Many gay people go through their teenage years realising who they are and, more often than not, coming to believe that it makes them flawed, maybe fatally. We are taught by society to keep our identity hidden because it is something ‘bad’ and ‘different’. It takes an awful lot of struggle, hard work, and courage to get to the point where you not only accept your identity but are proud of it and make the decision to be open about yourself. It’s a long, hard journey with many difficulties. And so, when I see the news that Warner Bros has censored a gay scene from Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore for screening in China, my stomach turns. I know how it would have felt for a younger me to come across the article and be reminded, yet again, of how ‘unacceptable’ I was; it would have reinforced my belief that I had to, in effect, censure my gayness from the image I projected onto the world. I feel for those queer people in China, who will now miss a rare chance to see their identity portrayed on screen and to feel included.
Though I am mindful of superficially imposing Western morals and attitudes on other cultures, I believe the LGBTQ+ community in the UK must utilise our comparably privileged position to empower and embolden fellow members of our community who are persecuted by law to push for change. The fact that this cinematic decision was so widely publicised and condemned indicates increasing calls for justice in today’s media; however, given that a US company approved the censorship, it is evident the battle for representation is far from over. A refusal to censor would have been a powerful message, giving a much needed boost to queer communities both in China and worldwide. Instead, the decision is emblematic of the current domestic climate in US politics, where prejudice is firmly imprinting itself in the mainstream. I cannot help but see that once again money and profits have taken precedence over persecuted people.
It is likely that Warner Bros made the decision to include a gay couple in Fantastic Beasts for a US audience because they thought that this would appeal to a wider viewing demographic, which equates to more revenue. It is wishful thinking to suggest it was decided on purely to increase representation and acceptance of Queer people, for the same kind of calculation likely factored into their decision to censor the film in China. While corporations need to be financially viable, they clearly have great influence over individuals when it comes to social responsibility. In my view, it is wrong to hold financial profits in a higher regard than equality.
The film has struggled at the box office when compared to previous instalments of the Fantastic Beasts franchise, but has still has achieved turnover of £360 million worldwide (as of May 2022); far more than the production cost. The two previous films did well at the Chinese box office, generating $85.9 million in 2016 and $57.8 million in 2018, and it seems that Warner wanted to capitalise on this. But in a country grappling with a COVID-19 outbreak, the opening weekend turned over ‘just’ $9.7 million – which actually represents a 63% market share. Overseas viewership has kept this franchise viable, with Variety magazine identifying that 75% of the revenue from the previous two films was outside the US. It is then no surprise that the film is also due to be released in other countries where homosexuality is criminalised; the censorship is expected to extend far beyond China. Yet, the film was withheld from release in Russia in response to the Ukraine War: a clear example of morals influencing business decisions.
Some may argue that the gay storyline is not central to the main plot of the film, and the drive of the overall story remains intact. But for many queer people across the world, their identity is simultaneously a part and a life-changing aspect of them. We must therefore consider whether it is more beneficial for a queer Chinese audience to see subtle allusions to a queer relationship or not to see the film altogether. Arguably, some queer inclusion, even if censored, is better than none. On the other hand, we should bear in mind that the two gay characters in this film, Dumbledore (Jude Law) and Grindelwald (Mads Mikkelsen), were both portrayed by cisgender male actors who are in heterosexual marriages. I believe that the portrayal of those characters as gay was hollow to begin with, and verges on queer-baiting. Seeing gay characters on screen is one thing, but seeing authentic, successful gay actors achieving representation would be more helpful and empowering to the community. While some may argue that a character’s queerness does not have to be at the forefront of how they are represented, the likely less than pure motives for this storyline cannot be overlooked – and neither can the writer of the film’s screenplay and the franchise’s founder.
