Friday, April 25, 2025
Blog Page 1681

Oxford students dominate writing competition

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Three finalists studying at Oxford have been awarded prizes in a national student writing competition.

The Student Prize, organised by the London Library, was awarded to Ben Mason, a Philosophy and German finalist at Trinity College, while Caroline Criado-Perez from Keble, and Andrew McCormack, a finalist at Mansfield, were named as runners-up.

Mason was awarded £5,000 for his 800-word piece responding to the statement, “The future of Britain lies with the right-hand side of the brain”. His winning entry will be published in The Times and the London Library Library Magazine later this year.

On being named as the winner, Mason said, “I am thrilled to have won. It was very refreshing to spend some time thinking about ideas totally unrelated to my course, and to write something in a totally different style to a tutorial essay. Of course it was a surprise to be named winner and the prize is extremely generous.”

When asked for his thoughts on the essay topic, Mason told Cherwell, “I think it was really well chosen – there’s enough material out there to write something fairly informed, but it’s not so well-trodden either, and there was plenty of scope for taking an original line.”

The runners-up were each presented with a cheque for £1,000. Caroline Criado-Perez stated that the prize money would be “very useful” as she “scrabbles for funding for a Master’s”.

Both the winner and the runners-up also received a year’s membership of The London Library and a year’s subscription to The Times, as well as the opportunity to take part in a mini-internship at the newspaper.

The entries were judged by a distinguished panel, including Bill Emmott, former editor of The Economist and Chairman of the London Library, The Times Books Editor, Erica Wagner, and actress and author Sheila Hancock OBE.

Wagner stated that The Times were “keen to foster talent in the brightest and the best, and this is a wonderful way to do that.”

He added, “The quality of entries received, including Ben’s particularly fine effort, show the depth of talent out there among students whose original thinking and clear, persuasive communication indicate they have exciting futures ahead of them.”

A London Library spokesperson told Cherwell that the prize was launched “to discover the next generation of writers, thinkers and opinion formers.”

The London Library Student Prize will run for the next three years, offering final year undergraduates a “fantastic opportunity to kick-start a career in writing,” the spokesperson added.

The man without a mandate

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Poor, poor Nick Clegg. What can be said about a man who chose to dare? He successfully moved the Lib Dems from the pristine yet pointless ground of an unelectable party but only managed to turn it into a disreputable one. At its most cynical, the political scene in Britain today can be summarised thus. Labour do awful things and feel bad afterwards. Tories do awful things and feel good afterwards. Lib Dems, however, do nothing.

The result being that the government that no one wanted was able to fight the crisis completely on its own terms.  The image presented, to the public as well as to the circling international credit ratings agencies, was one of unity; two parties fighting together, and a nation whose classes were all in it together. It was expected that the presence of Lib Dems at the table would force their partners to be more cautious in applying their agenda of slash and burn.

A swathe of unpopular reforms however, ended any hopes that the Lib Dems would be able to rein in some of the Conservatives’ more vicious tendencies. At their best they were a speed bump to their partners, who knew that, never having actually held office, the Lib Dems would not have the means or the experience to be contenders on the stage of power. To all those who voted Lib Dem and are disappointed: you have a right to be. When it came for them to have their moment in the sun they got burnt.

It’s not as if Clegg and co. have been completely idle since they took their poisoned chalice. One thing the Lib Dems have been working hard on is the coalition’s strange Orwellian doublespeak. The argument that a cut in the 50p tax rate for those earning more than £150,000 will hit the rich is a bold statement.  It may indeed have done more damage than anything else to the idea of a recovery where everyone, rich and poor, will help pay the way. Ed Miliband may relish the opportunity, presented by the recent cash for access scandal, to brand their partners “the same old Tories”. But for the Lib Dem voters it seems as if they are willing stooges to one of the most blatantly elitist governments in recent memory.

The rupture between party and voter takes on another twist with the proposed NHS reforms. A recent poll by the Royal College of Physicians showed that 7 out of 10 Doctors voted to reject the reforms. They cited fears such as risks to the quality of patient care and the eventual total privatisation of the NHS. Original public outcry against reforms is complemented by the scepticism of the professional class expected to make them work.  The Lib Dems failure to stop this bill is another missed opportunity  to reconnect with the public, following on from their broken promises over tuition fees. 

