Wednesday, April 30, 2025
Blog Page 583

Troy Story Revisited

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In Pat Barker’s latest novel (out this month in paperback), the story of the Iliad is reanalysed from the point of view of one of the original works’ most seemingly minor characters, Briseïs. The great Greek general Achilles, encamped by the besieged city of Troy, is forced to return the Trojan woman he has captured as a prize; angered, he takes instead the captive Briseïs from his comrade Agamemnon.

What is interesting about her character in the Iliad is the disparity between such a brief appearance and her narrative importance, as the unwitting cause of Agamemnon and Achilles’ fateful feud. Barker’s text uses this paradox by giving Briseïs an active voice, while still maintaining the passivity of Homer’s original character.

The exploration of alternative narratives of ancient texts is hardly new. In the same year as Barker’s book, Madeleine Miller returned with Circe, a tale similarly torn from its original context in Homer’s other epic, the Odyssey, and given to a minor female character. Intertextuality played an important role in ancient literature; long before Miller or Barker, writers such as Ovid were already giving voice to ancient heroines.

However, what elevates the modern novelists’ works above mere fan- fiction is their stature as impressive texts in their own right. The Silence of the Girls is a novel which, though enhanced by prior knowledge of the Iliad, could very well stand without it. Such books are important transitions for those unfamiliar with, but interested in, the Classical world, and we owe it to writers such as Barker who rejuvenate ancient texts without stripping them of their original greatness.

Something I didn’t particularly enjoy when I first started reading was the mixture of colloquial dialogue with more formal speech, which seemed jarring considering the high verse of Homer. However, this did not detract from the work, and it developed nicely in the text alongside the normal and commonplace stories which the tale explored. This isn’t supposed to be elevated verse, but sharp and acces- sible prose.

The stories which are explored are not those of the god-like warriors, but of the people who fade into the background in the original texts. A particularly noteworthy moment is the list of Achilles’ victims as one finds in Homer, but here they are supplemented not just with the causes of the deaths, but also personal stories from the women connected to the dead men. Such elements create an appreciable poignancy for modern readers which Bronze-Age battles can never provide.

The best thing about Barker’s novel is its realism; she does not try to pretend that, because Briseïs has a narrative, she has any control over it.

The book maintains all of the brutality of the original, whilst expanding on the stories of the marginalised characters. Despite the antiquity of the original text, The Silence of the Girls manages to be fresh, exciting, and moving. It is versatile enough to be read by those with knowledge of the Iliad, as well as by those unacquainted with the ancient source – and read it should be.

Going Wilde in America

Oscar Wilde is a creation of those who write about him. From my dog-eared GCSE coursework on The Importance of Being Earnest to the audiences of Victorian high society who adored and then loathed him, Wilde is made in our imagination. Picture him now – a witty, tragic, Victorian dandy, revered as a gay icon and literary great. Mendelssohn, however, has provided a refreshing and unexpected new interpretation of Wilde’s life.

The book starts with yet another interpretation of Wilde, from an 1882 American cartoon. He’s portrayed as a grotesque caricature of an African-American with the caption of “What’s de matter wid de n*gga? Why Oscar you’s gone wild!” Mendelssohn has uncovered an aspect of Wilde’s history previously neglected – the racial debates underpinning his 1882 American tour.

Arriving in America, Wilde was a living parody, the author of some badly received poetry and an unperformable play. He had been spurred on by popular interest in the Gilbert and Sullivan opera Patience, which satirised Wilde and the aesthetic movement he led. His tour flopped – audiences deserted his lectures, Harvard students mocked his outfits to public glee, and his failures left him drunk, exhausted and dejected. Most damaging of all, however, was the popular press coverage and cartoons, satirising Wilde with gross racial caricatures. Mendelssohn presents an America obsessed with racial hierarchy, with the blacks and the Irish at the bottom. Wilde, a dandyish, effete and pretentious Irish import, was an easy target. He was called the ‘wild man of Borneo’; a woman called him a gorilla in the street. Central to this mockery was the popular minstrel culture of the time; grotesque black-face shows that sometimes included mocking presentations of Wilde and his set.

Mendelssohn deftly shows how Wilde reinvented himself in the face of these attacks. He reclaimed his Irishness, spun tales of being lauded by Colorado miners, and visited Jefferson Davis, erstwhile Confederate President, to burnish his ‘white’ credentials. Most importantly, Mendelssohn suggests Wilde’s American experience firmly shaped his later writing. Characters and scenes in Lady Windermere’s Fan and A Woman of No Im- portance lampoon not only America’s puritanical society, but the style of minstrel shows. Wilde is renowned for making high society laugh at its own absurdities, but Mendelssohn argues his extraordinary wit was channelled into a very English take on the same minstrels who once spoofed him.

