Wednesday, May 21, 2025
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A retrospective on Pesach 2022: Naomi

Naomi Reiter
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A retrospective on Pesach 2022: Naomi

I think it’s important to preface my retrospective on Pesach with one crucial caveat: my experience could not have been more different to Leah’s. Leah spoke of coming to the realisation that the minutiae of observance can make Judaism cumbersome to the detriment of the original intent of the holiday. I spent my Pesach eight days getting more familiarly acquainted with the tiny nuances of observance than I ever have before.

My family’s celebration of Pesach has always been more on the minimalist end of the spectrum. My family are all Ashkenazi Jews who live in the diaspora, which is important to the version of Pesach we ought to observe, as different groups of Jews observe Pesach in different ways. The starkest difference is that between the dietary restrictions of Ashkenazi and Sephardi Jews. Typically, Ashkenazi Jews will avoid the food groups known as ‘chametz’ and ‘kitniyot’. The prohibition of kitniyot was put in place by Ashkenazi rabbis in the Middle Ages and was not an original part of the holiday. The reason for the decision to prohibit kitniyot is not agreed upon but my personal favourite explanation is that rabbis were worried that Ashkenazi Jews would not be able to distinguish between chametz and kitniyot in their raw form and so might accidentally use barley, which is chametz, thinking it was rice or some similar mix-up. The vast majority of Sephardi Jews did not accept this rabbinic ruling and continued to use kitniyot on Pesach. Interestingly, the recent consensus amongst the non-Orthodox movements within Ashkenazi Judaism has been that Ashkenazi Jews are indeed able to tell these grains apart and should be able to consume kitniyot on Pesach. It may be the case that in the future more within the Ashkenazi community will change their position on kitniyot and eventually overturn the Middle Ages ruling on the subject, but we shall have to wait and see on that question.

The other important difference in observance is between those Jews who are physically in the historic land of Israel and those Jews who live outside Israel in the diaspora. In Israel, the holiday lasts seven days with only one Seder at the beginning. In the diaspora there is a second Seder night extending the holiday to eight days. With this knowledge in mind, perhaps you the reader can understand why my grandma took the executive decision many years ago to celebrate this holiday as if we were Sephardi Jews who live in Israel (eating rice with one less day sans bread) rather than Ashkenazi Jews who live outside of Israel. And even then, we barely observed those restrictions. We would have matzah symbolically while still eating some bread. Some of you may call this ‘cheating’ or ‘picking and choosing traditions to have the most enjoyable version of Pesach’ and I won’t lie to you, there is a part of me that agrees and so, with the greatest of respect to my grandma’s ruling and my parents’ observance, I decided to spend this Pesach as what I am: an Ashkenazi Jew in the diaspora. This was certainly an enlightening experience.

I went to two Seders for the first time this year. The first was a large event and it was interesting to chat and compare prior Seder experiences with others there as we all came from vastly different family traditions. The second was more like the Seders I am used to at home – nine people gathered around one table in the Chaplains’  house. It was nice to have a Seder similar to the ones I had in my childhood as I have not been able to be home for one in a couple of years. However the larger change to my normal Pesach experience came with taking on the food restrictions of Ashkenazi Jews.

My Pesach food experience began a couple of weeks before the start of the holiday when I heard at a Shabbat lunch that there would be a trip to Kosher Kingdom. Kosher Kingdom is a kosher supermarket in London and an essential trip for anyone preparing for a fully observant Pesach as they sell many items that cannot be found in Oxford. I’ll confess now that I did not have anything I needed to buy beyond almond milk and matzah which I could have easily found in Oxford. I just went along hoping that I’d learn some valuable things along the way about Pesach kashrut and to experience a Pesach food section that went beyond the Aberdeen standard of the local Sainsbury’s having a few boxes of not-for-Passover-use matzah.

I began to realise that Pesach shopping was not a relaxed endeavour when Pammy, the other student on the trip, got out her spreadsheet in which she had meticulously planned what items she would be buying in Kosher Kingdom and Oxford in the run up to Pesach. As we sat in the back of the car on the drive to London I learned I had vastly underestimated what I would need to buy to feed myself and be fully observant of Pesach kosher standards. Thankfully, my woeful lack of planning didn’t hinder me too much as Pammy kindly agreed to go around the shop together and point out what I might need.

As I was talking to Pammy in the car and realised I was in way over my head, I texted another friend to ask his advice on what I should buy. This friend told me he was not the best person to ask about this as his family keeps even stricter stringencies than the average Orthodox Ashkenazi family. I wondered how bad it could possibly be until I sent him a picture of what I had bought in the specially-kashered-ish drawer I had prepared for it (it ended up being five bags of groceries) and he told me his family would consider maybe two items as kosher enough for their Pesach standards.

“My family’s celebration of Pesach has always been more on the minimalist end of the spectrum. “

This is the point where I was introduced to the next level of Pesach stringencies: those followed by Hasidic Jews. My friend told me about the concept of not eating ‘gebrochts’ or ‘wet matzah’ (products made by combining matzah with water to cook it into classic Passover dishes like matzah brei, matzah pizza, and matzah balls. The logic given is that there is a risk that some of the matzah may be undercooked and thus by combining it with water a leavened substance could inadvertently be produced which would break the prohibition on chametz). He would also typically avoid processed foods to prevent any possibility of them being contaminated with chametz, even to the point of only seasoning food with salt, pepper and paprika for spices. It is also customary for Hasidic Jews to only eat food from their own house during Pesach as the level of stringency observed can vary greatly even between individual families. I learned this for myself when I asked the local Chabad Rebbetzin Freidy about what my friend had said and she informed me that even his family’s Pesach kosher standards are lenient compared to hers, since her family would only use salt, even processed pepper and paprika were a step too far. It is important to note that my friend comes from a different Hasidic group from Freidy and this explains some of the difference in custom, but I discovered throughout the week that even between families within the exact same Jewish group there are subtle differences over things like salt, sugar, and tea that while being miniscule differences can delineate a total difference in stringency that makes one family’s kosher for Pesach meals not kosher enough for another family. The Hasidic custom of only eating your own food during Pesach made a lot more sense with this context. 

