The Light Entertainment Society does not pretend to be anything that it is not: the style is in the name – this isn’t trying to be anything heavier than a feather. This term’s pantomime, written by two members (scripts are submitted at the end of each term, from which one is chosen) takes inspiration from the story of Batman. The plot is still not entirely clear to me, but seems to have two main strands: Robin and Batman have a falling out over Robin’s indignation at Batman’s patronising treatment of him (‘you treat me like an unwanted child!’), so Robin runs away with the Joker, although those who fear a complete upset of the well-loved duo are assured early on that the pair will reconcile (‘maybe even with a catchy finale song!’). Meanwhile a motley crew of villains, who I see involved in a tense game of cards, plot their escape from the Arkham Asylum.

Excitement abounds in the rehearsal room, full of the large cast with a disproportionate amount of excitingly-coloured hair. The acting is unpretentious and the actors are clearly enjoying themselves, as befits the ethos of the society. Everyone who auditioned for the show got a part, with a few characters being written into the script for this purpose, and few have extensive acting experience: the emphasis is very much on taking part and having fun, which was clear from the general chaos and hilarity in the manic but utterly enthusiastic and friendly rehearsal room. Both chaos and hilarity transferred themselves to the stage, with ad-libbing, forgotten lines and entire digressions tolerated good-heartedly. Some moments were particularly funny: director Martin Corcoran as the camp Catwoman (the obligatory drag character, wearing a stylish lycra ‘cat’suit) stood out, and there are some great one liners, such as Catwoman’s fine chat-up line: ‘you know what my favourite sea-food is? Bulging muscles’.

It includes song and dance with an original score, written collaboratively by members – again anyone who wants to can take part in the creative process.  The Joker’s song explaining to Robin why he is such an excellent villain is full of slapstick and puns, like the rest of the pantomime. The show will not win over those who don’t enjoy pantomimes, or who aren’t amused by seriously light entertainment. But the proceeds all go to charity, and it’s fun – both good reasons to get into the OULES spirit.

As we entered Corpus Auditorium for the first look at A Dream Play, we were greeted by assistant Director, Ollo Clark, ending warm up, focusing on volume and diction. It’s a good thing that the team are honing this down, because, in all honesty, the only things preventing A Dream Play from being spectacular, even with a week to go, are a few standard penultimate week issues of the odd gabble and momentary lapses in projection. To criticise it for these issues would be like condemning San Marco’s Basilica for a bit of scaffolding on the left wall; it’s easily solvable, and a small blemish on what will otherwise be a breathtaking piece of theatrical architecture. With the grand Playhouse stage, a full orchestra, a set which involves storybook cut outs of various created ‘dreams’ interspersing and intruding on one another and an array of multicoloured costumes brightening the heightened state of reality, it’s unlikely to be your standard night at the theatre. In fact, if it all comes together in the next week, then expect the finest orgasm of imaginative fecundity. Perhaps the sort which, as Director Griffith Rees plans for the show’s effect, will ‘delight, inspire, sadden and uplift’.

Visual ejaculation aside, what’s actually going on? Agnes (Ali Walsh) is the daughter of a god, Indra (Will Hatcher), and spends her days in heaven desperate to indulge in the ‘messy’ imperfection of the human, ‘real”‘world. Resigned to her nagging, Indra commissions his Builder (Rhys Bevan) to fashion a pseudo-reality for her which she visits in a dream; hence A Dream Play. Soon, though, she will learn of the difficulties of human existence, and her hopes to leave an ennui of one human dream world is ultimate futile: in the real world, the consequences of our actions have a habit of catching up with us. She must face the ‘Dream Police’ as she tries to escape, always struggling against the confines of mortality. I wasn’t shown the ending, so can’t spoil even if I wanted to, but such a plot surely comes to a pretty monumental climax.