Convincing? Not entirely. The book is a cracking read, informative and thought- provoking. But Mendelssohn’s suggested link between Wilde’s greatest works and his American experience seems a little far- fetched. Mendelssohn’s Wilde is another creation of those who write about him. Perhaps the most important lesson this book teaches us is just how hard it is to understand him. The man was a mass of contradictions; reinvention was part of his nature. Trying to understand how he was ‘made’ is inevitably going to disappoint. However, it is to Mendelssohn’s great credit that she attempts it in such a refreshingly readable fashion.

Morrissey: a musician of excess?

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Whether or not you like The Smiths, or any of his solo music, it is difficult to overcome the labelling of Morrissey as an “excessive” musician. Despite being judged by music critics to be one of the most important artists of the 1980s, throughout his 40-year-career Morrissey has been accused by celebrities, members of the general public and the global mass media of racial insensitivity, promoting far-right views, and defending sexual criminals. If this wasn’t enough, he has also publicly given statements in which he criticises the royal family, that he views as authoritarian and corrupt. It is safe to say that ‘this charming man’ has been described over the course of his career as anything but.

What does it mean to describe a musician as “excessive”? Considering the nature of the popular music industry, we must remember that, essentially, free reign is given to all kinds of craziness. Morrissey is part of an industry in which Lady Gaga can turn up to the 2010 MTV music video awards in a dress made of meat.

So, why do we call certain people “excessive”, and allow others to escape from this label? It is far from unusual for a musician to be outspoken about their values and politics, especially in today’s ‘woke’ culture. This begs the question: why is Morrissey so often criticised for expressing his views and labelled as ‘excessive’?

The answer may be rooted in the fact that he takes his views one step further than most. Take his staunch commitment to vegetarianism, and later veganism, as an example. Morrissey regularly refuses to perform in venues that host companies selling meat, and has been known to forbid his band members from being photographed eating it. In 2011, following the Oslo massacre in which 76 people died, he was reported to have told a crowd it was ‘nothing’ compared to the animals killed for meat in fast-food chains every day. He’s certainly not the only artist to have committed themselves to defending the rights of animals, but I doubt many others would go to such lengths to show it. Whether you see it as an admirable display of integrity or as plainly unnecessary, the ways in which Morrissey expresses his views seem to be especially ‘excessive’ even within the grand scope of celebrity behaviour. Somehow, Morrissey’s controversial views add to his sense of artistic and personal authenticity. For example, he has made comments and taken political stances that even his most loyal fans have found difficult to stomach. In one statement, he called Reggae ‘the most racist music in the world – an absolute glorification of black supremacy’. In a 2017 interview, he defended the accused sexual predators Harvey Weinstein and Kevin Spacey, blaming the victims for ‘overreacting’. More recently, headlines have reported his support for the nationalist group ‘For Britain’, which he has described as “the only British political party that can safeguard our security.” Again, this was a move that fans have questioned, especially considering his support for the Muslim community around the UK.

Then again, Morrissey has alwaysbeen controversial. Who couldn’t be when they write lyrics such as ‘why do I smile / at people who I’d much rather kick in the eye?’. Should his outspoken nature and tendency to shock even come as a surprise? We might even say that part of his “excess” is his unpredictability; his unwavering commitment not to fit the mould, to always keep us wondering what’s next.

Interview: George Osborne

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The first impression that I get of George Osborne is that he is a man in a hurry – both literally and figuratively. After unforeseen traffic issues, what is meant to be a thorough half an hour interview before a talk at my college is reduced to a frantic ten minutes afterwards.

By the time Osborne and I sit down together he could be forgiven if he was sick of half-baked questions from undergraduates having just delivered a talk on many of the themes I ask him about, but to his great credit he is as lively and animated in the awkward format of a one on one interview as he is speaking to a packed auditorium.

Indeed, the genuine enthusiasm I sense is at first a surprise: a politician widely decried for being a creature of spin and artifice in the Blairite model is hardly supposed to seem as genuinely excited by the things he believes in as Osborne.

Naturally the first question I ask him is where he thinks that both the country and the party that he has dedicated so much of his life to are heading. A few days before our interview Osborne said that he felt that “the Conservative party has to confront the truth. It needs a new leader, a new agenda, it needs to win over supporters who have disappeared and make an appeal to urban, metropolitan Britain that has turned its back on the Conservatives”, and I ask him if he thinks that a kind of socially liberal, deeply metropolitan – perhaps even cosmopolitan – conservatism is what he sees as Britain’s future.

“Yeah,” he replies, “I think that the Conservative Party wins when it goes beyond its comfort zone and reaches out to more urban, metropolitan voters, to younger voters, to people from different ethnic minorities, and that’s what it’s done when it’s won elections, and when it doesn’t do that it loses elections.

