Frank Egerton is, at the least, intensely familiar with Oxford. As both a former English student and a librarian at the Taylorian, one would expect him to be rather grounded in the city, possessed of knowledge beyond the blinkered perspective of the mere student.

Indeed, Oxford looms high throughout; though the action swings through London and West Oxfordshire, the author seldom escapes the city’s influence. Even the Dickens-themed pub chain that the protagonist maintains echoes Oxford’s penchant for Hardy-themed dens.

Invisible is billed as a dystopian romance set in New Labour’s Britain. Egerton’s principal narrator, the middle-aged Tom Dickens, recounts his past in writing as a form of literary therapy. He recalls deciding to trade both his long-term girlfriend and his business interests to start afresh in a more rustic manner, a decision that results in passion, strife and eventual invisibility. Diary entries from Tom’s lover Sarah are scattered throughout the book, along with the occasional third person passage.

The text slumps in and out of these two lives, providing the reader with a selection of scenes and memories that form an incomplete picture of both.

Egerton refuses to reject unwieldy symbolism. At one point, for instance, Tom reaches revelation regarding the private and the public through watching his partner vomit.
There is no doubt that the internal becomes external at this point, but the very idea of gaining a universal insight through such only provokes incredulity. Similes and idioms long blasted into meaninglessness, the sort that would make Orwell turn in his grave, abound.
Furthermore, the prose feels rather heavy-handed, stilted by an often sparse diction into un-naturalistic expressions.

There is a sense during dialogue in the novel that people, well, don’t really speak like this. Discarding all these issues, however, the central impression left by the novel is, well, that of invisibility.

Although predominantly written through the eyes of two characters, one senses very little of them. Both their words and thoughts do not seem to emerge from their own existence as fictional characters, but rather from a factually dry narrator who remains static throughout. The characters continuously describe and define themselves, as if Egerton is unable to resist the third person viewpoint even as he writes in the first.

Ultimately, Invisible’s style hampers it, rendering it no more than a series of soap opera moments that simply cannot make the novel stand out.

2 Stars

Freedom of speech is a good thing, most people agree. Except when it takes effort. In 2004, Birmingham Repertory Theatre put on Behzti, a play which showed a rape in a Sikh temple; after a riot outside the theatre by outraged Sikhs, the play was cancelled, on grounds of health and safety. Mob violence achieved its aims, and the government and police agreed that it was the right thing to do; speaking out, it seems, is just too risky. Four years on, Birmingham Rep refused to discuss the topic with Cherwell.

Outrageous? Yes, but it could have been avoided. Theatre isn’t like other arts. With writing, it’s easy to see what freedom of speech should be: people should be able to write what they like, unless they’re actually racists or homophobes trying to cause hate killings. Thanks to the web, you can just put up whatever you like on a blog, and those who don’t like what a text says can just look away. Theatre’s different: Birmingham Rep could have just put on something a little less risky. A little censorship, and they wouldn’t have seemed so censorious.

On the other hand, it’s easy to see things their way. Behzti, many reviewers argue, was not damning social criticism but schlock shock theatre, calculated to attract attention: is it really a theatre’s duty to outrage people just to get a bad playwright noticed, even if they should have the right to if they want? Similar things have been said about The Jewel of Medina, a novel about Mohammed’s marriage to a nine-year-old, which was spiked last year after its publisher’s house was firebombed, and the far-right Dutch MP Geert Wilders, banned from the UK on grounds of public safety last month after he announced plans to show a film of pages from the Koran intercut with explosions.Here’s the problem with freedom of speech: sometimes you just wish the people you’re defending had never put pen to paper. Earlier this term, I went to see a talk by think-tank director Douglas Murray. Speaking to him afterwards, I mentioned that I was writing this article, and he smiled. One thing that pained him, he told me, was how he had to defend works he hated, like The Jewel of Medina: “It’s not even as good as softcore pornography, it’s more boring.” (He’s not very popular with Muslims either, and given that he’s said British-born Muslim terrorists should be deported to their grandparents’ country, and that Israel’s attack on Gaza was wholly proportionate and marked by its concern for the Gazans’ welfare, agreeing’s not hard.)