J.K Rowling revealed that Dumbledore was gay, and that he had as a teenager experienced the relationship with Grindelwald portrayed in this film, in 2007, a few weeks after the last Harry Potter book, Deathly Hallows, was published. The exclusion of Dumbledore’s sexuality from the books allowed them to forgo any censorship and instead Rowling maximised book sales worldwide. Therefore Rowling’s decision, through this film, to capitalise on a gay storyline is morally questionable. If she can allow her work to be censored for financial gain, then what is the real motive, representation or profits? Many questioned her motives at the time, and in light of her notorious comments on transgender rights it seems that she is trying to use Dumbledore’s gayness to claw back moral ground and a veneer of progressivism on LGBTQ+ issues. I and fellow members of the LGBTQ+ community I have spoken to concurred even before the censorship debacle that we would hesitate to watch this film precisely for these reasons; every ticket sold is, in effect, an endorsement of the JK Rowling brand and her transphobia.
Perhaps the initial source of this debate is then the tip of the iceberg for every questionable idea that this film represents. The motives of individual authors and filmmakers are only part of a wider controversy surrounding the motives and execution of queer portrayal in the film industry and contemporary popular culture as a whole. All the same, it would have been a powerful statement to gay teens worldwide if the studio had refused to censor the relationship between Dumbledore and Grindelwald: a loud message of solitary and support. For a gay teen who isn’t out, as I know too well, this would be a glimmer in a world that too often seems shrouded in hopelessness.
Image credit: Tim White / CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 via flickr
There are hundreds, if not thousands, of students across this university who have committed months and years of their degree to effecting change, and dozens of organisations and committees established to advocate for marginalised groups. And yet Oxford remains an institution gilded in privilege, clinging to its own traditions, and each year grinding out a fresh supply of new scandals and statistics for Guardian columnists to write op-eds about.
Every university has problems; racism, classism and misogyny are obviously not unique to Oxford (although, as in so many other things, our global reputation precedes us). But Oxford is perhaps unique in how successfully it has managed to co-opt, sideline, and subdue the movements that could force the institution into any genuine change. The constant cycling of students through the university structure combined with the perpetual, barely manageable workload means students simply do not have the energy or the capacity to fight for reform. Across colleges and outside them, Oxford relies on the rapid turnover and continual exhaustion of potential student activists to insulate itself from the possibility of actually having to improve.
JCR presidents and representatives do not serve longer than a year, which is rarely enough time to make significant changes to an institution almost a millennium old – but more than enough time for them to burn out. Societies set up to advocate for causes from decolonisation to fighting sexual assault similarly face rapid turnover of members and the fleeting attention of the student body. And students are, foremost, just that – students, who can only engage in activism as an unpaid, passion-driven commitment alongside a full-time degree. They have to balance hammering against institutional inertia with writing essays and applying for internships and making it to morning practice. And going to Plush.
The Student Union, with its stated mission of advocating for Oxford’s students and a sizeable budget with which to do so, might be another source of genuine efforts for change. In Oxford’s case, however, it wavers between benignly irrelevant and near- invisible to actively harmful, staffed by bureaucratic professionals with almost no understanding of how the university actually operates. The sabbatical officers, who in many cases are genuinely passionate about changing the university, end up being absorbed into institutional structure, paid by the university to attend dozens of meaningless committee meetings and perhaps organise a coffee and cake social, or give away free condoms.
It’s not as if the demands are unreasonable. Consider putting an actual person of colour on your syllabus. Stop hiring rapists. Take down literally one statue. But for the old, almost invariably white, and often phenomenally wealthy heads of houses and university leaders calling the shots, these asks are often too much to contemplate. All they have to do is say no and keep going. The earnest, enthusiastic students emailing them petitions and passing JCR motions are going to be at this university likely for three or four years at most. The Dean who thinks Rhodes Must Fall is a fascist organisation run by quivering blue-haired teenagers or that Andy Orchard is the victim of a terrible witch-hunt is going to be here for decades.
As someone who has been in Oxford’s activist spaces for the better part of my degree, it is difficult not to be pessimistic. And at times it is difficult to rationalise caring so much about Oxford beyond the fact that it is the community we have the (mis)fortune to be a part of. Advocating for change implies some vision of a changed future to strive for, a diversified, decolonised Oxford, equal-access and equal-opportunity. But there is no broken system to be fixed. Oxford is doing what it is designed to do: reconstruct and renew Britain’s elite first, act as an educational institution second.