Beyond the obvious spectacle of A Dream Play, Rees has managed to create characters which still conform to the realism and authenticity of a more typically ‘naturalistic’ production. The relationship between Agnes and her father is wonderfully cultivated by Walsh and Hatcher and the gentle paternal humour (‘I’m omnipotent; you’re unhappy’) is suitably pitched. Similarly, the romantic interactions between Agnes and Alfie (Ollo Clark), whom she visits within his dream (there’s a dream within a dream going on here) are quite spellbinding. There’s a childlike, awkward yet loving dynamic between the two. When Clark remarks of Agnes, ‘I see beauty: the harmony of the universe’, the earnest vulnerability of his tone could not fail to move, even within the stark interior of the Corpus preview location. Walsh herself has a face that says more than many can, and the authenticity and emotional expression as she watches the happenings of the human world smacks of great skill. Bevan’s Builder too, though perhaps in danger of slipping into the odd mumble here and there, is excellently constructed, and Bevan’s resigned attitude of a commissioned yet sympathetic architect to the stage-play-world is managed with great maturity.

The niggles really are minimal (an odd note on diction, Walsh seems a bit rigid as she is taken through the dream by the (very impressive) dancing angels – who fit comfortably within David Allen’s fresh new score – and a bit of fight choreography – Alfie is ‘slapped’ by the Dream Police at one point and it could be stronger). But such ‘problems’ after another week’s polish will be non-existent. A Dream Play will tantalise, excite, confuse, arouse and affect. I’m hesitant to use this term, but if this gold star on the theatrical calendar executes what I really hope it does, it truly will be awesome. 

Where did the idea for this play come from? ‘Well, there was this weekend I spent in Cornwall chained to a bed…’ If that doesn’t intrigue, what will? Restrictions May Apply is the latest offering from Richard O’Brien, author of last year’s hit musical Turn Again Lane and winner of the New Writing Festival with Instead of Beauty.

The play was effectively commissioned by good friend and fellow Brasenose student Robert Williams, who wanted to direct a ‘new farce, a fast paced classic comedy’. O’Brien says, ‘We wanted to create a farce that was still relevant and modern- the old tricks are still there, but with a modern twist.’ Williams agrees: ‘We both believe that comedy as an art form should be done well and taken seriously. I don’t think there’s enough comedy in Oxford. There’s a greater temptation to do tragedy because people think it’s more respected, it can hide behind the veil of its own superiority, but in comedy there’s nowhere to hide. If there’s no laughter, you know you’ve failed’.

But comedy isn’t all about laughter, as O’Brien is quick to point out. ‘An inspiration for me is Peep Show – it explores the male psyche through transgressive comedy. It’s important to take on big themes, explore darkness and savagery without being boring. This is what Restrictions May Apply aims to achieve – you bring out shackles and people get nervous. It takes people out of their comfort zone, the way that any sexual comedy used to do. Our boundaries of unease have changed – as with any fetish, we’ve become accustomed to it, and it’s lost its thrill. Vanilla isn’t surprising; and if anything has the responsibility and the remit to still surprise and shock, it’s comedy. So that’s what the whips are for.’ Williams describes the play as this and more: ‘transgressive, horrific…but very funny’. O’Brien is interested in ‘social observation comedy- the way people treat each other. The theme of bondage in the play isn’t just people being chained to beds (though there is that too) – it’s there in other forms, emotional bondage to people. Mark treats Izzie as something belonging to him. Arthur is desperately trying to understand his son, and Lance gets trapped in these odd situations because of his family. The extreme motif of whips and chains brings out something about the demands people have on each other.’

Currently on a year abroad in France, O’Brien has been giving input into script and character through Skype and emails. He claims to trust Williams ‘to a certain extent’ and is ‘very very excited to see what he does with it’. Williams was pleased with what he got: ‘Richard has a very lucid style, he creates characters very vividly, he’s a great humorous writer. And I expected the sexual deviance.’ Williams considers this O’Brien’s best play yet, and it promises bondage, falconry, mistaken identity and most of all, a lot of laughter. Surely enough to justify comedy’s important place in Oxford theatre once and for all.

