Cherwell’s Verdict
‘Still needs whipping into shape’

With a remake of the classic Yes Prime Minister shortly on our screens, this may be the perfect time to bring political comedy Whipping It Up to Oxford.   It falls into the same vein of political comedy, all backroom deals, complex plots and naked cynicism. This is the kind of play that must be carried by its cast; when the audience have nothing to hold their attention but actors and office furniture, the standard has to be consistent and strong.

Unfortunately, the cast of Whipping It Up don’t seem to be quite there yet. Their performances are, granted, competent, and there are even a few gems amongst them.  Josh Dolphin puts in a solid performance as a deputy whip, although doesn’t quite gel with his main partner in the previewed scenes.  Many of the roles are filled with simple caricatures that don’t do the script justice – the senior Tories hammed up and blustery, the junior ones theatrically nervous, without either ever being believable.   

That, of course, could simply be a case of more rehearsal. What is more worrying is a distinct lack of energy across the cast. British political comedy runs the gamut from the sedentary Yes Minister of the eighties to the frenetic The Thick of It of the noughties, and this production falls firmly in the former’s camp.  The general pace and staging are far too sedate to expect any laughs from some the genuinely funny lines; actors are always seated, the conversation slow and steady, with no emotion, flair or dynamism thrown in.
The actresses of the piece, however, offer some respite from the rather staid male performances.  Their scenes genuinely command attention – Siwan Clark brings a real feeling of suspense into her scene with Dolphin, while Emily Troup’s energy makes her scenes a pleasure to watch. However, even these scenes seem somewhat marred by the directors somewhat inexplicable choice to lay on the sexual tension with a trowel, to the point you wonder if there’s something else going on you don’t know about it.

This play still has a chance to get better: it is mediocre rather than bad, and many of its weaknesses will improve in time for its second week debut. One can only hope the better members of the cast will left their colleagues up, to help bring out the humour in what is a genuinely very funny play.

Iffley Road is not obviously interesting, certainly not when compared with the buzz of its sister roads, Cowley and St. Clement’s. But go far enough down, and nestled among the staid elegance of three storey red-bricks, a dark-gleaming box-like building emerges. It is the Pegasus Theatre.

But to call it a Theatre diminishes its uniqueness. Certainly, Pegasus does theatre, but not like anywhere else in Oxford.

The driving force behind Pegasus is to get young people into theatre. “All our projects aim to work on self-esteem, building confidence, inspiring people to be creative,” explained Angharad Phillips, Youth Arts Leader at Pegasus.

The range of projects Pegasus involves young people in is impressive in and of itself. There’s dance, drama, music technology, technical theatre work, creative writing, and the occasional course on filming, all of which end in performances. Most of the classes are based in the theatre itself, but a lot of the time Pegasus takes drama elsewhere, to schools and community centres across Oxford and Oxfordshire. The aim is to help those who would not, otherwise, be able to access theatre, whether because of socio-economic disadvantages, or because of living in the depths of the country.

Last year they ran an international arts festival called Mesh, “where we had young people coming from Croatia, Germany, France, the Netherlands, Russia, Thailand, Iran, and they all came together and they worked together for ten days to produce a full scale production using music, drama and dance and lots of languages,” said Phillips, with a chuckle at the end of the sentence, as if having so many languages all under one roof might have been a logistical nightmare. “We worked mainly in English, though we had translators, and in the final show we tried to represent the different languages.”

Pegasus’ youth projects tend to be grouped under themes, this year’s being Food and Justice. “We’re looking at themes of how our decisions impact others, and global themes of waste and food miles and asking lots of questions around the ethics of food,” said Phillips. The groups then interpret the theme as suits them best; “one of our groups is taking inspiration from the King Midas story of the golden touch, of wanting everything but then that not actually being everything it’s cracked up to be.”

Pegasus gets results, too. Young people from their courses tend to come back for more; some even end up working for the theatre, like Phillips herself. A member’s committee, comprised of young people, takes part in the governance of Pegasus, helping with sub-committees and sending representatives to the Board of Trustees.