This is not to prescribe hopelessness. I can say without irony that activism, done genuinely, has been the source of some of the richest, most valuable and most deeply fulfilling experiences I’ve had, and I have found and connected with people I would never otherwise have had the privilege to meet. But if there is a piece of unsolicited advice I can give as someone leaving Oxford next month to the more earnest first-years who are getting involved with OULC or FemSoc, or trying to diversify their curricula or, God forbid, trying to make positive change at the Union, it is to understand where your goals should lie. Do not define your victories by your capacity to alter fundamentally a place older than the Aztec Empire. Have meaningful conversations with your peers, foster spaces of genuine solidarity and care, engage with the community outside the University. Understand that an increase in energy is not always going to translate into an increase in results. Most importantly, do not exhaust yourself with the fantasy that there is some egalitarian, diverse, liberal Oxford hiding behind the university’s walls, if only we could work together to tear them down. Oxford is and always has been less about promoting education than reproducing the privilege that sustains it. Conservatism is not a symptom of some healable sickness within the body of Oxford. It is in its bones.
Like many other state school students at Oxford, I genuinely attribute my university place to outreach initiatives. For me it was UNIQ, a summer residential, that finally convinced me that I wanted to go here. Meeting student ambassadors who were helpful and kind, but most importantly, normal, hugely demystified the media-fuelled stereotypes I previously associated with Oxford.
Knowing that I would have never applied without the confidence that UNIQ instilled in me made me realise that I wanted to be involved with access and outreach when I was finally at Oxford. To be that same person for a quiet but bright prospective student was, to me, a way that I could demystify Oxford for someone else. As both a Student Ambassador and the Access and Outreach Representative for my college, St Peter’s, I have helped to run countless school tours, Q&As, interview support sessions, open days, and most recently the Aspire Liverpool residential for students considering applying here.
Outreach work is pivotal. It gives prospective students, from all backgrounds, the opportunity to immerse themselves in Oxford life – to look at shelves upon shelves of books about a subject they love, to ask questions that they simply haven’t had the chance to ask before. Most of the time, it’s a matter of boosting confidence and making sure they can make an informed choice when filling out UCAS.
Something I have realised recently, though, is that my own feelings towards outreach are a lot more complex than they were when I first started. Beneath the awareness that I am doing something both important and rewarding lie hints of guilt and fatigue.
This is because while I can speak honestly about some of the amazing things about Oxford to these prospective students – the tutorial system, the opportunities, the people you meet, the academic rigour – I am also aware that there is a less positive side. Many students from minority and disadvantaged backgrounds occasionally come up against uncomfortable situations at Oxford, solely because of their identity.
These moments tend to occur on a small scale, in conversations with friends or acquaintances. One of the most prominent examples of this is the relentless name-dropping of private and public schools. I completely understand being proud of where you went to school and having it be part of your identity. But at the same time, it feels exhausting when people constantly remind you that they went to one of the top fee-paying schools in the country, often whilst pointing out people in the street who also happened to go there. It just functions as a reminder that I didn’t go to one. Anna Fairweather’s recent article ‘What’s in a Name’ explores the ramifications of this even more deeply, and how it exacerbates social divides.
I’ve been explicitly told I only got my place to fulfil a ‘state school quota’ by one of my peers. I have also felt intense imposter syndrome for several terms, with lack of support from the university. These experiences are not unique. They are mere by-products of Oxford’s wider culture, inherited from its past as an institution which was characterised by snobbery, admitting only the elite. Even though there has been undeniable progress from when the university was founded, these examples alone demonstrate that there is so much further to go. They also show that the purpose of outreach shouldn’t end when we get here. Getting disadvantaged students into Oxford should involve looking after them too.
My own experience with outreach work makes me feel guilty. I recognise that this seems both backwards and contradictory – but let me explain. I feel like I’m empowering these students, only to let them down eventually. When speaking to prospective students, even though I can tell them about Oxford’s good side, I know what their experience is likely to be if they do end up getting a place. They will find themselves trapped in similar conversations about money and background, ultimately finding it harder to assimilate than some of their peers. This is a cyclical problem, as these conversations would be so much less common if Oxford was truly accessible. A problem that is solved through outreach schemes themselves.
