Following a relaxed wintry start to the cricketing calendar, Women’s Blues Captain Hannah Davis turns her thoughts to the upcoming season.
When did you start playing cricket?
I began my cricketing journey at the age of 8, playing in the garden with my dad and brother. By the time I was around 9, I joined the boys’ team at school and my involvement in cricket continued to grow when I became a member of Tring Park CC and progressed through the boys’ age group teams up to U15. When I was 10 years old, having never really played girls cricket, I was invited to play for Buckinghamshire U11 girls’ team, and this was when my love for the game properly started. Since then, I have played for Buckinghamshire for a very enjoyable 9 seasons. I’ve formed some great friendships and had the honour of making my debut for the Women’s 1st XI at the age of 13, as well as taking on the role of captain last year. Playing for Bucks gave me exposure to a higher level of cricket, allowing me to participate in the Sunrisers academy and 2nd XI which has been a great experience to be a part of a professional environment. I am now also playing at Berkhamsted CC in their Men’s and Women’s teams. The upcoming season brings a new challenge as I am hoping to make my debut for Essex women following training with them throughout this winter.
How did varsity go last year? Are you looking forward to this one?
Last year, our T20 varsity at Lords was unfortunately rain affected, finishing as a tie under DLS (although I am sure we would have managed to win if we were able to finish the game!). Our 50 over varsity was a very close match with Ellie Micklewright scoring 50 and Victoria Bagge a career best 78 not out. After scoring 254, we put ourselves in a strong position. However, despite taking the game down to the last over, an individual score of 188 not out from the Cambridge captain proved too strong for us on the day. This season, our varsity games are at Lords (9th May) and Arundel (22nd June). We aim to dismiss the Cambridge captain early and secure victories in both games. We would greatly appreciate as much support as possible!
Who are the ones to watch in this team?
Jo Cull – Our captain from last year was one of the top run scorers and most reliable batters. It will be exciting to watch her have another successful season this year!
Niamh Lynch – Having joined the team last year relatively new to the game, it soon became apparent that Niamh had a lot of natural talent and would challenge for a place in the varsity side. Unfortunately, an injury thwarted this, but I am excited to see what Niamh can do on the pitch this season.
Evie Mayhew – Evie is new to the team as a fresher this year and after her first session in the nets, it was clear that she would be a very useful seam bowling all-rounder. Evie is certainly in strong contention to open the bowling this season, being one of our quickest, most consistent bowlers, as well as getting good shape on the ball. I am looking forward to seeing her take lots of wickets this season.
Image Credit: Picryl/ PDM 1.0 DEED Via The National Portrait Gallery London.
I’d be surprised if Dominic Cummings was the star appearance from the Oxford Union you were expecting this term. Because, from where I’m standing, it felt like the announcement of his visit came as an unhappy revelation for many of us. The fact hat a man whose only real ‘achievement’ – Brexit (a tough sell) – was overshadowed by a mid-lockdown trip to Durham and a poor dress sense is the Union’s USP for people who shelled out to join it, is majorly disappointing. Yet such an invitation is not in isolation. Rather, it is indicative of a larger trend in society, in which the boundaries between politicians or celebrities and controversialists have been blurred.
Ideally,being a celebrity should be a status conferred on someone by society in recognition of their achievements as a role model. In reality, it is not the moral credentials of an individual that get them plaudits in real life and likes on social media – it is the attention they can attract. Given the Union’s fame and notoriety amongst many students, it’s unsurprising that they should seek out such figures. Yet it points to a worrying trend that continues to be intensified in modern society, where through the combination of rhetoric and the internet, and rhetoric on the internet, people are increasingly exposed to speech which puts sensation over substance. Politics is more and more often dominated by politicians whose controversial opinions obscure any claim to substance or rigour and it is to society’s detriment that those voices drown out those of caution and moderation.
While it seems that modern culture is dominated by those who speak too much, we musn’t forget the true power of speech, politically or otherwise. For the torchbearers of the Renaissance, oratory was central to the promotion of virtue within the state, which was the most worthy and noble end of political engagement. The vision of humanists such as Thomas More was that the power of speech was to promote a universal code of values, which were applicable in any circumstance. In modern politics, speech increasingly no longer stands to promote a common morality, but rather as the cornerstone of extreme partisanship. In our age, a celebrity can beat a career politician at their own game. Trump’s 2016 victory was not the first time a celebrity president was elected, but with mass-media conspiracy theorising instead of Reagan’s folksy charm, it certainly felt different.
The dangerous effects of political articulation are not new: Hitler would not have been nearly as effective without his propagandist-in-chief, Joseph Goebbels. And Shakespeare similarly emphasises the power of speech to cause mutiny in his Roman tragedy Coriolanus. Yet in the modern age, there is a critical new dimension that dangerously intensifies that power: the internet and social media. And how could they not? When outrage is the most valuable currency on X (Twitter), it is not the learned, moderate politician who gets coverage, but the demagogue and the rabble-rouser. This idea that ‘he who speaks loudest wins’ is key to understanding the difficulty in achieving a bipartisan border deal in the United States. For, if there were a lasting solution on the Mexican border, that would be one less polemical issue for Republican lawmakers to raise hell over in the House and Senate.
