Thursday, May 8, 2025
Blog Page 2246

Phishers target University email

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Another attempt to breach the University’s email network had been made, according to an online notice posted Wednesday by the Oxford University Computing Services (OUCS).

 

The email’s sender poses as an administrator of the University’s official email network, using the address Webmail @ Subscriber.net, to trick users into revealing their Webmail username and password.

The emails have “SUBSCRIBERS GET BACK” in the subject line, and have been sent to University email account holders as part of a so-called ‘phishing’ attack.

 

A notice posted on Oxford’s Webmail site on Wednesday morning warned users to ‘NOT click any web links in emails’ and to ‘NEVER reply to such emails.’

Brasenose ICT officer Peter Bushnell names David Ford as the first to be aware of the so-called ‘phishing’ attempt.
Ford, a member of OUCS’s Network Security Team, sent a personal alert to various college IT officers, informing them that the fraudulent email is one “claiming to be an announcement of scheduled maintenance and asking the user to reply immediately with their password.”

“I don’t know what the details are but I just thought I’d warn everybody and forward the email from David, since he’s the person to ask,” said Bushnell.

It is unknown how many people gave up their details as a result the email, and whether any measures have been taken to stop the phisher.

OUCS refused to comment.

Return of the Uni police?

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Photo courtesy Thames Valley Police

 

Four new Police Community Support Officers (PCSOs) will begin patrols of University property next week in an unprecedented joint deal between Thames Valley Police and Oxford University.

The two-year, £120,000 contract has sparked controversy with college authorities after the national press incorrectly reported that the PCSOs would have unlimited access to college grounds. Locally, The Oxford Mail reported that “they will be allowed to wander freely around the courtyards corridors and student accommodation.”

The news created tension between the individual colleges and the University; college authorities traditionally guard their independence fiercely.

A member of security staff at one college said, “A student told me about plans to allow police into Colleges. I haven’t heard anything about it, neither has my head of house. And I assume that the University security services would be ticked off by this sort of thing.”

A Domestic Bursar at another college said, “We should know if they’re coming into our premises. They won’t be coming in here unless we allow it and I doubt very much if we would.”

The Oxford Mail’s story, which sparked the national press coverage, created a storm of controversy as it was published before the final contract had been signed, and before the details had been finalised.

 

"Bit of a flurry" 

A decision has since been reached that the PCSOs will not be given unlimited access to college grounds but will be allowed to look around colleges once granted permission.

A University spokesperson admitted that, “there was a bit of a flurry with the college bursars.”

Karen Tarrant, lodge manager of Jesus College, who previously worked with the police, agreed that things had grown out of proportion. However she added that the PCSOs are a step in the right direction, saying, “I will welcome them in for a cup of tea and a chat…Other colleges may not be so open minded, but if they do not want to invite the PCSOs into their grounds, then that is their choice.”

The Principal Proctor’s Office have clarified the information and sent notification to Colleges to explain the specific responsibilities of the PCSOs affiliated with the University. Their main responsibility will be to support regular police officers, and provide a visible presence.

 

No power of arrest

Although they do not have the power of arrest, they are equipped with radios and will call for assistance where necessary. They are also allowed to detain a suspect until the police arrive.

The PCSOs have said they will issue fixed penalty notices, confiscate alcohol and tobacco, remove abandoned vehicles and demand the name and address of anyone behaving in an anti-social manner.

Police press officer Toby Shergold said that the PCSOs are “expected to speak to people around colleges, find out security potholes, protect students and garner intelligence.”

Shergold added, “this is not just to respond to specific incidents but to correspond with other policing to provide a physical police presence within the University. The University will have a say in where they concentrate PCSOs. It’s more about being close to the community and establishing a relationship.”

A spokesperson for the University called the coverage said, “It’s a question of having good relations and supporting the police. It’s been in the pipeline for a while and the University is always in close contact with the police.”

 

As part of the terms of the joint deal the University and Thames Valley Police will split the cost of the PCSOs equally while the officers will have access to an office in the Bodleian Library.

Office space in the bottom of the Clarendon Building on Broad Street will be used as a ‘base’ for the officers and will also allow them to liaise with the Proctors’ office.

Police spokesperson Victoria Brandon said “an area at the Bodleian has been identified where the PCSOs can have a computer terminal and act as a base so they do not have to keep going back to St Aldate’s police station.”

 

Bulldogs

Whilst the PCSO contract is a new initiative it is not the first time the University has paid for a police force

 

In the past the University had its own private police force until it was disbanded in 2003 when the Proctors decided that they were too expensive to maintain and train.

