★★★☆☆
Three Stars

Having never encountered Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure before, it was testament to the acting of the Union Theatre’s production that I understood most of the plot. Phil Willmott’s direction turns a play about power, purity and marriage into a lively performance complete with ad-libbing chorus of prostitutes and cabaret songs, although this vividness is often not enough to redeem some of the production’s shortcomings.

Philip Lindley’s design turns the black box interior of the Union Theatre, first into a sultry whorehouse sectioned off by mesh walls and later into a courtroom, prison and nightclub. The vaguely modern atmosphere seems to lift it out of Elizabethan stuffiness, such as the Madmen suits and whisky, but adds little else to the production and often nears the gimmicky.

The show starts with a lascivious Pompeia (Natalie Harman) welcoming the audience into the promenade-style first scene; in case anyone is confused as to the setting, ‘Whore’ is lit up in large red letters. Colloquial one-liners and cockney jibes bring a charming liveliness to the stage, indeed, the boisterous and saucy chorus of prostitutes were almost the life and soul of the performance, providing comic vocal backdrop to various scenes like a band of beautiful, scantily-clad pirates.

However, the real heart of the play is Paul Critoph’s Angelo. Critoph gives a Javert-like tortured conscience to the figure whose morals are tested and teased. His tense scene with Daisy Ward’s Isabella is a standout moment, her quietly fierce propriety coming up against his pitiful lechery in a grippingly uncomfortable encounter.

Unfortunately, their respective struggles with principles take a back seat in the second half, where Nicholas Osmond’s Duke/Friar leads the action in a sluggish resolution of the conflict which had proved much more captivating in the previous half. Osmond’s performance begins promisingly with a Don Draper swagger that suits the Duke, but fails to take advantage of the part his character would go on to play in an inexplicably complicated and roundabout resolution.

Either something of the fiercely virtuous or of the Machiavellian lacks in his performance, but he seemed to coast throughout, satisfying but never quite captivating the audience. It is his performance that could make the resolution more fascinating than the inevitable slog towards a happily ever after ending, led by a dodgy Scottish accent.

Slurred lines occasionally make for tedious and downright confusing viewing, while miscasting or lack of props does little to suggest visual resemblance between certain characters, which turns out to be key to the plot. Tighter and more explorative direction could raise other performances to the level of Critoph and Ward’s encounters; however, it remains an appealing production with some vivid acting in a space which is imaginatively filled. 

Measure for Measure will be at the Union Theatre, London until the 27th July. Tickets are available here.

★★★☆☆
Three Stars

Life, according to Macbeth, is “full of sound and fury/Signifying nothing”. Kenneth Branagh and Rob Ashford’s production is full of balls-to-the-wall aggression and bombast, but ultimately falls short of the significance achieved by Olivier, McKellen or Sher.

I experienced the sound and the fury of Macbeth in the slightly incongruous setting of my local Cineworld. The nationwide broadcast of the closing night from a decrepit and deconsecrated Mancunian church made excellent use of the various angles permitted by the play’s staging in traverse.

This deft camerawork is in evidence during the play’s chaotic opening scene. As she kneels cowled in prayer, Alex Kingston’s Lady Macbeth is cast into shadow by a flickering crescent of candles. This momentary stillness is shattered by the sounds of war; martial drums echoe as sprinting warriors clash, bleed and die on the churned mud which covers the stage. The rapid progression of shots make it easier to accept the staged violence as real, lingering for no more than a couple of seconds on any one struggle.

Later, though, the converse proves true. The suspension of disbelief required from the theatrical audience proves harder to achieve in a popcorn-stickied cinema seat. The unforgiving camera reminds us constantly that dead men were still breathing and that swords were not being swung with true menace.

The staging does not always help here either, for example when Macbeth gazes in fear at a dagger ludicrously and obviously suspended from wires. “Is this a dagger I see before me?” Yes, Kenneth, and we can all see it dangling from a piece of string. (Other challenges were better met – the writhing bodies which formed the demons in Macbeth’s second visit to the witches formed a spectacle impressive enough for any motion picture)

Individual performances, on the other hand, mostly benefit from the closer focus of the camera. The three witches are superb, forming a wriggling mass of insane sexuality which was drawn inexorably toward murder and mayhem as the production wears on.