The building was “redesigned” just a couple of years ago, though it was actually more of a slash, burn and rebuild – the only original part is the shell of the theatre proper. The architects consulted both the staff and the young people, one of the results of which is the floor’s colour scheme; “the young people commented… that Pegasus was like an enchanted forest where you never knew quite what was round the corner – so the dappling on the floor is to reflect sunlight coming through dappled leaves.”

Theatre that makes young people think, where the courses are not run merely for them, but also partly by them, all housed in a stunning new structure – it should make for a pleasant change from underfunded and understaffed pretentious drivel. And if you don’t want to pay to see their shows, their numerous volunteering opportunities include ushering.

Cinephilia (n): Not a nasty virus or a particularly niche sex-crime (although it can be either. Or both.), cinephilia is a love of cinema, and this Oscars season you too can join the fun: 

1. Master the Jargon: The key to sounding like a cinephile – your best bet is calling everything “Interesting”. With a capital ‘I’. Yes it’s totally without meaning, but it sounds analytical. Also try “meta/pastiche/derivative” or a combination of all three, with prefixes like “proto/post/psuedo”. You could even go for “aspect-ratio” or “sound-mixing” if you’re feeling ambitious. If you get really stuck just talk about the phalanges.
2. Have more impressive favourite films: Put the BFI ‘Sight and Sound’ Top 20 List in hat. Pick out four. Wikipedia the plots. These are now four of your five favourite films. Be sure to instagram well-worn DVD covers of these four with bowls of popcorn with caption along the lines of: ‘Just Me and Battleship Potempkin again. #Director’sCut.’
3. Get a bit meta: Speaking of favourite movies: Cinema Paradiso. It’s now your ‘omfgfavouritemovieofalltimeever’. You know how Harry Potter is all wise because his greatest fear is dementors, and they embody fear itself? Cinema Paradiso is a film about loving cinema. It’s your new equivalent: a film of the cinephile, by the cinephile, for the cinephile. Pseudo-Meta-Interesting.
4. Lead (dominate) the Conversation: Never be content to talk about the actual film in discussion. Make constant reference to earlier work/short films/that one that was only shown that one time in one cinema in a bunker in St Petersburg in 1923.
5. For actual info we heart IMDb/Empire Magazine/Rotten Tomatoes. Or watch some films and have some thoughts. Your call.

★★★★☆

Four Stars

Nominated for eight Oscars, this adaptation of the stage classic is directed by Tom Hooper and stars an ensemble cast led by Hugh Jackman, Russell Crowe, Anne Hathaway, and Amanda Seyfried. The film tells the story of Jean Valjean, a former prisoner who becomes mayor of a town in France. Valjean agrees to take care of Cosette, the illegitimate daughter of Fantine, and must avoid being captured again by Javert, a police inspector. This blockbuster cost an estimated $61 million to make, but has already broken the record for opening weekend box office sales for a musical.

I can’t act. And I certainly can’t sing. So for me, at least, the magic of musicals is that some people can. They really can. And, if you’re lucky enough to be sitting in a theatre, these people are belting out those songs right before your very eyes. 

I can vividly recall seeing Les Mis in the West End, but it isn’t the faces of the characters which I recall but the spine-tingling ohdear-lord-I-think-I’m-going-to-cry moment as they start to sing ‘One Day More!’ Never have I wanted to be able to sing more than at that moment. And never have I been more relieved to be sitting in a darkened room where no-one can see me sneakily weeping.

Unfortunately, there was no surreptitious sniffling from me in the cinema. Some of the magic was missing. Whether it was actually being able to see Anne Hathaway’s face (daubed in something amusingly akin to plaster of Paris) as Fantine lies dying, or seeing the revolutionaries’ barricade put in perspective amidst the backdrop of the city, blocking merely a side street instead of dominating the whole of the stage: something just wasn’t quite as powerful.

Despite some dramatic helicopter-shots across the French alps as Valjean makes his penitential pilgrimage homewards, and scenes swooping through the labyrinthine streets of 19th century Paris, somehow the grandeur is missing; and against such a backdrop, the characters struggle to assume the epic proportions of the stage.