Oxford University Constables, widely known as ‘Bulldogs’, had been the private force of the University since 1825 and were conspicuous in their uniform of bowler hats. The ‘bulldogs’ had enjoyed the same powers as police constables, including the power of arrest, but only when within four miles of any University building.

 

"Entirely impartial"

 

A year ago, Cherwell reported on accusations of collusion between the University and Thames Valley Police after an accidently taped conversation between police officers came to light at the trial of Speak animal rights protestors.

 

One of the police officers was recorded saying, “The problem is, the protesters do not realise how powerful the University is…it’s a sleeping giant.”

In reference to the arrest of a number of Speak activists the same officer stated that the “feedback from the University [about the arrests] was… that they were really impressed with it.” Another police officer replied, “Well that’s the main thing isn’t it.”

At the time a University spokesperson denied that any suggestion of an inappropriate relationship with the police. A press officer said at the time, "While we are in regular dialogue with the police, operational matters are entirely within their jurisdiction, and are not a matter for the University," he said.

Thames Valley Police also stated that they were not unduly influenced by the University. Detective Chief Constable Alex Marshall said, “I am confident that the way our organisation works with the University is entirely impartial.”

Police crack down on local clubs

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Police have forced Imperial to close after suspending its licence in a clampdown on nighttime crime.

In addition, the Bridge has been served with a licence review notice, following reports of violence and evidence of Class-A drugs on the premises of both clubs.

 
Public safety concerns

Following a hearing on 18 March regarding Imperial’s licence, Oxford City Council licensing sub-committee decreed that there were significant concerns over “public safety and crime and disorder at the premises”, and that the licence would be suspended for six weeks after the appeal period was up. As a result of the hearing Mushab Ahmatov, the premises supervisor was removed from his position.

From 1 April to 8 December 2007 there were 16 violent incidents at Imperial, and a further nine incidents requiring a police presence. Police also referred to another incident where between 15 and 20 men were involved in a fight on 16 February, but no bouncers got involved.

 
“Steady drip of assaults and thefts”

Richard Brown, Oxford’s City Centre Police Inspector, was present at the meeting as a representative of Thames Valley Police. He explained that the decision to review Imperial’s licence had been taken following a number of incidents since the beginning of this year.

He said, “There were a number of violent disturbances both inside and outside the building. We were also concerned about the state of the premises itself, in particular the electrical safety.”

Brown stressed that the licence suspension had been a last resort. He added, “We had had several meetings with the owners of the club and they hadn’t addressed the issues we raised.

“The premises really came to our attention back in August and all the way through the autumn. There was a steady drip of assaults and thefts. Management did not seem to have a grip on controlling these incidents.”

Tony Cope, the Police Licensing Officer, said that the police had actually asked for the revocation of the licence, but that suspension had been decided as the appropriate course of action during the hearing.

Cope said, “There have been reports of underage drinking, drugs, and fights. Basically everything you don’t want in a nightclub.

“We carried out a licensing check on 18 December and realized that there were a number of breaches to their licence. We gave them two months in which to address these breaches but there was no evidence that they had done anything about them.

He added, “If Imperial does open again, then we will be monitoring it very carefully, and any further breaches will almost certainly result in revocation of their licence.”

 
Eight clubs positive for Class A

The land is on a ten year lease from Christ Church, and a new lease holder, Mr McClure, has leased this for five years from the previous owners.

McClure said, “Imperial has had problems with underage drinking and with violence outside the nightclub; the police also found evidence of Class-A drugs in the toilets.” In early February a high reading of cocaine was found after bathrooms were swabbed during a routine licensing check.

The drug traces were however not the reason for the suspension. McClure added, “this is run-of-the-mill stuff for nightclubs, it is nothing out of the ordinary, the police also found evidence of Class-A drugs in eight other clubs in Oxford.”

Scott Grant, the Environmental Health Officer, said that a “huge list of problems” were found at another inspection that took place in December.

Despite these problems, McClure is optimistic. He stated, “We hope to build Imperial into a thriving business, where people can have fun in a safe environment.” The club plans to have over-21s only nights on weekends and bring into place more stringent identification and search restrictions.

 
Glass-free Bridge

Following the decision to suspend Imperial’s licence, the Bridge nightclub has been given a licence review notice, imposing certain conditions on the way it operates. The nightclub faces a hearing on 29 April.