These are the partners the Lib Dems have chosen for themselves. Their voters expected them to act as a counterweight within government, not to be swallowed up by it. This is why Nick Clegg has breached his mandate from his pivotal minority of voters.  Whilst the party elite have chosen to turn blue, their electorate and once party faithful prefer to jump ship into the grey waters of apathy and shame.  Nick Clegg has led his party into hell; I doubt he will be leading it out again. 

An expensive habit

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Last Saturday, at a summit in Antigua, the President of Guatemala called for an end to the war on drugs. He spoke as the leader of a country with one of the highest per capita murder rates in the world – 39 per hundred thousand per year. The UK suffers just 1.2.

Also present were senior representatives from El Salvador and Honduras. With murder rates of 71 and 86 per hundred thousand, these two nations have the worst record in the world, meaning that if you died last year in Honduras, there is a one in sixteen chance that you were murdered. The widespread and deadly violence that has given rise to these figures is a by-product of a long and protracted mission to make the cocaine more difficult and expensive to obtain.

In Afghanistan the black market for opium fuels widespread corruption which undermines the flimsy government and also funds terrorism and insurgency. In West Africa, an emerging drug trafficking network adds to the chaos and violence that typifies much of the region. In Colombia, the world’s largest producer of cocaine, the trade fuelled the disgustingly bloody civil war that began in the 80s and has effectively continued into the 21st century, with only some recent amelioration. In the early 90s much of the country lay in the hands of murderous drug lord Pablo Escobar and in 1992 alone 27,100 people were killed in the violence. 

With the exception of El Salvador, the countries most hit by the ‘war on drugs’ do not have a serious domestic drug abuse problem. They are in this position out of international obligation to prop up the failing policy approaches in the developed nations. As the influential UN Global Commission on Drug Policy has pointed out, the vast, deadly and destructive effort put into the ‘war on drugs’  since it began at the United Nations Single Convention on Narcotic Drugs in 1961 (although Nixon would only coin the term 10 years later), has failed. It has failed to prevent the steady increase in drug abuse over the past decades and it has failed to stem both demand and supply of narcotics. It has failed because it is totally the wrong approach.

Dr. Hugh and Professor Stevens’ 2010 report on drug consumption in Portugal has shown clearly that in the 10 years since that country decriminalised all drugs, consumption trends were consistent with other countries which had not liberalised their policies. In fact, heroin abuse, the main concern of the Portuguese government, actually decreased over the period. Reinarman et al’s study of cannabis consumption in Dutch cities (where it is legal and regulated) compared with San Fransisco (where it is not), comprehensively concluded that there was no evidence that decriminalisation either decreased use or increased the age at which people began consumption. Similarly, the aforementioned UN report cites a number of studies which show that cannabis decriminalisation in the state of Western Australia did not change consumption patterns. Evidence clearly suggests that there is a negligible link between drug decriminalisation and increased consumption. This is not surprising – consider how easy and how cheap it is to get hold of most drugs in heavily policed western cities.

Besides being utterly ineffective at reducing consumption, criminalisation of drug abuse has had disastrous consequences for users and society at large. In the case of softer drugs like cannabis, it turns otherwise law-abiding citizens into criminals. In the case of more harmful, addictive drugs, it forces the dependent to buy adulterated, dirty strains. In countries which lack the needle swapping programmes and methadone clinics that the UK has reluctantly introduced, HIV prevalence amongst users of injected drugs tends to be around 40%.

Instead of treating drug addiction as a serious sociological and psychological problem, a complex medical issue for those who suffer it, we instead choose to bully and arrest addicts in the forlorn hope that this will somehow cure them of their drug-dependence. We exacerbate the dangers and harm to users and criminalise decent people unnecessarily, at a cost of about £14bn per year in the UK alone.

The ‘war on drugs’ has been a brutal and violent war. The end result is a policy of prohibition that utterly fails to stem casual use and actually increases harm to addicts, while unnecessarily criminalising millions of people at a huge financial cost. It is time to end this madness.

Taxi surveillance proposals suspended

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Oxford City Council’s controversial move to install CCTV cameras in every Oxford taxi have been put on hold.

