This week: A Geography paper by Classicist Josie Thaddeus-JohnsAttempt to account for the fall in total fertility rate in China from 7.5 in the 1960s to 1.8 in 2002.During this period there has been a reduction in the amount of dating advice given in schools – instead of students being taught flirtation techniques, they are encouraged into academia. The lack of dating agencies also means that Chinese citizens have struggled to find either will or way to have sex with one another. The final decisive factor has been the huge rise in erectile dysfunction, particularly during the ‘80s, when shoulder pads were in fashion.

Plan 9 From Outer Space, a science fiction film from 1959, is widely considered a frontrunner for the dubious honour of being the worst film ever made. Every aspect of the film is ridiculed: the special effects, the dialogue, the acting; yet despite all this, I love it. I believe that, although certainly not one of the best films ever made, it can in no way be considered the worst. During a long, boring summer, a friend and I decided to watch the worst films we could find. Plan 9 From Outer Space stood apart from the others as being by far the most enjoyable. It has a plot that makes sense, as well as a political message that would have a strong place within Cold War society. One of the film’s main points of ridicule involves the fact that it was meant to star Bela Lugosi, who unfortunately died early in filming. The film’s now-infamous director Ed Wood, often called the worst director of all time, just replaced Lugosi with a chiropractor whose face remained covered. Yet, given the film’s plot, this doesn’t seem too odd. Lugosi’s character is supposed to be a member of the living dead who was revived by aliens. Dialogue, in this case, isn’t necessary. Perhaps I could be accused of loving Plan 9 because it’s pure camp. This is completely untrue. The film transcends the cesspool of ordinary camp, rising above such horrors as Anna Nicole Smith’s last piece of art Illegal Aliens, or Santa Claus Conquers the Martians (no, really), or Killer Drag Queens on Dope (my personal favourite). To be listed amongst these awful films does huge discredit to Plan 9. For a film to be considered ‘the worst of all time’ it should be truly unwatchable. Such a film should die quickly, silently, with a tinge of embarrassment, like the latest Jessica Simpson ‘film’ Blonde Ambition. Plan 9 makes sense and it flows in a fully comprehensible way. So what if it contains lines like, ‘But one thing’s sure. Inspector Clay is dead, murdered, and somebody’s responsible’? Many films contain lines that state the obvious. And so what if the special effects aren’t great? It’s not Star Wars; the film was made in 1959. Perhaps that even adds to its charm. Plan 9 from Outer Space has survived for years based on the notion that it is the worst of the worst, yet people continue watching it. It is truly an enjoyable film that deserves to be seen. So let’s stop calling it the worst film of all time, and instead let’s call it what it is: amazing!by Hayley Mirek

Freddy Parton talks to John Bird, founder of the Big Issue John Bird, founder of the Big Issue, is not your average charity worker, or even entrepreneur, for that matter. Homeless at the age of five, in an orphanage by seven and imprisoned by ten, he still managed to set up the most successful street newspaper in the world.
Unlike the smug entrepeneurs who appear on Dragon’s Den, John Bird is incredibly modest about his success. He defines an entrepreneur as ‘someone who sometimes gets it right.
‘Being an entrepreneur is a bit like being an actor,’ he says. ‘It’s a very lonely world and one that’s open to misinterpretation.’ John has certainly had his ups and downs; when he met with Gordon and Anita Roddick (founders of the Body Shop) in 1991 he had virtually nothing, was drinking heavily and had just broken up with his first wife. ‘I was a bit of a waster and wasn’t going anywhere’ – or so he thought. It was through talking with these old friends that the idea of the Big Issue came about. Gordon Roddick had been to New York and seen the free papers there, and was interested in starting up something similar in Britain. John, having been homeless himself, was keen to take on the project and, like all entrepreneurs, knew that he had to have money to make it work. ‘You have to learn to be charming’ he says, grinning. ‘You’ve got to stick to people with money like shit to a blanket.’
It wasn’t easy trying to set up the Big Issue. Homeless people thought it outrageous that they should have to buy the paper from John. The fact that the Big Issue, though a charity, does make a profit also caused more than a little controversy. For the first six months it was very difficult to get any vendors to work for the organisation. John describes the situation as pretty rough, as he and his helpers continuously got beaten up. ‘This didn’t last too long,’ says John. ‘We selected the troublemakers, the biggest brutes, and bought them over. They stopped beating us up and became our bodyguards.’