Phil Davidson, owner of the Bridge said, “There have been a few incidents at the Bridge and we are working with the police to ensure that this number is reduced. Our main concern is to create an environment where, if trouble does start, it cannot turn into anything more.”

As a result of the Council’s action both clubs are set to bring in sweeping changes.

Davidson said that they were making the Bridge a glass-free zone. He said, “We are replacing all our glasses with polycarbonate ones and will be decanting all our bottles into these.”

Imperial will be following suit and will also be introducing searches on entry when it reopens. Whilst these searches will technically be voluntary, anyone who refuses to be searched will not be admitted.

A hearing is due to take place on 29 April but could be cancelled if the club resolves the concerns raised by the police. Inspector Brown said : “The owners of the Bridge are co-operating with the police and I am fairly certain that this will not result in the closure of the Bridge.”

Louise Randall, OUSU Vice President (Welfare), said, “I welcome the news that the licences of such clubs are being monitored.

“Students should be able to feel confident that the club nights they go to will be safe and fun. Sadly, if club owners are not willing to make the effort to provide these themselves, then sanctions on licences are necessary.”

Interview: Tom Stoppard

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Tom Stoppard rarely grants interviews, and is reluctant to speak about his life – even refusing to read the typescript of his recent biography by Ira Nadel, and never asking for corrections. The celebrated playwright is in Oxford to accept the Sunday Times Award for Literary Excellence, and I was told it was unlikely he would agree to talk. His acceptance of my invitation, then, comes as a surprise, and I approach the morning with some trepidation. He speaks in a beautiful, almost hushed voice. As we walk from the marquee in the snowed-over Christ Church meadows, and as he offers me a cigarette (he smokes Silk Cut), I am struck by his charm and sincerity. It is daunting to be face to face with a notoriously elusive intellectual giant – it is practically mortifying to see that he takes you seriously and treats you as an equal. I mention this to him, for he is no stranger to being in this position, having started his career as a journalist at the age of seventeen. He once even constructed an ‘interview’ with Harold Pinter, made up entirely of quotations from previous interviews. Transforming multiple voices, and rendering familiar texts and contexts unfamiliar anew is what he does best.

  It is perhaps fitting, therefore, that he receives with his award a copy of the Portland Vase – a cameo glass Roman vase from the first century BC housed in the British Museum, smashed by a vandal in 1845 and repeatedly restored – a symbol of the fragility and creation of art as an artefact. It seems only natural to question him about the process he employs in writing his plays, for, rather uniquely, he often rewrites scenes, recycles scripts, and refashions his plays during the process of rehearsal and performance. ‘I don’t go into rehearsal in order to defend my text, thinking that the text as it exists is a finished object like a poem. Theatre is an empirical art form, really – a pragmatic one, even.’ For Stoppard, writing a play is a collaborative process – an interactive journey. ‘The event which is a play implicates the audience, the actors, the playwright, and one has to achieve just the right degree of communication and comprehension, neither be undercomprehended or overcomprehended, and perhaps then the text needs just a bit of small adjustment. I don’t resent it, it’s part of the enjoyment of the art form.’

  This attitude is not surprising when one considers how his life has been shaped by multiple and contrasting experiences. Stoppard was born Thomáš Straussler in Zlin, Czechoslovakia in 1937, from where his family moved to Singapore to escape the Nazis. His mother moved to India when Singapore was invaded – his father was captured and died in a Japanese prison camp. At the age of eight, the young Thomáš moved again – taking on the English name of his stepfather, Major Kenneth Stoppard. The Major was to write to him many decades later, demanding his name be returned to him. ‘It’s not practical’ was to be Stoppard’s response, to the man who once told him – ‘Don’t you realise I made you British?’ He was to discover, decades later, that his true history – that of a Jewish family – was hidden from him. ‘It affected me much less than people thought it had to affect me – and maybe it just came too late.’
 

These experiences inevitably shaped Stoppard’s writing, which in turn has defined the shape of British drama in the twentieth century. ‘You can only write what you know. I don’t have a secret drawer, and I never seem to have anything saved up and ready to work on… And that’s my present situation, actually. I don’t know what to channel, really.’ His time in India was the basis of In A Native State, a radio play he re-wrote as Indian Ink. ‘I was only eight when I left, but dreamed about India all my life. I used to have dreams about being in India – the kind of dreams where you are very very sorry to wake up – there’s something kind of poignant about it.’