At this point you are probably wondering where I fitted myself in on this spectrum of stringency within Orthodox Ashkenazi food customs. I found myself caught between two levels of Orthodox observance; I shopped with Pammy who observed the standard Modern Orthodox custom of avoiding chametz and kitniyot while eating gebrochts and processed foods, but I ended up eating almost daily at the Chabad house where Hasidic rules were observed. There were no gebrochts, all fruit and vegetables (even cucumbers) had to be peeled just in case the peel had been in contact with chametz, and even tea had to be kosher-ified for Pesach use before the holiday started and was in the form of a diluting juice rather than the standard teabag. Every meal was a creative combination of meat, potatoes, butternut squash, and eggs with a large number of avocados and mangos on the side, but they were delicious despite the strict parameters that had to be operated within and I was incredibly grateful to have them.

As this was my first time properly observing Pesach, it was very useful to have a guarantee of at least one substantial meal a day if I had completely failed to scrape together food for myself that day. On Monday especially I realised how much I relied on buying coffees and sandwiches as my main energy source every day and was truly running on empty by the time dinner rolled around. Luckily by Tuesday I had bought some Pesach-approved instant coffee and some fruit and vegetables so I could at least have matzah, cream cheese, and cucumber sandwiches. I had also bought some non-gebrochts potato pasta and pasta sauce that I could make into a decent meal. On Wednesday I was able to get by on my own food alone without going to Chabad which was, admittedly, a small accomplishment but quite a feat compared to Monday where I had felt close to fainting on their doorstep by the time I reached the Chabad house that evening.

I chose not to make gebrochts like matzah pizza but I had no qualms about putting processed cream cheese on matzah, so I suppose I could be classified as gebrochts-flexible. I also did not peel my cucumber or pre-process my tea. The extent of the Chabad Pesach stringency was truly encapsulated to me on the last day of Pesach which coincided with Shabbat. One of the children at the Chabad house wanted to eat a strawberry. I then watched my friend Musia meticulously peel an individual strawberry to give to him. At that moment I thought to myself that while I greatly respect this hardcore level of observance, I don’t think I’m quite up for that just yet. There is a degree of beauty in this level of stringency whereby even in eating the smallest item like a strawberry, one has the holiday at the forefront of their mind. The spirit of Pesach necessarily permeates every action when it dictates everything down to the minutiae. I like that this is also felt across the spectrum of Orthodox Jews I encountered throughout the week. From Pammy with her precisely-crafted spreadsheets to Musia peeling everything down to a single strawberry, everyone fitted their whole lives to strict Pesach restrictions for a week.

While I can’t see myself taking on the level of observance that Hasidic Jews do anytime soon, I definitely felt a greater level of spiritual connection to the holiday of Passover than I ever have before. Judging solely based on my own experience I would say that a greater level of observance does translate to a greater level of immersion in the holiday and a fuller experience of this aspect of Jewish life. There is naturally disagreement on this but one of the brilliant aspects of Judaism is that everyone is free to have their own relationship with it; there is room for pluralism and no ‘wrong’ way of going about things. The feeling of the holiday being all around me for want of a better description was something special to experience and I hope to replicate that feeling again in the future .

Glossary

‘Chametz’ = Any product that contains wheat, barley, rye, oats or spelt e.g, breads, cakes, and pasta. Matzah can contain these as it is carefully controlled to ensure it doesn’t become leavened.

‘Kitniyot’ = Legumes including rice, corn, and peas that are traditionally permitted by Sephardi but not Ashkenazi Jews.

‘Kashrut’ = A system of rules that dictates which foods can be eaten by Jews and how foods should be prepared.

‘Kashering’ = A process by which utensils and storage areas are ritually prepared for kosher food.

Stephen Fry convinces: Oxford Union votes to repatriate contested artefacts

Meg Lintern
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Stephen Fry convinces: Oxford Union votes to repatriate contested artefacts

The Oxford Union voted in favour of the motion “This House Would repatriate contested artefacts”, with 250 ayes to just 52 noes. The debate took place amid a packed chamber, with members being turned away at the door due to high demand.

Speakers in favour of the motion included Chika Okeke-Agulu, Director of African Studies at Princeton University, Steph Scholten, director of the Hunterian Museum and previous Director of Heritage Collections at the University of Amsterdam, and Sandhya Das Thuraisingham, a PPE student at Queen’s College. The proposition speaker that had attracted the crowds, however, was Stephen Fry, who was described by a member of the opposition as “nothing short of a national artefact – I mean treasure”.

The motion was opposed by Gary Vikan, Former Director of Walters Art Museum, Dominic Selwood, a historian, author, journalist, and barrister, Nadia-Angela Bekhti, a biologist at Hertford College, and Matthew Dick, a history student at Magdalen.

Union President Michael-Akolade Ayodeji opened, after which Sandhya Das Thuraisingham took the floor, introducing the speakers and reminding the audience of a very similar debate that took place nearly forty years ago when Boris Johnson (then President of the Oxford Union) argued that the British government should see the Parthenon marbles returned to Greece. 

In response, Nadia-Angela Bekhti argued that “repatriation causes a revisionist history”. To truly redress the wounds of the past, she contended, we need to move past questions of acquisition and address the issue of education. With owners of artefacts like the British Museum offering free entry, outreach and educational programmes, she claimed that it is “not a case of where these artefacts belong but where they can be of benefit to most people”.

In an argument that raised commotion from the audience, Bekhti suggested that individuals have no inalienable right to possess items that they do not own directly. Comparing the claim of the Nigerians to the Benin Bronzes to the claims of Statford-upon-Avon residents to Shakespeare’s manuscripts, she suggested that the repatriation of artefacts may not even be in the interests of those to whom they are repatriated. She said of the brutal seizure of colonial artefacts, “these wrongs cannot be made right, there are no owners when it comes to our shared history”.

Steph Scholten began his argument by rephrasing the title of the debate, suggesting that we should not be asking if artefacts should be repatriated but when. Claiming that the process of repatriation has been going on for decades, Scholten argued that the UK’s involvement in multiple international conventions, declarations, and agreements means that they are already part of this movement. Describing the injustice of holding non-western objects, particularly sacred and ritualistic ones, in western museums, he said: “museums are full of items that are valued in our western terms as objects but have deep spiritual value – we are trained only to understand their material culture.”