Having been homeless for most of his childhood, John feels that he can relate to the mindset of those who live on the streets. He describes his mother as the worst example of ‘Macawberism’ – always believing that something good would turn up. But by the time John was five, he and his four brothers were living on the streets.
At the age of seven he went into a Catholic orphanage from which he says he emerged as ‘a raving nutter.’ I ask John if he feels that his Catholic background has affected his attitude towards charity and the homeless. He nods and argues that it has given him the determination to never give up: ‘You believe that there will be answers to problems.’ What about his decision to become Marxist? ‘When I became a Marxist it was like moving from one religion to another.’ I ask what he views himself as now. ‘A Troto–Cath. I am lucky to have been blessed with two world views.’
John’s views on the treatment of the homeless are pretty controversial. His first principle is that you should never just give the homeless money. The problem, as he sees it, is that the Government is maintaining people in the state of homelessness instead of getting them out of it. ‘Paternalism is destructive,’ he shouts, emphatically waving his arms about. ‘They have to learn to stand on their own two feet. The tools that have been used for generations are actually enslaving them…homeless people have to be independent.’
These views aren’t always palatable to people who buy the Big Issue. ‘I used to get into all sorts of trouble at parties’ admits John. ‘People would come up to me and say, “Oh, I love the Big Issue, I always give them an extra tenner at Christmas” and I’d reply, “What!? I’ve just got the fuckers to work and be independent and you’re making them reliable on your charity again!” It didn’t go down that well.’
John does a lot of work advising governments on poverty. ‘I met David Cameron the other day,’ John laughs, ‘and I asked him how much he thought it cost to get him where he was today – he reckoned about £300,000. I replied, “David, you’re bloody cheap.”’ He goes on to explain, ‘Do you know it costs the government £60,000 a year to maintain one homeless person? And that might be for at least twenty or thirty years. We have the most expensive poor in the world.’ John has a very low opinion of social benefits. ‘Social security is the kiss of death…you have to be very strong to survive.’
I ask whether John approves of big charity events such as Comic Relief which emphasise the importance of giving. He pauses. ‘The problem is that a lot of that stuff you see on the TV only works if it gets into the hands of the people. As I always say, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” You’ve got to make sure that the cure is not worse than the illness.’ He doesn’t dismiss these charity events completely. ‘We’ve got to be optimistic that it’s clear that people want to help.’ Nevertheless, John believes that help will only work if charities work on the local level. ‘We’ve got to get away from big government formulas.’
John is very concerned about communities at a local level. His latest project is the Wedge: a sort of loyalty card that aims to save local high streets from being swallowed up by major brands. The business has been going for less than a year, but John is positive that it will be a success. ‘It’s a new way of stopping your community dying,’ he says emphatically.
John is a realistic man and he knows that the Big Issue system is not perfect. He admits that the homeless do sometimes abuse it by using the brand to legitimize their begging. ‘The people we work with aren’t all nice…they can be honourable and dishonourable, scabbers and thieves.’ He’s currently trying to turn the magazine around too. He laughs. ‘Half the people who buy the Big Issue don’t read it because it’s fucking boring!’
You can see why John has worked with the likes of Tony Blair. As well as being a great entertainer he’s utterly focused on his desire for social justice. Fundamental to this, is his belief that the homeless and those on benefit schemes have to work for themselves. ‘Like I said to Peter Mandelson once, “You have to fare well on welfare to say farewell to welfare.”’