The programme of installing cameras, which record both images and audio, was due to begin on April 1st, but has been paused while the Information Commissioner’s Office investigates privacy concerns.

Council spokesperson Lousia Dean said, “We have had an inquiry from the Information Commissioner who wishes to better understand the scheme. We are happy to assist in those inquiries.”

Taxi drivers were previously told that they needed to install the £460 devices by 2015 or face having their licenses revoked. The CCTV cameras and microphones activate once the ignition in the car is turned on, and remain recording for 30 minutes after the engine is turned off. The council says the recording equipment is necessary to protect drivers and passengers, as well as  to deal with any disputes over fares.

However, there has been strong opposition to the proposal since it was announced. A protest was held on 21st March, while over 250 drivers have signed a petition against the scheme.

Nick Pickles, director of the group Big Brother Watch who have led the campaign against the policy, said, ‘It is clear that recording the conversations of every taxi journey was an unacceptable intrusion into people’s privacy, so we welcome the news the council has suspended its policy.

‘However, the only acceptable outcome will be if the Council abandons the plans and we remain ready to take legal action to ensure Oxford does not become one of the most spied upon places in Europe.’

He added, “This policy is not only a huge intrusion on privacy, but sends a terrible message to the wider country and indeed the world about Oxford as a city. Do the council expect senior businessmen or visiting academics, let alone tourists and local people, to put up with their conversations in taxis being recorded?”

Oxford West and Abingdon MP Nicola Blackwood agreed, commenting, “It does seem the city council has crossed the line. It is an invasion of privacy and undermining of civil liberties that neither passengers nor taxi drivers themselves have welcomed.

‘The ICO stated to me that recording conversations between passengers is highly intrusive and unlikely to be justified. CCTV plays an important role in combating crime but that has to be balanced with privacy concerns and used within common sense limits.”

Taxi Driver Arif Khan also voiced serious concerns about the decision, telling Cherwell, “I oppose the scheme for two reasons: the first and most important being that our customers simply don’t want it. When people are traveling in a taxi they’re often talking about confidential things. Whether they’re discussing important business plans with a colleague or on the phone to their partner, a lot of the time they don’t want to be overheard.

‘The truth is not a single customer of mine has said they’re happy with it. From a taxi driver’s perspective, this move could seriously affect our trade and our living, and the council is disregarding that.’

Khan continued, “On a personal note, I use my car both at work and at home. I don’t want to be recorded when I’m spending my time away from work with my family; it’s a huge invasion of personal privacy and the council are really crossing a line.

‘I’m not against CCTV in general, but video and audio equipment in a small vehicle is ridiculous. Oxford isn’t a big city with a staggering crime rate, and it doesn’t need this kind of invasion.”

A statement from the council assured that “The risk of intrusion into private conversations has to be balanced against the interests of public safety, both of passengers and drivers. The footage won’t be routinely viewed but will be stored on the CCTV hard-drive for a period of 28 days.”

It continued, “There are laws in places that require the viewing of such images to be necessary and proportionate, and therefore must relate to a specific complaint or incident. The Officers are not permitted to view any images that do not relate to the actual matter being investigated.”

The council concluded by stating that the encryption of recordings, and the ability to access them solely “in the event of a police investigation or investigation into a complaint against a driver”, were “added safeguards.”

Students seem largely in agreement with the suspension of the proposals, with Lincoln student Cameron Cook describing them as a “terrible idea”.

He added, “I don’t want the council to see who I bring back from Wahoo on a Wednesday night.’

The Two Gentlemen of Verona: Music Director’s Blog

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It’s hard to compose music (or produce any creative work, for that matter) without harboring aspirations—however irrational or delusional they may be—of grandiosity.  Writing even the most modest student exercise doesn’t pass without hopes, conscious or not, of hearing the final product performed in the world’s great concert halls, and recorded for the benefit or posterity.  

So it’s somewhat humbling for me to provide the music—part arrangements of popular songs, part original compositions and part shameless borrowing from other works that encroaches on unabashed plagiarism—for Barbarian Production’s upcoming Two Gentlemen of Verona.  Indeed, this music can only be performed in a 1940s-themed production of Two Gents (with the specific director’s cuts). 

