session and the message will be communicated publically.

While Pembroke’s rent reduction was negotiated without a strike, Exeter’s JCR is in a strong position. A demonstration of student dissatisfaction, with support from OUSU and covered across the university might not banish the £840 charge with the flick of a wand, but it strengthens their negotiating position enormously.

Their JCR President has an arsenal of objective data and student feedback at his disposal. If I were seeking a rent freeze, then that would fill me with positivity. It is unlikely that all demands will be met but the protest will force action.

 by Nick Hilton

No

Viva la revolución! For many, the liberal sentiment behind the chants of Oxford students is undermined by their affiliation with a university which represents everything wrong with the British class system. Setting this small irony aside for a moment, Exeter does seem to have a problem that needs solving. 

An £840 catering charge on top of payment for meals every day, is exces­sive. Exeter JCR tells us that the aver­age student spends around £13.00 a day eating in hall, with the sur­charge making it the most expensive undergraduate college. It ranks bot­tom among colleges for living cost satisfaction, and according to OUSU, it is the second most expensive col­lege in terms of student living. 

All this is likely to have an adverse impact on access and make the day to day lives of students more prob­lematic. When JCRs feel that the college has treated them unjustly, they should certainly protest. In this instance, a boycott seems to be the simplest and most obvious method for demon­strating discontent. However, I don’t think that it will have the intended results. 

This is because Exeter’s catering charge is paid upfront. Over an 8 week term, students have to pay £5.00 a day even if they don’t eat in hall. If the aim of the boycott is to withhold money from the college to force those in charge to acquiesce in students’ demands through fi­nancial necessity; it is important to remember that Exeter students have already handed over the money. The JCR is probably wasting its time. 

But even when boycotts are suc­cessful, this is undercut by a sense of collusion with the enemy. In 2011, St Hugh’s boycotted formal hall be­cause of a ban on bringing in alco­hol. The price of tickets was raised to include a moderate amount of drink provided by the college. 

The boycott worked, the ticket price was lowered. But then the JCR released a statement that said it had accepted the offer “in the spirit of compromise”. Not because they thought it was the right thing to do, but because it didn’t tread on the toes of their superiors. 

Compromise – code for abandon­ing your convictions to accommo­date those of your oppressors. 

Then again, perhaps the term “op­pressors” is too strong a term to de­scribe people that are charging you a bit too much for a three course din­ner. 

However, the fact remains. Boy­cotts are the safest form of civil disobedience. There’s no law against not attending hall. Or not riding the bus to work. Or not buying Nestlé because you disagree with their business practices. As protests go, it’s pretty safe. It’s not like you’ll get beaten, or “killed, or worse ex­pelled!” It is a kind of protest that shows your opinion, without kick­ing up too much of a fuss. It works on the assumption that it’s best to play by the rules. 

If I were an Exeter College student, I’d call off the boycott in favour of a more radical approach. I’d wait for my battels to come in next term and I wouldn’t pay them. They college can’t sent everyone down, after all. There would definitely be a financial incentive to listen to the JCR then. 

by Billy Beswick

 

Interview: Tommy Wiseau and Greg Sestero

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On signing the Union guestbook in handwriting that turned out to be as incomprehensible as much of his later discussion, Tommy Wiseau — writer, director, and star of the cult train-wreck of a film that is The Room — inadvertently gives perhaps the most insightful glimpse into his world that we are to receive all afternoon.

It is the first and only time that he removes his trademark black sunglasses, and we get a glimpse of tired blue eyes and an ashen face. He has the resigned and slightly haunted look of a man endlessly accompanied by the laughter of a joke that he doesn’t quite understand. Appropriate then, that the above description perfectly explains the cult of The Room.

The Room is a drama (although, in light of later ridicule, it was later reclassified by Wiseau as a dark comedy) that has come to define him. On paper, the film is the dramatic romance of three young San Franciscans trapped in a love triangle. On screen, it is the baffling product of haphazard attention to technical detail and narrative, a visibly frustrated cast, and a clumsy script that puts Wiseau’s own fondness for questionable syntax and non-sequiturs into the mouths of every (non)character. It is endlessly quotable, an endearing object of easy ridicule which is made easier still by Wiseau’s steadfast conviction that it is a film rich in symbolism and in sage commentary upon the human condition.

Its release provided perfect bait for the burgeoning online trend for online video-clips, memes, and chat forums, and as a fan-base coalesced, his avid followers lifted The Room to cult status in the years following its release. Even so, Wiseau decries the “internet Hollywood” that helped make him, instead choosing to associate himself with “real, old Hollywood”. His absolute conviction in this questionable concept is partly endearing, partly pitiable, and entirely fitting with this curious man’s persona; he is a man of whom we know very little beyond his contradictory and childishly charismatic media persona. His blatant deflection of any enquiry into his past has become characteristic of any of his public appearances.

Greg Sestero — co-star of The Room and Wiseau’s long-time off-screen friend — is also here, presumably to publicise the book he co-authored last autumn chronicling his experience working on the film. It tentatively hypothesises that Wiseau’s younger self was a naive idealist, infatuated with a romanticised America sparked by his childhood exposure to Disney’s 101 Dalmations; a man who uprooted himself from a dark past somewhere in the Eastern Bloc to finally settle in America with a new name and an innocent but dangerous desire for acceptance from the Hollywood elite.

His work in the acting industry and the dubious acquisition of an implausibly large $6 million budget for The Room provided a foot in the Hollywood door for the man who now proclaims himself comparable with the likes of Orson Welles. We ask Sestero what it’s like to play the Carraway to this self-styled Gatsby. He responds, “When I wrote this book, I tried to make it much less about the making of a bad movie and more about the reinvention of someone who never really found himself and tried to create a persona of someone so much different from who he really was.

“That’s what makes him so interesting and mysterious. You don’t know who this guy is. The journey of finding out who this person is and why he does what he does.”

In light of the endless barrage of ironic requests for director’s tips and ‘classic phrases’ Wiseau received during his Q&A, we ask him if he ever feels that people try to intellectually underestimate him. “Yeah they do, actually. They put you down sometimes, but you have to accept it. Think in a positive way, you know. I always think people should express themselves.”

We ask Wiseau if, having such a large fan base which is nevertheless very detached from his persona, he ever feels fame leads to loneliness. “You just accept it, you have to adjust yourself to the situation.”

In light of such overt (and, if we have it his way, also symbolic) reference to space in the film’s title alone, we ask him what his favourite place is. “I will not tell you, haha! We all have special places. It’s like a real private place, so you decide what you wanna do, where you wanna be etcetera etcetera”.

He has said that he is keen to understand people, and yet there is something shamefully vulnerable about his unwillingness to answer anything which attempts to pry behind his public persona. His trademark slightly absent laugh signals the end of the interview, and we file out of the Union. “That was everything I wanted it to be”, we overhear from amongst the amused crowd as they leave the room that was, for a brief hour, Tommy’s Wiseauniverse.

Wiseau seems most comfortable when we do not expect or allow him to provide anything more than what he offered – a compilation of ‘classic’ catchphrases and misguided, naive or incoherent monologues. Nevertheless, it is hard to decide whether this justifies or conversely makes more tasteless the increasing demand for such formulaic public appearances.