2/5 This is the story of a disillusioned, soon-to-be divorced advertising executive who recounts his messy love life to his precocious daughter in the hope that, by piecing together the fragments, he might save his marriage. On top of this, he disguises the names of the women in his life and, as his various love affairs are revealed, his daughter tries to guess which of the pseudonymous women is her mother. It is through this double-layering that the writer/director has attempted to differentiate it from your average rom-com. You can see what he was hoping to do, namely tear the audience in two directions: holding them in a thrill of anticipation as they try to work out who will emerge as the mother, while simultaneously warming their cockles with the tomfooling antics of a blundering young fop with a heart of gold. The problem is you can see which one he is going to end up with from the off, and although there is the most unlikely of twists on the fertilisation front, what you knew would happen eventually does. The film opens with our hero Will (Ryan Reynolds), an all-American, starry-eyed young man who leaves his fiancée in a clapboard backwater and heads to New York to work on the ‘92 Clinton election campaign. We are taken through his various relationships: his college sweetheart, a sophisticated and beautiful journalist Summer (Rachel Weisz), and a politically apathetic scamp called April (Isla Fisher). The main problem with this film is that Will is highly unloveable; his foolish antics aren’t funny and his romantic side isn’t sincere. He is a cardboard cut-out, Americanised version of Hugh Grant and is unconvincing throughout. The film is redeemed somewhat by the stunning Weisz and a wonderful performance from Abigail Breslin as the daughter. Definitely, Maybe does break the old rom-com formula, but whether it needed breaking is certainly debatable.by Daniel Morgan

Warren, wasting his life, has been thrown out of his father’s house. Stealing a large sum of money he arrives at Dennis’ apartment, but in this squalid, drug- ridden bolt- hole he will probably not find the freedom from city life that he craves. Warren has been existing for the next high, the next weed-induced buzz, and his dealer, Dennis, holds him in as much contempt as his father. But Dennis is a parasite, clinging with vituperative relish on the younger, weaker Warren, enumerating his faults, glorying in his superiority. ‘I’m the basis for, like, half your personality!’ he informs Warren. Like any parasite, his long, angry speeches are hiding a barely realized self-hatred. Paul Barker plays Dennis with a superb sense of self- satisfied irony. Even when angry, when physically attacking Warren, a sardonic smirk hovers on his lips. Irony has neutered his anger, just as it has neutered the hope he is trying to replace with drugs. What Warren is trying to cover up, as much with drugs as with his continual, awkward attempts to be nice, is the shadow of his murdered sister. Warren is played extremely well by Casey Genin, who captures his geeky good nature, both when he is cowed by Dennis’ aggression, and when he is trying to seduce Jessica. Jessica, fancied by Warren and a prospective buyer for Dennis, is full of opinions. The lethargic, increasingly tense atmosphere that the two men artfully create is broken when she emerges, buzzing with energy and anger. At first dismissive, then receptive to Warren’s opinions and advances, Kassandra Jackson personifies the role of a belligerent college girl on the edge of womanhood. But for all her confidence, her assertion ‘What you’re like now has nothing to do with what you’re gonna be’ is carefully undermined. This isn’t a play about the death of youth and the birth of maturity. It is about the blossoming of the young in the face of adversity and tragedy. And it is definitely worth watching. By Timothy Sherwin

Six heads of colleges have this week urged Oxford to reduce its financial reliance on the government and find alternative, independent sources of income.As Oxford gears up to launch the largest private funding campaign in its history, the dons declared their support for a strategy to establish other sources of revenue in order to limit state intrusion into the University’s affairs.  The six backers included Sir Michael Scholar, President of St John’s, one of Oxford’s wealthiest colleges, and Professor Bernard Silverman, Master of St Peters College, which receives one the lowest returns from annual endowments. Dr John Davis of All Souls, Sir Ivor Roberts of Trinity College, Lord Butler of University College and another college principal, who wished to remain anonymous, also all supported greater financial independence. Davis argued that excessive reliance on government funds is restricting the University’s freedom. He said, “I am in favour of trying to diminish the University’s dependence on the state. Oxford is a national institution, and we would always have to consider the national interest in what we do: courses, admissions, research. My experience is that accepting anything from the state, even just a shilling, is taken by the state’s men as a license to inquire and to attempt to regulate.”Sir Michael Scholar also claimed that greater financial independence would reduce government intrusion. “It would be better for the University to rely on a greater number of different funding bodies or people, so that no single body would have too much influence on the way in which money is spent, because this reduces the freedom of the University,” he said.There has been less agreement on how the University might go about reducing its reliance on the government. Suggested measures include receiving less money from the Higher Education Funding Council for England (Hefce), which this year is providing Oxford with £167m – 27 per cent of its total income – to support its core teaching and research activity.A spokesperson for Dame Fiona Caldicott, Principal of Somerville, said that it is currently “entirely unrealistic” for the University to privatize, but calls for a gradual reduction of the Hefce teaching grant have been met mainly with approval. Bernard Silverman of St Peters College said, “If every old member voluntarily followed the example of those (rich and poor) who are generous to us in recognition of the education they received…we would be able to decrease our reliance on Hefce by increasing our self-reliance, and provide a really excellent education for all, regardless of their means.”Proposals to declare independence of government funding were floated by Lord Butler of University may not be able to charge higher tuition fees in the market place in the short term.”