“I’d give the same advice to the Labour Party which is reach out beyond its natural base, for example win over the support of people who run businesses and the like. I think a good test in politics is do you understand why people don’t vote for you, and in my experience, being a politician, if you don’t understand why people don’t vote for you you’re never going be in office.

“You know, you need to try and appreciate opinions on the other side of the fence.”

I ask him if these ideas are really best expressed by the Conservative Party, or whether what we might call “Osbornism” might be better off in a new centrist party – whether that’s Change UK or not – just as similar ideas flourished in Emmanuel Macron’s new En Marche! party.

“Well, the British system is quite difficult, in the parliamentary system its quite difficult to have a new party,” he says hesitantly, “but if ever there was a time for it, it’s probably now, because both parties are moving away from the centre and creating a vacuum, but maybe that doesn’t require a new party – maybe the Liberal Democrats are showing that they can fill that space.”

“It’s still easier to try and seize control of the direction and leadership of one of the main parties, it’s easier rather than creating a centre-left, moderate, social democrat party to try and get back control of the Labour leadership from the Hard left, and change it.

“Similarly, with the Conservatives, it’s easier to get control of the Conservative leadership, and take the party back to a more liberal, cosmopolitan, pro-business position, than go with the kind of hard right, hard Brexit right. So that’s still the easier route than creating a brand-new force: Emmanuel Macron could do that in France, but in France the electoral system made it a little bit easier for him to do that, even if it is a big achievement.”

I press him on this point, and ask if there might be circumstances in which he might switch his support to such a party: his reply is surprisingly candid, for a politician.

“Well, I think I’m still going to fight for getting the Conservative Party in the right direction, and as someone who gave my life to Conservative politics I don’t want to abandon that. That doesn’t mean that my newspaper which I edit might not take a different view.

“And I have a responsibility to the readers of that news- paper, so I would distinguish there. As I say before we move on, and before you give up on the Conservative Party, as someone who was one of its MPs, I would fight for its future.” An intriguing comment at the time, these remarks now seem like a hint at things to come: two days before the European Elections The Evening Standard tacitly endorsed the Liberal Democrats.

At the time, however, I didn’t have time to press him on this before we hurtled towards Osborne’s pet project, the Northern Powerhouse. When I ask him why he thinks the project never took off in quite the way it was pitched Osborne almost bristles, and he replies sternly that: “Well I think it is taking off, I announced it four years ago, and in that space we’ve, out of nowhere, created elected mayors in Greater Manchester, in Merseyside, in Teeside, and South Yorkshire.

“We’ve got really ambitious projects that didn’t exist before for train connections between these cities, we’ve got new science facilities going up, so lots has happened in the last few years.

“But turning around a hundred years of economic history is hard to do, and it can’t be done overnight.

“And although I think the government aren’t giving it as much support as they should, the local communities, the different cities, the different towns, have really embraced it, and are working together.

“The basic idea is not just ‘the North is great’, and I say that as someone who was an MP in the North for many years, its that the North could be stronger if the different cities of the North worked more closely together.”


This seems to be the centre of Osborne’s vision for Britain: interconnected, metropolitan, focused on building great cities where people can do great things. He seeks a Britain where high-speed trains rush across the landscape and we all become homogenised into a vision of a world which looks all too coincidentally like London. But I’m not sure that’s actual what people in the North of England want. From my own experience growing up near Preston, Osborne could politely be described as less than popular.

I ask him if, in light of electoral victories like the Copeland by-election and a brief surge of support before her campaign’s fatal crash, it is disappointing that Theresa May’s conservatism seems more popular than his. His answer is at once incisive and insightful, and I’ll readily admit that he somewhat sways me from the popular narrative.

“I’m not sure that’s true,” he says, “if you take Cheshire where I was an MP, we lost half of the Tory seats in Cheshire under Theresa May, and we went backwards in Lancashire and elsewhere, so it’s true that we picked up a couple of places like Middlesbrough, so I’m not saying it’s all in one direction, but generally we’ve gone backwards and will continue to go backwards until we can be that national party.

“And by the way if we cancel projects like HS2, which is the biggest single investment in the North of England in its modern history, that will be a betrayal of the North, and will be seen rightly so as that.”

Moving on again I ask Osborne how he thinks Oxford has changed since his student days. The speech he gave before the interview indicates that it may not have changed that much. In his talk he mentioned two professors I’d seen the same day who had taught him, and referenced the same silly student rumours about certain tutors recruiting for MI6 that are still passed around by furtive Magdalen freshers to this day.

“I like to think that the success of places like Oxford is that they retain their deep roots in history, but they change and modernise as well, and we’re in a set of buildings which didn’t exist when I was an undergraduate here at Magdalen.