Above all, Scholten argued that repatriating artefacts is not a question of history, but of current geopolitical relationships: “there is an assumption that the meaning of repatriation is transactional, one off, and that it frees the nation of further obligations [but] it is a process that allows for building stronger relations.”

Dominic Selwood opened his response by stating: “Henry VIII wrote 17 letters to Anne Boleyn, some of which were pretty racy… most of them are now in the Vatican”. He claimed that the value of artefacts does not lie in their origins, but in their journey, suggesting that to repatriate artefacts would be to erase an important part of their history. He said: “the movement of cultural treasures abroad is constant… world’s highways have always run with objects in transit.”

His most divisive argument was that “the vast majority [of British-owned artefacts] were donated or purchased legitimately; Lord Elgin had permission to take the Parthenon marbles.”

Chika Okeke-Agulu’s speech was the most personal of the evening. Having been brought up in Nigeria during the civil war, he said that for his mother, “the lingering pain of that war was waking up and finding that the shrines had been systematically looted”.

Okeke-Agulu further claimed that the 1970 UNESCO Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property was introduced suspiciously soon after most African countries won their independence. He said, “Africans have been asking for these treasures, for these incredibly valuable artefacts, since my lifetime”, suggesting that the Convention was passed to bar newly-independent nations from requesting the return of their artefacts from European museums.

Above all, Okeke-Agulu urged the audience to pay attention to the reception of Benin artefacts that were recently returned by the French, claiming that the immensely positive response from the Nigerian people indicated “the beginnings of the revival of the people who were for so long damaged by colonialism”.

Stephen Fry took to the floor later, greeting the various members of the audience as well as the “assorted media scum” [thanks, Stephen]. He was keen to express the function of the Union itself within the repatriation debate: “You can send a message to the world, as this chamber has often done in history. It has shown where the current of thought is trending.”

Primarily, he discussed the Parthenon marbles, which he claimed were “sawn and hacked away from the frieze of that extraordinary building… These were looted and stolen and exported without licence and they need to go back.”

In response to the argument that the artefacts are being used for educational purposes in museums, he retorted: “only 1% of what the British Museum holds is on display. 99% is simply not available…What should be written on the entablature is that star phrase of Frankie Boyle, ‘Gun Beats Spear’.”

Fry told the audience that if the Parthenon marbles are finally returned, “Britain will have done something which it hasn’t done almost in my lifetime: it will have done something classy.

“There is a future in repatriation which is more than tearing it out of one museum and putting it into another… send a signal that you here in the Oxford Union are ready to embark on an exciting adventure that will only enrich everyone.”

The debate was drawn to a close by Gary Vikan, who lamented his bad luck in following Fry. He argued that there are three possible options for the repatriation of artefacts: that this debate “blows over”, that the artefacts are unilaterally given back, and that a 50/50 partnership is drawn up between the museums holding artefacts and the nations that have a national claim to them.

Forty years after Boris Johnson argued in a Union debate that the Parthenon marbles should be returned to “where they belong”, the audience of that same chamber reached the same conclusion. The only remaining question is whether the debate will need to return in another forty years’ time. 

Oxford Student Film Review: The Pacifist

Flynn Hallman
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Oxford Student Film Review: The Pacifist

CW: murder, gun violence, mental illness

On Tuesday 21st May 1940, a brief section in the news columns of the Liverpool Echo was headed: “Student Remanded Smiles To Friends From The Dock”. The case referred to the events of a few days prior, in which John Fulljames, a nineteen year old undergraduate of University College, Oxford, opened fire at fellow students from his bedroom window overlooking the Radcliffe Quad. In the process, he killed one and injured two others. The Pacifist, a short film detailing the days leading up to the event from Fulljames’ perspective, premiered at the college on 29th April this year, a few metres away from where, almost exactly eighty-two years prior, the event took place. 

The Pacifist was put together by a team of recently graduated University College students. Matthew Hardy (2018, English) wrote the screenplay and collaborated on direction with Jack Rennie (2017, PPL). The premiere was held in a building overlooking Merton Street, late on a Friday evening. I attended it alone, and arrived a few minutes early. Not knowing anyone else in attendance at the ‘invite-only’ showing, I naturally feigned interest at the artwork in the foyer as a steady trail of college alumni, student peers, and relatives of those involved in the production filtered into the venue. Thankfully, this neat reminder of my social awkwardness did not last too long, and we were led upstairs to the lecture theatre where the screening took place. 

The film begins with Fulljames, played by Levi Mattey, preparing for a trial of an altogether different kind to that described in the papers of 21st May. A conscientious objector, the eponymous ‘pacifist’ is intent on attaining a legal exemption from joining the Western Front. Fulljames’ psychological deterioration in the days before the date of his hearing constitute the film’s direct plot-line. Yet The Pacifist’s principal effect lies in the multiple perspectives in which it represents Fulljames. He is at once an avowed socialist and an Oxford aesthete, at times a genuine victim of incontrovertible circumstance, at others overly self-pitying and narcissistic. Hardy writes Fulljames’ echoic repetition of quotes from Hamlet, Julius Caesar, and Matthew 24:6 alongside his own skittish ramblings. The effect is such that any judgement regarding the authenticity of Fulljames’ psychological affliction is brilliantly set against the self-consciously performative nature of its manifestation in the film. 

Mattey’s performance deftly captures the subtleties of such a character, while his two friends (played by Jerry Mutulu Woolley and Chester Caine) provide well-executed foils from which to compare his increasingly disassociated identity. From as early as the opening scene, Fulljames’ anxious, anti-war stream of consciousness vocal overlays twee shots of him walking the grounds of his college. The atmosphere of much of the rest of the film rests on this form of juxtaposition. One evening, solitary bare-walled bedroom shots depict a sleepless Fulljames disturbed by a lavish college dinner party going on downstairs. This disturbance then transmutes into a dream-sequences set across two of the college’s most romantic sites: the chapel and the sculpture of Percy Shelley. At first, Fulljames’ feverishly anxious thoughts about the war echo in the background as we see him contemplating the statue outside its gated confines. In the most beautiful shot of the film, a silence suddenly falls as he climbs the gate and begins touching and embracing the sculpture. The pallid figure of the drowned Romantic poet provides the inspiration for the film’s main illustration, and this scene then transitions into the chapel. Here Fulljames’ skittish interior monologue begins again in earnest, as the spectre of one of the ladies from the party (played by Martha West) encircles him tauntingly. 