It seems a sad indictment that sensational, polemical speakers are in higher demand than more subdued and moderate voices. But in truth, the Union should not be condemned too harshly for following that trend. It hardly needs mentioning that highly divisive figures such as Ben Shapiro and Katie Hopkins will attract attention, from both followers and haters, whose ability to draw crowds only benefits the Union, and gives it a tangible (if shallow) sense of relevance. The invitation of Dominic Cummings feels particularly relevant. Not only has he achieved notoriety for his Barnard Caste jaunt, but it was also he who famously created the Brexit slogan ‘Take Back Control’ in 2016.
From a linguistic perspective, this is genius marketing. But it’s not as if political slogans are anything new. We only have to look to the pleasantly innocuous “I like Ike” from Eisenhower’s 1952 campaign to realise their timelessness. Yet in conjunction with the relentless Facebook Leave campaign in the lead-up to the referendum, it symbolised a new era in which the internet has given greater influence to, more often than not, partisan political positions. An era in which false claims (including those propagated by the ‘Yes’ campaign) disseminated much faster than claims seeking moderation and balance. An era in which the ‘keyboard-warrior’ could have as much impact as the career-politician talking at a rally.
Ultimately it means that overwhelmingly in both politics and the ‘culture war’, people can gain mass attention simply by stating something controversial. And, unfortunately, this phenomenon gives rise to non-serious and jokey (though not very funny) politicians and public figures. But I suppose at a point in history of decreasing attention spans and increasing polarisation, this shouldn’t be surprising. The Union’s position in Oxford as a place for discussion is positive for students, but this must be reconciled with a new kind of speaker – far from the classical or Renaissance ideal – for whom there’s no such thing as bad publicity.
The Sheldonian Theatre was treated on Saturday of 4th week to a display by some of the University’s best musical talent. The Oxford University Orchestra (OUO) is host to some of Oxford’s most gifted classical musicians, and this concert certainly demonstrated that. Boasting a varied and challenging programme, I was excited for the performance, and the Sheldonian Theatre always feels a fittingly grand venue for such occasions.
D’un soir triste, Lili Boulanger
‘Triste’ is certainly an apt way to describe the concert’s opener. It felt a slightly odd piece to begin with, given its slow and rather depressing nature. It risked sucking the life out of the hall before the concert had even really had a chance to get going. However, given what they were working with, it was very well executed by the orchestra, who dragged out the piece’s ominous melodies to perfection. All in all, while D’un soir triste was my least favourite piece of the night, it certainly did not detract from the overall experience, in large part because the orchestra played it so beautifully. From the start they had set the standard for the night, one which they managed to successfully maintain throughout the subsequent pieces.
Kauyumari, Gabriela Ortiz
Almost the perfect antithesis to the opener, Kauyumari is full of energy and dominated by a lively percussion section. An innovative and modern piece, it has an incredibly interesting story behind it, written mid-pandemic about the Huichol people of Mexico’s yearly pilgrimage into a hallucinogenic cactus called ‘Peyote’. The orchestra did this story justice, capturing the piece’s complex rhythms masterfully, an impressive feat which was testament in large part to the efforts of the percussion section. Seeing them scurry about between the different auxiliary instruments required to flesh Kauyumari out was almost as exciting as the piece itself, and added brilliantly to the sense of urgency present throughout. Simultaneously, the rest of the orchestra did very well to keep up with the pace set down by the percussion. As a piece that gets faster and faster as it goes on, by the end it leaves all onlookers stunned by the speed at which the orchestra manipulated their instruments, especially because they made it look so easy. It was a refreshing uplift following the opener, and its dramatic end re-energised the audience before heading into the interval.
Second half: An Alpine Symphony, Richard Strauss
As the highlight of the programme at a glance, I was intrigued to see how the University Orchestra would take on and handle a piece as grand and magnificent as Alpine Symphony, especially given the size constraints of both the venue and the orchestra itself. I was lucky enough to go with a friend last month to a performance of Alpine Symphony by the National Youth Orchestra at the Barbican, a natural point of comparison for the OUO concert. Of course, that concert was on a scale that dwarfs the Sheldonian, but I still had high hopes that the University Orchestra could fill the space and do Strauss’s epic justice. They did not disappoint.
An Alpine Symphony is beautiful largely because the listener can follow its story incredibly easily. As the name suggests, it follows the ascent, and subsequent descent, of an Alpine peak. The orchestra’s performance captured the story particularly well, and I thought the sections of the peak and the descent were particularly expertly performed. As mentioned above, another key requirement of Alpine Symphony is an Orchestra’s ability to fill the space in which they are performing, and this was achieved impressively in the section where our traveller is caught in the middle of a storm. One of the crucial moments occurs when we experience the first few drops of rain following the ‘calm before the storm’, and this part was excellently carried out through the interaction of the clarinet and the piccolo. The subsequent descent was also perfect, drawing the concert as a whole to a calming close.