“I think there’s something precious about a culture built up over centuries that you don’t want to jettison.

“So I’m all for Oxford changing and embracing and expanding the people who can get places here, but don’t throw away what I would say is the culture of excellence, and interest, and a belief in the value of academic study for its own right.

“I think if you lose those things that’ll be a sad end to the story.”

Somewhat unusually for a major British politician Osborne himself did not play a very large role in student politics (although he was editor of The ISIS), and I ask him if he thinks it really matters all that much.

“Well look, there’s two things: one is it’s just a fact, and maybe it’ll change, but many of the people who start their life out as student politicians and in the Union here will end up being national politicians.

“You look at the cabinet today and there were people who were Presidents of the Oxford and Cambridge Union and at other universities debating societies and student unions, so that’s one thing.

“Second, it can be a kind of taste of things to come, student politics, as I was saying when I was here one of the reasons I was put off politics here was because Conservative politics was very Eurosceptic, campaigning for a referendum on the Maastricht Treaty, which feels like ancient history, but of course both the individuals then, and the subject came back and dominated politics for thirty years, and I think that it was, in that way, ahead of its time, though not in a very positive way.”

It’s amusing to think that the same dramas that played out in OUCA when Osborne was a student are those wrack- ing the Conservative Party today, but I can’t help but think that politics – in both its national and student guises – has changed considerably since Osborne was at Oxford. Even just five years ago, as I note to him, the country’s three most prominent Tories (himself, David Cameron, and Boris Johnson) were all members of the Bullingdon Club, an organisation that even OUCA has now seen fit to ban its members from joining.

He laughs at the mention of the Bullingdon Club, and remarks, “Well, I think first of all society moves on, I guess. I think its okay for students to have a good time as long as they don’t do it in a way that’s offensive and disruptive to others, and I think you don’t want your university to be so serious that people can’t enjoy themselves.”

That’s a somewhat rose-tinted understanding of a dining club famous for its “loutish” behaviour, and his response is the same rehearsed line he and Cameron have repeated for most of their political careers, but he can hardly be blamed for wanting to distance himself from a club which seems grossly out of touch with his own vision of a meritocratic Britain.

He continues: “I think one place where Oxford – and this is true of other big universities in Britain – they should try to feed in a little bit more; they can feel like they’re a bit cut off from the rest of the country.

“So I teach at Stanford University in California, and I’m going to be there in a couple of days’ time, and you really feel on the campus that this is a place completely connected with the latest developments in artificial intelligence, they’re thinking about how you regulate social media companies, big decisions on the future of China.

“And a lot of academics there come in and out of not just the US government but other governments, and I always felt that the British universities could perhaps do more to really plug into national life.

“I’m not so much talking about the undergraduates here, I’m talking about the professors, the academics, and the post-grads, and not be afraid to say: ‘well I think the country can be run better, and here’s how to do it’, because you know, if ever it was needed it was needed now.”

This, again, gives us a glimpse of the technocratic kind of liberalism Osborne wants to usher in, but it’s not lines like these which are most revealing, but rather one throwaway comment during his speech.

Pausing for a moment when asked how he felt about the somewhat ignominious end to his career as Chancellor and Tory heir apparent, he says “Well, as they say, all political careers… end”.

And it’s that fumbling over Enoch Powell’s old quip (that all political careers end in failure for those that don’t know) that cuts to the heart of the matter: this is a man who doesn’t believe his political career has to end in failure and, I think, doesn’t believe its ended quite yet.

Excess of Expression: John Lennon 1969-72

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For better and – mostly – for worse, John Lennon essentially invented the phenomena of the ‘Rock Star’ as social-political activist. Having broken free of the perceived restraints put upon him whilst in The Beatles, Lennon’s early solo works are marked by an earnest, and in many cases naïve, search for integrity and meaning. Or as he put it in 1970: “I remember what it’s all about now you f**kers! F**k you all!” It was a pursuit which took Lennon to musical, political and personal extremes: from musique concrete back to blues-infused rock ‘n’ roll; from the bed-ins for peace to flirtations with Maoism; from heroin to primal scream therapy.

Yet in spite of the drama and energy of his private and public life, Lennon’s solo-music spectacularly failed to recapture the emotional weight and expression of his work with The Beatles. Neither ‘Mother’ nor ‘My Mummy’s Dead’ from Plastic Ono Band come close to channeling Lennon’s pain and feelings of parental abandonment in the same way that ‘Julia’ from the White Album does. Similarly, the two and a half minutes of ‘Happiness is a Warm Gun’ contains more imagination than all forty minutes of ‘Imagine’. Why was it that, in putting self- expression, politics and philosophical substance at the forefront of his artistic agenda, Lennon’s music ended up failing to express both himself and everyday concerns with the same force as his work from the sixties?