The other limitation of freedom of speech is context: who wrote it? When I straw-polled my friends, most agreed that some jokes only aren’t racist if a black person makes them. And if we’re thinking about a play not a joke, it’s easy to see that a theatre might feel that a play about Sikhs coming from a Sikh or ex-Sikh sounds more insightful than one from a white Old Etonian like Murray. But surely it’s disgraceful to say that there are plays only some people can write, if they want them to be staged at least. Orwell understood this: there’s a passage in The Road To Wigan Pier agonising over communists ranting about how rich women trying to teach working-class families home economy were patronising: though he understood their anger, he knew that the comrades were too non-judgemental to care about children fed diets of white bread and sweetened milk, with nary a vegetable in sight.

In theatre, then, there can never be a simple policy of freedom of speech: we already have a censorship by merit before plays see a rehearsal space. Directors have to consider before they put on a play whether they’re looking at controversial play that the public should be allowed to see, or deliberately controversial attention-seeking (and whether they should put on the latter anyway). These aren’t questions with simple, glib answers, and the police’s response to Behzti, simply caving into a mob’s demands, doesn’t make me confident that they’re going to be able to make it responsibly in future. Above all, if a play provokes a riot, whatever it says, the last thing the government should do is show that rioting’s the way to get what you want. It’s quite likely that Behzti has left theatres too scared to criticise or mock anybody who might fight back: in other words, exactly the people socially aware theatres should be mocking and criticising.

The bright lights of Broadway and the hallowed boards of the West End beckon actors from all over the world. The past years have seen a resurgence in the number and variety of plays performed by all-star casts with widespread popular appeal. Musicals have enjoyed a particular rediscovery. In these increasingly uncertain financial times however, what will become of these many shows? Will they be jettisoned as now-unaffordable, frivolous pleasures? Or does theatre actually have a wider role which will enable them to maintain and perhaps even strengthen their positions as a premier form of entertainment?
Just as sales of cinema tickets rose during the Great Depression, it seems logical that theatre will weather the economic storm. Although the price difference between cinema and theatre tickets is large, it is decreasing. With theatres such as the Old Vic and the National Theatre continuing to offer hugely-reduced tickets to Under-25s, and with a variety of appealing offers from many other theatres, what better way to treat oneself? Theatre provides enjoyment in a way that few other media can. The massive success of a variety of musicals of all kinds over the past few years is simply one indication of theatre’s popular appeal to a variety of demographics. A night at the theatre can be one of adrenalin rushes and laughter-there can be few people who have seen ‘Hairspray’ and not laughed at Michael Ball’s turn as Edna Turnblad, or who did not laugh in recognition at some point during ‘The History Boys.’ As the French actress Marie Trintignant said, “Theatre fulfils.” It awakens our emotions and takes us on whirlwind journeys. Its stories pull us in because they are unfolding before our eyes. That is theatre’s purpose-plays are written to be performed.
This last point hints at a deeper level to the role of theatre. Theatre is meant to be performed, and we, the audience, are meant to be part of it. Theatre can make us happy, but also sad, angry, hopeful. It speaks to us and has always done so. Shakespeare loaded his plays with visual imagery so that his illiterate audiences would still be able to appreciate his beautiful language, and people flocked to see his plays. Theatre offers an opportunity for escape into another world, be it far removed from or a mirror image of our own.
Most plays are, in some way and sometimes unwittingly, a form of social commentary. The hugely successful revival of Aaron Sorkin’s ‘A Few Good Men’ in 2006 found new relevancy in a post-9/11 world. Whilst the cuckolding theme of ‘The Country Wife’ is perhaps less relevant today than in Wycherley’s time, it still makes us question and explore relationships. Last month, ‘Complicit’ opened at the Old Vic, attacking the debate concerning journalistic ethics, a debate which resonates in a world still coming to terms with the aftermath of the Valerie Plame scandal.
In the words of the great humanist Erasmus, life is “a sort of comedy, in which the various actors, disguised by various costumes and masks, walk on and play each one his part, until the manager waves them off the stage.” Theatre provides us with a mirror to our own lives and the lives of those around us. It shows us the lives we would like to lead and the lives we would hate. It pulls us in and involves us in the action. The audience feels emotionally connected to those on stage. Theatre has a universal appeal and speaks to us all on different levels. Through a variety of ways it continues to pull in new fans. Theatre has, and hopefully will continue to have, a wide role within our society, a fact which we should all celebrate.

