I was intrigued to be lured into the woods of Trinity one chilly November night, with instructions only ‘to bring a coat’.

But I couldn’t have thought of a more appropriate form of invitation to O Human Child, which is dark and primal, with the plot revolving around the luring away and initiation of a child in a paganistic fairy ritual. I couldn’t help feeling like that child.

The writer and director Tara Isabella Burton draws both on great literature – Yeats (who gives the play its title), Shakespeare, Keats – and the physical theatre of Punch Drunk to create an intriguing high Romantic mashup. The cast list is divided into ‘Fairies’ and ‘Mortals’, with the former taunting, controlling and seducing the humans throughout the play. All of the characters spend the whole 90 minutes on stage, leaving the viewer free to wander around various plots and sub-plots, occasionally being dragged into the action, and fed ‘Fairy fruits’ (grapes, apparently).

These sub-plots give the play a constant tension, as the lovers circle each other, some in grape-induced passion, others in confusion and rage. Throughout the play, the sound of human emotion bubbles up – screams, giggles, cackles, growls, groans, moans. This cacophony was led by Emma D’arcy, as Puck, with a raucous, vitriolic laugh. She shone throughout. This primal soundtrack meshes well with the physical theatre – the pack of fairies that constantly dog the human characters, and the terrifying convulsions of Thomas Bailey’s Knight as he is thrown across the stage by the Fairy Queen (Hannah-Kate Kelly). Unfortunately, it sometimes fails to interact with the poetic language of the script. At one point the Fairies discourse in impeccable Shakespearean tones, as the ritual destruction of the child’s doll takes place at their feet in a howling gaggle.

Occasionally, the script itself seems to lack cohesion, with the plot sometimes difficult to untangle (though I was only shown a sample of the scenes). One actor acknowledged that they were thinking of introducing a narrator role, to explain the plot to the audience, but it is difficult to see this working without breaking the intensity and immersion of the experience, which is the real strength of this production. At one point, the play introduces a story within a story, which was compellingly told and acted, but seemed like a rather clunky way of introducing Rossetti’s ‘Goblin Market’.

All that is forgotten when Leonie Nicks, as the Fairy King strides across the stage, dominant and implacable, to drive the Fairies to frenzy. As soon as Puck, the King and their Fairies lead the action again, complemented by rather than accompanying the script, the play’s vitality shines through again. Luckily, the director has allowed this to happen throughout most of the play. So despite some lack of cohesion, the emotional intensity on show here should be reason enough to allow yourself to be lured into this Bacchanal ritual.

FOUR STARS 

O Human Child will be perfomed at the Moser Theatre during 6th Week 

So, Oxford gets another piece of new writing in the Burton Taylor Studio. But for a change, it isn’t terrible. In fact, Life Sentence is rather good. The play is centred on Theo, a hypochondriac who has been diagnosed with immortality. Naturally the man’s horrified, and after a friend organises a party to cheer him up, which goes dismally wrong, Theo stages his own funeral. This in turn goes dismally wrong, and then… Well, I’ve sworn not to give away the ending 

There are some weighty themes here, but the writing doesn’t overdo them. It has a lightness and deftness of touch, so it doesn’t stagnate into some oh-so-deep-and-meaningful exposition of the thoughts of a twenty year old who is oh-so-utterly crippled by the size of his own intelligence. Life Sentence is funny too. You may not end up doubled over in laughter, but you’ll have a smile on your face throughout. Who knew immortality could be so amusing?

The script has its faults, of course. The principal one I saw was that the relationship between Theo and Michelle, a friend of his, was too ferociously argumentative to believe, but we can probably pardon Jamie Carragher that. He has done an excellent job overall. The cast is of eight. In the preview, we only see three of them in action. For a fortnight before the opening night, they were shaping up well.

The doctor (who makes the dreadful diagnosis) is played by Charlie Dennis. Both in terms of the writing and the acting, the character is a little absurd, but only a fraction more so than your G.P. on an off day. He’s not exactly believable, but he’s well-rounded, and Dennis is playing him excellently. Charlie Daniels plays Michelle, Theo’s friend and something of a love interest for him (which is awkward, because she’s actually dating another one of Theo’s friends). It was a solid performance. Her movements seem simultaneously both lithe and stiff, and she embodies the long suffering friend well.

But ultimately, Michelle and the doctor are not lead roles, and so it is a shame that Nick Lyons, who plays Theo, was the least competent of the three. The director, Jack Herlihy, wants Theo not to be a timid hypochondriac; he wants Theo to be a vigorous attention seeker. I commend this, but Lyons’s reactions are simply not believable. Nobody, however much he wants others to feel sorry for his every illness, would immediately be outraged at being diagnosed with immortality. His relationship with Michelle also strains at one’s suspension of disbelief.

The writing is superb: it straddles the line between comedy and seriousness perfectly. It is still being performed in the Burton Taylor, so don’t go in the hope of any spectacle. Expenditure on set and costumes looks set to be minimal. That said, they did promise a coffin on stage…

THREE STARS

See Life Sentence for yourself at the Burton Taylor, it plays from Tuesday 13th – Saturday 17th November and is £5 for students. 