There were a few moments where the performance felt a tad rough around the edges, such as the section where the off-stage brass came in, which happened slightly out of time and appeared to throw off the entire orchestra for a short period. Another even more minor gripe occurred in the section where our traveller comes to a cow meadow, in which I felt the cowbells which signify the cows grazing were too loud, making them slightly jarring, and as a result a section which should be calming became slightly uncomfortable. However, both of these were relatively minor and well-recovered from, meaning that overall, they did not detract from a performance which was spectacular throughout. Given the confines of the space and the size of the orchestra, it was a superb showing of Strauss’s masterpiece.
All in all, the concert was an incredibly impressive performance from a very talented group of young musicians. Whenever I go to an event of the likes of Saturday’s concert, I am reminded of the extraordinary level of talent we are lucky to bear witness to in Oxford. Hopefully, the university recognises this and continues to invest in improving and updating its practice and performance spaces. The new 500-seater concert venue set to be included in the new Schwarzman Centre for the Humanities is a start, but to continue to attract top talent the University needs to work tirelessly to drag its facilities into the 21st century.
Photo by EJ Mina / CC BY 4.0 DEED / via Wikimedia Commons
“Ask a child to draw a car, and certainly he will draw it red.”
Enzo Ferrari’s infamous adage encapsulates just how synonymous the iconic rouge of the Ferrari brand is within the world of motor racing and Formula 1. With people left reeling after the announcement that the sport’s most successful driver, Lewis Hamilton, is moving to the Italian team for the 2025 season, remembering how iconic the Scuderia are in the sport sheds some light on the British driver’s decision. Ferrari are the pinnacle of Formula 1, the most recognisable and successful team in the sport’s history. They are the team of great champions such as Ascari, Lauda, and Schumacher, and they are the team that every driver dreams of joining. Hamilton’s social media post discussing the announcement reveals these aspirations: “the chance to fulfil another childhood dream: driving in Ferrari red.”
The romance of the move cannot be denied. And not only is Hamilton fulfilling his own dream, but also that of his idol and hero, the incredible Ayrton Senna, whose own ambitions of driving for Ferrari were shattered by his tragic death at Imola in 1994. It is also a move that strategically makes sense for Hamilton: he is still chasing that record breaking eighth world title, and aged 39, he knows that time isn’t necessarily on his side. That’s not to say that his powers are fading, but rather the fact that he doesn’t have the future ahead that he had when he jumped from McLaren to Mercedes in 2013. The Silver Arrows were knocked off their perch by Red Bull in 2021 and have since struggled to regain ground that they’ve lost on their mistaken development paths. Comparing the trajectories of Hamilton’s current and future teams, one can argue that despite it having been 16 years since their last world title, it is Ferrari who are in a period of ascendancy and look capable of mounting a challenge to Red Bull.
After copious years of experience in the sport, we can be assured that Hamilton has made his decision based on trust in the team, entrenched in belief in what he has seen from a technical standpoint.He clearly has greater faith in Ferrari’s ability to assist his title ambitions than he does in Mercedes to put him back on top. Having been on the border of retirement following his heart-wrenching loss in 2021, and frustrated with Mercedes’ stagnant development for the last two years, Hamilton’s move is driven by a renewed confidence for what these new Italian pastures may bring. It was this same confidence in the face of public uncertainty that delivered his Mercedes success post McLaren-switch, and one has a feeling that History could be repeating itself.
For Formula 1 as a whole, this is a fantastic move. Take the most iconic team in the sport’s history and the most successful driver, and couple them up for the end of a glittering career. It is set to attract greater interest as even part-time onlookers will recognise the union of two household names and will be keen to see how the move unfolds. For those of us lucky enough to call ourselves Ferrari fans, we are delighted, and we see this as a sign that real, consistent success is just around the corner.
But what does it mean on the inside of the sport? Firstly, Mercedes have been caught off guard by this move, and will now have to look for a driver to sit alongside George Russell. Will this move send a message that Hamilton has fled from a sinking ship and dissuade other drivers? And what will become of Carlos Sainz, Ferrari’s Spanish sensation who has driven superbly alongside Charles Leclerc, but now finds himself out of a job in a year’s time?
‘Silly season’, a period of intense rumour mill activity that comes around at the midpoint of each Formula One calendar, where drivers and principals announce or deny their movements to other teams, is set to be exceptionally silly this year. Will Russell be joined by his close friend Alex Albon, who has been a rejuvenated force in his Williams seat, or will they dip into an unproven junior talent? The talented Lando Norris has just signed a contract extension with McLaren, but could a better offer sway him before 2027? Will Sainz, gearing up for a rumoured Audi spot in 2026, take Checo Peréz’s unsteady Red Bull seat next year?
Only time will tell if Hamilton’s move pays off in terms of success for him and his future team. What is certain is that this seismic move will cause some fascinating ripple effects across the Formula 1 Grid over the next year. Maybe another year of Verstappen dominance on the track might just help us all calm down.
Yorgous Lanthimos, the award-winning director of The Favourite and The Lobster, worked with the costume designer Holly Waddington, known for her work on The Great and theatre costume design, to concoct the beautifully complex character of Bella Baxter, both through cinematography and fashion. The ‘coming of age’ flick mesmerises via surreal visuals, that organically evolve alongside the development of the protagonist’s progress from infancy to maturity. Poor Things explores the life of Bella Baxter, played by Emma Stone, who, revived in a Frankenstinian manner, seeks out adventure beyond the home of her unorthodox creator, Dr Godwin Baxter.