Ray Fearon as Macduff is a triumph, a man of colossal stature whose colossal grief upon learning on the death of his son explodes with seismic intensity through the church. However, upon Macduff’s (somewhat anti-climatic) defeat of the usurper Macbeth, it seems slightly absurd to accept Alexander Vlahos’ underwhelming and somewhat vapid Malcolm as the rightful heir.

There is far more regal gravitas in Fearon’s character and also in Jimmy Yuill’s stentorian Banquo, both prior to his demise and in the ghost scene where he forged an effectively sinister connection with Branagh.

This is what stopped Branagh’s convincing and accomplished Macbeth from being amongst the great performances of the role. He was excellent in communion with other actors but seemed to lack a final drive into madness following the death of his wife (save for the “tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow” soliloquy, delivered with flawless grief and nihilism).

He and Kingston are a fascinating, complex and sexually-charged pair – a tartan-clad Bonnie and Clyde – but this focus on their intimacy left their individual characterisation lacking in depth. Kingston’s sleep-walking scene, for example, has the air of overwrought amateur dramatics, while her scenes with her husband are alive with nuance and murderous ambition.

The play does not lack originality, particularly in its focus on the sometimes-neglected Macbeth and his Lady. More could be made of Branagh and Kingston’s personal journeys into insanity, but at its best this production is an unnerving portrait of a far-off time all too familiar in its naked ambition.

The National Theatre broadcast this production of Macbeth to cinemas around the world on 20th July 2013 as part of the Manchester International Festival – more information may be found here.

The annual pilgrimage to the Edinburgh Fringe is a must for any self-respecting culture vulture. But with quite literally thousands of shows, a plethora of bizarrely named venues (the Gilded Balloon anyone?) and the promise of leaving each trip down the Royal Mile with about a tonne of flyers, how does one choose where to go and what to see? Well fear not confused artistes, thesps and hipsters – Cherwell is here to help.

For serious drama types:

The big tip-off this year is an adaptation of The Shawshank Redemption at the Assembly Rooms, starring comedian and actor Omid Djalili. As per usual, there is a wealth of Shakespeare, and per usual at least one of these is fighting heteronormativity.

If gender-bending versions of theatrical staples sounds like your thing, check out the Smooth Faced Gentlemen’s all-female Titus Andronicus at the Bedlam Theatre. Don’t forget Oxford’s dramatic offerings in the form of the OUDS tour of Alice in Wonderland, and original writing Life Sentence. In general, theatre lovers should look out for groups on the mile who hand out flyers by standing in abstract, motionless formations. 

For comedy lovers:

The Fringe is like Mecca for comedians. If you’ve got the money, you can pretty much catch any of your favourite big-name, satirical TV panel show comedians during your visit. If you’re counting the pennies, make the most of Free Fringe comedy. Looking out for Laughing Horse@ various venues is a good place to start, though free shows from aspiring funny-men will not be hard to find. The likelihood is you’ll end up laughing at the comedian rather than with them, but with a few friends and a few pints, that in itself can be hilarious.

You could even be the first to stumble across the next big thing in British comedy, and we all know “liking them before they were famous” is a must for any true hipster. Sketch comedy is also a favourite at the Fringe – check out groups like Four Screws Loose and the Cambridge Footlights, or even our very own home-grown The Oxford Imps and The Oxford Revue.

For musical theatre enthusiasts:

Every year the Fringe plays host to numerous amateur recreations of West End favourites. For the most part these are actually quite good. This year’s productions include Avenue Q from the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland, Spring Awakening and a minimum of two productions of the schools’ edition of Les Misérables.

The Fringe also suffers from an infestation of the ‘Insert Concept Here: The Musical’ brand. The Oxford offering is A Theory of Justice: The Musical, affectionately referred by the acronym ATOJ:TM, which will be storming Edinburgh with a full run, straight off the back of its sell out success at the Keble O’Reilly. Other prefixes to The Musical this year include Adam and Eve, Gobsmell (“A new family musical spaghetti western”) and Snakes – and yes, that is as in ‘on a plane’.

For something a bit different, give one of the Fringe’s improvised musicals a try. Doing pretty much what it says on the tin, troupes like Showstoppers and Baby Wants Candy take audience suggestions and create a musical around them. A favourite title of mine from last year went something along the lines of ‘Dinosaur Zombie Apocalypse: A Love Story’.