Hardy carefully interweaves such scenes throughout the film, creating an atmosphere in which surface appearances consistently hint at the murkier realities which often comprise them. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the film’s mise-en-scène. Beautiful establishing shots of Oxford come in intervals: its obsolete battlements and sandstone alleyways, the silhouetted spires of chapels and bell towers, dons cycling past in the sun. In an early dialogue between Fulljames and his friends, they debate rumours that Hitler was deliberately preserving the city, intending it as the new capital of a conquered Britain. Fulljames, as with the audience, is made conscious that the peacefulness of the wartime city is only sustained by its perceived suitability as the prize of a fascist dictator. 

Even in the mid-twentieth century, Oxford remained a mecca for public schoolboys imbued with the fragile patriotic pretence which sustained the elite circles of a faded empire. At breakfast on the morning of the incident, Fulljames is said to have argued with the boys he would go on to shoot. The film depicts this scene with him defiantly railing against the misguided patriotism of the boys as they taunt him for supposedly turning his back on his country. “You know nothing of England!” he shouts, before resorting to a painfully Shelleyan cry of “I will not submit to these jealous gods”. 

In the film’s end credits, it is revealed that Fulljames was admitted to Broadmoor, a high-security psychiatric hospital, following a diagnosis of ‘split mind’ disorder, or schizophrenia in contemporary terms. The Pacifist’s atmosphere hinges on a fulcrum which finely poises the supposedly ‘split’ nature of Fulljames’ inconsistent characteristics. It presents us with a unique kind of ‘conscientious objector’, whose eponymous ideology is represented with dark irony against the violence he goes on to commit.

On the same day as the headline of the Liverpool Echo, minor variations in the details of the case were published in provincial newspapers throughout the country. Each began with the same detail, that Fulljames had appeared in the dock “smartly dressed in tweed coat and flannel trousers”. The bathos of the unnecessary detail embodies much of what makes the student such an elusive character in the film. The image of the pretentiously apparelled nineteen-year-old smiling at his fellow students from the dock is at once eerie and sad. It is a minute detail which brilliantly hints at an ideologically flawed character, innocently ignorant of his own sheltered remove from reality. The Pacifist, in setting, circumstance, and characterisation, captures the atmosphere of this remove, eerily anticipating Fulljames’ final act. 

Image credit: Andrew Shiva / CC BY-SA 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons

“Strikingly modern” – Review: Twelfth Night at Waterperry Gardens

May McEvoy
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“Strikingly modern” – Review: Twelfth Night at Waterperry Gardens

Set against the verdant backdrop of Waterperry Gardens, with the sun as the only lighting and birdsong accompanying the musicians, Somerville College Drama Society and Sunday Productions’ Twelfth Night is truly a sensory delight.

Twelfth Night is – like most Shakespeare – well-trodden ground, yet this production rendered the play’s themes of gender and identity strikingly modern. The choice to cast female actors as male characters brought out the complexity of gender within the play; even when the heteronormative pairings are established, one can’t help but notice the actors are female. From the first scene where Viola (Erin Malinowski) disguises herself as a boy, the audience is encouraged to enter a world where the boundaries between male and female and truth and lies blur and dissolve. 

The production wholeheartedly embraced the homoerotic undertones of Shakespearean comedy. A game of croquet, a picnic, and the Duke’s court all serve as settings for such romance; the play even had the audience questioning the nature of Sir Andrew and Sir Toby’s relationship as they collapsed upon the floor together. Yet the production didn’t merely use the homoerotic elements of the play as a source of laughter. It was at points genuinely romantic, largely due to the nuanced performances of the main love triangle (or square). Malinowski was compelling as Viola, acting as our guide through the tangled web of affection she leaves in her wake. Lucy Thompson captured the complexity of Olivia, shifting from cold command to blushing openness within seconds, and Leah O’Grady was truly believable as the swaggering Duke. Her descent from self-assuredness, to confusion, to full-on gay crisis was one of the most memorable elements of the play.

It was the sincerity of emotion that marked the production as a particularly excellent rendition of Twelfth Night. Attention was given to the relationship between Sebastian and Antonio, performed with touching earnestness by Tabitha Minson and Gwendy Davenport. There were memorable moments of intimacy throughout and swoon-worthy stolen looks of longing between Orsino and Viola as they were serenaded by a love song. Even Malvolia (the now-female Malvolio) was given a striking depth of character, becoming far less readily an object of disdain.

Such sincere scenes were especially striking by virtue of the otherwise comedic tone. Tom Farmer and Cosimo Asvisio were hilarious as Sir Toby and Sir Andrew, providing a double act that reinvigorated the show at points where the energy was perhaps lacking. Celine Barclay as Maria offset the pair well and brought a satisfying level of cunning to her character. Occasionally scenes of the sub-plot felt unfocused or difficult to follow, but admittedly one never expects Shakespeare to be easy. Steph Garrett shone in what can often be a thankless role as the Fool, and her singing was beautiful. Where the comedy was most effective was perhaps in the actors’ use of physicality. All commanded the space well, and Farmer and Asvisio were deeply believable in their drunkenness. The stand-out comic scene from the play was Malvolia’s appearance above the stage in neon-yellow work-out gear, delivering the line ‘what-ho!’ while stepping into a deep lunge. Alice Hopkinson-Woolley’s Malvolia ably switched between cold servant and overzealous wooer.

The decision to remove the play from its historical context in its costumes, props and other visual elements was for the most part effective, yet admittedly it caused some confusion. The social or political standing of homosexuality was uncertain, and in a play that draws so much on gay love as forbidden love, it felt inconsistent switching between this theme and Malvolia’s plan to marry Olivia.

Performing the unique space of the Waterperry amphitheatre, which was hosting a student production for the first time, could also have posed problems, but the production turned these into strengths. Music –  a predominantly original score – punctuated the performance in the absence of a curtain or electric lighting and underscored certain elements of focus. The use of space was carefully considered; at times characters appeared above the stage, at times they descended through the audience, and most often they arrived onto the stage through an area the cast informed me was dubbed the ‘ditch’. The production certainly didn’t give the impression of a stage play that just so happened to be performed outside; the setting became an important part of its effectiveness.