Aside from guilt, I have felt intense responsibility. Another issue that is complex due to its inherent circularity is that it is mainly state school individuals who volunteer to help with access and outreach work. This is in large part because we feel indebted to outreach efforts ourselves, having hugely benefited from it, or because we identify with the obstacles faced by the students applying. However, the opposite often happens for privately educated students – perhaps they feel that their own experience means that they would not be qualified for outreach work, or just that they are ‘too privileged’. I can completely understand this. It’s true that we need to be careful, especially when our ultimate goal is to undercut Oxford stereotypes. But on the flip side, should this solely be the responsibility of certain people, who are predominantly from a particular background?
This is undoubtedly a fine line to tread, but I think speaking to privately educated students at outreach events could have been helpful for me when I was applying. Student ambassadors being helpful and kind, regardless of background, makes the path to Oxford a lot easier.
In recent years, Oxford has come far in improving its diversity, but this work is nowhere near done. It can only be considered complete when the university represents the potential and drive of students from all backgrounds. I can only hope that in fifty years’ time, someone like me will be able to experience Oxford – in all its strange traditions, challenging workload, and beautiful architecture – without having to wonder when they will next walk away from a conversation having felt like an outsider, or have their ability challenged solely because of the school they went to.
CW: Sexual harassment, sexual assault, rape, victim-blaming, rape culture
A five-month long Cherwell investigation indicates that there have been a minimum total of 93 complaints of sexual harassment across the University of Oxford since the beginning of the 2017/18 academic year.
The investigation exclusively reveals data and information on formal complaints of sexual harassment from each Oxford college.The data reflects the number of allegations or complaints made between the beginning of the 2017/18 academic year and the date at which Cherwell received a Freedom of Information Act (FOI) response from each college respectively. The dates of these responses range from early January 2022 to early May 2022.
The central University administration recorded a total of 28 sexual harassment complaints between the beginning of the 2017/18 academic year and 2nd February 2022. There may have been duplication between college and central administration figures.
This investigation did not account for sexual assault, unless stated otherwise by colleges. Sexual harassment can consist of “inappropriate body language”, “sexually explicit remarks or innuendoes”, and/or “unwanted sexual advances and touching”, according to the University’s harassment policy.
The actual total figure of reports across the University and its colleges is likely to be higher than 93, as various colleges withheld data and information in the interest of protecting the privacy of individual students. In addition, many students who have suffered sexual harassment may not have made formal complaints to colleges. Students are able to seek support through college welfare programs without submitting a formal complaint.
Further, a 2021 investigation by UN Women UK found that 97% of women aged 19-24 have been sexually harassed, with only 4% of women reporting incidents of sexual harassment. The remaining 96% were dubious about the ability of UK authorities to handle such incidents. 45% of women who would not report sexual harassment say that this is due to the belief that nothing would change.
It Happens Here, an Oxford SU campaign group against sexual violence, told Cherwell that these numbers only show “the tip of the iceberg when it comes to how prevalent sexual assault is at this university”.
They added: “Even though we strongly believe that the number of cases at the university is higher than 93, this ‘lower’ number is still unacceptable. These 93 incidents should not have happened in the first place. No survivor should have had to go through such trauma. This demonstrates the work that still needs to be done by all members of the university, including It Happens Here, to end the prevalence of sexual assault.”
A University spokesperson said that they are “aware that incidents of sexual harassment and violence are under-reported at Oxford” and recognised that they have “more to do”. They also told Cherwell that they take “any allegation of sexual misconduct extremely seriously”.
Magdalen College recorded the highest number of sexual harassment complaints of any college that provided data, totalling 14 over the last five years. Worcester College and Lincoln College recorded the second highest number of sexual harassment complaints with a total of nine each.
Among the colleges not to have recorded any complaints of sexual harassment in the given time frame are Jesus and St Catherine’s. Some graduate colleges, such as Kellogg and St Cross, also did not record any complaints of sexual harassment in this period of time.
It Happens Here highlighted that the differences in reported incidents between colleges may be attributed to the differing cultures or procedures at different colleges.