Student productions of musicals are often tolerable, at best, and despite the effective marketing campaign which is currently dominating Oxford, I wasn’t sure if A Little Night Music would live up to the hype. However, even cooped up in Somerville Chapel, without the large space of The Oxford Playhouse to work with, the cast give a captivating performance. Whilst many directors may settle for great actors with passable singing voices, or terrific singers who can also memorise lines, Griffith Rees has managed to find a talented cast whose vocal and acting ability is extremely impressive.

The first scene they show us is an ensemble musical number from the first act, and with the addition of the magnificent student orchestra, it is thoroughly enjoyable. The musical tells the story of the interwoven romantic lives of glamorous couples among the Swedish elite. Most prominent is the affair between the glamorous Desiree Armfeldt (Georgina Hellier) and Count Carl-Magnus (Aleksandr Cvetkovic). Hellier gives a particularly confident performance as the conniving temptress and works well with Cvetkovic, who commands the stage as the demanding and impatient Count.  The chemistry between the two makes theirs scenes engaging, especially when they are joined by Armfledt’s other lover, Fredrik Egerman, played by the amusing Richard Hill. Furthermore, all three actors find more humour in the musical than you would expect, and Hellier manages to make Armfledt’s duplicity hilarious, whilst Cvetkovic makes Carl-Magnus’ stubborn ignorance particularly entertaining.

Furthermore, there are many other commendable performances as Claire Parry’s sarcastic and dry wit, matched with her delightful singing voice makes her performance as Charlotte, Carl-Magnus’ mistreated wife, enthralling. Whilst I only saw a few scenes involving Madame Armfeldt (Natasha Heliotis) who majestically controls the romantic liaisons, that which I did see was riveting as Heliotis’ powerful stage presence, and range of facial expressions, allows her to dominate the stage, even when sat in the background. The cast are joined by the Liebeslieder, who act as a chorus, narrating the play and engendering the scene transition and the spectacular singing voices of Anjali Joseph and David Kell stand out as they resound throughout the chapel.

Of course, there are a view hitches. A couple of flat notes, and missed cues, but this does not detract from an otherwise aurally enchanting and generally entertaining performance. Rees’ vision as the director is clear, and the snippets of scenes that I saw left me wanting more. Despite the fact that they were only rehearsals, the strong performance of the cast made it clear that A Little Night Music will definitely be one of the unmissable shows of this term.   

FOUR STARS

A Little Night Music will be showing from Wednesday 14th to Saturday 17th November at the Oxford Playhouse.

Have you ever heard a laptop orchestra? However advanced your tastes, chances are this hasn’t yet formed part of your musical experience-bank.

On Friday 23^rd November, you’ll get your chance with the much-anticipated debut performance of OxLORK, the university laptop ensemble for which Dan Jeffries, Nigel McBride and Nick DiBeradino have succeeded in persuading the Music Faculty to support. This is an “orchestra” without double basses, or horns, or Chinese gongs, or piccolos. In a visually restrained performance, you’ll see some of the Music Faculty’s composition students – and some others who are principally musicologists – behind glowing apple-screens, typing, dragging with the mouse, occasionally laughing at a hidden joke.  From the audience perspective, electronic and rather ambient sounds will wash through the room, but it’s hard to tell who is doing what to create these sounds. As a member of this ensemble, I’ll provide a glimpse of what’s on our screens.

Laptop orchestras have become a growing phenomenon, especially within the context of university music; it’s a heavily funded project at the cutting edges of custom music technology and avant-garde academic composition. Not surprisingly, it’s technology-based, with the distinctive feature being pricey speakers specifically designed for this purpose – their six-faced design renders them capable of diffusing sound in many directions. The “orchestra” doesn’t actually play together at the moment but as three groups of six (we have only six speakers, since they are so expensive). One performer controls each speaker – hence the idea that it is played like an instrument, flexibly, and in real-time.
Throughout the performance, we’ll be sending each other messages, some of which are the cause of the laughter. Most of them will be concerned with matching our tempi or tone, but I won’t promise that our thoughts aren’t sometimes wandering. Pretty much anything could happen on the night, and the three sextets may develop distinct sounds as rehearsal practices diverge. As a medium, the laptop orchestra is so new that it could still take off in many possible directions, yet already not so new that it doesn’t already have recognised practices. In some ways, it’s really quite retro, just sitting round fiddling with grooves.

About this project I have been by turns enthusiastic and cynical, but I can honestly say that as rehearsal progresses, the sounds coming out of the speakers have become vastly more interesting each week. Do expect informality and weird sci-fi sounds, jumpy bass and sparkling high tones like an ill-advised night-time stroll in fairy-tale woods. Don’t expect a prompt start.

The provocateur célèbre of London FilmFestival’s new ‘Dare Gala’ was Carlos Reygadas, whose latest film, Post Tenebras Lux, is an audacious fever-like dream of domestic unease. It is so wildly ambitious that it comes with a near-irresistible temptation to view even its most unwieldy abstractions as the highest of cinematic art. And though it is shot in the squarish Academy ratio, no film this year has felt more expansive, as its immersive sound effects and haunting visuals collide with all the brutal gusto of a primal scream.