Part of the answer probably lies in Lennon’s willingness to adopt and take on political or spiritual movements at the drop of a hat. While certainly no fool – possessed with both one of the sharpest wits and most powerful imaginations in modern music – John, and for matter all of The Beatles, was always susceptible to taking artistic and political movements at face value. The same child-like naivety that led him to meditate in India also caused him to appear on American talk-shows dressed as Che Guevara, espousing the cause of Maoism, whilst living in a New York penthouse overlooking Central Park. Lennon took himself too seriously to permit himself to back down, and could not resist jumping up onto a soap box at any opportunity to espouse causes he (probably at heart) did not completely believe in.

In musical terms, this led Lennon to confuse throwing political slogans or topical issues into a chorus with giving his music ‘weight’. In ‘Power to the People’, unsure where to take his message or how to translate it into concrete action or feeling, Lennon resorts merely to repeating the title slogan over and over again.

In contrast, whilst a member of The Beatles, Lennon had the cynicism of his band-mates to reign in such earnest excesses and slogan chanting, giving his more political work for The Beatles a self-awareness that his solo songs painfully lack. The ‘in/out’ meditations of ‘Revolution 1’ – in which Lennon is at once sympathetic to the cause of revolution, but also pokes fun at the protesters of ’68 (‘You tell me it’s the institution, well you better free your mind instead’) – is not only a more entertaining listen than, say, ‘Working Class Hero’, but also captures Lennon’s paradoxical combination of idealism and cynicism far better than the provocative posturing of a celebrity raised in middle class suburbia.

Yet more importantly, once Lennon’s personal demons seeped from the subconscious background of his songs to take centre stage, his music lost its underlying tension. Unable to express himself explicitly, Lennon was forced to explore deeper parts of his imagination to convey his feelings. The narcotic opening of ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’, conveying Lennon’s yearnings for the sanctuary of an idealized childhood tree house, is a far more powerful image than the jaunting piano of ‘Remember’. Indeed, it is through playful, yet barbed, linguistic mischief and nonsense that ‘I Am the Walrus’ succeeds as a song of powerful self expression, articulating Lennon’s uncertainty as to whether he was a genius or a lunatic. In each of their respective ways, once released from the restraints of the group, the solo careers of each of The Beatles proved disappointing.

In Lennon’s case, the problem was that once his desire to express himself and produce music of ‘adult’ weight and subject matter was unshackled from the sensibilities of a pop group, he fell back on a mode of puritanical expressionism and self-obsession. Unfortunately, this robbed his work of its humorous cynicism, as well as the enchanting imagination which had led public opinion to label him as one of the greatest popular artists of the twentieth century.

Entomophagy: a word to remember

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Deep inside of Sainsbury’s Locals across the country, a revolution is
stirring, creeping and crawling its way into the public eye: the insect
revolution. That’s right. Thanks to start-up Eat Grub, for the first time in my young life, I can walk down the street and purchase a bag of roasted crickets like it’s the most natural thing in the world (which, on some
level, it is).

We all know the spiel: insects are the future of protein.

Firstly, they are highly nutritious, containing roughly three times as much
protein per gram as beef. Secondly, the environmental impact of rearing insects does not compare to that of farming mammals and birds. Cows, for example, need copious amounts of feed and water to survive. Producing a kilogram of insect protein requires only one twenty-two-thousandth of the amount of water that producing a kilogram of cow protein does. Now you can protect your gains and your planet at the same time.

But do crickets taste good? The short answer is: yes.

The most direct comparison is to crisps or pork scratchings. There is no pronounced ‘crickety’ flavour to be reckoned with and, in a blind taste test, my guess is that you would happily chow them down. The crickets provide a crunchy base which goes well with standard crisp seasonings. Eat Grub’s ‘Smoky BBQ’ bugs live up to their billing and are given a slight sweetness by
the granules of brown sugar mixed into the packet. ‘Peri-Peri’ and ‘Sweet Chili & Lime’ are also available as flavours.

What is distinctive about crickets is the pleasant flakiness that comes from the skin of the insects and the slightly powdery consistency of their roasted bodies. Neither of these features detracts from the experience of eating them. If anything, they create a richer textural landscape for the seasonings to interact with. However, the downside of this flakiness is the absence of structural integrity. Be ready for some crumbly crickets.

To reiterate, there’s not much to be afraid of here. Sure, the eyes on the critters will make you think twice, but by the end of the bag, any initial revulsion will likely have been overcome. And the good news is, roasted crickets are just the start. Once we Westerners unshackle ourselves from our psychological reservations, we will gain access to new worlds of food. We will see our planet and its culinary offerings in a fresh light. From the aphrodisiacal fried hornets of Japan to the crunchy termite snacks of sub-Saharan Africa, the potential rewards are too great, too interesting, to pass up on.