The music for Two Gents will consist of three Big Band era classics to which we’ve bought the licensing rights: Oh! Look at Me Now; New York, New York; and My Funny Valentine. I am also adding short interludes between scenes, and brief moments of underscoring, all written solely for voice and piano.  While the total amount of music is not likely to exceed twenty minutes, creating the music for over a dozen passages scattered across two hours of drama requires an enormous amount of planning.  This planning can become just about comically erratic when I discuss it with Kate, my friend and the show’s acting director who, despite not being able to read a single note of music, is as insistent and specific in her musical requests as she is with the actors!

Two Gents‘ set is ambitious and at times hilarious. When some scene changes demand lowering a skyscraper, turning a street lamp into a tree, or erecting a balcony, the interludes for scene changes must be flexible in their duration to accommodate variations in the time it takes to transform the stage from Verona to Milan, or a Duke’s palace to a grimy back-alley. Even the shortest of such musical interludes must represent the level of energy of the end of the previous scene and the beginning of the next, and provide a convincing link between the two, all while maintaining a stylistic and thematic relation to the dramatic setting. Two Gents must proceed smoothly from one scene to the next, maintaining the cohesion that is central to a performance’s overall dramatic effectiveness.  

No pressure, then.

Kate has asked me to write the music in the Big Band style; to that end, she gave me an extensive list of required listening/viewing for the holiday (mostly Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movies, Cole Porter musicals, and the odd home video of her 92-year-old grandfather playing the piano).  With Big Band the basis of my accompaniment, I couldn’t resist letting some of the chromatic richness of bebop slip into my score—the richness of the harmonic language necessary, in my opinion, to fill in some of the dryness resulting from the sparseness of a single piano.  

I’ve taken as my stylistic model a somewhat unusual but nevertheless appealing work: a cabaret art song by William Bolcom, Toothbrush Time, which, like Frank Sinatra’s recording of New York, New York, was produced in New York City in 1979 in a retrospective style. Toothbrush Time, oddly enough, humorously portrays the coolly detached regret a woman feels the morning after a romantic liaison–I’ll leave it to audience members to decide whether or not that makes for an appropriate commentary on the play’s action.  

Finally, I’ve incorporated recurring motifs as often as possible.  In the interludes this mainly takes the form of the three songs used in the show, but I have also added a simple two-note theme consisting of somewhat dissonant chords.  This short but dark-sounding motif will represent the climactic dramatic episode of the play (no, I won’t give it away. Buy your ticket!), foreshadowing what’s to come during the more sinister moments within the comedy.  With any luck, then, the musical accompaniment of Two Gents will provide a cohesive frame in which the drama can thrive unencumbered by rough edges. 

Now that I’ve outlined the whirl of relationships, processes and communication that are going into the play’s incidental music, you can listen for the smallest hint of ‘oh what a beautiful morning’ when we yank back our moon on a string and replace it with sunshine.

 

Zalman Kelber is the music director and pianist Barbarian Productions’ The Two Gentlemen of Verona, to be performed May 2nd-5th in Christ Church Cathedral Gardens. Tune in next time when the director interviews the late William Shakespeare, and for more information about Two Gents visit their website, www.barbarian-productions.com, or follow them on twitter @twogentsox

Review: Joshua Caole – Moon Palace

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Joshua Caole’s facebook claims that he likes ‘films with Reese Witherspoon, cheese pizza and heavy metal’. Yet his music bears no signs of his taste for blondes/rom-coms, fast food or head-banging. Instead, his debut album Moon Palace is a folk/rock/country offering, filled with bittersweet recollections of failed love, taking us on an emotional rollercoaster from heady lust through to frustration and doubt. Caole may hail from Wales, but his music is firmly rooted on the other side of the Atlantic. Stick Ryan Adams, Bright Eyes and Elliott Smith in a blender, sprinkle heavily with Americana, toss in a few broken hearts and you might get something like this EP.

These influences are most evident on ‘Sweet Sweet Eyes’ with its jangling guitar lines and steady beat. Caole casts himself as the seducing poet: ‘I told you that I loved you, it was just a lie. It’s the same with every cliché that I ever write’. Yet the rest of his lyrics belie this, revealing a romantic alternately regretting the past and confused about the future.