It is rare to get to see a play like this one – in content and in acting – and I would recommend it to anyone who thinks theatre is stale, is pretentious, is “arty”.

The play is about the killing of James Bulger, the three-year old boy who was murdered by two ten-year old boys in Liverpool in 1993. Wait. Don’t scrunch up your face and dismiss this as some avant-garde theatre stunt, please give me the chance to explain, as did the actors for me tonight.

As you enter the theatre you’re confronted with a camera, a TV screen to your left and a computer monitor to your right, and a stand alone video camera at the side which plays back in real-time the events that happen on stage. It is all too much like the CCTV footage that was plastered across the media in 1993, and it is startlingly effective. The atmosphere is unsettling; the lights are hot and white and there is no music. In fact everything is very real yet completely surreal, and the show begins without any sign of starting.

The dialogue is constructed out of the interrogation transcripts from the real police interviews conducted with the two boys under custody. It could be called verbatim theatre or simply the recounting of real events, but the understated tone of the acting creates a powerful effect. It is as if the truth is laid bare for us to witness and we can make what we want of it.

The actors make no attempt to dramatise the real words spoken out of the mouths of the boys from Liverpool, in fact they deliberately go against acting when speaking aloud from the transcript – yet not an essence of the drama is lost. True performance is rendered by Chloe Orrock who plays the mother of Robert Thompson an accused boy; she has all the open mannerisms of someone who is telling you her life story across the kitchen table, and I was certainly left numb with how tragic reality really can be.

The direction by Matthew Goldhill strikes the right balance between provocation and interrogation. Jon Venables’ ten-year-old monosyllabic answers proffer as much light on the human condition as does the exasperated member of public, who upon trying to comprehend the whole situation just keeps repeating  ‘I don’t know’. What makes this play hard-hitting is not its content but its honesty. Well directed and well written, this piece of theatre should not be avoided out of fear of the subject-matter.

Aspiring actors, writers and directors at Oxford are typically drawn to the ‘thesp’ scene in all its glamour; from tense dress runs at the Burton Taylor to well-dressed launch parties at Baby Love, drama has a very well-established place in student life. Student film-making does not enjoy such an eminent status: every college community has its ‘thesps’, its ‘rugby lads’ and its ‘hacks’ but very rarely do you see a corner of the dining hall being occupied by ‘filmos’ sharing the latest gossip from the ‘film scene’ over their cold peas and beige meat.

However, student film has carved out a distinctive niche for itself here. The Oxford University Film Foundation (OUFF) was founded in 1981, almost a century later than the Oxford University Dramatic Society (OUDS), by Rick Stevenson and Michael Hoffmann, who went on to become successful directors; Michael Hoffmann’s latest film The Last Station starring Helen Mirren garnered two Oscar nominations in 2010. OUFF’s first feature film, Privileged, directed by Hoffmann, starred Hugh Grant and Imogen Stubbs and from then on, a high quality feature-length film was produced each year until 1995.

The Oxford University Film Foundation has recently been revived and ambitiously aims to recreate the ‘Golden Age’ of Oxford student film-making. Whilst OUFF does not make one official annual feature film, it encourages its members to make their own shorts by providing workshops, equipment and general guidance. This term sees the return of ‘Film Cuppers’, a competition which requires students to grapple with technical equipment, to slot filming into daylight hours between essay crises and to remember not to look into the camera whilst saying their lines.