Civil servants denied that the state intrudes upon Oxford’s independence. Tim Foley, a spokesman for the Department for Innovation, Universities and Skills, said the Higher Education Funding Council had been created specifically to dispense grants in an impartial and non-intrusive manner. “We have created an agency that is separate from the government deliberately in order to keep decisions about funding at arms lengths, so I’m not sure where that accusation [of unwanted intervention] comes from,” he said. “Hefce is a ‘non-departmental public body’ that distributes public money to universities and colleges in England that provide higher education. Its funding is allocated on the bases of the number of students attending the university and on the amount and quality of research it conducts.”
Hefce spokesperson Philip Walker maintained that the organisation preferred to leave higher education bodies alone in deciding how to use their resources, but he did not oppose calls for greater financial independence.“We try to have as light-a-touch approach as possible, and we try to reduce levels of intervention. Funding is allocated by formula, which means the use objective criteria…our funding does not have strings attached.”He added, “We encourage universities to seek funding from a wide range of sources. All universities rely on government funds, but it is up them to determine to what extent.”The central University office refused to comment on the issue.It has been suggested that the University could raise the fees for students from higher-earning backgrounds to improve its financial situation. Alan Ryan, Warden of New College, and Lord Butler have both made persistent calls for middle-class students to be made to pay higher fees. Robert Kenny, co-writer with Anthony Kenny of ‘Can Oxford be Improved?’ has suggested that if Oxford charged wealthier students £8,910 – the average fee for pupils attending private schools- the University would bring in £29 million extra annually, around half of the Hefce teaching grant.
The same book argued that whilse the University might be able to replace the loss of the Hefce teaching grant by raising extra endowment of £998 million, it was unrealistic to think it could raise the £4.6 billion endowment to replace the Government’s research funding.

Criticising Tom Stoppard feels like committing literary sacrilege. That said, Indian Ink is not one of his finest plays, despite attempts in this production to enliven it. Indian Ink has two interlinked storylines. In one plot strand, wild-child Flora Crewe (Anna Popplewell) travels to 1930s India and has her portrait painted by charismatic Indian artist Nirad Das (Saatvic Saattvic). Sexual tension simmers between the pair whilst ideas of empire, exploitation and cultural erosion are investigated. The second setting is 1980s England where Flora has achieved a posthumous reputation as a poet. Academic Eldon Pike (Omar El-Okdah) visits Flora’s genteel sister Mrs Swan (Hannah Ilett) in scenes which have comic potential, but often fall flat. Ilett delivers her lines with dry wit, but one cannot help feeling her statement ‘I could make a point about human nature, but have a slice of battenberg instead’ rings rather too true. However, colonial buffoon David Durance (Ronald Singer-Kingsmith) is played well, and Popplewell and Saatvic respond engagingly to the more overtly comic scenes. This production seems unbalanced – the Indian scenes with Popplewell and Saattvic are brilliant but are let down by the limpness of the English parts of the play. It was originally written for the radio, which may explain the occasional stodginess. The production could have done more to bring scenes to life, particularly the conversations between Mrs Swan and Anish Das (Viral Thakerar). At one point, Das talks about ‘rasa’ – the creative juice and essence of great art. This production shows a distinct lack of ‘rasa’. Whilst Popplewell, Saattvic and Ilett give especially good performances, the dialogue in general is lightly pleasing rather than truly emotionally engaging. Indian Ink is quite funny, not hilarious; quite clever, but not demandingly so. Dialogue shows everything that we expect from Stoppard – witty wordplay and mild philosophising – but does not manage to move or amuse as effectively as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern or Arcadia. By Elisabeth Lewis-Barned