‘Caught in Two’ shows him hesitating and torn between giving into his desires despite knowing ‘What’s good for me is not for you’. It’s on songs like this and ‘Butterfly’ that Caole shines. Stripped of drums his deft finger-picking comes to the forefront, weaving his smooth voice with mournful harmonica interludes into a melancholy tale of loss.

On ‘Cruel’ Caole’s usually sweet vocals are twisted with anger into a hoarse fragility. Its insistent pace then melts into the more laconic and wistful ‘For the Angels to Sing’. The album’s two piano-led tracks are barely distinguishable from Ryan Adams’s ballads, yet this similarity is to Caole’s credit, more than matching Adams with his hauntingly whispered vocals.

Whilst it’s a shame that Caole hasn’t yet managed to marry Legally Blonde with heavy metal, Moon Palace is a promising debut and more than justifies a trip to catch him supporting Christiaan Webb at the Jericho Tavern on April 14th. 

A marvellous day at Marston for Oxford’s women

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Oxford took on the Tabs in the 27th annual Women’s Football Varsity matches on 3rd March at Oxford’s Marston pitches.

 

The Furies vs. Eagles match (the 2nds) was highly competitive from the start. Oxford dominated early  – both on the pitch and with the chants from the side-lines – and it was only going to be a matter of time until they found the back of the net. When the goal came, from Furies striker Lucia Groizard, it was in some style. The Cambridge Eagles were tough to defend, but their chances were, luckily, rare.

The second half commenced with the Eagles fighting for their comeback, but through the excellent defensive work from the Furies back line, especially Captain and full back, Elizabeth Birch, they were able to successfully hold Cambridge off. Even if they had managed to break through, Cambridge would have needed to produce something spectacular to beat Rosie Glenn-Finer: Oxford’s newest, smallest keeper.

 

The last 20 minutes saw substitute Julia Skisaker come on at right wing for the Furies who secured their victory in the last 5 minutes, finishing 2-0. A fantastic end to an exciting match and the Furies very deservingly defended their trophy for the fourth time in a row. The Eagles chose Furies left winger Lucy Dubberley as player of the match, while the Furies picked their own right winger, Kathryn Clark.

A 2pm kick-off for the Blues game, and again the match started off well-contested, both sides striving to win. Not only was this a battle to win the most important football match of the season, but also a fight to be awarded with a Blue. For women’s Blues football, part of the condition is to win Varsity and to play the majority of the match. Cambridge, having lost last year, came out stronger, determined to gain the Blue, but as soon as Oxford starting playing the ball around they began to dominate.

 

Oxford took advantage of their strong possession in the first half with a beautifully crossed corner by centre-mid Rebecca Wyatt, finished off with a striking header by the captain Elizabeth Betterbed (one that she had been saving up all season!).

1-0 up at half time, Oxford were not going to let anything stop them now. However, Cambridge were not visibly perturbed and were able to come back renewed after the break. Twenty minutes into the second half, the Light Blues managed a quick break and scored the equalizer. All this provided in the end was the wake-up call Oxford needed to defend their newly-sponsored trophy.

 

A few near misses increased Oxford’s confidence, but it seemed as though the match was heading into extra time with Cambridge fighting back just as rigorously. The game was anyone’s, until finally, about 10 minutes from the end of the match, Oxford’s brilliantly consistent right winger, Elizabeth Williams, secured the win 2-1. Cambridge chose Elizabeth Betterbed, and Oxford chose Lucie Bowden as players of the match.

At the end of a great day, the Oxford Blues had defended their trophy from last year, and the entire club had enjoyed a fantastic second consecutive Varsity double win.  

House of Lords reform: end it, don’t mend it

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‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’ is generally a sound rule for democratic institutions, as with most things in life. So why on earth the mantra is applied to our second chamber I do not know.

The House of Lords used to encapsulate everything odious about Britain, especially its entrenched elites. Gone mercifully are the days when aristocrats could dictate policy in taxation and spending. Yet work is still to be done. There remains a rut of about 90 hereditary peers and offensively, in one of the most irreligious societies on earth, 26 Church of England bishops — placing us comfortably amongst Burkina Faso, Turkmenistan and Saudi Arabia in the democratic premier league. Though I confess to a soft spot for Archbishop Rowan Williams (his voice is ready-made for audiobooks, no?) the good nature of these men (exclusively men, of course) is not a price worth paying for our inclusion with Iran as the only other country to let unelected clerics make the laws we must obey.