Alexander Woollcott once lamented: ‘everything I like is either immoral, expensive, or fattening’. I guess the poor guy never found out how good crickets taste.

Review: A Little Night Music – ‘a sophisticated and pleasant performance’

Queen’s choice of A Little Night Music for their garden play was a good one. The Sondheim classic fit beautifully with its surroundings: the lush gardens of Queen’s, and excellent lighting meant that the slow setting of the sun only added to the intimate atmosphere of the performance. We’d been blessed with a beautiful day for the first night of the performance, and the combination made for a very pleasant evening.

Although there were a few opening night wobbles in the early stages of the musical, for the most part the singing was excellent, particularly that of the main characters. In places the orchestra and chorus seemed to be a little out of sync; once again I would put this down to the stress of a first performance, as by the interval these had been smoothed out, and the second half was significantly better.

In the lead role of Desiree, Emi Staniazsek dazzled, showcasing an ability to be both seductive, comedic, and intensely vulnerable at different parts in the performance. Indeed, the audience laughed aloud frequently throughout the performance. A special mention must be given to Gavin Fleming and Grace Albery in their roles as the wonderfully mismatched couple Count Carl-Magnus and Countess Charlotte – the huge cheer they received during the bows shows just how fantastic their performances were. Fleming in particular managed to make the audience almost cry with laughter at his pompous and fiery demeanour – even with his trousers round his ankles. The main cast in general had fantastic chemistry, and were well-rehearsed and confident in their performances. Even the supporting characters had very distinct personalities, and almost every person stole the show at some point.

A few other areas that must be praised were the stage direction and costume. By careful use of the chorus, the tricky business of moving characters and props off stage at the end of the scene was made much smoother. Furthermore the choreography throughout was simple but effective, and very fitting with the tone and setting of the performance. The costume too was for the most part very fitting. This was particularly the case for  Madame Armfelt, an old woman, whose costume and make-up was so convincing that several among us were left wondering if she was genuinely an older tutor or mature student. There was, however, some discrepancy in historical base. Costumes like that of Count Carl-Magnus or the servant Frid suggested a reasonable level of devotion to the original setting of the play around 1900, but other characters wore jeans or other outfits much more fitting with the modern day, or past century. Yet this did not particularly detract from what was a very impressive performance, and was just a minor note.

The thing that let the performance down the most were the frequent technical faults. Particularly regarding the chorus, there were moments when you simply could not hear what was being said or sung, and some microphones completely switched on and off at random moments throughout the performance. Again, hopefully this issue will be resolved in the remainder of performances, but did at some points dull the magic somewhat.

Generally, I really enjoyed the performance. To be able to produce something as complex and moving as that performance A Little Night Music, with the cast and crew still tackling difficult degrees is highly impressive, and I would recommend watching it for the magnificent cast if nothing else. I’m confident that the minor criticisms I have are mainly down to the fact it was opening night, and will be resolved in the remainder of the performances. Overall, a sophisticated and pleasant performance.

Review: (The Wings of the) Seagull – ‘leaves you frozen’

There are some plays that leave you frozen for a second when they end. Where the whole audience pauses for just a few moments: no-one looks at their phone, or gathers up their coat, or even turns to a friend to discuss it because they’re so astonished by what they’ve just seen. (The Wings of the) Seagull was one of these plays.

The single actor play is set in 2014. Perhaps this setting is a little overemphasized at the start – there’s a sequence with a suitcase, a Harry Styles cut-out, and a whole host of other throwback items that lasts just a little too long. Yet this background is very important in highlighting the innocence and optimism of the central character, an unnamed 15-year-old, on their way to secondary school for a normal day.

We follow them though the typical school bus journey, maths class, and English lit, a witty and relatable first-person teenage commentary running throughout. Quotes about Curley’s Wife in English literature class make the audience smile, we relate to the awkward struggle to find an Oyster card at the front of the bus queue, and we sympathise when they complain that their best friend has been ditching them for his new girlfriend, setting up a very likeable and relatable lead. Again, the constant references to 2014 can seem a little forced, but the charisma of the lead actress, Pelin Morgan, and the entertaining and intelligent writing of Amitai Landau-Pope make this mundane scene both funny and genuinely interesting. It’s a normal day, with a school trip after lunch to see Chekov’s The Seagull. And then something awful happens.

I’m not going to spoil the experience of those of you still going to see the performance by telling you the ins and outs of it, but the trigger warnings for the production: ‘flashing lights, gunshots, suicide, sexual assault, a mention of extreme violence’ should give you a strong hint of the subject matter of the production. The powerful contrast between the happy, childish demeanour of the title actor in the early stages of the play, and the awful experiences they have to go through is incredibly poignant. The continual monologue highlights exactly how awful the situation is, and no member of the audience could fail to feel horrified at the events that we are told about.