Juno5/5 The history of Juno begins with one young woman and ends with another. Much has been made of 29- year-old screenwriter Diablo Cody’s previous job as a stripper, although she sees the experience as a journalistic experiment. Alongside her regular ‘blogging’, she created a screenplay about a teenage girl who has to deal with the consequences of unplanned pregnancy. It’s an enthusiastic, empathic script, full of nuanced wit and warmth, and has deservedly earned Cody numerous plaudits. She is a raw talent, and the script is similarly raw; at times it tries too hard to be hip and modern (the story works best as a timeless tale), but its faults are easy to forgive, partly because of the simple human truths it displays so skilfully, and partly – perhaps mostly – because of Ellen Page. Make no mistake, Juno may have started as Cody’s story, but it ends firmly in the hands of the 20-year-old Page. She is the fulcrum of the film, the reason for so many of its successes and the one on hand to drag it firmly and calmly through its weaker moments. There is no doubt that the character of Juno, imbued with much of Cody’s own personality, falls beautifully from the script, but Page gives her a vibrancy that not even Cody could have envisaged when she wrote the part. She handles the comic moments with effortless grace, every inch the confident, independent young woman that the script demands. Yet perhaps she excels most in revealing Juno’s fragile teenage heart, hidden under layers of sardonic bravado. There is one particularly poignant moment, as Juno sits in her car at the side of the road, when it would be hard for an actor to find more truth in a character than Ellen Page finds then. It is a phenomenal performance, a joy to watch, and a sparkling oasis in the desert of Hollywood’s drab teenage stereotypes. The rest of the cast provide competent support: JK Simmons, Allison Janney and Jason Bateman all shine, but Jennifer Garner doesn’t have much opportunity to be anything other than obsessive, and Michael Cera seems miscast as the architect of Juno’s pregnancy: his character is too passive to justify his story-arc. Indeed, many of the supporting characters feel incidental; this isn’t really an ensemble piece. Rather, it’s the unpretentious tale of a teenage girl trying to find her place in the world. With its low-budget background and four Oscar nominations, the film has drawn numerous comparisons to 2006’s indie darling Little Miss Sunshine. The evaluation isn’t without merit, but Juno is clearly the younger sibling: slightly less cool, occasionally trying too hard to impress, but ultimately with its heart in the right place. The soundtrack is gentler, the direction simpler, the storyline safer. In the end, that’s what makes the film such an unabashed delight. Like the title character herself, Juno makes a virtue of its flaws to emerge as a strong contender for film of the year: heartfelt, individual, quirky and wise. by Jonathan Tan

An ex-girlfriend, after the odd tête-à-tête, revealed to me that the first man she had ever kissed was now acting in the play in which we were both performing. My co- star. Not best pleased, I watched the two cavorting on stage (and increasingly enjoying themselves, I thought) and eventually asked my director to cut the scene from the script. ‘It’s not really necessary,’ I claimed, ‘it’s making obvious what should be felt as a undertone. And, well, they look really awkward.’
The last part wasn’t true. Worried though I was, our relationship lasted past the final curtain, since she could separate her acting from her life rather better than I gave her credit for. But the first part may have held some water. The Stage Kiss is usually the most sexually explicit action to take place on stage. Equus aside, most productions don’t go in for full-on nudity or sex; it gives the game away, reveals something that should be intimate, private.
In Edward II, which was recently performed in Oxford, Gaveston’s affair with Edward is referred to obliquely using the snide comments of peers and the tearful lamentations of Isabella. At first the audience take these treacheries and tears with a pinch of salt – a king and his male courtier having an affair? Surely not!
But add a kiss, and any ambiguities are lost. These people are clearly shagging. And this is about as explicit as we’re going to see. The kiss then does what any action in a play does; it reveals, makes explicit, adds to our understanding of the characters, and their relationships.
But very directly. The onstage kiss is overt, removing any subtlety. When we see two characters brushing lips, we rarely imagine anything beyond the obvious. The passion can be varied, the location, even the length – but just as in real life the kiss is, to an observer, an entirely one- dimensional act. It’s a kind of shorthand for: ‘Yes, they like each other.’
This can be potent. A character coming upon two other characters kissing can be led down all sorts of erroneous paths by the cackling spectre of misinterpretation. But more often the Stage Kiss is little more than soft porn to spice up the action. Directors use the kiss as something shocking and visually explicit to rouse the audience’s interest.
To see a play where the writer, or director, feels he can do without a kiss is rare; it can be conducive to a fuller and more complex picture. Without the obvious, our various interpretations of the subtle can blossom. What’s more, I won’t have to worry any more about of my girlfriends and their onstage romances.
By Timothy Sherwin