Four stars

Within five minutes of arriving at the press preview for the Oxford Imps latest production, all I can ask myself is how I can have been oblivious to this troupe of comic genius for so long. The second thing is, can they really be improvising this? The seamless ensemble performance is hugely impressive, and absolutely hilarious.

“Are you sitting comfortably?” involves five actors, a musician and announcer (who is also in charge of hilarious sound effects) improvising a fifties radio play for one hour in the Burton Taylor Studio. Inspired by 1950s classics such as ‘Dick Barton: Special Agent!’, the actors create an offering of comedy, romance and mystery based solely on audience suggestions. In fact, audience members can even bring along their own props which will be incorporated into the production as sound effects. Trivial and off-beat dialogue is transformed by the use of keyboardist improvising alongside the actors, while a foley artist sloshes water from glass to glass, tinkles wind chimes and flaps an umbrella around in order to create the necessary background noise, often catapulting props into the audience. If you have ever listened to ‘The Archers’ and wondered how they create their sound effects, all will be revealed by the Imps.

The joy of watching a radio show being performed is the immense amusement which aspects such as these provide. Perhaps the downside is the distraction of watching the actors onstage, rather than listening to their dialogue. With a tendency to laugh at their own comic creations, moments of the performance are deflated by having the actors’ reactions right before the audience. However, this is probably the only criticism I have. The outstanding teamwork of the Imps carries the script to outrageous extremes which somehow work. There is, of course, no assurance that each performance at the BT will be to an equally high standard as no two shows will be the same. No doubt there will always be the audience members determined to make the job of the actors as difficult as possible. But if this was anything to go by, this highly talented group of actors can make pretty much anything a laughing success.

10th-14th March at 21:30
Price £4 for students

(5 stars)

S1L3NC3 is a mysterious gentleman whose art is strikingly difficult to describe. He is insistent that it is not magic, and does not claim any psychic abilities, yet the series of tricks and effects in his performance can only be described as some sort of mind-reading or psychological manipulation. The closest and perhaps only comparison is to Derren Brown, with added darkness. It’s easy to be cynical of such talents, but rest assured that this production will astonish even the most sceptical of viewers.

Obviously the exact nature of the tricks cannot be revealed here, but this reviewer can guarantee that S1L3NC3 will amaze. The tuxedoed performer seems not only able to read minds but also to predict the behaviour of audience participants with uncanny accuracy.

Understated displays of frankly astonishing ‘psychology’ like this are interspersed with set pieces that will have the audience on the edge of their seats: a game of Russian roulette with heavy duty staple guns, for example, not to mention one which involves swallowing razor blades. The faint-hearted among us should perhaps give it a miss.

It is the masterful and non-patronising portrayal of the tricks which gives this show such a great impact. From the outset we are assured that everything will be conducted “as transparently as possible”, and a random selection process is used to prove that viewers chosen to actively participate have not been pre-selected.

The design is similarly kept simple and effective: a smart red and black colour scheme with no fancy props or staging to distract from the action. Carefully selected music, remixed especially for the show, keeps the tension running high at key moments and adds to the very contemporary feel of the performance.

Stories and discussion are elegantly used to link the tricks together into a single coherent show, and the concepts of communication, ‘underground art’ and of course silence are the overarching themes. Look out for the spectacular finale which incorporates these ideas and which will not fail to astound. It is because of the logistical complexity of this last spectacle that the show is unfortunately limited to one night only.

Refreshingly different and ultimately mind-boggling, S1L3NC3 has to be seen to be believed. It comes highly recommended.

9th March, Monday 8th week
O’Reilly Theatre Keble
Tickets available from [email protected]