They told Cherwell: “For example, colleges that mandate effective consent training for their students may foster a culture where people feel more confident identifying and correcting problematic behaviour in themselves and others. Nevertheless, the main and probably most influential factor is reporting. A survivor may fear backlash from the perpetrator. They may be discouraged by rape myths, such as the idea that survivors must respond in a certain way to be legitimate or that men cannot be assaulted. There may be confusion and apprehension due to a lack of transparency around the reporting process or distrust of the college due to knowledge of previously mishandled cases.”
As the practice of universities using ‘gagging clauses’ in cases of sexual harassment has recently come under fire nationwide, some colleges withheld all data on sexual harassment in their FoI responses, citing a risk of compromising “confidentiality obligations”. Colleges also stated that public release of information in some cases could lead to the identification of individuals.
One of the eight colleges to have withheld information was Lady Margaret Hall, which was accused of having “silenced and mistreated a victim of rape” according to a recent article by The Times.
St Benet’s Hall did not provide any information as the Permanent Private Hall is not a public authority and is “hence not obliged to respond to FoI requests such as these”.
The reason which University College gave for not providing the specific data requested was that it did not collect data solely on ‘sexual harassment’ between the 2017/18 academic year and 2021. Instead, its records show more general data for ‘harassment’ rather than for specific types of harassment. The College recorded 20 complaints of ‘harassment’ since the beginning of 2017/18 year.
A spokesperson said that the University of Oxford was “working hard in recent years on building a culture where our students can feel safe and where sexual violence and harassment will not be tolerated”.
The University spokesperson stated: “We would like to reassure students that anyone bringing forward complaints of this nature will always be listened to and supported, and would urge any student who has experienced sexual harassment and violence to contact the Sexual Harassment and Violence Support Service.”
Cherwell’s FoI requests also asked for data on what action colleges took and what welfare support was provided. Fewer than five of Magdalen’s total of 14 cases led to a formal investigation by a College Disciplinary Panel. Some cases led to formal expulsion or termination of contract.
Discipline for perpetrators of sexual harassment differed greatly across the University. At colleges such as Corpus Christi, University, Regent’s Park, Magdalen, and St Peter’s, students and staff members investigated for incidents of sexual harassment were suspended or banned from college premises for a period of time. In other instances, students were asked to undertake community service, and in some cases students or staff members were ultimately removed from the University.
Mansfield, Lincoln, and Linacre noted that some cases involved students from another college, in which case they were unable to take disciplinary action themselves. In these cases, University Proctors intervened. Various colleges chose not to disclose information on investigations or discipline.
An investigation was led “by an external party” in each New College case of student-on-student sexual harassment. In most other cases, a Dean or other appropriate College Officer would oversee the investigation.
In Michaelmas Term 2019, the University introduced the No Contact Arrangement Policy. The No Contact Arrangement Policy limits contact between students while allowing academic studies to continue. The University states that the policy was brought in to “address misconduct by students, rather than to resolve disputes between individuals”.
A University spokesperson also told Cherwell that they appointed a “specialist investigator for disciplinary sexual misconduct cases”. The University spokesperson added that each case is handled sensitively by specialist investigators.
In 2017, an investigation into sexual harassment by The Guardiansaw Oxford record the highest number of allegations of staff-on-student sexual harassment out of 120 different universities between the beginning of the 2011-12 academic year and 2012, with eleven received by the central University and ten by colleges. There may have been duplication between college and central administration figures.
Cherwell can newly reveal that, since the beginning of the academic year 2017/18, the total number of allegations of staff-on-student sexual harassment across Oxford’s colleges is eight, while the central University administration recorded five cases. While these figures show a reduction from the period in which The Guardian investigated, the total figure is likely to be higher as some data was not disclosed.
Trinity College received one “historical” complaint of staff-on-student sexual harassment in the last five years. However, no action was taken against the alleged perpetrator as they “died several decades ago”.
The University told Cherwell that they are currently reviewing the University’s staff-student policy. Student-staff relationships are not banned outright across the University. The University-wide policy states that “any close personal or intimate relationship with a student for whom a staff member has any responsibility is brought to the attention of the member of staff’s Head of Department as soon as such a relationship commences”.