The premise of the play revolves around Chekov’s The Seagull – although you certainly don’t need to know anything about it to understand what’s happening. There is a skilful interweaving of the two throughout the production: the title character watches it in some scenes, a literal seagull appears at an important turning point in the plot, and the concept of a play-within-a-play influences the entire production. It would be easy for this to be too on-the-nose, but the concept does not feel forced, and instead adds depth and dramatic irony to what is already a fascinating storyline.

The inextricable intertwining of tragedy and comedy runs throughout both (The Wings of the) Seagull and the Chekov original, with laugh-out-loud moments interspersed with stomach-churning horror, and pure sadness: the writing does credit to both Chekov and Landau-Pope. Yet the way in which the play switches from the modern day to 2014, 2017, and back again does allow a presentation of hope through an unsuccessful, but healing, later love affair, moving away from the original ending of The Seagull – in this, the title character, in their own words, “endures”.

I must finish by once again praising the superb acting of Pelin Morgan. It’s not easy to carry an entire one-hour performance alone, yet with a fantastic blend of physicality and emotion she more than does justice to an incredibly personal and horrifying subject. Credit must also be given to the voice actors, whose dialogue, heard throughout the play, helps to create a well-rounded and interesting production. Ultimately, (The Wings of the) Seagull is up there with some of the best student drama I’ve ever seen, and both Morgan and Landau-Pope’s talent cannot be overexaggerated.

Review: A Woman of No Importance – ‘the best Wilde production I’ve ever seen’

Amongst the grand sort of critics whose opinions must be italicized as opinions, A Woman of No Importance is one of Oscar Wilde’s weaker plays. It doesn’t have the salacious Biblical scandal of Salome, the irreverent quotability of The Importance of Being Earnest or the witty, Wildean poise of An Ideal Husband. But that’s just the irrelevant waffle of the terribly self-important. A Woman of No Importance is brilliant. By turns funny and dramatic, it’s as worthy as anything else of Wilde’s oeuvre. This is all the more the case with the Magdalen Players’ garden play production. Not to be all gushing, but I it might just be the best Wilde production I’ve ever seen, West End included. Those who like unkind reviews, look away now.

I’ll need to justify myself, or else be accused of the same sort of grandiose opinion I’ve just lampooned. But through pitch-perfect casting and direction, the Magdalen Players have taken a great play and elevated it enormously. The play is often criticised for not taking off until the arrival of Mrs Arbuthnot part way through Act 2. But this production avoids that problem. Partly, that’s through the sumptuousness of the setting – there are few more lovely places to spend a late spring evening then an Oxford Master’s Garden. But much more importantly, it’s through the talented work of Director Henry Sleight and his cast and crew. Sleight’s deft handling of the script gives the production a momentum all of its own, and his willingness to keep the cast active on stage avoids the talky scenes from being staid and stuffy.

The play starts in stereotypically Wildean fashion: a country house brimming with an assortment of upper-class caricatures deep in conversation . The cast handle the wit with uniform aplomb, and I wish I could praise each individually, but there are a few standouts. Oliva Krauze makes a brilliantly bonkers hostess Lady Hunstanton. She has a great handle on the character’s forgetful running gag; fortunately she remains firmly endearing and not irritating. Tatiana Gilfillan makes a hilariously hoity-toity Lady Caroline, and her wonderful comic timing makes for some great deadpan moments. Imogen Front makes for a suitably devilish Mrs Allonby. The ying to her yang is Flora Blisset’s wonderfully earnest  Hester Worsley. Both her and Front make their respective monologues real highlights of the play: the contrast of American morality and English laissez-faire makes for a delightful combination . That’s the spread of an excellent cast, who take each role, however small, and shine in their own unique way.

But the highest praise must be saved for the tragic central familial triangle of James Geddes’ Gerald, Ben Gregson’s Lord Illingworth and Amy McCall’s Mrs Arbuthnot. Geddes makes a nuanced performance out of what a lesser actor might have stereotyped as a bumbling Tim Nice-But-Dim. His portrayal shows a progression and evolution that is not only deeply emotionally satisfying but displays real talent. Gregson, meanwhile, makes Illingworth a right piece of work. He perfectly captures the character’s deadly caddishness, working him down from a charming lady-killer at the start of the play to a grotesque bully by the end. You can’t help but want to cheer when he gets a slap from Mrs Abuthnot. McCall is simply brilliant – the best live performance I’ve seen in any Wilde production, hands down. The tragic dutiful sadness she conveys brings out Arbuthnot’s overwhelming shame. The nuance of her expressions and the concision of her reactions, coupled with Wilde’s powerful writing, make her powerful performance at the play’s climax in Act IV a tour de force, and clear highlight. I was almost tearful. McCall can be very proud, and hopefully will go on to even greater performances soon.