Somerville College Drama Society and Sunday Productions’s Twelfth Night is showing again at University Parks – again in an outdoor setting – and I wholeheartedly recommend that you catch the performance. It’s a touching, funny, and ingenious show performed by a wonderful cast, and was certainly a highlight of my summer term.

Twelfth Night continues this weekend (14-15th May) at University Parks.

“Inclusive and psychologically profound” – Review: Dracula

Sophie Magalhaes
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“Inclusive and psychologically profound” – Review: Dracula

An uncanny chain of events, terrifying epiphanies, all topped off with a feminist statement of modern love – this is Leah O’Grady’s Dracula. An adaptation of Bram Stoker’s Victorian Gothic epistolary novel, the fragmented narrative is arranged into a theatrical plot in which the Countess Dracula (Gracie Oddie-James) uses her powers of seduction to wreak havoc upon modern civilisation.

I was filled with anticipation upon arriving at the Pilch Studio, and was delighted to find a set filled with antique furniture reminiscent of Stoker’s era. This unassuming setting, transported to a contemporary London flat, is home to solicitor Jonathan Harker (Samuel King) and his sensitive yet engaging fiancée Mina (Gillian Konko). Mina says goodbye to Jonathan as he heads off on business to Transylvania, a fleeting moment of human connection before the solicitor stumbles into the sinister hands of the countess.

A restless and lonely woman confined to a remote castle, Oddie-James’ countess is the picture of feminine mysticism: unlike Stoker’s blood-thirsty masculine Count, this shift provides a fresh lens through which the audience can see how disaster comes from a desire for control. The image still seared into my memory is the moment in which Dracula perches herself next to Jonathan and dangles a piece of paper into her mouth. A creepy sub-human surrealism contrasted with the innocent is at the heart of the play’s escalation from a simple story of human connection to a sensational Gothic drama.

Back in Whitby, we see the friendship between Mina and her confidante Lucy (Macy Stasiak) as they navigate prospective marriages and their place in the world. Sitting on a cliff overlooking a beach, Mina writes poetry and Lucy paints. These simple moments of connection demonstrate the humanity that is at the core of this Gothic mystery. Stasiak and Konko’s interaction brought to life an endearing one-of-a-kind friendship. Mina’s rational sensitivity and Lucy’s charming sassy attitude is a delightful dynamic of opposites, yet the countess does not hesitate to use her powers of seduction in blighting this friendship, taking Lucy for her own. Perhaps the most captivating Gothic turn appears in Dracula’s eerie appearances moments before she is to bring disaster. Her shadowy silhouette behind the room divider spoke to me in its fusion of tradition and modernity. A Victorian drawing-room and the shifting nature of a female seductress, Dracula inhabits Mina’s consciousness and thus ‘queer Dracula’ is realised, blurring the rigid lines of Victorian sexuality in favour of a more inclusive and psychologically profound turn of events.

Amid this grief and uncertainty, comic relief comes in the form of Lucy’s three love interests. Quincy the loud American frat boy (Alex Foster), asylum administrator Seward (Sam Burles), and posh Durham student Arthur (Oliver Tanner) all bring humorous individual personalities. I found the scene in which the entire group dances around singing Take Me Home, Country Roads to be a beautiful testament to their camaraderie, that they are still able to find joy and forget about the looming horror and tense atmosphere. The three boys, united in their love for Lucy, along with Jonathan and Mina, are headed up by Van Helsing (Bailey Finch-Robson), a “middle-aged professor who speaks like a Victorian goblin.” Possessing a strange insight into the minds of evil, Finch-Robson’s German accent and meticulous physicality added to the character’s realism as well as creating an air of foreign mystery, creating the impression that we do not really know who Van Helsing is.

Making her Oxford drama debut as Renfield, Clara Wade’s performance stood out in the harrowing accuracy with which she portrayed insanity. The discomfort I experienced in watching her performance – as a shivering, debilitated shell of a person imprisoned in an asylum – speaks to its brilliance. A woman “fighting for her soul”, she is the image of the consequences of neglected mental illness, challenging the antiquated notion of a raging lunatic who is nothing but trouble.

It is impressive how O’Grady manages to weave myriad contemporary themes into a Victorian epistolary plot, whilst still retaining the original Gothic mysticism. The dramatic plot is never fragmented or incoherent, yet it still possesses a degree of ambiguity so that the audience can discover each turn of events along with the characters. This adaptation blurs the lines of antagonist and protagonist in arranging a unique cast of characters plagued by their own demons – making who the true villain is the core question of the work. I can guarantee that I am not alone in hoping for more ingenious theatrical adaptations from Serendipity Productions, as their fresh spin on classic works is an asset to the Oxford drama scene.

“Outside, in drag, covered in glitter”: Little Shop of Horrors comes to Oxford

Neily Raymond
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“Outside, in drag, covered in glitter”: Little Shop of Horrors comes to Oxford

Everybody better beware: Little Shop of Horrors has arrived in Oxford. 

The wacky musical tells the story of a meek florist, Seymour Krelborn, who finds himself in possession of a plant named Audrey II with a rather alarming appetite…for blood. Directed by Ollie Kurshid, Little Shop represents the return of the Eglesfield Musical Society’s spring garden musical, and we couldn’t be more excited. We spoke with Ollie about the process of putting together this fantastic, flamboyant, and undeniably frightening show. 

Why Little Shop?

Little Shop is a fabulously fun and goofy show, but what really excited me about the chance to direct this production is its deeply political message: an age-old story about greed, ambition and the end of the world. The show tackles an idea that lies at the heart of many global issues – from corruption and capitalistic greed to global warming – with a wonderfully entertaining style of comedy that is equally as terrifying as it is spectacular to watch.

This musical presents some unique technical demands – for one, a giant carnivorous plant. How has your team faced up to the challenge?

Designing Audrey II has been one of my favourite parts of the process. Making puppets and the final plant costume have certainly been new challenges for me! I wanted to incorporate elements of drag to help bring Audrey II to life onstage, and that certainly influenced my design of the final plant dress. Drag has a wonderful ability to mix extremes and take us to unexpected places, and I thought that would be such a perfect fit for the character and the show. Designing the set has also been so much fun. We’ve got a few fun tricks up our sleeve…but you’ll have to come and watch to find out more!