In 1997 most inherited seats were rescinded in favour of appointed peerages. This prerogative has been used and abused by Prime Ministers for blatant patronage, packing it full of dodgy donors and personal cronies, exerting a massive corrupting influence throughout the highest echelons of business and politics. The ‘Cash for Honours’ scandal that dogged Blair’s last days in office poisoned his legacy almost as much as Iraq. The reforms merely changed the Lords from an aristocratic institution to one predominantly inhabited by the nouveau riche. As it is constituted today its members are either born into it, or they have bought into it. It remains a tool of the privileged, ‘perhaps the most potent symbol of a closed society’ says our Deputy PM. Quite so. The Lords is a ridiculous anachronism that cannot be made good. It has long been indefensible in theory; it is also defunct in practice.

Cue Nick Clegg’s proposal to transform the Lords into an 80% elected Senate of 300 strong. There are clear merits to such a plan. In austerity-ridden times, not the least of these is cost; last year the 800 peers billed us £150 million for their upkeep. By more than halving its size, we’d be able to return a big chunk of that to the taxpayer. But why stop there? Do we really want a bicameral legislature; that is a divided legislature where the upper house reviews and competes with the lower one. A second elected chamber would inject into Westminster the kind of deadlock and sluggishness that characterises America’s imperfect democracy. Such a dispersal of power between two bodies of equal legitimacy would lead to a paralysis of much the same fashion that confronted Lloyd George a century ago when he tried to pass the ‘People’s Budget’. Two chambers. Two mandates. Twice the carnage.

Many sincere liberals contend that we need the Lords in some form due to its role revising, improving and challenging legislation from the Commons that would otherwise pass unimpeded. The concern is understandable, but surely we can dismiss it? We have a strong, independent judiciary — ensuring the government can’t do anything illegal. We have a free press that is hardly deferential to those in power. And we have a strong civil society; experts and interest groups are unafraid to petition those in power and the electorate, if necessary, can boot them out when the time comes. New Zealand, Sweden and several US states all manage just fine without a second chamber. So can we.

Abolition of the House of Lords would complete the centuries-old business of bringing unelected parliamentary interests to heel. The current upper house is simply an embarrassment and proposals to augment it would undermine the efficient, unitary nature of our system. Ministers should not overlook the simple, yet radical, solution at hand.

Review: The Master and Margarita

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I’m supposed to be revising for Finals. I have post-it notes dripping from the walls, and piles of textbooks arranged like a little tower-block metropolis on the floor. Weblearn, alarmingly, is beginning to seem like Second Life. But today – just this once, Senior Tutor – I’ve escaped, to watch one of the most extraordinary theatrical events of the year. Finals or not, you need to see this play.

Let me first say this. Simon McBurney, the artistic mastermind behind the Complicité group, can apparently do no wrong. I’ve been hooked by his oblique style since A Disappearing Number, a many-layered and completely baffling exploration of infinity. The idea is to pursue “complicated simplicity”: seize some absurd, disorienting aspect of human life (as McBurney points out, there are many), and ruthlessly distil it through theatre to a sort of visual perfection, crystallising the paradox into an elegant, if somewhat disturbing, series of beautiful self-contradictions. It’s always hallucinatory, unsettling, distressing – and completely addictive.

The Master and Margarita (for those who, like me, might have suspected it was some kind of new deal at Pizza Hut) is Complicité’s phantasmagorical staging of Mikhail Bulgakov’s Soviet-era novel, a brutal exploration of faith and the individual in an impersonal society. We’re drawn into the surreal, oppressive dreamscapes of straight-jacketed Muscovite society – and it turns out to be nightmarish, Satanic realpolitik. Like a dream, visions of traumatic, superficially-distinct scenes sear into your eyeballs: the hellish, Faustian pact of a lover (the eponymous Margarita) trying to resuscitate the past, the anguish of a spineless Pontius Pilate trapped by the dictates of the state, and the cryptic sneer of a leather-coated Satan stalking the streets.