Thankfully, the brave student film-makers of Oxford turn out some impressively high quality material and the cream of the crop will be aired and judged on Thursday of 6th week at the Film Cuppers Screening and Awards Ceremony (previously known as the ‘OUFF-scars’, now nick-named the ‘Ox-scars’). Last year’s nominees and winners can be found on www.vimeo.com. This all forms part of the Oxford Film Festival which promises to be ‘bigger and better’ than before thanks to a collaboration with Oxford Brookes and kicks off on Monday (21st Feb) with a 3 Hour Film Challenge and continues throughout 6th week. Nigel Cole (director of Made in Dagenham and Calendar Girls) and Tanya Seghatchien (producer of the first four Harry Potter films) are among the high-profile speakers coming to share their experiences of the film industry. And remember, ‘filmos’ can go to Baby Love too.

Whilst the subject of the Second World War does not immediately scream “Romance!”, you could do a lot worse this Valentine’s Day than picking a classic wartime flick as your date movie. However, when flirting with international conflict, one must deploy a high level of caution.

Take Casablanca (1942) for example. When the credits roll, women are left sighing at the film’s romance, whilst I have heard men respond with “What romance? There were Nazis and guns!” This is part of what is so brilliant about Casablanca. For women there’s the glamour and elegance of Ingrid Bergman and also that dilemma – Victor Laszlo or Humphrey Bogart? It is a topic ripe for debate, so much so that it is repeatedly discussed in When Harry Met Sally (1989). For men there’s Bogart at his cynical and embittered best, with memorable quips aplenty, oscillating between “I stick my neck out for nobody” and “Here’s looking at you, kid!” Not only does this wartime classic boast crackling dialogue, stellar leads and an exotic locale, a healthy dose of Paris is thrown in for good measure. This glorious tale of love and war culminates in Bogart’s excellent speech on the runway tarmac at the film’s conclusion, a speech so well-crafted and iconically cool that its inspirational power forms the premise of Woody Allen’s Play It Again, Sam (1972). Finally, men who well-up slightly during the emotional La Marseillaise bar scene will appear that perfect combination of strong and sensitive, as if they themselves would definitely almost probably have formed a bastion of the resistance had they been alive in 1942.

To show how the combination of love stories and Nazi occupations could instead go completely wrong for you this Valentine’s, let’s consider The Sound of Music (1965). This is a great film but it’s all just a bit too wholesome for a date movie. Not only are there songs, but there are also children and – worst of all – nuns. Compared with Bergman’s Laszlo-Bogart dilemma, the choice between life in a nunnery and becoming the step-mother to seven children is far from thrilling, and let’s not even begin to contrast the stylish Casablanca wardrobe with those habits and the clothes made from curtains. Whilst Christopher Plummer’s character makes his own stand against the occupying force, it is done with far less cool, and men who get a bit emotional during the Edelweiss concert scene will simply seem a bit pathetic.

During the Second World War itself, the most successful film by far was Gone With The Wind (1939). Whilst the United States themselves hadn’t yet joined the war when the film was made, it was so popular when it opened in the Blitz-bombarded London of 1940 that it ran for four years. Ambitious, dramatic and epic, it provided a completely absorbing form of escapism. Set eighty years earlier in America’s South, the main theme, however, is still love in wartime, as Vivien Leigh’s Scarlett O’Hara and Clark Gable’s Rhett Butler battle each other against the backdrop of the Civil War. Most quoted for the immortal line “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn”, this happens to be another movie in which making a dress out of curtains forms a plot point. However, with so many dramatic ups and downs, and clocking in at an exhausting 3 hours and 44 minutes long, I wouldn’t make any other plans for the evening.

There is of course a huge pool of Second World War films to choose from, should you decide this year to celebrate V-day by giving a nod to VE day. Choose just as carefully if selecting from more recent offerings. The harrowing opening of Saving Private Ryan (1998) is more gut-wrenching than heart-throbbing, whilst the awful Captain Corelli’s Mandolin (2001) may actually work in favour for males of tepid character – compared to Nicolas Cage they’ll appear positively charismatic. And please do take heed of the lesson learned by Jerry in an episode of Seinfeld – a heavy make-out session during a showing of Schindler’s List (1993) would be seen by most as morally reprehensible.