The pseudo-Victorianesque setting for Bella Baxter’s eccentric life provides the perfect arena for Waddington’s beautifully bizarre costume creations. Having worked on period drama before, Holly Waddington is well-versed in the intrigue of historical costume. The absurdist parallel universe of Poor Things provides Waddington with the free reign to playfully reimagine Victorian staples. Bella’s costuming is the standout of the cast, as her eclectic styles emphasise the rapid advancement of her mental state through her experiences. The supporting cast comparatively displays more stagnant ‘uniforms’, as the heroine appears in constant flux, while they represent figures of constancy within her story.
In the ‘infancy’ of Bella’s reborn life, she is dressed by her maker and housemaid, a decison which powerfully infantilises the physically grown woman through the meticulously deconstructed costuming. Waddington aimed to mimic the ‘undressed’ state of toddlers, as Bella, like all children, is displayed missing key elements of her outfits. From voluminous blouses accompanied by bare feet to a bouncy 19th-century bustle erratically attached to a nappy-like pair of bloomers, we are encouraged to regard Bella as an innocent child. This is powerfully contrasted by Stone’s bold appearance and overgrown black hair, heightening the disconcerting otherworldliness of her character.
Waddington’s most wonderous creations appear at the core of the film, as Bella sets off on her trip with the rakish Duncan Wedderburn, indulgently portrayed by Mark Ruffalo. Here, she begins dressing herself for the first time, which reminds the audience of our own mid-teen fashion experiments. The journey mirrors that of the custom of the Grand Tour, where young gentlemen embark upon an expedition through Europe as an educational rite of passage. Bella has taken both the direction of her intellectual and physical development into her own hands, as her wildness is outwardly portrayed through her costuming. Most memorable is her Lisbon day attire, as she steps out into the street in only her knickers, which are based upon 30s style underwear. Her jacket’s organic jellyfish-like texture gives her a contrasting upper silhouette of Victorian modesty, while her boots are based on 1960s French designer Andre Courrege’s space boots. This mishmash of garments powerfully presents Bella’s bold adolescent spirit as she explores Lanthimos’ dizzying representation of Lisbon.
As maturity and a semblance of reality kicks in on the cruise chapter of Poor Things, Bella appears in one of her few ‘fully dressed’ costumes of the film. Bella is framed as a true fashionable upper-class woman, with an ivory brooch at the centre of her dress, representing a realisation of her privilege. Waddington further presents a shift in Baxter’s mentality through what she has amusingly branded the ‘condom coat’. Bella’s stint as a prostitute begins as she is clad in the awkward, slightly disconcerting-looking overcoat, which wholly embodies the more strained, yet illuminating period of her growth.
Essentially, the costume design in Poor Things is used as a centrepiece of the theme of progress throughout the film. Voluminous shapes and unique textures of the designs certainly serve as inspiration to many a fashion enthusiast, as we are seeing a similar surge in maximalist and deconstructed looks. Disturbing and spirited, Poor Things‘ unconventional story is truly supported by equally unconventional but meaningful designs.
Oxford’s Chancellor elections will be held online for the first time in the University’s history, following Lord Patten’s announcement of his retirement.
After 21 years in the role, Patten has decided to retire, stating: “I think it is in my own interest and that of the University for me to step down […] giving the University the opportunity to plan a sensible succession which matches the demands of the 2020s”.
The position of Chancellor, as titular head of the University, comprises formal duties, such as chairing the committee to elect the Vice-Chancellor, as well as advocacy, advisory, and fundraising work. Previous chancellors include Harold Macmillan, Oliver Cromwell, and Edward Wood, 1st Earl of Halifax.
While the details of the elections are to be “announced in due course” by the University, many have already begun speculating about nominations. Rumoured candidates include Rory Stewart, former Prime Ministers Theresa May, Boris Johnson and Tony Blair, former Prime Minister of Pakistan Imran Khan, and principal of St Hugh’s College Lady Angiolini KC. Both Lady Angiolini and May would be making history as the University’s first female chancellor if elected.
A serving don has commented that candidates “[…] need to have the stature to do the job as well as people skills.” The formal requirements for the selection process involve a nomination by fifty members of the University’s Convocation, which is made up of former students who hold an Oxford degree and existing or former congregation members. Despite common misconceptions, provided that these 50 nominations have been obtained, anyone, regardless of nationality and alma mater, can, in theory, be elected as Chancellor. However, the role has typically been held by former Oxonian politicians.
The previous election in 2003 was held, as tradition stipulates, in the Sheldonian, and required full academic dress. Over 8,000 of Oxford’s graduates participated, a turnout which is now expected to be exceeded with the removal of in-person voting. The 2003 ballot offered voters a choice between Lord Bingham of Cornhill, Lord Neil of Bladen, Chris Patten, and Sandi Toksvig, the latter of whom pledged to eliminate student fees, and was the first female candidate for this position. Patten was consistently regarded as the most likely candidate in the run-up to the election, William Hill having offered odds of 7/4.