Describe the musical score of Little Shop in three words.

Funky. Hilarious. Terrifying.

The Eglesfield Musical Society wasn’t able to have its annual garden musical last Trinity, due to COVID restrictions. How does it feel to be back on your feet?

It’s wonderful to be back in the gardens of Queen’s! Working outdoors has presented its usual challenges, of course, but I think there’s something particularly fantastic about a garden musical. Where else would you perform Little Shop except amongst the plants?

What makes this production of Little Shop different? 

We’re outside, in drag, covered in glitter and green! Our show is very different from the original Broadway production, but hopefully that means it’ll be exciting to watch both for newcomers and fans of the show.

Little Shop of Horrors continues its run in Queen’s College Gardens until 14th May. Tickets are available here. 

We must dig the grave of digital capitalism

Alex Beard
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We must dig the grave of digital capitalism

Image description: A crowd of people in a red-lit room holding up their phones with flashlights on

“Everything is boring, no one is bored.” – Mark Fisher

It used to be the case that I would savour those moments in which I was not subjected to the discipline and surveillance of my employer. Be it from the Victorian factory, the Fordist production line, or the paper-pushing office complex, whatever non-working time I had belonged to the refuge of the personal sphere: it was, in theory, time to myself. Totally free of capitalist influence it was of course not, and it is no wonder that the expansion of commodity consumption and media like commercial television expanded in accordance with the amount of time people spent away from work. Still, at a distance from the physical and intellectual deference demanded by my employer, I might spend time doing things that improved my quality of life: reading, playing sport, making music, spending time with family or in the community. In the space that was perceived by capitalism to be empty and non-productive lay the source of much human happiness.

We should not be so naive as to assume that the conquest of our ‘non-productive’ time today, that is to say the absorption of the personal into the digital – nor the resulting transformation of our social existence – has been the work of some kind of neutral technological force. On the contrary, we have been rendered catatonic consumers of what Guy Debord called “pseudo-history”,[1] and commodifiers of our own lives, in service of some of the most grotesque conglomerates capitalism has ever produced. It may have donned a new mask in the form of digital hyper-modernity, but the true face of capitalism remains: a vast majority of the population is exploited in service of the inhuman end of profit. In the spirit of Marx and Engels, it is up to us – the children of the digital revolution – to become the “gravediggers” of the system that has made us what we are.

If this sounds all too predictably histrionic for someone with an end-of-days belief in ‘just how bad things have got’, consider it another way. How much of your actual engagement with the world is little more than parenthesis in a day otherwise spent being fired around the same feedback loops of instant gratification, or the same perfecting of yourself as a marketable digital commodity? To what extent does it really involve the kind of critical thinking that is not in any way compromised by the urge to experience life, if not physically online, then mediated by its patterns of thought? I know it, in my case, to be vanishingly little.

We are engaged in a collective Faustian bargain. One that was forced upon collectively unconscious children the moment our equally oblivious parents, ambushed by the Blitzkrieg of big tech, allowed to be placed into our hands the means of our addiction. It goes like this: we never have to be bored again, just so long as they get all of our time, our data (friends, personal history, sexual preferences), and our attention. And they sell it on so that things are marketed to us that we neither need nor fundamentally desire.

“…as the tech gets smarter, we get stupider.”

I am, to be quite honest, not entirely sure what it is that this ‘absence of boredom’ even involves. I often find myself distracted from the vain attempt at engaging in some actual thinking to ‘find something out’ online, only to emerge as though from digital slumber five minutes later having caught glimpses of the iced lattés of fifteen different pseudo-friends and completely forgotten what it was I intended to find out. My friend recently told me that the iPad is often referred to in China as a “digital pacifier”. I can think of no better description of a technology which aims to permanently dazzle me with an infinity of meaningless ephemera, and which keeps me in a state of button-pushing infantilism so as to extract from me ever greater heaps of commodified data.

There is a troubling paradox which lurks beneath all this. If my previous paragraph holds true, I would not be online were it not for the possibility that it might teach me something about the world. There is vast emancipatory potential in digital technology. It makes vast sums of knowledge and information available to people who would never previously have had access to it; indeed, this article would not be possible were it not from the Internet. Applied to the world of work, it offers the promise of automation, liberating masses from degrading, mechanistic labour. No radical should be making the case for a return to shitting in the woods. Today though, digital technology is inseparable from capitalism. We experience it overwhelmingly in its infantilising, addicting, gamified form. Just as big money has a monopoly on technology, so too does technology have a monopoly on intellectual development: as the tech gets smarter, we get stupider.

I hold that social media represent capitalism’s most resolute victory yet over all those things which lie outside its traditional sphere of exploitation. It has changed the way we live and think in ways which we are only now beginning to acknowledge. It has rendered us universally proletarian, insofar as we own nothing of the valuable data we produce, we work fastidiously on selling ourselves as digital commodities, and we are ritually fed through cycles of control. So just as we seek to end the stranglehold of big pharma over life-saving medicine, so too must we emancipate technologies with revolutionary potential from the all-corrupting force of big tech.

If this article has concerned itself with the abstract, then its aim going forward will be more concrete. I want to examine the way that digital capitalism has transformed our relationship with ourselves and the world around us. My hunch is that there is no longer any such thing as a ‘digital presence’. Social media change the way we think and behave well beyond the time that we actually spend online, and hence the reality of social existence even for those of us who are not on them (a group to which I unfortunately do not belong). They render us narcissistic pseudo-radicals, who have the sense of changing everything while doing nothing of the sort. And while total abstention is both unlikely and probably unproductive, we must radically rethink our relationship to them. This, after all, is our reality.

[1]Debord, G., 1967. “The Society of the Spectacle”. §200

Image credit: Luis Quintero via Pexels

“Student drama done right” – Review: Much Ado About Nothing

Cosimo Asvisio
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“Student drama done right” – Review: Much Ado About Nothing

“Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps,” declares Darcey Willing’s Hero in the third act of Wadham College’s outdoor production of Much Ado About Nothing. The productionharnesses its idyllic, summery setting to explore the themes this quotation encompasses: ideals of love and courtship in a world dominated by gendered notions of how honour is achieved, and the use of deception as a means to an end. While maintaining the play’s comedic nature, Wadham’s Much Ado also reminds the audience of the sinister gender imbalances that characterise the play’s setting, Messina.