For those who aren’t yet bored of a cappella:

It may come as a surprise to Oxfordians, but most other cities in the UK aren’t saturated with a cappella, and for this reason there are people out there who do not simply tolerate it, but actively like it. If you’re a dedicated a cappella fan then the Fringe is the place for you (and if you abhor the stuff, I strongly advise avoiding the Royal Mile at all costs – it’s worse than Cornmarket in the run up to an Out of the Blue gig). The Oxford groups dominate the Fringe both in terms of number and quality; you’ll be able to catch The Alternotives, Out of the Blue, In the Pink and The Gargoyles.

If you fancy sampling something different, good groups to look out for are The Alleycats from St Andrew’s, All the Kings Men from KCL and Voice Festival 2013 winners, Vive. If you really can’t get enough of your ‘ba-dap’s and ‘shoo-wap’s then head along to All the King’s Men Presents on the 12^th and 14^th of August for what they’re calling, and it pains me to say it, an ‘aca-awesome’ night.

For those who want something alternative:

Puppetry looks set to be big at the Fringe this year – keep an eye out for Paper Finch Theatre’s productions of Beauty and the Beast and The Steadfast Tin Soldier. Also tipped for excellence is Ménage à trois, a collaboration with the National Theatre of Scotland that explores the relationship between a performer and her crutches through the mediums of dance, video projection and puppetry.

Circa’s Wunderkamma, which describes itself as an ‘exquisite cabaret of the senses’, will also appeal to those looking for something visually exciting and a bit different.

…and the downright odd:

A Fringe staple and highlight for many is the bizarre yet piss-yourself hilarious Shit-Faced Shakespeare. A small group of actors put on a Shakespeare classic, with an added twist of one of the performers being, as the title suggests, shit-faced drunk. It might not sound like much, but with a few friends and a little intoxication it makes for one of Edinburgh’s most entertaining evenings.

Another bemusing but highly recommended Fringe spectacle this year is Airnadette, ‘the biggest airband in the galaxy’. Although I can give no personal recommendation for this show, how can one argue with a group whose fame apparently transcends the boundaries of the earth? And, last but not least, I leave you with Jimmy Savile: The Punch and Judy Show.

For more information on these shows and more, visit www.edfringe.com 

If you are interested in reviewing Oxford-based shows at the Fringe for Cherwell, please email [email protected] or tweet us @CherwellStage

Latitude has a reputation for being the hipster-infested, middle class-dominated corner of the British festival season and, sure, there was a packed poetry tent and more indie bands than you could shake a pair of ironic Ray Bans at – but the stereotype is not at all fair.

In wonderful, mud-free conditions, Thursday led us into a six music-infused weekend with a six music-infused bang, Craig Charles playing a thrilling, albeit overcrowded, funk and soul set deep in the woods on site, and musically the festival only climbed higher from there.

Glaswegian bounce-merchants Chvrches brought the intimate iArena to a state of sweaty afternoon ecstasy, for example, followed by indie mainstays The Maccabees and an excellent headline set from Bloc Party.

Kele Okereke led a hit-filled set through to one of the best encores I’ve ever seen, using the chorus of Rihanna’s ‘We Found Love’ to build up to ‘Flux’, followed by ‘Helicopter’ (mosh pits opened up everywhere you looked) and finally an emotional ‘This Modern Love’.

Saturday provided the musical highlights for me: the showmanship of Karen Ough (Yeah Yeah Yeahs) was only bettered by the incredible Hot Chip. They more than any act at the festival managed to work the daytime crowd into an absolute frenzy, finishing with a note perfect first performance of new single ‘Dark and Stormy’.

Kraftwerk were, astonishingly, a letdown. I, unlike many, like their albums, but their obvious lack of stage presence added nothing live whilst the 3D light show and graphics only very occasionally reached the point of real entertainment. I left to catch the end of Alt-J.

It’s not fair to just talk about the music, though. The comedy tent was unmatched by any other festival: Dylan Moran, Eddie Izard and Richard Herring were all highlights; a literary tent boasted mathematical nerds and authors galore; as many rappers and international beat boxers as published poets filled the poetry tent; what’s more, there was an incredible outdoor theatre, a late night water screen and the world famous painted sheep.