This year, Lee Phelps of William Hill said that Rory Stewart “[…] tops the early betting at 5/6” and faces his “main rival” in Theresa May at 7/4. Behind them are Sir Tony Blair and Boris Johnson, who “can be backed at 4/1 and 13/2, respectively”. Khan was placed at 10/1.
A series of “near misses” between delivery vehicles and pedestrians at the South Parks Road entrance to University Parks has highlighted the importance of the recent proposal for a new pedestrian path alongside the park. The existing route is currently the only vehicle entrance to the park and a busy thoroughfare for joggers, families, dog walkers and other pedestrians, causing much concern over potential accidents. The use of headphones and mobile phones by walkers and runners has further complicated the situation at the busy entrance.
Aware that vehicles cannot be relocated, Oxford City Council has submitted a plan for a new pedestrian path running between the parks and the University Science Area, offering a direct, landscaped route for residents to use safely instead of crossing the South Parks Road entrance, “mitigat[ing]” the risk of accidents in the area. The path’s construction would not include digging and would avoid disrupting nearby tree roots. University Parks Superintendent Dr Carolyn Jenkins has stressed that although risk cannot be eliminated and the South Park entrance will remain open to the public, this plan will greatly increase the safety of pedestrians by offering traffic an alternative route.
University Parks Management told Cherwell: “The new pedestrian path will be created in summer 2024 to offer an alternative to the current shared vehicle and pedestrian route from the South Lodge entrance. It allows pedestrians to walk behind the mixed border instead of on the roadway. This should improve their experience of walking through the Parks, providing a more direct, vehicle-free route from South Parks Road heading north before joining Thorn Walk again at the junction with South Walk.”
Commenting on the “tricky corner,” City Councillor Anna Railton expressed her support of any proposal which “reduces conflict between pedestrians and vehicles.” The recent “near misses” have further drawn attention to the necessity of action.
In response to the new pedestrian path some residents have returned to the popular request for dropping the bike ban within the parks. However, the University has made clear their “firm” stance that in order to ensure the parks are “a peaceful space for everyone to enjoy” cycling will not be allowed, even after the temporary lift of the ban in 2023. Instead, they hope this new path, where dogs off-lead, children, and joggers can move about freely with peace of mind, will increase the overall safety of the area.
“It’ll be a fucking feast,” Mother Catweazle declares. Strapping in for the second Catweazle Club of February, Common Ground is abuzz with anticipation.
Streams of poets, singer-songwriters, comics; the old, the young, regulars, first-timers, locals, tourists, academics, troubadours, expectant mothers, mingling singles, loved-up couples, going-on-20-years marriages – had queued to sign up for the opportunity to perform at the oldest (and best?) open unplugged-mic night in Oxford. The sari brandishing ‘Catweazle’ as a halo for performers has been hanging since 1994: the Club turns 30 this year.
Iwent along and met Mother Catweazle, founder and performer, Matt Sage to talk all things open mic.
The start of the meeting (an understatement for what the evening was) was marked by the metamorphosis of chatter into a hum harmonised with troubadour-turned-emcee Matt’s keyboard chord. We were humming, making collective music, but it felt as if everyone – and Common Ground on Little Clarendon Street must be able to squeeze in at least 70 people – was intently, whole-heartedly listening to Matt’s folk routine. He called it an “experiment” but each Club commences in this way. I suppose everything, though, is a bit of an experiment at Catweazle.
But in cobweb-ridden, creaky, conventional Oxford, Matt “was amazed to discover that there was no kind of open mic or communal performing scene of any kind. In 1994, it was all about Radiohead and Supergrass and being cool and getting signed. Within 3 weeks of being here, I realised that if I wanted to find a home, I’d just have to build one myself.”
The open mic club was born out of that experimental ethos. Its fledgling ceremony, Matt writes, came “in the early Autumn of 1994. I was a musician and moved down from London and on to a boat on the Oxford Canal, in search of some peace and quiet. In those days I had been part of a very nurturing scene based at the Troubadour in Earl’s Court, where every week a dizzying array of talented musicians and poets would congregate from all corners of London. Regulars would turn up religiously every single week; it was such an inspiring environment.”
Matt Sage in 1994. Image courtesy of Matt Sage.
It might take guts to seat yourself on the glittering deity throne of Catweazle. Up close, you can see the pieces of paper bearing scrawled poems and song lyrics trembling in the hands of their performers. But, out of (30 years’ worth of) regularity, comes comfort. And people have made homes with Catweazle. On the door, Matt has enlisted the help of a fifteen-years-long attendee. She tells me that tonight, she will sing about “a great social and political issue: providing ketamine for horses.” Even horses have got to feel at home.
The Catweazle Club’s first home in 1994 was the Victoria Arms – my apologies, the Vicky Arms – in Jericho; it relocated to Cowley Road and now takes place in Common Ground. Why Oxford? “It’s just where I happened to end up, but there is something about the scale and also the transience of the population that seems to suit it well. I also love Oxford. It is a deeply magical and lyrical place, and I feel that both myself and The Catweazle Club are now a part of that lineage.”