Several colleges do not have any student-staff relationship policy, such as New College, The Queen’s College, and Merton. Other colleges, such as Jesus and Balliol, strongly advise against close and intimate relationships between staff and students.
Some colleges take strong actions against student-staff relationships. Linacre, a graduate college, explicitly “prohibits such staff from engaging in romantic or sexual relationships with students for whom they hold any such responsibility”. The policy adds: “Such relationships are always inappropriate irrespective of whether the student did not appear to object, appeared to give consent, gave consent or even instigated the behaviour”.
Across the colleges, there was a minimum total of eight complaints of staff-on-staff sexual harassment, while the central administration only recorded two.
All colleges for undergraduates have harassment policies and codes of conduct which contain information on sexual harassment. Some graduate colleges, such as St Cross, follow the University policy, which similarly contains a section on forms of sexual harassment. Welfare resources are also listed.
Brasenose College commented that each person who reported an incident of sexual harassment was “responded to in their context– there is no single route of support”. University College stated that “students are reminded about members of college staff from whom they may receive support and about sources of support from outside the College”.
It Happens Here commented that their Oxford SU campaign “sees that the level and quality of support that is given to students varies substantially between colleges”. They urged all colleges to “critically examine the systems they have in place and question whether it is accessible, trauma-informed and effective at safeguarding vulnerable people”.
An Oxford University spokesperson informed Cherwell that the Sexual Harassment and Violence Support Service is seeing an increasing number of students come forward, with 223 students seeking support from the University service in the 2020-21 academic year. They also told Cherwell that they would like to reassure students that anyone bringing complaints forward will be listened to and supported.
The University stated that they are currently “refreshing our consent training” and “providing more welfare support for students” through the provision of more resources.
A group of University of Oxford students under the name ‘Not Here. Not Anymore’ has recently organised a protest on 22nd May at the Radcliffe Camera to address the “University’s abhorrent treatment of victims of sexual harassment and fighting for new protective procedures”.
A spokesperson for the group told Cherwell: “This protest is about showing solidarity with all victims of sexual assualt and harassment across the university. We are demanding that the University does better rather than silencing victims and protecting sexual assaulters over the victims themselves. The protest is also a way to make some noise because something has to be done, and each moment this university delays the conversation another student is left vulnerable to sexual assault or sexual harassment.”
It Happens Here concluded: “These statistics are only the beginning of the story. Although we cannot claim to know the reasons behind these numbers, we can see that the real extent and impact of sexual assault at Oxford University is far beyond the scope of these statistics. We can say that we have seen survivors who found support immediately and survivors who have been afraid to disclose for years, survivors who have reported to the police and survivors who have not even told their friends, survivors whose experiences disrupted their studies and careers, and survivors of all genders, backgrounds and colleges. Every case is unique but the patterns are startling: people who experience sexual violence are prevented from reporting, are silenced and become invisible. From rape culture and victim-blaming to spiking to silencing survivors with NDAs, it happens here and it does not end here: the patterns we create and tolerate at university then reproduce and are tolerated in the homes and workplaces that we leave to. This is why it is important to make a stand now.”
An Oxford University spokesperson provided Cherwell with a full statement: “Oxford University has been working hard in recent years on building a culture where our students can feel safe and where sexual violence and harassment will not be tolerated.”
“We know we have more to do, and are currently refreshing our consent training, reviewing the University’s policy on staff-student relationships, and providing more welfare support for students.”
“The University takes any allegation of sexual misconduct extremely seriously, but in line with the national picture, we are aware that incidents of sexual harassment and violence are under-reported at Oxford. We would like to reassure students that anyone bringing forward complaints of this nature will always be listened to and supported, and would urge any student who has experienced sexual harassment and violence to contact the Support Service.”
Join us at It Happens Here if you need support or want to learn more about what you can do to help the cause.
We run weekly wellbeing sessions for survivors and their allies (Safe Spaces project), which you can sign up for here.
If you have been affected by any of what has been raised in this article, please consult https://www.ithappenshere.co.uk/ where you can find a list of resources, ranging all the way from college level based support to national support services. We also have a short quiz you can take to signpost you to the most useful support service.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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