   Poignant, however, is not how his work has always been described. He has too often been criticised for being all head and no heart. Does emotion matter in plays? ‘I think it’s desirable, actually.’ But does what people say affect him? ‘I’m quite an eclectic writer. People always come to me with things they want me to write – "it’ll be perfect for you, Tom" – and that doesn’t really work – because they’re coming off what I have done already, which is the last place where I want to look, really.’

   Looking back is not something he’s afraid of, though, and his plays often deal with multiple time schemes and settings, blending history and fiction. He has an interesting and unavoidable relationship with the past – both literary and historical. ‘I have plays that are set in the past, but I have no special attitude towards that fact.’ He is hesitant to tackle the question of his political allegiances. ‘It registers with me when political issues dissolve into moral issues… I don’t think of left and right… it’s perfectly clear to me if the moral issues were clear cut there would be no issues – that’s why it’s a living problem.’ This is not to say that his plays do not tackle or reverberate with political questions; politics are just not the point.

   ‘The primary impulse in writing plays tends to be lost in favour of secondary and tertiary impulses. The primary impulse for me is that it’s a storytelling art form, and what it has to say about politics as it were, or the community, that might be very pertinent to what the play is trying to do… but somehow of secondary importance. I don’t think theatre gets points for its subject matter any more than what a poem does. I don’t think art gets points for its intention. It gets points for execution. There are other ways of looking at that point and ways of disagreeing with it – and I’m quite happy to disagree with myself in a moment.’

  And disagree he does. For despite this declaration, Stoppard has been linked with the cause of political dissidents in Eastern Europe. ‘I have to say that having made that very point to some silenced semi-exiled artists, writers and actors in Belarus three years ago, I was really shamed and put into place, because one forgets living here that for people living under repression and suppression, there’s no useful distinction to be made between intention and execution, and I think that’s what I would possibly need to remind myself of.’

  When I began by asking if there was any particular direction he wanted our talk to take, he decided to ‘decline the honour or the onus.’ Yet, he is inquisitive – about Oxford, the student theatre scene, and my involvement in it. ‘I shouldn’t be interviewing you,’ he smiles. I am surprised, for I did not think he would be interested in knowing how his plays are produced by students – and I’m quite uncomfortable talking about my own participation with student productions, for fear of making a fool of myself. But his enthusiasm is infectious, and his curiosity genuine. ‘I am flattered, but it will pass’, he says, when I mention his undying popularity amongst students.

   Stoppard never went to university, and instead started work as a journalist in Bristol. ‘I came to regret it… but I was anxious to start earning my own living… Probably I was sick of being in the sixth form and didn’t take into account what a liberation being a student would be… but I don’t regret being a journalist I think I got a lot from it.’ Working as a drama critic and a humour columnist for the Bristol Evening World first drew him into the circle of the theatre, making friends with people like Peter O’Toole, who was also starting a career at the same time. He tried his hand at writing a novel, which was a failure, but he found his niche as a playwright. ‘Apart form all the other reasons, there was definitely an element of vanity and self interest, because people were very interested in the theatre. And…I’m not being flippant. There was a knowing part of me that young playwrights got more attention than young novelists at that time; there was a disproportionate amount of attention for young writing for the theatre.’

This sense of the stage being larger-than-life, in a way, has translated itself into a foray onto the screen. He directed a film adaptation of his Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead starring Gary Oldman and Tim Roth, but it is for his co-writing of the screenplay of Shakespeare in Love that his stint in cinema is best remembered. Here, if anyone wanted it, was proof that Stoppard did indeed have a heart.

‘I don’t use the same parts of myself because I’m always treading on someone else’s work…. When I get turned on by a film job, I have a great time doing it.’ And what a great time it gave us, I say! ‘John Madden brought a lot of it to it. He made sure it worked as a love story.’ But it doesn’t always go the way it’s planned. ‘Sometimes it goes horribly wrong. I spent a long time on the Philip Pullman trilogy, but there was no director attached, and it was a completely wasted period as it turns out because the director likes to write his own scripts. But I like working with directors.’

It seems to have paid off. He gently waves off my congratulating him on his haul of the Tony for The Coast of Utopia and the Dan David Prize recently bestowed on him by the University of Tel Aviv. ‘I think I’ve been given it for being seventy, really!’ It is the sort of thing one can afford to say when one is Tom Stoppard, I suppose. When one’s career spans four Tony awards, the first knighthood for a playwright in over twenty five years, and even an Oscar, what more could one possibly ask for?