Nevertheless, there are moments which are all the better on the silver screen. Sacha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham Carter are fantastic as the swindling innkeepers; The ‘Master of the House’ scene is a jaunty cacophony of trickery. Madame Thernadier spins from table to table, nabbing hats, purses and even the odd glass eye, whilst the Master cheerily serves up a pint of piss. Their reappearance at the wedding – Cohen in a fetching pin-striped yellow suit – is a welcome relief from the focus on the semi-boring Marius and Cosette.

Focus on the solos is occasionally tedious (Russell Crowe’s voice is plain boring, even if he is teetering on the precipice of a tower for ‘Stars’);however, Eponine’s ‘Little Fall of Rain’ and ’On My Own’ are touching, even if a little bit of a soggy sentimentalist cliché (girl is sad; cue rain).

Hugh Jackman as Valjean makes a miraculous transformation from a mangy inmate to a rather dapper, high-collared gentleman (I would), and Gavroche has all the chipper, alright gu’vnor gumption of the Artful Dodger. I’ll let you in on a little secret, though. I might have welled up at ‘Do You Hear the People Sing?’. Both times.

★☆☆☆☆
One Star

After the hysteria of the Olympics passed, it seems that many an athlete found themselves flung to the summit of Mount Celebrity. Bright-eyed and able-bodied they may be, but rarely are they blessed with that sparkling charisma which is required to navigate the rocky path to media personality, before the country’s attention switches to the next batch of lobotomised karaoke stars.

Come 2016 there will be no contorted, gurning, slightly terrifying cartoons plastered across the underground to remind us that we’re (apparently) really into sports. In order to strike while the iron’s hot, PR teams have mobilised faster than Britney’s post-Vegas annulment and have carved TV careers out of toned bodies, good bone structure, and little else.

We have gawked at the abs on display in the swimming pool, but as US gold medallist Ryan Lochte demonstrated when grunting his way through a 90210 cameo (then commenting on the difficulty of “memorizing lines and trying to, like, say them and still, like, do movement”), Olympians should stick to what they do best: running, jumping, and looking good in lycra.

No exception to the rule is Tom Daley, British diving bronze medallist and tween heartthrob whose autocue-reading skills are about as natural as a GCSE French Oral. Olympian hero-worship is second only to fawning over K-Mid’s royal foetus in the list of things that make me want to emigrate to the Siberian tundra. Combine it with a ‘Celebrity’ reality show, however, and you have another thing altogether. It’s a peculiar vein of schadenfreude that’s brought out by watching those desperately clinging onto the outer fringes of the D-list undergo all manner of demeaning rituals on national television.

I’ve sat through them regurgitating animal entrails on I’m a Celebrity, felt kind of weird watching them go cold turkey on Celebrity Rehab and still can’t shake the image of Rebecca Loos’ porcine masturbation on The Farm. ITV, in all its infinite wisdom, has a particular knack for taking slightly more respectable competitions and adding in the potential for serious bodily harm (see Dancing on Ice; like Strictly Come Dancing, but everyone’s waiting for the inevitable ice-skate to the jugular).

In the Daley-fest that is Splash!, not only are contestants forced to endure Chirpy Northerner Vernon Kay, but they must also throw themselves off a diving board higher than two double-decker buses. Just in case the promise of seeing celebrities hurtling towards possible injury doesn’t grab your attention (which, for those of us who saw Jade Ewen as the final nail in the Sugababes coffin, is more than enough), producers have added dubstep and glitzy set-pieces.

There are also tarted-up swimming costumes which wouldn’t look out of place in a strip joint and a dive/dance opening number strangely reminiscent of the final pageant routine in Miss Congeniality. Oh, and Jo Brand is one of the judges.

★★☆☆☆
Two Stars

The crucial issue with this interpretation of The Handmaid’s Tale is you absolutely need to have read the book. If unfamiliar with the story then entry into this extremely experimental piece of theatre will scare you – and possibly cover you in red cloth. Also enter aware that this is an opera. Against a haunting background of accordions, strings, piano, a cappella and by the end several large glass empty bowls, the story of Offred is played out.

A ‘Handmaid’, or birth surrogate, in the totalitarian regime of a future American dystopia, the constant change of actress portraying her character is another source of confusion; although it did highlight well the loss of personal identity, this theme is more effectively conveyed before anyone sits down. A mute selection of performers direct audience members to remove their coats and shoes to be draped instead in the striking crimson dress of the Handmaid’s, who then – silently – escorts you to your seat, creating an opressive mood instantly.