So, you get the point. Bulgakov’s cold satire is acutely disturbed, and McBurney doesn’t back down. It’s a kaleidoscopic migraine of a play. It’s roughly like mixing the theological intensity of Dostoevsky with the electrifying incongruities of Damien Hirst, and injecting the weird concoction into the creative brain of one of Britain’s most exciting directors. Clearly, the results were always going to be bizarre.

“And now tell me,” smirks an imperious Pilate, “why is it that you use the words ‘good people’ all the time? Do you call everyone that, or what?”

In the breathless pause, a merciless visual projection traces the bloodied scars on the vagrant’s back.

“Everyone,” says Christ, “there are no evil people in the world.”

The Master and Margarita is a self-consciously fragmentary play. The narrative splinters into a thousand shards of interconnected thoughts, each refracting some small, penetrating ray of clarity. You can tell, oddly, that they must fit together into a coherent whole, but it’s as though Bulgakov and McBurney have cruelly thrown away the instruction manual. That is, of course, some kind of desperate point: we are not called to understand the human condition so much as to endure it.

Satan puts in a bewitching performance as the unfathomable Professor Woland (various actors), and the anguish of a hyperconscious writer, the Master (Paul Rhys), hideously confined to an asylum, is extraordinary. The bizarre puppet-cat was perhaps a step too far, and Margarita (Sinead Matthews) was, if I’m being brutally honest, perhaps less convincing, uncharacteristic for such a self-assured cast, but, then, who am I to complain? It’s a performance to rival Shun-Kin and A Disappearing Number, and that’s high praise indeed. See it. Now.

And so, back I go – a little shaken – to the post-it notes. But, for now, my mind’s still a world away, stuck in that grim Soviet purgatory with its little cast of victims. Finals, it seems, will just have to wait.

4.5 STARS

‘The Master and Margarita’ will be staged until 7th April 2012 at the Barbican, London.

Review: One Man, Two Guvnors

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One Man, Two Guvnors is a reworking of Goldoni’s Servant of Two Masters, by writer Richard Bean and director Nicholas Hytner, promising its audience ‘an evening of side-splitting delight,’ complete with comedian of the minute, James Corden. And it is: reminiscent of the classically British ‘Carry On’ films, the play is energetically vulgar and brilliantly entertaining.

Following Francis Henshall’s dismissal from his skiffle band, it follows his attempts to juggle two jobs in order to fund his partiality to a good pub lunch. The comedy lies in his attempts to make sure his two masters never meet, made more difficult by the fact that they are in fact romantically entwined. One ‘master’ is in fact dressed up as her dead brother in the aim of collecting a £6000 dowry from his fiancé’s father. Richard Bean’s script adheres to the basic plot line of Goldoni’s classic ‘commedia dell’arte’, but takes the setting from Italy to louche 1960’s Brighton. This allows the play a light hearted and modern familiarity, leading critics to aptly describe it as a ‘seaside postcard come to life’.

Bean also keeps to the characterisation of Francis, played by Corden, whose actions are driven by the whim of his continuously rumbling stomach. Luckily, Corden’s portly figure and comical crudity fit snugly into his intentionally hideous checked suit, as well as the original characterisation. This thankfully allows us to suspend his Gavin and Stacey image.

That said, the slightly pathetic and pitiful streak he adds to his character does sometimes jar with the fiery, thick-skinned nature we have come to know from the Brit Awards. It is also hard to continue to find his relentless joshing with the audience as humorous after the first half, or indeed to ignore Corden’s conspicuous esteem for his own wit. He takes this slightly too far when he ‘marvels’ for a good fifteen minutes at a member of the audience actually handing him a sandwich when he asks for one as part of the script onstage. Moreover, the magic of this ostensibly improvised interaction is dispelled once you talk to anyone who has seen the play on a different night; one of you proudly brings up the unique nature of the sandwich incident, which is promptly met by the other saying with incredulity that the same thing happened on the night they went as well.

The best moment of the play undoubtedly lays within the quivering hands of ‘Alfie’, an aged waiter, as he painstakingly serves a number of courses. He looks as if he ought to be long dead, and indeed spends his time on stage hurtling from one near-death experience to another.

Although the play’s key feature is its traditional buffoonery, all the actors are fresh and tirelessly funny. ‘One Man, Two Guv’nors’ is a vintage comedy brilliantly reupholstered for the 21st century.