  The answer, as ever, is candid. ‘Everytime I come to Oxford, and somehow more so this morning because of the snow and the sun and the sky all working together in collaboration with the old stone – I think I would like to be a writer in residence here with no duties – that would be the ideal form of one’s last decade – I don’t know how it strikes you, but to me it’s deeply appealing.’

Dance on my grave

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When I die – May 21st, 2008 – don’t put it on Facebook. Browsing the ‘RIP’ groups as I do, I came across one for a young man; let’s call him Stan. Stan got himself killed in a motorbike crash, so someone started the Facebook group. This in itself could’ve hung by a bloodied finger to the cliff-edge of tact. Except the group’s creators had forgotten to turn off the ‘Related Groups’ feature. And one of them was ‘Bring Back Mr Blobby’.

I’m guessing this was a mistake. That is, unless one of the members had actually made a connection between Stan’s last moments, the jarring mortal scream as he was crushed beneath Eddie Stobart, and Mr Blobby. Y’know, the pink one.

Stan probably didn’t want himself linked to Mr Blobby, and probably wouldn’t choose a Facebook memorial. But they did it anyway. And to the modern idiot, it doesn’t end there – it’s just one example of their cack-minded impulse to make every death their business, if they’ve so much as glanced at the deceased’s heels through a bent mirror in a dream. If it’s a dismal time to be alive, it’s a magnitude worse for the dead guys: the world appropriates their passing, and coats it in their pre-packaged, self-serving platitudes.

Take an everyday cadaver, fly it to Amsterdam, slap on a thong and prop it up by a red light, and you’ll have a useful metaphor for how we’re all prostituting the memory of these people. You’ll also have a steady but morally ambiguous source of income, but by that time, you’ve made your point. So it’s okay.

The most famous dead hero was Diana, with fountains of faked tears for the ex-wife of the son of the woman who lives on banknotes. Now, it happens every other week. Beadle, Ledger – as somebody told me, ‘everyone’s dying these days.’ When you’re lifeless, you’re perfect, and suddenly, everyone cares: as we speak, Charlton Heston’s doing the chatshow circuit stood rigid in a coffin, his wife hoping to rush him to Letterman before his face congeals. Heath Ledger’s corpse is pencilled in for Brokeback’s doubly-controversial sequel, themes of necrophilia guaranteeing at least five Oscars. Hillary Clinton’s still up for the Presidency, and she’s been dead since 1993. It explains a lot.

When I die, I’d love for everyone to just act as they feel. If that’s just a shrug, fine. In reality, there’ll be a flag at half-mast, because it’s the done thing. I’ll get a page in a student paper, because that’s obligatory. But if you want to dance on my grave, why not do that? I give you permission. Take this column with you; not everyone will understand.

Student showcase: Ashley Bond

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Venturing inside the book Hundertwasser: the painter-king with the five skins, you come across a psychedelic rainbow of colours spread across almost every page. The five skins of the title – the epidermis, clothes, your house, identity and the earth – pervade his work in the form of rings and lines, waves emanating from his objects like concentric haloes. It was this idea of skins, of layers of identity that stuck with me.


I began to wonder just how much of our identity is formed by where we are now; the place, people, area of the country. To what extent does Oxford define us? I suppose that’s why I put the Rad Cam in the middle, a kind of question mark as to whether these skins should be wrapping around it, or whether we’re like the girl – just visiting.

Student showcase: Jasmine Robinson

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Flood Cave created an environment that you were forced to examine through physical manipulation. I strung wool across the entirety of the room, using it as a giant loom on which to weave the ‘carpet’ in situ, at the neck-cricking height of about 150 cm above the ground. The fabric of the piece was a selection of curtains, hessian and scraps from local charity shops, The whole thing sagged, and smelt closed like a dusty room, or a dead man’s attic.
I had envisioned the creation of tension through the physical imposition; I had in mind ghost towns, forest fires, flood plains, self-eclipsing landscapes. However, the opposite happened, and visitors lay down like dozy animals in the unforeseen serenity of the piece.

Ansel Adams: Photographs

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Adams’ photographs are haunting, mystical images which capture beautifully the essence of the landscapes in Yosemite and New Mexico, communicating a calmness and silence in nature. Yosemite is awe-inspiring in the flesh but the monochrome images of Adams find an underlying peace in the place. He was clearly unafraid of focusing on a certain aspect of nature, such as a rose, almost to the point of abstraction.