The line-up was varied and as part of this variety was a real understanding of how to keep several thousand attendees, ranging from mid-teens to large families, happy and entertained. You could wake up horrendously hung over and, as I luckily did, chance upon a chilled-out Norwegian singer-songwriter (Thomas Dybdahl, check him out) or roll over to a classical trumpeter or pianist, set against the back drop of the gondolier taxis.

We were presented constantly with clashes between a world-famous comedian and a rising electro sound, or between two parallel genres of music (Grizzly Bear vs. Disclosure a particularly tough one). Of all the many festival friends we made, not one of them has any complaints of boredom or of a dud act.

It seems strange to say that an event as famous as Latitude is a rising star of the festival world but year-on-year their line up keep improving and the planning is truly excellent. If you can, seriously consider making the difficult journey deep into Suffolk in July 2014.

If the unbearable heat of the British summer was making life unpleasant for us ordinarily-dressed folk at Truck Festival, I can only imagine how the mini-hipsters were feeling in their jeans so tight that they looked like leggings, their immaculately unruffled shirts and their variously decorated lavish waistcoats. But despite the efforts of that most mysterious of deities, the Heat Wave, Oxford’s beloved Truck Festival was once again a resounding success. Small Oxford band Candy Says kicked off the festival in style on the Market Stage, accompanied by their mascot Candy, a manikin wearing a lei and holding a maraca. With the Velvet Underground-esque sound that one would expect from the band name, they charmed and intrigued all those Truckers who had arrived for the start of the day’s music.

The site itself was charming; Truck had paid close attention to their themed tents. From the outrageously Wild West saloon to the Caribbean themed bar to the large haystack filled farm-themed tent which was full for most of Friday as people sheltered from the sun, no detail had been spared. Furthermore, they kept true to their promise of a family-friendly environment, with pantomime shows for the kids. Tents from the Oxford Playhouse and a few other dramatic groups kept things interesting for everyone, while all the food was locally sourced.

Friday’s musical highlights came at the end of the day on the Market Stage, where Patrick Wolf performed a typically eclectic set. His 30 minutes included him forgetting some of the words, his harp failing to work and an extended discourse on Russia’s recent ‘gay propaganda’ legislation. A medley of ‘Bermondsey Street’ and ‘Magic Position’ was, he said, a song that was now about the situation in Russia, a place where “it’s now illegal for [him] to be [himself]”. Dry the River followed with a headline set filled with their usual poignant tragedy and elemental energy. Peter Liddle’s eyes glistened with hidden sadness and crazed genius but Scott Miller, who dubbed himself “the sweaty one”, got most of the crowd’s adoration. It was immediately obvious that the band’s new material, only heard previously at intimate shows in the Berkshire area, held all of the same trembling beauty as their debut album Shallow Bed, and we await the upcoming sophomore effort with eager anticipation.

The next day, welcome clouds covered the oppressive sun, and it was finally safe for even the palest of us to spend some time outside. Oxford’s own Marvellous Medicine played a frenetic set at the start of the day, and had many Truckers pulling out some of their most adventurous dance moves with the ska/reggae stylings that have become familiar to many Oxford students from balls and gigs at Cellar. The rest of the festival, however, was stolen by shoegaze. Up-and-coming psychedelic rockers Toy played to a packed-out Market Stage, whose audience included festival headliners The Horrors, standing right in front of us. The tenebrous rock giants have often been quoted naming Toy as their favourite band, and clearly they just couldn’t stay away from Tom Dougall’s gothic soundscapes.

Later on, as night gathered around the Truck main stage, the time was finally here. The Horrors played a show-stopping, weekend-stealing set full of their usual dark, enigmatic mystery. Lead singer Faris Badwan gazed down from the high stage, leaning on his microphone and looking like a dying Edwardian vampire as he veered between classics like ‘Sea Within A Sea’ and ‘Who Can Say’ and unsurprisingly impressive new material. After time out from touring, the band clearly relished being back on stage, and Badwan made it known that he was glad to be back before the melding chords of ‘Still Life’ signalled a heart-stopping end to a magnificent Truck Festival 2013.