The company’s decision to go for a modern adaptation of the play renders its themes accessible and, importantly, relatable. The scene of the ball organised by Don Pedro (Sohaib Hassan) in the first half – with its modern music, hilarious attempts at flirtation, and long choreographed dancing sequence with the entire cast onstage – plays upon well-known cultural tropes, pairing a satirical social commentary on upper-class courtship with party imagery we all recognise.

The inventive use of costumes and props throughout offers a visual entry-point into the themes of Wadham’s Much Ado. Deception and secrecy go hand in hand with the fulfilment of love. The anonymity embodied in the animal masks at the ball plays into this, especially with the choice to give the villain Don John (portrayed masterfully by Aravind Ravi) and his cronies (Alex Kahn as Borachio and Emily Oldridge as Conrade) masks with the faces of particularly threatening animals, including a bear and a rather savage-looking frog. Yet, the visual highpoint for me proved to be the journey Benedick’s (Ailbhe Sweeney) wardrobe took over the course of the play. As he begins to understand his love for Beatrice (Vicky Stone) and to act accordingly, he casts behind the white and black outfit that previously presented him as a soldier, a man, and a follower of Don Pedro, and attempts to celebrate his emotions with increased colour.

The ambiguous nature of deception – as something that can aid, as much as endanger, one’s fortunes – is emphasised through the contrasting use of stage space in scenes focused on Don John’s conspiracy and on Benedick and Beatrice’s love story. Both Don John and Don Pedro, and their respective retinues, actively work to deceive others; the difference, however, is that Pedro wishes to bring Benedick and Beatrice together, while John seeks to sow chaos in Messina.

Wadham’s Much Ado ably works its way around these contrasting types of deception. The fact that what Pedro and his friends Leonata (Lucy Turner) and Claudio (Jules Upson) are doing is harmless to Benedick is reinforced by allowing Benedick to dominate the stage with comedy, reacting theatrically to what he hears others say while attempting not to be seen by them. Physical proximity translates into emotional affinity, and friendship. Don John’s ruse, on the other hand, is a threat for the play’s protagonists: the scenes where he and his followers formulate their plots feature the near-immobile figure of John in centre-stage, which has an unsettling effect on those watching when compared to the show’s general dynamism.

Despite appearances, Much Ado is not purely lighthearted entertainment, and Wadham’s production both highlights disturbing gender inequalities and celebrates female power and agency. With a female actor in the role of Benedick, John’s machinations (but also, to an extent, Pedro’s well-intentioned ploy) take on a misogynistic undertone that drives home how men often attempt to control and direct women’s fates. Yet having a female actor in the role of Benedick combats this, showing that women can take on stereotypically male cultural tropes (being a soldier, a ‘lad’) with no particular difficulty.

Quintessential garden play vibes, several laugh-out-loud moments, and a commendable focus on the tricky themes of Much Ado all made Wadham’s 2022 garden play unmissable. Through its visual beauty, careful use of space, and amazing performances, Wadham’s Much Ado About Nothing is an exciting example of student drama done right.

Image credit: Alison Hall.

Oxfess: Why the fixation?

Atticus Evans-Lombe
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Oxfess: Why the fixation?

Let’s imagine it’s night-time, you’ve settled in for an early one after a long old day, and you decide to innocently scroll through the world of Facebook with your parent/friend/girlfriend/whatever. Perhaps you’re excited to show them the latest update to the Jesus College football team, or desperate to enlighten them with the news from the SU elections from your local hack. You scroll further and let out a sigh: that now-familiar monstrosity crosses your feed once again. “Keble freshers as ingredients from Najar’s”.

Sorry, what? Are they a bit confused? They’ve simply seen the latest in one of the more popular trends on Oxford’s thriving online confessions forum, Oxfess. Now the booming popularity of a site where people daily reincarnate their friends as Heston Services or coronation chicken may come as a bit of a surprise to them – especially after you’ve stood there with that ever-so-knowing smile at any previous mention of the word ‘ox-’ in conjunction with you in the past – but it comes as no surprise to you.

For as we all know, Oxfess is a thriving page, probably the most vibrant social network in Oxford: one part teen heartbreak, two parts class warfare, hub of endless gossip from the Rad Cam to Cowley Road, eternal shoulder for the stressed-out STEM student to cry on, and all the rest. And yet, why? Why does this anonymous page receive so much attention, when there are undoubtedly/probably better channels for much of the above? And, perhaps more importantly, is it possible it can do more harm than good?

Let’s begin with that first question. Why the fixation? The answer may seem rather obvious. Let’s face it, we’re all young, many of us teenagers. Half (at least) of what anyone wants to talk about is sex, relationships, love – it makes sense that many would flock to a site where we can anonymously get our fill of a cheeky bit of gossip. And indeed, you can hardly go five seconds on the site without something along the lines of “I can’t believe I ever went out with you / You were so shit in bed.”

Yet it was a different phenomenon on Oxfess that caught my eye. This was the abundance of that familiar prefix ‘ox’, positioned before almost any verb. A brief survey found a few regulars: ‘oxhate’, ‘oxlove’, ‘oxconfused’, and for those with stronger tastes, ‘oxfuckyou’. Given that the crowbarring of that holy syllable ‘ox’ before a word carries absolutely no practical purpose, why the ubiquitous use of this ‘Oxford language’? Do we feel that by applying said prefix, our words are imbued with a certain majesty, a clarity of purpose and superiority conveyed quite simply by the name, Oxford (University of, that is)?

Perhaps not, but the creation of this kind of unique ‘language’ certainly reveals some motivation for Oxfess’ frequent usage. Oxford is undeniably a very cult-y place. The intensity of short terms, in conjunction with the somewhat tribal collegiate system, creates a very unique bubble. It’s very difficult to define an exact ‘Oxford culture’, but it’s undeniable that many turn to Oxfess as a way to tap into it.

The reason for that is simple: Oxford is like any other university, a diverse ecosystem of students all co-existing, each with their own stresses, likes and dislikes. As an authentic student platform, where posts are made and shared by the student, and importantly by any student, it has status as a hub of shared experience, in creating a sense of community. 