So Director Henry Sleight and his crew have pulled off an undoubted triumph of excellent direction, staging and acting. Sat in Wilde’s old college, the late evening English sun glimmering down, provided with such a theatrical feast, we were very lucky indeed – and I’m sure Wilde would have heartily approved. And if that isn’t a terribly self-important opinion, I don’t know what is.

Trinity JCR rejects Plush accessibility donation

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Trinity College’s JCR has rejected a motion to donate for the Plush for All accessibility campaign. Instead a motion will be brought at the next JCR meeting to donate the same amount to a local LGBTQ+ charity.

Concerns were raised by JCR members over donating to a for-profit business, with arguments that it was a business investment, not a donation featuring. It was suggested that the college should be donating to registered charities rather than merely speeding up the actions of a business.

Since moving venues, Plush has been collaborating with the Oxford SU LGBTQ+ Campaign and OU LGBTQ+ Society to improve accessibility at the new site in Frewin Court. Once inside the club, the venue is 100% accessible. However, the stairs in the entrance to the venue limit disabled access.

The Plush for All Campaign is fundraising to install a chairlift, which would make the club fully accessible. While the club could raise the £10,000 needed for the project on its own, it would take them at least a year to do so.

Many students were concerned about donating to a for-profit organisation over a charity. One said: “I would not just hand over money like that to a nightclub, however good the cause. You don’t know where it will really go.”

The student who put forward the motion argued: “Firstly, improving accessibility is not a business investment. Oxford as a city is not an accessible place to live, and it’s clear that almost all the businesses here are completely financially viable without being fully accessible.

“The venue in which Plush currently resides has never before been wheelchair accessible and has hosted various wildly successful clubs in the past. Plush do not want to become fully wheelchair accessible because they think it will improve their finances – it will not. It may improve the sale value of the venue but the building, owned by the Union, is not going to be sold anytime soon and this is clearly not their motivation for installing a chair lift.”

While acknowledging JCR members’ concerns about donating to a for-profit organisation, they argued that: “Plush have contributed a huge amount to the cause: buying in-house wheelchairs, making the inside of the club fully accessible (toilets, bar areas, dancefloor), and creating a quiet breakout space.”

They added: “As for the worries that we will not get anything in return, that is the point of a donation. Plush contribute a lot to the LGBTQ+ community here: they sponsor Oxford Pride, they subsidise Tuesday nights, and they have held nights for people with learning and physical disabilities with no cost for the organisers, while incurring costs themselves.

“Historically, LGBTQ+ spaces have not qualified as charities because they, by social consensus at the time, were not seen as having a charitable purpose.

“The company vs charities argument is valid but there must be considerations about the historical realities of LGBTQ+ charitable causes. Ultimately this is about what Plush can do for a marginalised community, and to my mind it has proven its worth and deserves our help.”

Some JCR members were strongly in support of the motion, and argued that students would benefit. One said: “It would be such a lovely gesture to see that the JCR is willing to put forward this small amount of money towards increasing access.

“Oxford is such an inaccessible place already, and Trinity is lacking in disabled students at least in part because of its own accessibility.”

Some members of the college suggested that this was a use of the JCR budget that could be afforded, raising the fact that Entz were given £150 of the JCR budget to spend on pizza and snacks.

One student said: “If we can afford this then £200 on something that would benefit the overall Oxford community for years to come (without affecting the financial standing of the JCR in the slightest) seems like a no-brainer really.”

The motion was defeated by 63 votes against 35, with 5 abstentions. Last week, Christ Church JCR also rejected a motion to donate to the Plush for All Campaign. The proposal suggested that the money come from Christ Church JCR’s unplanned emergency fund.

Those present reported that one of the main objections raised was the inappropriateness of using this fund for non-emergencies. The majority of fund spent so far this year went towards building a new herb garden.

However, several other college JCRs have pledged their support, including University, Hertford and Wadham. Total college donations to the campaign total over £1800.

In a statement about the campagin, the SU LGBTQ+ Society said: “The new venue is not currently 100% accessible. From the outset, Plush have been committed to changing this to continue being an LGBTQ+ space open to all.

“They have consulted with members of Society and Campaign, including our Disabilities Reps, and have already invested significant amounts into accessibility at the new venue.

“This includes: installing an easy access toilet, a ramp, and better breakout zones with quieter music and softer lighting than in the old venue. This addresses the needs of those with physical, sensory, cognitive, mental and developmental disabilities.

“The last piece in the puzzle is the installation of a chairlift for wheelchair users. “After months of consultations, this is the solution that we have found that best marries user needs, feasibility and cost.”