The successful scenes continue in this vein, expanding upon Atwood’s themes. The ceremony is distinct, made even more dehumanising and uncomfortable than one could imagine, by the lack of a bed but also the most effective use throughout of repetition in song. The epilogue strikes the correct note of scholarly satire and clarification while the recorded tapes are also used well.

However, the majority of scenes dragged on too long. Multiple long pauses of almost five minutes left audience members wondering if this was a technical fault or a chance for poignant reflection. If the latter, again while once an effective technique, it was, like many others in this piece, overused. Played out atop a giant scrabble board some metaphors are stretched to their extreme and in many cases, while Atwood’s prose is award-winning, do not suffer well the conversion to song.

The music takes precedence. Melancholy notes are evocative although they never seem to reach a high volume and impactful crescendo, which may also have made the end of this production easy to spot. While it tries hard this production is undeveloped though coloured with a few strikes of potential.

Becky Luffman (Set designer)
We’ve been building the set for the last three days, and it’s shaping up quite nicely. Having never even handled a handsaw before, I am learning a lot of things quite quickly. It’s great to watch the set being made, though seeing it in in reality is strange; my 2D sketches are now something that people – actor people – will actually need to walk around in. I just hope that once it is finished I can begin to get excited about the show happening, right now it’s more of an impatient child demanding my attention that I’m shushing with one hand as I drill with another. This is the first Playhouse show that I’ve been involved in, so the pressure is on!

Jack Sain (Director)
With less than two weeks to go,  it’s quite a long time since I drifted into my friend’s room and told him about a play I thought was fantastic. Now we’re knee deep, I can’t believe so much has been achieved in such a relatively short space: Angels is an amazing play, but nothing if not a challenge.

DESIGN TEAM: “So does the Angel actually have to fly?”
ME: “Yes.”
DESIGN TEAM: “I don’t think that’s actually been done by students before, Jack.”
ME: “Cool.”

Asking a twenty-year old girl to play an octogenarian rabbi is equally hard, to say nothing of onstage nudity and putting some very confidently heterosexual men very far out of their comfort zones (which in fairness they’ve done with admirable zest). And it’s a brilliant play: I can shroud it in many layers of pseudo-intellectual bollocks, but that’s the simple fact. Yes, it’s about social issues, yes it’s about politics, yes it may cause some schoolboy giggling (bloody hope so too), but it’s also a really, good play. And that makes it all worth it: I’ve loved every second. Fingers crossed you guys do too.

Jessica Campbell (Associate Artist)
I came on board as the dubiously-named ‘associate artist’. It’s turning out to be one of the best roles in student theatre: helping with rehearsals, watching runs and offering comments – or keeping schtum as one sees fit. The Angels cast shows off the absolute best – though the seven (brutally charming) men outnumber the three (equally impressive) women, so one leaves the rehearsals drenched in thespian testosterone. The play’s homosexual relationships make for some of the most interesting confrontations and its surprising to see how even Oxford’s finest are at times unnerved by the gay scenes. In rehearsals these are often followed by a short exchange of notes from the lucky participants: ‘No more pre-kiss peanuts, ok?’, ‘No Thai sweet chilli crisps’, ‘Don’t be so awkward with your arms…’ I won’t reveal which performers test their heterosexual nerves, but rest assured, watching their relationships form and break apart is devastating – and also pretty sexy.

Holly Morse (Costumier)
The challenge: source costumes for a play set in 80s NYC featuring a fantastic array of characters including a rabbi, a drag queen, an Eskimo, an angel…. This should be easy, right? In the weeks leading up to opening night of Angels in America I have found myself doing some weird and wonderful things in the name of costume; spending hour after hour at the Oxfordshire Drama Wardrobe Collection and finding myself up a ladder in the National Theatre Wardrobe contemplating Eskimo costume (That’s right, they have more than one!) I’ve also became addicted to eBay, doing victory dances each time I win another unforgivably 80s item of clothing. At moments like these I’ve wondered whether this costume sourcing business is messing with my mind. I became sure of that fact when, on a freezing December morning, I got up at 5am to go costume hunting at a vintage market…  in the dark. Everyone else had torches. FML. But it has not been in vain; the wardrobe for Angels in America is coming together beautifully. Bring on the quick changes!