Here is a place where anyone can share their fears or worries, their embarrassing or shameful stories, with no fear of judgement, or can ask for help and advice. I personally must say I have taken some joy in seeing my anger at Oxford’s terrible WiFi and Microsoft Authenticator usage (surely the most inconvenient system for signing in possible) being reciprocated online. Moreover, Oxfess is, of course, for Oxford. It’s a page where not only will everyone understand what you mean when you say “college puffer” or “suicide sconce”, but they will also get the unique stresses that come with being a student here. 

Oxfess’ popularity, then, can be explained as many things: a source of salacious gossip, a provider of genuine mirth at times, a function as some kind of societal hub, and if all else fails, a reminder that yes, you do go to Oxford and yes, you understand that lingo. Yet is it possible that this weird and wonderful site can it fact be malevolent, and its anonymous musings can in fact be a source for problematic tension that cut far deeper than we realise?

Theodore Roosevelt once said that comparison is the thief of joy. Any student today will understand exactly what he meant. Show me someone who has never in their life felt a twinge of sadness, a glimmer of FOMO when searching through social media and I will show you a liar.

Being an anonymous forum, Oxfess theoretically removes that threat, while also allowing ‘confessions’ to be brutally honest without fear of public judgement. Yet while it is of course conferred with good intentions, I believe that Oxfess’ mask of anonymity, while beneficial in most areas, is in fact highly detrimental in an area which should arguably be its most important. 

As mentioned above, Oxfess is a forum where people discuss things from the city’s best bike shop to the maximum number of people it is socially acceptable to get with on one Thursday night at Bridge. More troublingly, however, it is also a place where genuinely serious matters are discussed: cases of discrimination, of abuse, of institutionalised bigotry. Oxfess’ nature as a place for such whistleblowing is a credit to it and to the trust the student body has in it as a genuine platform for them.

Moreover, this is not to say that such stories should not be said on places like Oxfess; it is highly important that people are made aware of them, and perhaps Oxfess’ popular appeal means it is a necessary platform. Nevertheless, I believe that what makes it in many ways a force for good at Oxford, in fact does the opposite when concerning such serious issues. While its gossipy nature is in general student life funny, entertaining, and excellent escapism from a long day of work, it becomes problematic when it begins to trivialise genuine problems, several examples of which occurred in the previous couple of months. 

Towards the end of the Hilary Term, several cases of college-based discrimination/abuse were posted about on Oxfess. Such stories spread like wildfire, and soon several posts a day went something like “So is anyone going to tell us what happened with…” By turning these events into pieces of gossip, it spreads them beyond the control of whom they actually concern, and can lead to situations where two camps use the cloak of invisibility provided by Oxfess’ anonymity to throw shade at each other continually, thereby exacerbating the situation instead of actually talking about it. 

Perhaps we should simply take Oxfess for what it is, however: a fundamentally harmless forum for advice and gossip, and a place for Oxford’s famously neurotic community to let off some steam. After all, whenever you’re feeling frustration at Eduroam shutting off for the 17th time that day, you know exactly where to turn. 

Artwork by Ben Beechener

Thousands demand Oxford Union no-platforms Afghan politician

Charlie Hancock
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Thousands demand Oxford Union no-platforms Afghan politician

A petition demanding that the Oxford Union cancels a speaker event featuring a prominent Afghan politician who fled the country after the Taliban gained power has received over 10,000 signatures.

Hamdullah Mohib served as the Ambassador of Afghanistan to the United States from 2014-18, and was a close ally of former President Hasraf Ghani, under whom he served as National Security Advisor. He now lives in exile in the United States after fleeing Afghanistan. He told CBS that had he and other officials not fled, Kabul would have been destroyed by intense fighting.

The Oxford University Afghanistan Society will hold a protest outside the Union on May 11th, when he is due to speak. They say that hosting Mohib “diverts attention away from the ongoing and preeminently significant violation of the rights of the people of Afghanistan, especially of women and marginalised groups” and doesn’t adequately recognise his role in the humanitarian crisis gripping the country.

A petition circulated by the Society calls Mohib a “national traitor” for fleeing the country as the Taliban took control of the country in August 2021. It says that students from Afghanistan or are of Afghan heritage “do not feel safe” with Mohib being present in the city. They told Cherwell their goal is to get the Union to invite Afghans from marginalised groups and women’s rights activists instead.

The Society demands that the Union cancel Mohib’s appearance because they believe he is unfit to represent Afghanistan on their platform, and say that by doing so the Union would be “honouring the wishes of a nation and people in suffering”.

Mohib told Cherwell: “Since the sudden and traumatic collapse of the Afghan Republic in August 2021, I have been reflecting candidly and earnestly on the multiple factors that led to such a devastating outcome for my country, to which I dedicated a decade of my life in public service. My engagements and cooperation with the media, investigatory bodies, civil society, in public forums, and with my fellow Afghans inside and outside of Afghanistan over these past several months have all been part of this reflection process, as is my acceptance of the Oxford Union’s invitation to speak.”

Along with President Ghani, Mohib was reported to Interpol by the Afghan Embassy in Tajikistan for allegedly stealing from the Afghan treasury. Mohib has rejected these accusations, and Interpol says that no ‘red notices’ for the arrest of any Afghan government officials have been issued.

In interviews, Mohib has said that he accepts some of the blame for the resurgence of the Taliban, but that the blame should also be shared with the Afghan government and the international community.

In a statement to Cherwell, Mohib said: “I fully understand the anger and emotion that Afghans feel toward Afghan and international leaders and those who were in positions of accountability, an accountability to which I still feel responsible, and this is one reason I continue to engage publicly about the crisis. I too, as an Afghan, am dealing with these feelings. I hope that Afghans can engage in this reflection process together, and learn from it moving forward to continue to work toward our vision of a peaceful, inclusive, democratic and sovereign Afghanistan. I hope this process does not become tainted by the same divisive politics that has hurt our nation in the past.”

The Oxford Union told Cherwell: “All of our members are invited to listen to Mr Mohib’s perspective and challenge him during his time here speaking in the chamber, as they are able to do with any of the speakers we invite to the Oxford Union.”

Image: Isaroumilla/CC BY-SA 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons

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