Hopping around, though, is part of Catweazle’s essence. Matt continues, “The Club is itself something of a nomadic troubadour, and we have been in many different venues over the past three decades: the body may change, but the spirit lives on. We feel very at home at Common Ground. There are so few places to hang out in Oxford; we are lucky to have this one.”
One performer, Samantha Twigg Johnson, had returned to the stage after a years-long hiatus. Her first attendance was as plus-one to an Oxford academic in the noughties. At this Catweazle, she was, as her song invoked, a “maple seed making her way to the ground”. It certainly didn’t matter whether or not you had heard the song before as the Club became a battalion of voices for the song’s refrain.
As for town and gown, Matt says “I think there are way too few occasions or events or spaces where town and gown can come together and share an experience as equals, but Catweazle is definitely one of them.”
You may or may not return with an academic on your arm but “to my mind, this landscape has remained exactly the same for the past thirty years, and no doubt for the one thousand before that. But I’m very happy that we have managed to create something that transcends those boundaries. I love the generational blend of the event.”
Even the Club’s namesake is all about tying up loops of time. “In the 70s, there was a tv show about a fictional 11th-century wizard – Catweazle – whose spells never worked, and who, in order to get away from the Normans who were hunting him, somehow accidentally magicked himself forwards in time to what was then contemporary rural Kent, where he couldn’t understand anything whatsoever about the modern world in which he suddenly found himself.” And then Matt prophesied: “as a five year old, similarly stranded and bewildered in suburbia, I massively identified with him. When looking for a name for the space I wanted to create, ‘Catweazle’ was the natural choice.”
The Club does seem to have a sort of trippy effect. You spend time at Catweazle and suddenly you can “remember from the age of five being at family weddings or events, and always being completely awestruck by the band (who were probably pretty dicey), but a five year old doesn’t necessarily differentiate – just gets wowed by the instruments and the lights and the music coming together out of nowhere.”
Matt spends the first few minutes of Catweazle daring us to be the first to sit on the carpet at the front where, in his words, “vibrations are most potent, omniscient even”. He told me that “it is such a privilege to sit at the feet of someone who is conjuring up the Magi, here in the moment, in front of my very eyes and ears. I think we’ve become a little numb to that in some ways, getting our hit vicariously through TV or the internet, or gigs being so big that you’re miles from the stage. Up front in a packed, intimate environment, it’s actually pretty bloody magical, this live artistic performance thing.”
Catweazle in action. Image credits: Olivia Boyle.
After more than 1500 Catweazles, Matt will have seen unending cycles of students and locals. Sure, the audience has been big but the Club never fails in stitching a tight knit.
“I think one of the key aspects that makes this such a unique space is the intimacy we have always enjoyed there. We purposely refrain from using a PA system, because the connection that the listening quality provides is what makes Catweazle so often so magical. I happen to believe that the Art of Listening is an artform as highly prized as any other. So that when we come together, we are all artists, be it musician, poet, storyteller or listener. Keeping it small is the key to all that. With a roster of around 20 performers in an evening (of an invariably high standard), for audiences it will always be a very inspiring and uplifting night out.
We are still here today because it satisfies a fundamental need in the people who come. It’s not just about entertainment (although it clearly is entertaining); it’s more about connection. Catweazle is the very antithesis of the entirely soulless TV talent competition culture which has become the mainstream norm.
People crave something more authentic, more vulnerable, more human and engaging. These are the spaces in which we get to really meet ourselves, not via some shiny showbiz-porn platform. I think we are able to create a very sharing and uplifting environment and in my experience people get a really good hit from it, myself included. It’s not for everyone, but it serves very well its own quiet and unique little niche.”
I must say, there was nothing ‘quiet’ about Catweazle. One person did a full-bodied knee slap timed with a howl of a laugh at a stand-up bit. There was always attentive, thoughtful listening – the silence of the enraptured, the thrumming feet of a Dylan-esque, anti-work number, and murmurs of awe at a poet speaking through a stammer.
Pretty. Bloody. Magical.
Picture this – a day in Autumn ‘94: “20 of us gathered in the snug of the Vicky Arms in Jericho and took turns to read a poem or sing a song, while everyone else took turns to listen. At the end of a deeply delightful evening, we all agreed to come back the following week. And here we still are, some 1,500 weeks later!”