Nathan Klein (Composer)
When composing to a deadline I am so terrified of not getting a good idea that as soon as one comes, getting it down in any shape or form has to be the only priority. I would love to say I’ve sketched melodies on matchbook boxes on the way to sessions at Abbey Road—as I am informed is a rite of passage for all the greats—but unfortunately I neither smoke (sorry girls), nor have the budget to record at such a premises (cheers Simon). Instead, I leg it from the piano to the computer, smash in the idea on my keyboard and sit in a euphoric state with the playback on loop.

Next the idea has to be developed. I find there is about a 30 minute time period from the initial conception where things happen, but after, a 3-5 hour break ensues as I force anyone within a mile radius to listen and praise (only praise is accepted at this fragile time). For these 30 minutes, you need tunnel vision. This works okay in Oxford as you can shut yourself away reasonably easily, but imagine the dilemma of a nagging family over Christmas. For these reasons, I entered my lowest state of creativity over the holidays by simply playing everything straight into Logic (the music software I use). So now 0th week must be spent re-interpreting all of the ideas onto paper so that others can interpret them into sound during the recording session in 1st week. I hear that this is a similar method to Hans Zimmer, except that he whistles around 3 notes into his iPhone and emails them off to an army of composers and orchestrators. Magically, an hour of music is spun out of those three notes. Clever idea. I wish I had an army of orchestrators. Any volunteers?

Katie Ebner-Landy (Marketing Associate)
As Marketing Associate, or using my preferred ex-title, “Stunt Manager”, I believed I wrangled myself one of the coolest roles in this production. Although I don’t quite pull any stunts – my original title was rebuked for this very reason – I have had the opportunity to organise a couple of events, about which the party planner in me gets quite excited.
I was keen to use some of the marketing to emphasise the political edge to Angels in America, and after bouncing around ridiculous ideas with Simon, we decided on three, relatively optimistic, objectives.

1. Get the Union involved.
2. Have a university wide “Queer Bop” in 1^st week.
3. Keep our print material in people’s wallets and out of the recycling bin.

Cue lots of carefully worded emails – be warned: don’t miss the Q off ‘LGBTQ’ – and meetings with senior Union officials. Objective 2 didn’t go fully to plan, Entz reps are actually much busier than I had previously assumed, but Objective 1 was achieved in its entirety. We have a partnered Union debate in 1^st week: “THW be glad to have gay parents” and, although we didn’t get 38 colleges involved, we do have a series of collegiate LGBTQ events coming up, including a Queer Bop at Trinity. And, a deal at Angels cocktail bar in Jericho which is on our business cards. Just a heads up.

Hannah Hurley (Co-Producer)
Producing at this stage of a production is somewhat of an odd role to fill. Tuesday was spent papering Oxford with posters, whilst yesterday I was knee-deep in saw dust, helping make set.  Of course, this follows months of preparation: in places, my endless to-do lists look utterly mad: comments about meeting playhouse staff and finding rehearsal rooms are in several places sat next to the phrases like ‘Find bald cap and call RE coffin.’

In general, these lists have been characteristic of my life for the last six months. Jack quite concisely told me that we absolutely needed to fly an angel in the playhouse and, in the same breath, asked for on-stage snow. Along with the Production Manager, we’ve so far managed to make both things happen. Snow machines, power tools and flying angels are just part of what has made this a wonderful show to produce; I just hope you enjoy the production as much as I’ve enjoyed the process.
 
Selali Fiamanya (Actor)
As the only science student in the play, and one of two who’s a Playhouse virgin, I figured I had some catching up to do. Affirmative action can only get you so far, y’know? It’s time to research how the pros get down. And who better to learn from than these cats, who are more comfortable on the Playhouse stage than in jumpers from this millennium. First things first: get a moleskine. All the best actors have moleskines. Secondly, I heard one of them talking about method acting. I gave it a go over the holidays, and I feel being caught by your father in his wife’s tights and heels watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s will not only make me a better actor, but a better person. Long live the theatre.