 

 

Adams was also willing to travel to the other end of the spectrum and take photographs which surveyed the vast and impressive landscape of California. There are other images in the collection of the people and churches of New Mexico. Whilst these were sensitive portrayals of life in New Mexico, I found them to be less successful (and certainly more mundane) than the visions of the Grand Canyon.

Something to bear in mind when you see this exhibition is that these photographs were taken from the late 1920s to the early ’60s. Adams was ahead of his time and made great advances in the technology of photography, much of which is standard practice today. Many images in this exhibition could easily appear to be standard dining room posters or the stuff of coffee table picture books. However, one image in particular could never be accused of such a position; Moonrise is an exquisite vision of Hernandez, New Mexico. A cemetery stands in the foreground, the mountains stretch out behind with smooth, flowing clouds above them. Beyond their peaks is the moon, appearing in a dark sky as if it is a completely different world. If I was ever going to believe in a parallel universe I would use this as evidence.
I recommend this exhibition to you wholeheartedly.

Encounters: Katie Paterson

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If all you could remember of Katie Paterson’s latest exhibition was a muted, monochromatic dream, that’s because it was one. 26-year-old Glaswegian artist Katie Peterson has been working in a series of projects since 2005 which are now on display. Paterson was inspired by a fevered vision, in which she traces the history of her drinking water back to a remote glacier, and metamorphoses into that glacier. Paterson is interested in merging the themes of subjectivity and landscape, as well as the collapsing of the physical and conceptual space.

The two installations on display rely on sound, rather than sight. I am not really sure that this qualifies as art, but its certainly interesting. At the centre of the exhibition is Earth-Moon-Earth: a black piano haltingly plays the Moonlight Sonata while a pair of headphones transmits endless sequences of Morse code. This may not seem like art at first, but the title Earth-Moon-Earth hints at an interesting concept: Paterson used the moon as a satellite, encoded the sonata, bounced it off the moon and then returned it to music here on earth. In the process, random notes of the sonata were lost to the uneven lunar surface, so the result is an odd distortion. The fascination with the imaginative possibilities of sounds is evident in Vatnajökull (the sound of), for which only a white-on-white neon sign ‘07757001122’ is on display. Visitors are invited to dial this number and gain access to the melancholic gurgling of the Vatnajökull glacier — Europe’s largest in volume, now discreetly yet rapidly melting while we listen from a distance. 

 

There is a contrast between the deceptive stillness in Paterson’s minimalist art, and the unseen turbulence of the landscapes which she portrays. The installations on show are only the tip of the iceberg; they deliberately only give the viewer a minute glimpse of the vastitude beneath. Hers is a world in which time is measured on the double-scale of the eternal and the ephemeral. Caught in nature’s wonder, we are synchronised with the immense clockwork that times the flux of glaciers and the tides of the ocean, not released from the orbit until we leave the room — and perhaps not even then.

Review: Volpone

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Never have the sublime and the ridiculous melded with such elegance as in Ben Johnson’s masterpiece. Although in many ways the exemplar of 17th century  farce, the sheer delight Johnson takes in the vice of his characters, and the equal relish with which he engineers the downfall of each, makes the play powerfully original, concerned with the darker reaches of the human soul.

The satire of this potent piece is perfectly captured in this strong production. Simon Tavener directs with admirable aplomb, keeping the action snappy. Yet he is not afriad to bathe in the comedy of the situation, allowing each character’s foibles to be revealed just as much in the laughable jockying for position as in their sinister scheming. Indeed, the energy of the comedy provides much of the play’s impressive vitality.

 

Embracing this energy, the set has been pared down as much as possible, so we are forced to focus on the words and actions of the characters themselves; the power of the satirical light shinning on the protagonists is strengthened by the bareness of the setting, touched up only with a handful of lush props for the old fox, Volpone himself.
And what a fox. Brian McMahon delivers a finely honed performance, sending his character hurtling from machination to machination, from delight to disgust, victory to despair. He is well matched by Maanas Jain as Mosca, his servant, by whose aid his schemes are artfully constructed, and, ultimately, utterly ruined. Jain brings real life to Mosca, both swaggering and fawning, reveling in the intricacies of the slave-master bond.

A strong performance from all the supporting cast completes the play, and an artfully constructed balance between caricature and seriousness is reached, spilling over towards caricature in the case of Tom Garner’s Corbaccio. As the action comes to a close it appears that Johnson himself was loathe to say goodbye to his creations, keeping all on  stage until the end, all still caught up in the finely spun web of deceit, and the audience is equally enraptured by this fine play.