It often feels like versions of Chekhov can be categorised neatly into either the “traditional” realist productions or the modern adaptations. So, in place of Chekhov’s gun, reviews of productions seem to operate on the principle of Chekhov’s samovar. If the set includes a samovar, reviewers are sure to tell you about it, and, if not, they let you know all the same. For the majority of Harry Brook’s Cherry Orchard, which showed at The Oxford Playhouse in Week 2, we are faced with a production that looks as realist as they come. Isabelle Kori’s set design and Ailish Guaghan’s costume design complement each other to keep the first three acts looking period. It’s fair to say that there’s not much in the set that is distinctly Russian: when Isle-Lee van Niekerk’s Lyubov declares ‘I love this country’, the house she owns doesn’t seem to give us any evidence of the claim. However, this is not necessarily a bad thing. Part of what is so interesting about the Russian gentry Chekhov brought to the stage is their disconnect from the vast majority of the people that surrounded them. Will Shackleton, whose Yasha is desperate to leave for Paris, convincingly plays his discontent not with Russia as Russia, but rather with Russia as nothing at all
If the look of the production is traditional, then Esme Buzzard’s translation is distinctly fresh. This might be the old Chekhov of the country estate, but in Buzzard’s rendering it contains ‘goddamn bookcases’ and is approached by ‘fuckoff railways’. The present-day vernacular is relished by all the actors, with Jules Upson’s Lopakhin feeling remarkably reminiscent of today’s smarmy corporate busybodies. Brook’s direction is equally unafraid to bring out parts of Chekhov’s characters which older productions might have left only implied: the staging of Yasha’s relationship with Catty Claire Williams Boyce’s Dunyasha is immediate and uncompromising. At one point they even enter with Yasha zipping his flies and Dunyasha wiping her lips. The stand-out performance, though, is undeniably Van Niekerk’s Lyubov. She brings deep emotion to all aspects of her performance, but most impressive is the sheer strength of her voice. A theatre the size of the Oxford Playhouse presents a challenge to untrained student actors that doesn’t arise at smaller venues like the Pilch, yet van Niekerk’s lines are especially resonant.
By the end of the third act, what we seem to have is an impressively well-executed version of Chekhov’s classic. The realism works as is intended, and Brook has integrated a new sensibility to a long established way of doing Chekhov. The fourth and final act brings this to another level. Lopakhin, the nouveau-riche grandson of a serf, buys the estate at auction. Here we see Chekhov’s abiding concern with the replacement of Russia’s indebted aristocracy, so that he now seems prophetic of the events of 1917. The decline of the landed gentry and the old Europe also precipitated the end of the realist project. If Chekhov foresaw 1917, then 1922 and avant-garde modernism is equally significant. Chekhov is a realist par excellence, but the plays also contain the seeds of their own demise.
So, when in the fourth act we are expecting only the family belongings to be packed up and the cherry orchard to be chopped down, Brook opts to stage the demise of the realist stage itself. Characters, to varying degrees, shed their period costume, and the walls of the house are wheeled around to reveal chipboard backs with director’s notes scribbled on them. The proscenium arch, so often realism’s metonyn, raises itself to reveal the lighting rig hidden behind it. There are productions in which these kinds of twists feel like flashy distractions. Revealing the stage lights runs the risk of seeming gimmicky, or just a copy of The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, when Will asks ‘If we so rich, why we can’t afford no ceiling?’ before the camera pans up to the lighting rig. In Brooks’ version, though, since the realism was taken seriously, it feels like the twist has been earnt. Each actor remains on stage throughout the act (this, alongside the chipboard, seems a nod towards Jamie Lloyd’s version of The Seagull at The National Theatre), conversations appear fleeting, and we become aware that the social relations which the characters are so consumed by are – at the Playhouse in 2024 but also in the Russian provinces of the fin-de-siecle – performed. Rosie Mahendra, who is strong throughout but especially so in the final act, leads the troupe off stage, and the upstage wall opens to show the outside world, complete with a Madri tent. OnlyJoe Rachman’s Firs is left behind. Once he lies motionless on stage, sound designer Iona Blair baits the audience into tentative applause, before we hear the final sounds of chainsaws and falling trees.
In the first act, Cosimo Avisio’s Gaev had announced ‘If a large number of cures is suggested for a particular disease, it means the disease is incurable’, and perhaps the same is true of Chekhov. His plays contain so many possibilities, so many interpretations, that to put them on is to come to terms with the fact that you can’t do justice to them all. Harry Brook has done justice to more than most.
Oxford’s Vice-Chancellor, Irene Tracey, has encouraged graduates to “get behind our British universities” with donations.
In a recent interview with The Telegraph, she claimed that, with increased donations, universities would not have to rely on international fees, a “vulnerability in the system.” The VC emphasised how, historically, thanks to the generosity of Oxford’s alumni, the University’s leaders “have not, thankfully, been driven to a model where [they] are dependent financially on the international fee structure.”
This generosity of Oxford alumni has been substantial in recent years: In 2021/22, the University received over £249 million in donations, the second largest total received in a single year. Oxbridge accounts for almost half of all donations made to UK universities over the last decade.
The Chief Development Officer, Liesl Elder, declared that these philanthropic tendencies are “[…] testament to both the impact that Oxford is making in the world through the delivery of transformational teaching and research, and the generosity of our donors.”
Alumni donations have long been intertwined with Oxford’s funding: from Dr John Radcliffe’s donation in 1714 that paved the way for the construction of the now-iconic Radcliffe Camera, to the £30 million that Sir Lindsay Owen-Jones KBE gifted to Worcester College just last year, which will fund a graduate accommodation building and a new library.
However, amid recent changes to student loans and difficulties with cost of living, some have raised questions about whether today’s graduates are prepared to “give back” to their alma maters after having already accrued an average of £45,000 of debt as a result of their education.
