https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=se5neK0PiPA
Blog Page 1477
Preview: REPLAY
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
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?
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
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.
Creaming Spires: 5th Week Hilary
PSHE at my secondary school was wholesome and happy. Our blindly optimistic PSHE teacher drew some concentric circles on the floor. The centre, sickeningly, represented our soul and we were expected to indicate how ‘close’ to us a respectable adult male would have to be before we invited them to exchange bodily fluids. Hovering ditheringly over the diagram, I eventually put a thoughtful cross in the penultimate ring. Prince Charming, when he finally arrived, would be my best friend. It has always been a matter of trust – I knew that ’cos Billy Joel said so.
Six years later, I couldn’t tell you exactly when I mislaid my gentle sentimentality. But it’s now wandering the murky marshes of Small Expectations, pursued by a taunting pack of lustful wildebeests. Casual sex is fun, and the high turn-over of willy doesn’t require us to waste time getting to know the willy’s owner. Objectification is welcome; participants are polite, straightforward, and gone in the morning in a puff of spunk. But this week I found out just how little personal trust is required of my conquests before I entrust them to my quivering groin.
I picked Sexy Simon up on a girly night out; he was fun, suave, and had great hair. I was brain-dodderingly, clit-poundingly pissed, but to my delight succeeded in luring him through our front door. Stopping suddenly halfway through the delicious unwrapping process, I slurred in panic, “Where my keys?! Oh for fucksh shake, I losht them where ARE theeey?!” Sexy Simon padded behind me bewildered as I uprooted houseplants. He gently pointed out that I must’ve used them to get into the house, but I was in no mood for reason.
I suddenly halted my crazed hunt and fixed an accusatory eye upon my one night stand. “YOU. You stole them!” Of course, I thought smugly. The bastard thinks he can take me for a ride, in more ways than one. “Prick! Give them ba- oh…” My keys glinted maliciously from underneath the doormat. Sheepish, I scooped them up. Then we trotted upstairs and fired up the engines again. Unscrupulous thief or gallant lover? Does it matter? All roads lead to orgasm. And in the morning Sexy Simon left in a puff of spunk.
Freddy the Fresher: 5th Week Hilary
Freddy walks down Turl Street, smiling and nodding to cries of “You da man!”. This has become a common occurrence in the last week – random strangers stopping to tell him how great he was on University Challenge. For a quiz show populated by the spottiest, sloped-shouldered nerds, people sure seem to find it sexy…
He has not seen or heard from Bernadette since his appearance on national TV (aka The Sign From The Gods). When he views her Facebook profile he sees they’re no longer friends. Checking her Twitter, he’s greeted by a lock icon.
Did she feel it too? The electricity as he answered those questions, those questions about her.
Reluctant to stagnate as he did the last time his heart was fractured, he heads out on a pub crawl with three men of incrementally increasing levels of obesity (his teammates). Just four nerds and a shit ton of alcohol: Lamb and Flag – pint of bitter – Eagle and Child – pint of lager – Far From The Madding Crowd – shandy – Three Goat’s Heads – Guinness – Chequers – mulled cider – The Bear – half of lager (getting messy) – St Aldate’s Tavern – pale ale, part drunk – The Royal Blenheim – whiskey. Stumbling out of the final pub, they find themselves outside Camera.
“Shall we, gents?” asks the captain, stifling a belch.
“Let’s get our game on!” screeches their walking advert for skin cream.
Bleary eyed, Freddy coughs up the club’s entry fee and is surprised to find it quite empty. His teammates wander to the bar to buy the jägerbombs they will throw up in the VIP area, but Freddy wanders, trance-like, down the oculus, into the bowels of the beast. There are a few freaks dancing in clusters down there, whilst LMFAO blares out last year’s hits. Freddy closes his eyes andsways on the spot. “I’m too drunk for this,” he thinks. “Time for bed.”
He opens his eyes, ready to leave, and sees a woman standing in front of him. She has a fierce, confrontational look in her eyes, a look he has never seen before but takes an alcohol-soaked liking to.
“You’re that kid from University Challenge, right?” He nods and she immediately grabs him by the collar, pulls him into her body and kisses him passionately.
After several long seconds, minutes, hours, they draw apart. Freddy stands like a rabbit in strobe lights as she leans in, bites his ear and whispers, “Nothing turns me on like a quiz winner…”
Preview: Tis Pity She’s a Whore
A bloody tale of incest brought from renaissance Parma to the contemporary streets of London, ‘Tis Pity She’s A Whore promises to be an intense and gripping tragedy from the risqué posters alone.
Obsession and idealism are central to the play. Adam Diaper plays Soranzo, the creepy, self-conceited husband of Arabella. He and another character, Giovanni, are not unlike in that they aspire to a perfect fantasy of Annabella as their own. Sadly this is something neither can ultimately achieve. The play brings the oft used idea of star-crossed lovers to the fore; hopefully the chemistry between Mostyn and Stocker will live up to this timeless theme.
The staging is ambitious: a mezzanine with a cluttered, lively bedroom standing eight foot high above the monochrome lounge below will be a difficult area to command in scenes with only one or two actors. In one of the scenes I previewed, the two leads and sibling lovers Giovanni and Annabella (Greg Mostyn and Kathy Stocker) threw themselves on stage in a whirlwind of energy and had me captivated for the entire scene. Stocker, whose character Annabella is a feisty, defiant young woman, definitely managed to hold court over both the men I saw her interact with. No doubt the audience too will be on her side.
The live band will make an engaging addition – director Will Felton says he wants everything to be “as live as possible” with a lot of thought going into lighting, choreography, projections and props (watch out for a dramatic climax enabled by some inventive prop use). The music which accompanies fantasy sequences is performed by talented musicians behind gauze screens below the bedroom in silhouette, illuminated with different colours depending on the mood of the scene. It not only adds aesthetically to the play but also aids the actors and draws in the audience by building momentum for the beginning of scenes.
The concept of a heterosexual relationship being taboo, when our recent news is largely associated with overturning the taboo on homosexual relationships, will be an intriguing theme to explore. Feyton says that the play, which he adapted, will be full of ‘aesthetically arresting images allowing the audience to decide for themselves’. Will the dramatic directorial choices make this play as powerful as it promises to be? We’ll have to wait until 7th week to find out.
Ceci n’est pas une femme.
Ceci n’est pas une femme.
Issue 4: Hilary 2014
Photographer: Erin Floyd
Model: Suzie Ford
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Outfit 1: Pink coat – Topshop, Latex stockings – Aerynn Isabelle
Outfit 2: Black jumpsuit – Nastygal, Wedge boots – Nastygal, Bracelet – Topshop, Necklace- Topshop
Outfit 3: Blazer – Romwe