Punctuated by a series of surreal digressions, featuring a self-decapitated farmworker and a well-hung Satan (thankfully not related), the film follows an upper-class couple, Juan and Natalia on the brink of painful maturation. A dark energy pulses through the nonlinear narrative as Reygadas never shirks from presenting conflicting emotions (family bliss and marital friction, shared tenderness and unexplained violence) alongside each otherwith fiery unpredictability. This gives his semi-autobiographical musings a distinctly less redemptive tone than the otherwise structurally similar Tree of Life from last year. Vivid imagery and oblique aesthetic methods – the use of an edge-blurring, postproduction framing device called ‘tilt-shift’ – merge to create a kaleidoscopic vision that will require more than a few ibuprofens to dispel.

Forgiving a few arthouse clichés, including graphic sex and an extraneous scene of animal abuse, Reygadas has succeeded in creating a film where, in his own words, “reason will intervene as little as possible.” That said, there is a strong conservative message at its core, acknowledging the patriarchal need to protect the family unit against all odds. Juan is insulted by an employee’s overt machismo, his porn addiction is trivialised at an AA meeting and he silently watches his wife being ravished by French strangers in the ‘Duchamp Room’ of an orgiastic sauna.

Through such elliptic scenes, the film tackles the metaphysical conceit underlying much Romantic lore, the idea of the universe as a list of male possessions under threat: my wife, my kids, my house, my life. But why does Reygadas’ criticism feel so vague? Can he only rage against such things through cryptic codes for fear of angering his Mexican countrymen andclergy? Or have I been reading too many DanBrown novels? Keeping all these experiences close to hisheart and the vibration of his caméra-stylo,Post Tenebras Lux is Reygadas’ most impassioned renunciation of form for feeling, even if his central theme can be reduced to “rich people have feelings too”.

YES – Huw Fullerton

I was horrified by this news. So much so that I’m not even going to open with a clever Star Wars pun about how horrified  was. I really did not expect it at all. Like most people, I did not enjoy the prequel trilogy; they had their merits, but they really just weren’t Star Wars. And, over the years it’s been hard not to become disillusioned by the direction the franchise has taken. TV series, video games, action figures,books, backpacks, hardware. Ugh, and don’t get me started on those Dixons adverts.

To me, the renting out of iconic figures like that seemed like desecration, and so very, very crass. Creatively, there didn’t seem to be much point in propagating the franchise – it has seemed driven by profit. And that’s the tone that I read the announcement in. I have a real distaste for the culture of endless sequels, reboots and adaptations that has infected cinema in the last decade, at the expense of any originality or real merit in favour of wanton profiteering.

The announcement that Disney will have a Star Wars film out ‘every two years’ sounds like the death-rattle of creativity; you should make a film if you have a story to tell, not to fill a schedule or a profit margin. I was thoroughly disturbed by the news. But something occurred to me – was I really saying that I didn’t want more Star Wars films? I loved them as a kid, and with George Lucas’ role scaled back, who was to say that the worst excesses of the prequels wouldn’t go with him? Disney had done a good job with Pixar’s takeover and – more importantly for me – they managed to somehow not screw up The Avengers when they bought Marvel.

Perhaps we won’t really be able to judge until Episode VII comes out, but Mark Hamill said something in an interview that really only increased my uneasiness with the new films. He said that “there’s this ravenous desire on the part of the true believers to have more and more and morematerial.” I think this is completely untrue; most fans would agree the series was complete, all the loose ends tied up. There is really no need for new films; Lucas’ abdication shows that he certainly thinks that. Maybe Star Wars has become a business, and I’m sure that business is booming. But in this case, I think, less is more.

NO – Alexandra Sutton

So, Disney now own Star Wars. I can practically hear the Leia-loving sci-fi boffins of our galaxy sobbing into their cuddly Ewoks. I can certainly see their Facebook statuses: ‘We trusted you, George!’ ‘But, how will Luke operate a lightsaber and a zimmer frame at the same time?!’ Come to think of it, it all seems vaguely familiar. The fact is, Mr Lucas has been steadily whittling down his fan base ever since he (presumably) got bored one Saturday afternoon and invented a chap named Jar Jar Binks.

Surely people could see this coming? We had The Phantom Menace (to be said in hushed tones, like The Scottish Play or You-Know-Who), we had the Clone Wars, the Lego, the video games, the Jar Jar toys in cuddly, keyring and lunchbox form. In short, the franchise became a business. Of course, I am of the generation who met Anakin before we met Luke, and so I can’t qualify the emotions that the original series inspired.

The truth is, I do love Star Wars. It walks the fine line between epic and camp, and it’s plastered onto my subconscious as if Yoda himself had placed it there. What’s more, I also have a lots of respect for Pixar. There are lots of reasons to admire them as a production company, not least the genuine care they show their films. I feel safe in the knowledge that I won’t be subjected to a Toy Story 9, in which Robo-Andy sells off an antique Woody in order to fund his drug habit. But who knows, Disney have whole galaxies to play with. I for one am just excited to see small children once gain running away from Darth Vader models in the Disney Store.