In 2023, the student loan debt in England surpassed £200 billion for the first time, likely amplifying any reluctance felt by graduates to donate to their universities. However, loan repayments also saw an increase, reaching over £4 billion in 2022-23 due partially to higher inflation, which may have positively affected borrower salaries.
Oxford’s own student population is characterised by a large proportion of international students. 46% of the student body are international students, coming from more than 160 different countries. This is nearly double the national average of 24% overseas students.
According to a study conducted by The Council for Advancement and Support of Education and More Partnership, annual donations to UK universities have doubled over the last decade. Recent years have also seen public funding for these institutions plummet, now reaching its lowest level since the 1990s: in 2020, 32% of universities reported an in-year deficit compared to just 5% in 2016. Whilst donations to UK universities reached £1.5 billion in 2022, the Russell Group estimates that it lost an average of £2,500 for every home student last year, thus explaining this reliance on donations and steep international fees.
Celebrity, rhetoric, and the Oxford Union
I’d be surprised if Dominic Cummings was the star appearance from the Oxford Union you were expecting this term. Because, from where I’m standing, it felt like the announcement of his visit came as an unhappy revelation for many of us. The fact hat a man whose only real ‘achievement’ – Brexit (a tough sell) – was overshadowed by a mid-lockdown trip to Durham and a poor dress sense is the Union’s USP for people who shelled out to join it, is majorly disappointing. Yet such an invitation is not in isolation. Rather, it is indicative of a larger trend in society, in which the boundaries between politicians or celebrities and controversialists have been blurred.
Ideally, being a celebrity should be a status conferred on someone by society in recognition of their achievements as a role model. In reality, it is not the moral credentials of an individual that get them plaudits in real life and likes on social media – it is the attention they can attract. Given the Union’s fame and notoriety amongst many students, it’s unsurprising that they should seek out such figures. Yet it points to a worrying trend that continues to be intensified in modern society, where through the combination of rhetoric and the internet, and rhetoric on the internet, people are increasingly exposed to speech which puts sensation over substance. Politics is more and more often dominated by politicians whose controversial opinions obscure any claim to substance or rigour and it is to society’s detriment that those voices drown out those of caution and moderation.
While it seems that modern culture is dominated by those who speak too much, we musn’t forget the true power of speech, politically or otherwise. For the torchbearers of the Renaissance, oratory was central to the promotion of virtue within the state, which was the most worthy and noble end of political engagement. The vision of humanists such as Thomas More was that the power of speech was to promote a universal code of values, which were applicable in any circumstance. In modern politics, speech increasingly no longer stands to promote a common morality, but rather as the cornerstone of extreme partisanship. In our age, a celebrity can beat a career politician at their own game. Trump’s 2016 victory was not the first time a celebrity president was elected, but with mass-media conspiracy theorising instead of Reagan’s folksy charm, it certainly felt different.
The dangerous effects of political articulation are not new: Hitler would not have been nearly as effective without his propagandist-in-chief, Joseph Goebbels. And Shakespeare similarly emphasises the power of speech to cause mutiny in his Roman tragedy Coriolanus. Yet in the modern age, there is a critical new dimension that dangerously intensifies that power: the internet and social media. And how could they not? When outrage is the most valuable currency on X (Twitter), it is not the learned, moderate politician who gets coverage, but the demagogue and the rabble-rouser. This idea that ‘he who speaks loudest wins’ is key to understanding the difficulty in achieving a bipartisan border deal in the United States. For, if there were a lasting solution on the Mexican border, that would be one less polemical issue for Republican lawmakers to raise hell over in the House and Senate.
It seems a sad indictment that sensational, polemical speakers are in higher demand than more subdued and moderate voices. But in truth, the Union should not be condemned too harshly for following that trend. It hardly needs mentioning that highly divisive figures such as Ben Shapiro and Katie Hopkins will attract attention, from both followers and haters, whose ability to draw crowds only benefits the Union, and gives it a tangible (if shallow) sense of relevance. The invitation of Dominic Cummings feels particularly relevant. Not only has he achieved notoriety for his Barnard Caste jaunt, but it was also he who famously created the Brexit slogan ‘Take Back Control’ in 2016.
From a linguistic perspective, this is genius marketing. But it’s not as if political slogans are anything new. We only have to look to the pleasantly innocuous “I like Ike” from Eisenhower’s 1952 campaign to realise their timelessness. Yet in conjunction with the relentless Facebook Leave campaign in the lead-up to the referendum, it symbolised a new era in which the internet has given greater influence to, more often than not, partisan political positions. An era in which false claims (including those propagated by the ‘Yes’ campaign) disseminated much faster than claims seeking moderation and balance. An era in which the ‘keyboard-warrior’ could have as much impact as the career-politician talking at a rally.
Ultimately it means that overwhelmingly in both politics and the ‘culture war’, people can gain mass attention simply by stating something controversial. And, unfortunately, this phenomenon gives rise to non-serious and jokey (though not very funny) politicians and public figures. But I suppose at a point in history of decreasing attention spans and increasing polarisation, this shouldn’t be surprising. The Union’s position in Oxford as a place for discussion is positive for students, but this must be reconciled with a new kind of speaker – far from the classical or Renaissance ideal – for whom there’s no such thing as bad publicity.