Christoph Prégardien is warmly recounting his first encounter with pianist Menahem Pressler, at last year’s Verbier Festival for classical music.  “I was really stunned by his humility: even with his wide experience, an 89-year-old man, he approached me and said, ‘Oh Mr Prégardien, I am so happy that we are playing Winterreise: I learned so much from you.’  I nearly had tears in my eyes that this wonderful old musician was willing to learn.  I think this is a very good approach, in every field of life, that Man is able to learn until he is dying.”

This almost epistemic humility that Prégardien admires in Pressler, with whom he will be performing Schubert’s Winterreise in Oxford this August, strikes me on numerous occasions during the course of our interview.  Winterreise is a work he has performed countless times, yet remains one he is readily exploring and learning about: his recordings of it include a version with accordian and wind quintet, and a ‘composed re-interpretation’ of the work by Hans Zender.  He explains, “Each time you sing a piece, [with] different pianists [and] different ensembles, you learn more about yourself, your possibilities, your abilities on stage.”

Indeed, as he talks about these different performances, one gets a sense of continued musical development and discovery.  “I started to learn about Winterreise quite early.  But I think you learn the whole psychological and emotional content of that piece by getting older, by having experiences, by having losses.  You have to fall in love and then to lose your lover– you have to really have this experience, to feel what is happening to you, with your soul, with your brain, with your body, in that situation.”

It is a sobering thought that a musician of Prégardien’s standing, who has performed in the world’s top concert halls, with the likes of the Berlin Philharmonic, Staatskapelle Dresden, and conductor Nikolaus Harnoncourt, has such a desire to learn and develop further.  His recordings, with major labels such as EMI and Deutsche Grammophon, and numbering over 130 titles, have been received to great critical acclaim, winning international awards, such as MIDEM Record and Vocal Recital of the Year.

I wonder how Prégardien manages this vast repertoire, that spans the likes of Bach, Schubert, Britten, and Rihm. “I try to handle all composers equally,” he explains. “I try to hear the music, to find out what emotion the composer wants to bring over.  What is very important for me is that I get an emotional impact from the music and the text.  If I am not touched by them, it is very difficult for me to go on – but this is rare.”

The relationship between words and music is one of great importance for Prégardien, who uses both to find inspiration.  “Singers are very lucky, because we have the text. Other musicians don’t have this; we have poetry.” It is noticeable how often he refers to the ‘poetry’ of music, the ‘musical text’; for him, the two are deeply combined.  “To really understand music, it is necessary to understand the words.”  Winterreise comprises a set of poems by Wilhelm Müller, that were then set to music by Schubert.  When Prégardien considers the work, these two aspects hold equal weight.  “If you look at Schubert’s music, you find many hints for how to colour your voice and attitude, in order to give so many different approaches to the emotional content [of the text].”

Not that Müller’s text is emotionally straightforward either. “You have 24 songs, in the same depressing attitude — you have to find the real colours, to find possibilites… there is not only sadness, there is also anger, there is despair… the real challenge is to find a logical way for yourself through these 24 songs, to show character and development during just three days… for in three days you cannot go through a whole love.”

Emotion is at the core of Prégardien’s music-making, partly thanks to one of his early teachers, Hartmut Höll, accompanist to Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau.  “He didn’t care about our technical problems — he just said, ‘No, forget about that.  Look at the text, at the music — let pictures and imaginings come, and try to find the right sound and the right expression for them.'” 

A dedicated music educator himself, teaching at German Hochschule music academies, as well as international masterclasses, and having produced several musical publications, it is this emotional side of a musician that Prégardien is most interested in fostering.  “I want to see a very personal approach to the music.  I don’t want to hear a very well-trained voice, who has studied this song and brings it over in a beautiful manner.  That can be good, but I like to find real musical and emotional personality.”

It was his personal ideas about ‘not just my part… but how the passions, the dramatic impulses of the whole should be’ that last year prompted Prégardien to take up the conductor’s baton, leading a tour with the Ensemble Le Concert Lorrain.  Singer, turned teacher, turned conductor; one can’t help but think of what Prégardien said of Menahem Pressler earlier: “If you want to learn, you can learn.”

Christoph Prégardien will be leading a Lied masterclass at St Hilda’s and performing Winterreise with Menahem Pressler at the Sheldonian Theatre on 5 August.